#Incredible story ❤️

[brummiereader]

Wow Red! What a captivating story 😍. There was so much intensity woven into each description that you had me on the edge of my seat throughout the entirety of this incredible story!

As you've probably noticed the darker side of Tommy is one of my favourite Tommy's to both read and write. And I can tell you that this story has me already hooked on your version of him. And this is what I love so much about this darker niche community within the peaky community, we all portray dark!Tommy differently. And yours dare I say it, is rather seductive..in a fucked up kinda way though 😂.

The whole storyline had me hooked from the very beginning and when I checked back through your notes/warnings and noticed that this will be a series I squeak with excitement! I love the running theme of Tommy being referred to as Devil through both Y/N's enchanting singing and dialogue. Is he the Devil 🤔? He certainly encapsulates everything we know of him. I know I've already said this to you before, but you set my senses alive with your phenomenal talent for immersive descriptions and eye for detail. Theses are some of my favourite that will continue to give me goosebumps..."He’d light a cigarette and blow a halo for a crown, lurking in the darkness but staring at you from eyes like twin beacons, his pinewood throne framed by the black coat he never relinquished and his sharp features hallowed by the candlelit fires of Hell" my god Red, this was delightfully dark 👌! He truly is a vision of the king of the underworld. Another..."And like a candle, the bright of his eyes was snuffed out by the dark, and the smirk fell from sharp outlines" this one made me giddy 😍. I do love when his mask starts to drop and the darkness in him appears.

It's fair to say Tommy is clearly captivated by her and you can't imagine how much I enjoyed the moment when she broke free of her corset and we saw Tommy's clear irritation and anger. I do love a jealous Tommy, especially one as dark as yours. But what really had me on the edge of my seat was their interaction later on in the dressing room. I think at this point as the reader i came to the conclusion that he is the Devil or at least the Devil of Birmingham 😈. I don't often get intimidated by dark!tommy, but yours actually freaked me out 😂. It's the charm he oozes, the seductiveness he displays and his sheer presence in this wonderful chapter that had me completely captivated by him. Has the Devil tricked me too 😳?? "Now, I don’t think your friends will like to see what I’m going to do to you, little bird.” A growl grated the thunder of his tone, and he bit his lip. Holy....shit. I mean this left me a little speechless. It's the confidence he has in himself that we also see him portray in the series that has me wanting more. It's also the way you cleverly use his dialogue to let us the reader know that there is no option in what he says he's going to do. It's been decided and that's that 😳.

“You’re marked. You’re marked by the Devil, you are, girl.” Arghhh! This made me squeal! I'm so incredibly excited to see what will happen in upcoming chapters. Something tells me though, that Tommy will definitely be back to claim what he believes is his 😈. Well done hun, you shoulder definitely be proud of this amazing first chapter, it was phenomenal ❤️.

Devil, Devil - Part I

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F! Reader

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Summary: The seal of your fate, to a man falsely crowned. And to your devil, your soul was bound.

[Inspired by this request for a jazz/vaudevillian performer and the song Devil, Devil - MICK]

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, dubcon/noncon themes, noncon touching, little bit smutty but full smut in future chapters, stalking/unhealthy obsession, manipulation, blackmail, mentions of domestic abuse, blood, mild choking, mention of prostitution

WC: 5277

It was all because of that damned Peaky devil.

You cursed him for the gaudy pearls strung around your neck, for the corset that pinched your stomach so tight it would be a wonder if you’d be able to hit your lower notes. You cursed him for the waver in your stride every night you stepped onstage, for the heat beneath your skin when that frozen gaze seemed to douse you in fire, for the quiver in your tone when you sang – for you sang from your soul, and your soul trembled in the sights of the blue-eyed Devil.

He’d started arriving for your performances every night, attracting the attention of the dancers and the waitresses, the owner and the local hoodlums, but he paid no mind to any of them but you. He always sat in the second row, shadowed by the establishment’s collection of antiques. He’d light a cigarette and blow a halo for a crown, lurking in the darkness but staring at you from eyes like twin beacons, his pinewood throne framed by the black coat he never relinquished and his sharp features hallowed by the candlelit fires of Hell.

“He’s trouble, that one,” the locals had said. “Managed to turn a backwoods razor gang into an enterprise, but make no mistake; he’s got cursed blood in him. Shelby Company Limited, they call themselves now, but the Peaky Blinders they’ll always be. Thomas fuckin’ Shelby comes up from Birmingham, thinks he owns everything he sees. The Devil, some say; if you’ve crossed paths with him twice, them say it’s too late for you, when the Devil’s set his sights on your soul.”

If he’d truly set his sights on your soul, you wondered why he tormented you like this, why he never said a word but only devoured you with those frigid blue eyes, as if you were all his and you possessed not even a fraction of him. Last you’d checked, legend had it the Devil traded for souls, so what could he possibly think to grant you? The man had brought you nothing but misfortune. It was because of him that tonight you were expected to join the dancers, because your act had been slipping beneath that coldfire gaze and smoke-ring crown. Your manager claimed it was by popular customer request, but you knew better. You were a songbird, not a peacock; while the other girls of your troupe flared their feathered skirts and tasseled corsets, you were an instrument in their symphony. You got up on that stage not because you wanted to show off, but because when you sang, your soul came alive, and amidst the velvety sounds of the trombones and saxes and the lurid displays of flashing colours and lights, you were at peace.

Until he came along and ruined everything.

“I do not run a charity,” your manager had said. “I run a business. And this business, it has an image to maintain. Before our contract ends with this club, we need to show these Londoner pricks that we are not just another travelling circus with cheap whores and fake magic tricks. Nobody is questioning your ability to sing, Y/N. We just think you could be bringing a little… more.”

As you stepped onto the stage that night, and immediately felt yourself impaled by the icy hooks of that piercing gaze, you wondered if the Peaky devil also wanted a little “more”. As if you could give him anything more than what he’d already taken: your soul, your peace.

Your breath came shaky against the microphone as the lights illuminated the stage, blacking out all of the club’s customers except for one. One, whose mouth you could swear quirked into the slightest of smiles around his cigarette, whose gaze roved across your new ensemble like you were a piece of meat. Your corset already hitched your breath in your chest, and anger flared within you, frustration eating at the hollowness of your ribs as your voice came airy and light.

But this rage that had flickered to life inside you, warm and whelming like the oil lamps that cast darting shadows across the white tablecloths, it spurred a growl in your tone that surprised yet thrilled you, and as your nails curled around the microphone, your shoulders carried to the bright of the music, the dark of your tone made you feel like you were something dangerous. That perhaps a devil dwelled beneath your breast as it did the man with the eyes of death.

Feathered wings and headdresses whirled around you as the girls began their choreography, and your heart seemed to escape the heavy constriction of the corset to pound in your throat, your skull, joining the chorus of sounds that resonated deep in your bones. You sidled your hips from side to side, slowly, sensually, the way your dancer friend, Sally, had taught you, your heels beginning to click to the beat of the song.

But your flesh was burning up beneath that icy stare, and sweat prickled at your neck, and though you sang with fury, your voice still felt limited, unable to utilise the full breath of your stomach. Irritation clawed at your buzzing flesh, and your lip curled over your teeth as you attempted to belt your notes.

Damn you, Peaky bastard, you nearly breathed, hating the way his eyes seemed to gleam as you moved your body. He had no damn right to look so smug.

You tried to focus on channeling this frustration into the movements of your body and the snarl of your tone, the pearls along your chest clacking together as you twirled, your head growing dizzy as you battled for breath. It wasn’t the hoots and hollers nor the cat calls that spurred you on, but the icy hooks of the Devil’s gaze. No, he did not look at you like a piece of meat. He looked at you like you were a goddess.

Breaths coming shorter, you yanked at the laces of your corset, your irritation reaching new heights and the incense and music and cheer drowning out the voice in your head that usually kept you from doing anything stupid.

As your corset tumbled to the stage, cold air sweeping across your sweat-dappled flesh, your voice sprang free of its cage, notes pulled deep from your belly and your fury masking the tremble in your tone. The pearls pooled between your breasts, the feathers of the pasties still scratching your flesh but no longer grinding so painfully against the fabric of the corset.

The Blinder’s smirk seemed to fall, jaw clenched, bright eyes darkening and drinking you in between minacious glances at the men in the crowd who cheered, kicked at the tables, shouted obscene comments that were only half-drowned out by the smooth shrill of the trombones. Your lips pulled into a wicked grin round your teeth, and you became lost in the music as you danced and sang, not caring anymore that your breaths were short or that you didn’t hit every note just right. The look on his face made it all worth it.

And as the final notes died in your aching chest and the stage was swept by dark, and the saxes unleashed their final, wailing cry, Sally swept a sheer robe round your shoulders and ushered you from the stage and to the dressing room. Her excitement was contagious as blonde curls bounced over her bedazzled headband and she whispered praises to you, but her words seemed to muddle together as you heard, distinctly, the chanting of your name behind you like a sordid prayer.

---

The muffled notes of piano still hummed past the walls of the dressing room as you applied another coat of cherry red lipstick, a coil of smoke rising from the ash tray beside you and clouding your head as you attempted to filter out the excited chatter of the girls. Sheer gown now fitted properly around your arms, your skin had the chance to breathe without existing under the ogling eyes of the rambunctious men who had been chanting your name.

“I still can’t believe what just happened out there!” Sally’s voice cut through the throng of the rest, mostly because she had leaned over to squeal into your ear. “Did you see that gentleman at the front? His jaw practically dropped along with your corset.” She giggled, and you popped your painted lips, chasing away the smile that threatened their corner. You hadn’t noticed any man in that crowd but the blue-eyed Devil. Those twin blues were practically burned into your skull, so much so that –

You stilled, blood turning to ice in your veins and your heart freezing over in your chest. The lipstick clattered to the desk, causing Sally to jump back with a yelp that if not from her, could’ve only come from a Chihuahua.

Blue eyes stared back at you in the smudged mirror.

A sharp breath filled your lungs as the ice around your heart shattered and it began to beat again, hard, against your ribs, and your head spun from the sudden flood of cigarettes and incense. You could’ve feinted as you stood, whirling on your heel, nails splintering the wooden grain of the desk with how hard they dug in to ground yourself. Your gaze narrowed, and your heart fluttered as you found it was met with the same intensity.

The dressing room fell silent with a hush, and as Thomas Shelby sauntered in, snubbing out his cigarette in the nearest ash tray, a fearful reverence seemed to coagulate in the air, until it became so thick you could scarcely breathe.

A few of the girls darted out behind him as he drew closer to you, smirk playing at his lip and that darkness colliding with the bright of his eyes in a twisted, glittering dance. But he held out a hand before the rest could vanish, even the high-spirited Marla, who seemed dismayed but didn’t challenge him. Though not of a very tall stature, Thomas Shelby was an intimidating man, and it was evident that the name he carried made him untouchable. Your brow furrowed, teeth grinding together as you tried to work out exactly why he didn’t want the girls to leave when it seemed obvious he had come here for you and you alone. And when that icy gaze settled on you again, the bright of it glittering with mischief, and his smirk tugged higher with unmistakable pride and that insufferable smugness, you figured you were beginning to work it out. He wanted to make a statement, and whatever it was he planned, he wanted them to see.

The statement, perhaps, that your soul belonged to him. And only him.

Shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers, he closed the gap between the two of you with an agonisingly slow stride, as if time revolved around him. The gold chain of his pocket watch glinted in the harsh lights, and you might’ve used the word “dashing” to describe his prim, collared, snow-white shirt, had you not wanted to smear the contents of the ash tray across it out of spite, or perhaps douse his black suit in some of the gold glitter the girls brushed their skin with.

Perhaps, some part of you wanted to print your lipstick along the rose-white flesh of his neck, to match his striking red tie.

Forcing such conflicted, intrusive thoughts from your reeling mind, you cocked your head, glaring at him expectantly. 

“Quite the performance.” His voice was not shrill and grating as you had anticipated, but low, rumbling like thunder over a black horizon yet pooling like soft honey between your thighs. “Tell me, songbird, do you usually win the crowd over with such provocative displays?”

Already amazed by his sheer fucking nerve, you stifled a scoff. As if you hadn’t caught him staring, lurking in the shadows of every performance.

“You tell me, Mr. Shelby,” you purred out your words, but cocked a brow in challenge. “To what do I owe such keen interest?”

The bright of his eyes glinted, and his smirk hooked his lip. “You’ve heard of me.”

“Everyone in this city knows your name. It seems to spread like some sort of plague. I’d prefer it never have crawled from the sickening bowels of the Birmingham streets, but... here it is, on my lips.” You rolled your shoulders upward, leaning against the desk, head tilted to one side.

“And yet, you wear it well.” Thomas’ gaze darted to your parted lips, snaked his tongue between his teeth as if to taste the cherry. “Don’t fret, little bird…” He spoke in a hushed baritone that still managed to reverberate through the diminishing space between you, as if the faint hiss of his whisper would mask his words from everyone but you, like clouds gathering over distant thunder. “… you’ll be saying it more often.”

A burning, whiskey-tinged breath fanned your cheeks, stirring the wisps of hair from your face. Tension mounted in the room, the girls turning into porcelain dolls as they held their breaths, but they didn’t exist outside of the threads that pulled taut between you and the Blinder.

He smelled of gunmetal, of old books. Of charcoal and wood smoke. Like blood and hellfire.

“Will I, now? Think you own these lips, is that it? Think you own my body?” You didn’t even need to take a step to bring your figure to his, your breasts brushing his chest through the sheer fabric of your robe, the chain of his pocket watch tickling your stomach.

He smelled of earth, of sacred rituals. Of frankincense and myrrh. Like dug graves and lost religion.

And like a candle, the bright of his eyes was snuffed out by the dark, and the smirk fell from sharp outlines. “You haven’t heard?” he said. “Some say I own everything the light touches…” His fingers brushed your side, the heat of his blood beneath his skin sending cold shivers along your flesh, and you cursed yourself for wishing in that moment, in which his fingers dragged reverently down the curve of your hip, that his touch would burn away the fabric between you. “Some say I own everything the light is too fearful to touch.” The pressure of his touch increased, thumb tracing your navel, and suddenly, his grasp was anything but gentle – possessive, demanding, as his fingers curled between the parting of your thighs and his nails burned against your skin. A breath hissed from your teeth and you swatted his hand away. You were surprised when he returned his thumb to his pocket, his devious smirk reappearing. Could he hear how fast your heart was beating for him, could he smell the lust that brewed beneath your flesh, could he feel the heat that had pooled like poison between your legs?

Did he know that he haunted your dreams? That you could not drift off to sleep anymore without thinking of those soft lips trailing down your sternum, of his teeth leaving bruises across your flesh?

He made you want to be worshipped, and ruined. 

“Some say you’re nothing but a Gypsy bastard.” Your voice rose, breathy and high, like a falsetto note. “A false king, with no crown.”

“But a king nonetheless.”

“A devil, the witches say. Have you come to bargain for my soul, Mr. Shelby?” Your voice dipped back into your sensual alto as you regained some vestige of control, forcing your words to rise deep from your fluttering stomach.

“Oh, I’m here for more than your soul,” he breathed, closing the sliver of a gap between the two of you again, backing your spine against the wooden desk until you could’ve sworn blood welled beneath the sheer robe. “I’m here to offer a proposal, little bird. You’re going to sing for me, at the Eden Club. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It’s far more prestigious than this seedy place. Your pay will be tripled, and you will never know a fabric rougher than silk or taste a wine younger than a lifetime.”

Though his offer would be tempting to most anyone, you did not sing for money. Pride, it came easy to you, and you did not appreciate the condescending way in which he spoke to you, looked at you, breathed in your direction.

“I’m under contract.”

“What, this?” He chuckled, pulling the slip of paper you’d signed a year ago from the deep pocket of his trousers. The material crinkled beneath his fingers, so close you could’ve reached out and grabbed it. But you didn’t. You watched, seething, as he lowered the contract to the candle beside your lipstick, an orange tongue lapping at the corner of the ivory paper, the ink of your signature bleeding into the open flame. Out the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Sally, her shoulders furling inward just as the edge of the paper did before it was swallowed by the flame, the blackened remnants of the contract smudged into the floorboards with the toe of the gang leader’s boot.

“Everyone can be bought with the right price,” he said. “Your boss’s wife, she likes diamonds.”

You shouldn’t have expected any less of your manager. Like most in the entertainment business, he was shrewd, frugal, ruled by greed. The idea of his wife wearing diamonds was laughable; Thomas must have been a bloody saint in her eyes, because the most you had ever seen that man gift her was a silver locket that had been put in lost and found at one of your past gigs. He must’ve sold you out before Thomas could even pull his mafia card. And then milked you for one last performance.

You hated them. You hated them all.

“Well, I will find new work. The crowd seems to love me,” you pointed out, recalling the jealousy you’d seen darken the Devil’s eyes as he’d watched over your performance. Butting shoulders, you moved to stalk past, but a vice grip latched round your forearm and you froze, a puff of startled air escaping your lips as your gaze swung to meet his.

“I haven’t told you my terms,” Thomas said, and if it was out of fear or that devilish itch between your legs that made your body acquiesce, you couldn’t be certain, but damn it all the same. He shoved you back against the desk, fire igniting in his icy eyes as his shoulders pressed to yours, his figure solid against your own, denoting no escape. “So long as you work for me, you will not dance for another man…” He had the courtesy, at least, of releasing those icy hooks from your soul, the sharp line of his jaw brushing a flushed cheek to let his breath pool against your neck as if whispering sweet nothings to a lover. His fingers, ghosting the pulse of your throat. A breath hissed between your teeth and your eyes flared as they dragged down the vulnerable flesh, demonstrating his strength in a squeeze at the base of your throat.

“They so much as look at you, I will personally take their eyes.” A kiss, placed to the crook of your collarbone, like a promise. His lips were as soft as you had imagined, and you half-expected his tongue to be forked like the legends, but it was supple and rounded as it wet your flesh. Your bottom lip caught in your teeth as you stifled a moan, your body betraying you in a slight rut of your hips. A chuckle rumbled against your ear; he knew what he was doing to you, and apparently the feeling was mutual, for the scarcely-clothed heat between your shivering legs brushed against a firmness in his slacks as your hips rolled forward.

“You see…” He paused to inhale your scent, to drink you down like the whiskey on his breath. “I’ve done some research… you like to move around so much because you have a husband, in Sheffield, who very much misses your company.”

The racing tides of heat that rolled beneath your flesh gave way to a cold sweat, and you shuddered, your blood turning once more to ice in your veins. Your heart, stolen from your chest, leaving your lips parted in a gasp. His fingers traced the hollow shell of your ribs, nails digging in where your heart should have been. His, you thought, wretchedly.

When he pulled back to assess your reaction, to witness the fear bloom in your eyes, the smugness was gone from his face, replaced by an intensity, a darkness that seemed to wrap its shadowy tendrils around your soul. His nose brushed yours, and you noticed, for the first time, that his face was freckled. Kisses from God, you’d heard them referred to as once, and if the breath had not been stolen from your lungs, you would’ve chuffed a laugh at the demented irony.

Dark lashes crowned the blue eyes that raked down your chest, his thumb continuing its snaking little path from your heart to the lip of your breast, slipping beneath the fabric of your robe. “A year ago, you spoke with a solicitor about his tendency to… well, overexpress his love.” A jolt rocked your body, accidentally sending your hips back against his, drawing a groan from his chest that managed to be irresistible despite the discomfort of the scar he perfectly traced with his forefinger. Pain exploded beneath the surface of your flesh, as if his fingers was made of glass, like the smashed bottle that had struck your side all those years ago. You shuddered beneath his touch, the alcohol on his breath suddenly foul, and for just a moment, the way the light reflected off his eyes betrayed a sliver of green in seemingly pure blue.

“The solicitor told me that you showed him this – this, that was not his to see. Not his to touch.” Your lashes batted beneath his furious breaths, but you dared not close them, dared not let this man turn into a ghost of your past. To your relief, his fingers retreated from your scar, only to cup your cheek in his palm. “You offered him one night in exchange for freedom, and by morning, he did not honour his word. Do you know what I did to the solicitor?”

Thighs damp with arousal, palms clammy with fear, you trembled, breaking, cracking at your seams. The splinters of the wooden desk pierced your flesh as you sought its support, feeling like your knees might buckle beneath you and somehow knowing that he would catch you, but that that would be worse than falling to the cold ground. Because he wanted you to break, wanted to be the freckled angel who caught you when you fell.

But somewhere, from the shattered remnants of your chest, festered a darkness, a thirst, a satisfaction as you imagined the bloodied face of the man who had tricked you, as you imagined his eyes turned pale, pale as death.

Your pain didn’t break you; it kept you standing, fractured but whole.

“To you, I may be the Devil, but the Devil keeps his bargains.” His thumb swept across the ghost of the kiss he’d left on your skin. “And when you work for me, I will ensure that your darling husband never bothers you again.”

You could not banish the tremble from your limbs, nor the ireful rise and fall of your chest. And when you spoke, your hate, it seemed, was not even for him but for ghosts, “You’re every bit as vile as the rumours say.”

“Oh, I’m worse.” He smiled, almost sweetly. “Much worse.” A clear-blue eye winked, before studying you so intently you wondered if he really could read your thoughts, your sordid desires. Your sins. “But I don’t see disgust in your eyes, little bird. I see intrigue.”

Breathe, you told yourself. Breathe.

You were most at ease when you sang, and in your moment of need, an old melody you’d heard once travelling west came to you, and with it, the curl of your lip into a wicked smirk.

“Cannot buy me, Devil, Devil,” you half-sang, half purred, the notes that found your voice carrying undertones so dark, it almost did not sound like your own.

And in this moment, you found power, in the way his thumb seemed to still against your jaw, in the way his eyes locked to yours, mesmerised, his tongue catching between his teeth. In this moment, at last, he was yours. In this moment, he was just a boy, lured in by a siren song. As the notes died in your throat, his eyes darted to your lips, something softer than lust forming in oceans of melted ice. Your fingers fumbled for the first drawer of the desk, stabilising yourself now on the ivory handle.

And the emotion vanished before you could make sense of it, frozen over by a wall of ice.   

“In life or in death, I will take your soul.” His teeth grazed the lobe of your ear, and his hand drifted to your scalp, sinking into the wild locks of your hair. “I will take everything.” Another hand closed around your waist, squeezing your ribs, bunching the fabric of your gown. “It is your choice, little bird. Because, you see, I made certain your husband knows of your infidelity. It’s a great dishonour, to a man of his station. And what sort of things does a man of his station do when he finds himself with a problem like you, eh?” Your chin was pointed sharply up, suspended by two fingers, your lips a hairsbreadth from his own as he stared you down.

“Now, I don’t think your friends will like to see what I’m going to do to you, little bird.” A growl grated the thunder of his tone, and he bit his lip. “I’m going to be a gentleman, and let you decide if you’d like them to give us privacy.”

And gone was the whiskey of his breath, the fire of his touch, the sharpness of his teeth. Thomas Shelby took a step back, smoothing out his waistcoat as if nothing had happened between the two of you. One of the porcelain dolls came alive, skittering back on her shaky heel to make way, but he paid no mind to her. He only awaited your command, as if trying to give you some false sense of control.

The silence that stretched between you was impossibly thick, like gasoline ready to ignite from one heated breath. You remembered to breathe, in, and out. And you began to sing.

“Clever Devil, Devil…”

His eyes narrowed, fixating so intensely on you that you were convinced nothing else existed in this moment beyond your dark melody, your cherry lips, your siren song.

Trembling, behind your back your fingers pulled gently at the drawer handle.

“How quickly do they sell their souls…”

He blinked, slow, enraptured. Yours.

Your fingers clasped the familiar stock of the 1911, flesh kissed by cold metal.

“… for the feast and the promise of gold.”

Time itself fractured; Thomas barely stirred as he watched your lips, your wrathful eyes, your brow sewn by ruthless will. He did not watch the gun you pulled on him, nor did he seem to hear the rack of the slide that split the quiet of the dressing room. 

“But Devil… that won’t be me.” Your velvety singing turned to words of steel in your throat, and you glared at him down the sights of your weapon. Only now, did he seem to take notice of it, with a fleeting, unconcerned glance at its gaping black maw. He could have turned it on you, but he didn’t. He just smiled, bright blue eyes shining down a silver-moon barrel to meet yours.

Stepping back, leisurely, fists buried in his pockets, he promised, “I’ll be back, to claim what’s mine.”

Your finger loosened from the trigger yet trembled as the sight of Thomas Shelby disappeared past the doorframe, nothing left of him but the soft thud of his dress shoes down the hall and the ghost of his burning touch on your skin, the dampness on your neck from the promise he’d made you. The shameful cling of the sheer robe to your slicked thighs, the cold sweat that sent shivers of winter, death, and all things barren along your flesh.

For one, gut-twisting moment, all eyes were on you. The suffocating festering of fear, the sickening crawl of disgust, the heart-wrenching trace of reproach all culminated in the air around you, cast to the incense and smoke by bright eyes and slacked jaws, crossed arms and furled shoulders.

And the girls began to scurry from the dressing room, skirts and dresses and tassels streaming behind them like streaks of lightning that followed the rumble of the storm, like rivulets of rain chased by the hurricane.

Marla was among the last to leave, her eyes wary and wild and a sneer curling her lip as her eyes traced up and down your trembling form. Only when she left did you lower your gun, sliding the hammer back in place.

That left two. Sally, and the woman who claimed herself a witch.

“I’m sorry…” you breathed, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, I – I had no idea that was going to happen.” Shifting your attention fully to your friend, you reached a tentative hand for Sally, as if to ease her anxiety. Poor thing was shaking like a furled leaf and quiet tears streaked the freckles of her heart-shaped face.

She flinched away, and your heart clenched, hand withdrawing. You set aside your gun, hoping that might settle her nerves. “At least, let me give you this back…” you untied the bedazzled choker from your neck. “It looks like this was our last performance together. Thank you, for lending me it.”

But she sprang back like a jackrabbit when the fabric brushed her knuckles, and she shook her head frantically, tears shaking free of her spidery lashes like dew falling from painted webs. “You can keep it,” she spoke, her tiny voice cracking in her chest. “Just stay away from me.”

Something bitter worked its way into the fracture of your chest, the cruel fist of rejection squeezing the remnants of your shattered heart tight. Your fist curled, hard, around the choker, so hard that when you opened it, the jewels had left red impressions on your palm, and your thanks turned to bitter ash on your tongue as the laces of the choker slipped between your fingers.

The witch, Clementine, watched you from dark eyes always shrouded in an enigma, but today, held the slight trace of unease. A foreboding weight sunk her shoulders, and when she spoke, the raspy tones of her voice were those of lost souls, crying from strangled throats to warn you of something truly grave on the horizon,

“You’re marked. You’re marked by the Devil, you are, girl.”

Your brow furrowed, and the chime of her jangling bracelets seemed to mock you like laughter as she pointed a hooked claw to your loins.

Pawing aside the fabric of your robe, your fingers swiped across the nail marks Thomas had left along your inner thigh, wrathful and red and weeping. Your fingers came away with a veneer of blood, pooling in the rings of your skin like a wax seal.

The seal of your fate, to a man falsely crowned.

And to your devil, your soul was bound.

Part II coming soon!

MASTERLIST

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[definitelynotshouting]

Can i just say guys, holy fucking macaroni, like. I know i say this a lot, but the reception for hunger au has been like NOTHING ive ever experienced before, and im so incredibly grateful for it. Genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much-- writing hunger au has probably been my best overall experience of 2023 and thats all thanks to yalls lovely comments, bookmarks, kudos, and asks i get in my inbox about it. It's hard to believe this is real sometimes, you guys just blow me away ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Its still several hours from midnight for me, but i wanted to wish everyone a preemptive happy new year anyways :] heres to another year of hunger au, which is so very far from being finished, and i cant wait to keep writing it for yall!!!!! :DD and again, thank you guys so so much for such a crazy and wonderful response to my self indulgent fic, because without it this never would have grown to be what it is today❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Happy New Year everybody!!!! 🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆 See yall in 2024!!! :D

[soulmates-for-real-tranquility]

[tariah23]

Well, I’m still glad that Gojo was always a character who was growing and learning at least. He’s literally one of my favorite characters of all time now. Like, he’s never been as perfect as how the fans would make him out to be despite canonically being viewed as an absolute nuisance to everyone around him (I don’t think his peers necessarily hate him but a lot of them probably hate to see him coming and the ones who’ve dealt with him long enough to consider him a friend, tolerate him and groan whenever he opens his mouth, too 😭… out of love. He’s extremely childish so there is only sm the other adults around him can take and to an extent, his students. I think the only characters in canon who adore him and their eye’s sparkle whenever he’s around, and being a silly teacher was Yuuji and Miwa (she asked him for his autograph (he’s the most famous sorcerer in the jjk world) and when she was alone, she did a little dance in the empty hallway 🥺…) from what we’ve seen even though the others still care about him, too. They just find him rather annoying, which he most definitely is. And he does it on purpose. He plays too much.)

[brummiereader]

Lee this was just so heartbreaking 😭!

Gosh, this broke me 💔. We have glimpses throughout the show of Tommy giving in to what he seems to always want to be released from. But seeing the finality to it in writing was as equally tragic as it was beautiful. You wrote an incredible piece of writing here Lee ❤️.

Polly 😞. Tommy's response to losing his beloved Aunt feels so on point. The despair and loneliness depicted hit me so deep, I could feel his heartbreak through the screen. His visions of Polly calling him to the otherside were so impactful, and his frustration with not being able to pass over, crushing to read. ( Gosh, I couldn't have picked a better day and time to read this. In France every first Wednesday of the month they test the WW2 sirens. Just as I was writing the last part, they started blaring. The ominous dark sound just added more darkness to this read 😬).

"He hadn't been himself for some time. "Come back," she mumbled against his rough stubble, placing a kiss in hopes he would feel her love reviving him" throughout this story It really felt like these two were in their own bubble in that room. I felt like I was being dragged into it with them, facing her desperation and hope for Tommy, and Tommy's unstoppable desire to leave. This is all due to your incredible, immersive knack for storytelling 👌.

Her phone call with Ada only cemented my feelings of them being isolated. She's so young, and completely lost on what to do, shes way in over her head with this. The only person I feel could manage Tommy, and know what to do in this kind of circumstance is the very person he's grieving 😩.

The very last part had me teary when she started wondering what heaven is like, I think It was then when I realised her intentions 😥. This was so tragic. I agree with Alex, this echoed Romeo and Juliettes ending. "Then in one swift movement she shoved the pills into her mouth, crushing the shell of the capsules with her teeth". With her young age, and raging love for him I feel this is accurate to what someone her age might do, not realising the absolute finality of it. It's a powerful display of devotion. Tommy's reaction made me gasp when he pulled her in for a kiss to share the poison.

"In the morning when Frances came to open the drapes, she found their bodies intwined in a lover's embrace. "Peace at last," she noted sorrowfully before withdrawing from the room" a lover's embrace 😭. What a stunning way to end this incredible story. I think this will be a story that'll stay with me. I'm like most people, I like happy endings. And even though some may say this wasn't happy, I'd disagree. It wasn't a cheerful, light ending but it was just as Frances said, it was peaceful. A different kind of happy. Beautiful Lee ❤️.

A Night Like Tonight

Summary: Tommy is spiraling out of control after Polly's death and dragging his gf with him.

Author's Note: Requested by the lovely @runnning-outof-time with the song "On a Night Like Tonight" as inspo. I apologize this came out much darker and angstier than you prob intended.

Warnings: nightmares, mention of drinking, drug use, codependent relationship, blood, suicidal ideation, suicide

The heavy gray clouds sank further in the sky over the fields like a vice tightening their ghostly grip. His boots mired in thick black mud, Tommy found himself trapped just beyond reach of Polly’s outstretched hands. Close enough to stare into her kohl rimmed eyes, he was closer than ever to crossing over to where she stood. Without sign of tremors, his hand raised the pistol to his temple, eyes closing to greet the waiting darkness. The screams reached his ears before the gunshots, a guttural echo which pulsed through his veins like a second heart beat.

Jerking awake to a blacked out room, Tommy found himself twisted in bed covers. His eyes adjusted slowly, but his brain raced to reconcile his whereabouts as he ran a hand through his sweat dampened hair. On a shaky breath, he attempted to pull himself up, trembling fingertips reaching for the cigarette case on his bedside table.

His uncoordinated efforts resulted in a smashed lamp causing him to flinch involuntarily. "Fuck!" he exclaimed sharply, the disturbance irritating his overtired brain. Taking a deep breath, he replaced the curses on his lips with a cigarette, fumbling with his lighter until it flickered to life.

A warm, orange glow illuminated her profile beside him, the concern etched on her face unmistakable. Sinking back into his pillow, he rubbed a thumb across his forehead, the smoke from his cigarette wafting between them like a curtain. "Why were you shouting?" he muttered. She didn’t have to see his eyes to know the turmoil and confusion they held.

"It was you, Tommy,” she noted in a hushed whisper. "You cried out," she explained, drawing her hand to her lips before she mentioned he was calling for his beloved aunt.

The slow, sizzling burn of the cigarette paper was the only sound in the room as she waited and observed. With each exhalation of smoke, Tommy's chest seemed to still a bit more. The vein at his neck too ceased to thrum wildly, the way she'd seen it so often in recent weeks as he wrestled with the visions that brought unimaginable guilt.

“There was nothing you could have done,” she offered in a soft voice, draping her slender hand across his chest protectively.

The silence persisted in the inky blackness and she realized he hadn’t heard a word of her reassurance, his eyes fixed upon the ceiling. Tossing the duvet aside, she swung a leg over his bare torso and leaned in to carefully pluck the cigarette from his lips. She extinguished it on the bedside table before returning to drape herself across his body. Hair falling over him like a blanket, she enveloped him in her warmth, allowing the scent of her perfume to comfort him. Running a hand down his cheek, she confessed “You’re scaring me these days, my love.”

She ducked her head into the safety of his neck, wanting to feel his arm caress her back and tell her everything was going to be fine. It wasn't a surprise when no such promises were made. He hadn't been himself for some time. "Come back," she mumbled against his rough stubble, placing a kiss in hopes he would feel her love reviving him. But his jaw remained clenched, her supple lips meeting bone that felt like cold steel beneath her touch.

——————————

Three weeks later...

It was late in the day when the phone trilled harshly in the parlor, disrupting her reading. When she answered Ada was on the line and she heaved a sigh of relief. "Ada, thank God. Do you have the name of the doctor I asked about for Tommy?"

"How dare you ask after what he's done?" Ada seethed, taking her by surprise.

"What's happened? Is it Arthur again or-"

"Has he kept you captive in that house too long or are you really so blind?" She'd begun to weep, bitter tears seeping through the wires and causing static on the line.

"Ada, I don't know what this is all about, but I'm sure if you knew how bad it's got, you'd help. He's losing days at a time now and when he comes round, he can't remember the awful things he's said and done."

"Make all the excuses you like, but I'll never forgive him," Ada vowed, the chill in her voice unmistakable.

"Please, what is this about?"

A shaky sigh echoed down her ear as Ada revealed, "An innocent boy was killed today," she paused for breath before she composed herself enough to continue, "along with with my fiancé, the father of my child."

The phone fell from her ear as she let out a strangled gasp, barely hearing the rest, "because Tommy couldn't keep to his own business. He had to interfere in something big enough to kill us all."

Retrieving the phone she implored, "Then you see how he needs you."

Ada hadn't visited Arrow House in months, but it was clear nothing had changed, in fact her brother sounded worse. "No," she stated firmly. "My brother can rot in Hell."

"Ada, please..." she protested, but the line had gone dead and a loud crash had her running to the office moments later.

An incoherent Tommy was surrounded by broken glass, his hands bleeding from the shards lodged in his palms. "Oh, Tommy," she cried, weaving a path to him amongst the pieces to avoid injuring herself.

She cradled his head to her chest as he lost consciousness, sweeping the fringe from his feverish forehead. She wept as she curled in around him, whispering softly, "What am I going to do now?"

----------------------------------

The next morning she cleared the breakfast dishes without waiting for Frances and brought the full plates back to the kitchen.

"Is something wrong with the food?" the new chef asked apologetically.

She only shrugged by way of explanation.

"I can make something else," he offered, rushing to gather the delicate china from her arms.

"Don't bother. It's only black coffee and cigarettes for Mr. Shelby in the morning," she explained wearily.

"And for you?" he persisted. "If you don't care for eggs, I'll prepare-"

"M not hungry," she cut him off, before turning to Frances and asking for her to phone the doctor for another vial of morphine.

Frances took a step closer to the young woman, lowering her voice to a hushed whisper as she asked. "Are you sure Mr. Shelby requires this, ma'am? Isaiah brought a bottle yesterday."

"It's not for Mr. Shelby," she replied curtly.

Brow etched with concern, Frances began, "I don't think he would want-"

"You of all people should know that he doesn't notice or care," she shot back, emotion rising in her throat the more she attempted to choke it down. "Let me have a little peace, won't you?" she persisted, searching Frances' face with watery eyes. As silence hung between them she finally swiped at her cheeks angrily as she ordered, "Call the fucking doctor or I'll have you dismissed."

Frances stood mouth agape as she stormed off. Hearing a huff behind her back, she turned to see the kitchen maid, throwing the plates into the sink. "He's killing that girl," the maid spat.

Frances flinched at the sound of china shattering against the porcelain, but she couldn't deny the outrage they all felt. She was right about Tommy's influence over the young woman. A healthy, spirited girl of twenty had arrived two years ago. Now she was barely recognizable.

"We're not paid to pass judgment," Frances reminded the staff as she straightened her uniform.

--------------------------------

Tommy gulped the last of his whisky harshly and opened the drawer to his right, rummaging through the contents until he found the small packet he'd stashed in the back. With a deep sigh, he opened it and stared at the contents. He wasn't sure why he'd saved it all this time, other than the promise it held. As he rolled it in his palm he thought of the speech he'd given Barney about a way free of pain and misery. Shoulders slouched forward, he closed his eyes to the odd sense of calm that washed over him now.

The large, glowing moon outside filtered through the thin curtains of Tommy's office, illuminating his slumped body. He'd hardly noticed the presence of another person, especially so late in the evening until she placed her small hand on his shoulder.

"You're awake," Tommy noted with surprise.

"I couldn't sleep without you," she replied, settling herself into his lap in an attempt to have a better view of what he held tightly in his palm.

Raking her fingernails against his scalp she asked, "What've you got?" A casual tone to her query in hopes he would confide in her.

However, the opposite happened when Tommy's paranoia took root. Pushing her from his knee with a harsh shove, he muttered, "This has nothing to do with you, alright?"

Tears welled along her lash line as she muttered, "Fuck off, Tommy. I never ask questions, do I?"

Tommy's body stiffened at her acerbic tone, a wounded look crossing his face as he attempted to explain. "I'm trying to keep you safe."

"Safe?" she scoffed. "What does that mean anymore?," she shrugged futilely.

Tommy held her shoulders firmly in his grasp, the intensity of his blue eyes ceasing her impatient movements. "It means I love you and I don't want you involved."

"You mean you don't want to let me in," she cried, beating on his chest with desperation.

At a loss for words, Tommy dropped his chin to his chest and she took the opportunity to grasp his hand. His nimble fingers momentarily betrayed him and the capsules fell into her palm.

"What are these?" she gasped.

Tommy's face flushed with the discovery, afraid to admit the truth. A harsh gulp followed as he ran a hand down his face, feeling the throb of his pulse within the recesses of his eye sockets. Finally the weak reply tumbled from his lips, "They're cyanide capsules." He grasped her wrist as he thought of words to reassure her.

She turned her head away from him as hot tears streamed down her cheeks. "My love isn't working anymore is it?" she whispered, voice breaking in desperation as she rejected his empty reassurance.

Frozen from the drugs, alcohol and indecision Tommy allowed her to capture his face in her hands. Searching his glazed eyes for something to grab hold to, she found herself floundering. The overwhelming need for him and her love crashing against her sternum in the form of a tenacious heart raging against rejection.

Finally he spoke breaking the unbearable silence, saying, "I never meant to hurt you. I'd understand on a night like tonight if you want to go..."

Her hand clenched involuntarily by her side, the capsules pressing into her skin. Gazing up at him she protested, “Tell me anything you like, except for goodbye. That's the only thing I couldn't bear." The dampness of her tears coated his cheek as she pressed a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth, lingering for a brief moment to savor the salty sweetness lingering on his lips.

Pulling back to gaze at him, a sad smile crossed her lips as she asked, "What do you reckon it's like high up there in heaven?" She brushed the hair from his forehead as she mused, "We might never know, but it was good way down here, wasn't it? At least for awhile...." Eyes glossy and searching for a morsel of hope, she waited for a response Tommy never offered.

Then in one swift movement she shoved the pills into her mouth, crushing the shell of the capsules with her teeth. Tommy's face registered a moment of horrified shock before he pulled her into him, pressing her to his body in a passionate kiss that took the poison from her to share it between them.

--------------------------

In the morning when Frances came to open the drapes, she found their bodies intwined in a lover's embrace. "Peace at last," she noted sorrowfully before withdrawing from the room.

--------------------

Tag List:

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[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Irrespective of the current real life circumstances of it all, "peace" is really one of the most incredibly romantic songs in recent memory, and certainly of Taylor's discography.

Not only is the combo of the simple guitar and pulse and the airiness of Taylor's voice simply stunning and set the, well, peaceful tone of the song, but the whole theme of it really captures an all-encompassing love full of nuance, understanding and perspective.

I LOVE the second line of, "suddenly this summer it's clear." It's so simple, but I just feels like it sets such a powerful, yet simple scene: the sultry bass line definitely gives me hot-day-with-the-faint-breeze-blowing-through-the-curtains-condensation-dripping-down-the-beer-bottle vibes. There's a sense of clarity (as she says), like sitting there and realizing all your life has led you to this moment, this realization that you're exactly where you need to be and who you need to be with. You're an imperfect person who makes mistakes, but you try and you love hard, so in the end, maybe that's enough. (The devil's in the details, but you've got a friend in me.)

It sounds like such a simple song, but it's really the culmination of a lifetime of choices one after the other that don't end. And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches. That's such a lyrical way of saying, "I take you for better or for worse." (Much like "from sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes" is just a fancy way of saying, "from summer to winter." Or more gracefully, "I'll be there if you're the toast of the town or you're striking out and crawling home.") And as it continues, it paints more of a picture of a lifetime together: give you my wild, give you a child, give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other now that I see your brother as my brother. When so much is focused on the grand gestures, burning passion, highest highs and lowest lows, this song is saying, I just want us. It's building a family in the most insular sense.

And one of the lines I love the most is, "I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm if your cascade ocean blue waves come," especially when it comes after the line about how the rain always follows her. Because like she says in LPSS, there are things outside of her control anyone around her will never avoid -- her fame, her scrutiny, her own personal struggles that make life difficult for herself and those who love her -- but, for those who stick around, she envelops them in her love and defends against the elements. It's gorgeous. She goes from being critical of herself earlier on in the song with an underpinning of doubt ("never had the courage of my convictions," "I talk shit with my friends," etc.) but by the end she realizes, I may not be perfect, and I know this life isn't easy, but my love is endless, so if you stick by me, I'll wrap you in it and won't let go.

It's absolutely gorgeous and reads like such an introspective conversation with herself. Like putting into words that, this is really it, the sum of our choices that have built this life.

[ocean-sailor]

x

[brummiereader]

Oh my god Shark!!! This was incredible 😱❤️! Thank you for sharing this amazing two part story with us! As a fan of myths and folklore this incredible masterpiece has captivated me from the very beginning. All I want to do now is pack a backpack and for us to go into the woods looking for the creatures in the myths we love so much. Can we start with fairies first though? I don't want to bump into Wendigo Heaven and Arthur and become their dinner 😳!

Now I could be wrong, buy I recognise the scene from that gif. Is it from " The Witch"? ( Black Philip's voice was so hot in that movie...see I'm messed up, I belong here. " Do you want to live deliciously" please satan stop, I'm swooning 😈😂) .

You have no idea how much I enjoyed the first scene, shark that was incredible. Like seriously 👌. "..a physical and emotional dependence most people deemed unhealthy and vaguely unsettling" why do I get this though? I've been so invested in their relationship that I feel I know them perfectly, and this unhealthy dependency they have for eachother both in HYE and this story seems normal to me. It's them, it's Arthur and Heaven. It's how they love. I loved that you brought Nina back for the second part of this story because nothing goes unnoticed by her. She's so observant in Reb's series, something you mirrored perfectly in this delicious tale. The way you described Heavens change In appearance was so frightening because we as the reader know what she craves and needs, and as she's sitting around the table you just know shes weighing up who would be the tastiest meal 😳. With his attention caught by the friction on his thigh, the gangster quickly glanced at you, concerned, and gently pressed his large and warm hand on yours in silent support. We love our supportive Arthur ❤️. Even if he knows he has to calm his wife before one of his family members becomes her dinner 😂. No but it all seriousness, I'm still in awe at his complete devotion and understanding of his wife when most men would have ran for the hills.

That was me at the dinner table when Heaven said "Can't you make her shut the fuck up?" 😱!! But to be be fair to Heaven, screaming babies even want to make you pull your hair out or run over and soothe them, I reckon she might be the first in her Wendigo state. This was such a tense scene you created but what made it even tenser and had me wide eyed was when Heaven dropped this So either you make her shut the fuck up..." You growled, the raging storm coming, "Or I'll bash her fucking head against the table!"....holy shit. I mean at this point I reckon Arthur thought he was going to self combust with the things his wife was saying. I'm about to skip forward briefly but I think it plays into this whole scene and the following one with Nina and Arthur. Heaven and Arthur are so consumed with one another that them going back to their home back to just them without anyone around, back to their bubble where it's just the two of them trapped in this new life they now have to live feels dare I say it....romantic. But in a dark twisted way. They would be hidden from family and friends were they don't have to put up this strained facade, where Arthur doesn't need to defend or contain the beast within his wife.

😩 there's literally nothing left of Arthur. That man would do anything for her, their dependency on eachother is haunting. To what lengths would he go for her...I think I know the answer 😳. The confrontation with Nina is exactly how I thought it would go, he defended Heaven within seconds. Nobody understands his wife like Arthur does. You know he'll try to cure her with a bullet between her eyes. And that's why he took her back home, and after finishing this story I'm not sure if either of them would be able to return, the woods would be their only home and now, their hunting ground 😬.

The next and final scene was so intense in every single way. I just knew Arthur would eventually do what he did, it's them against the world or nothing. I'm starting to think that their love goes beyond soulmates and they're essentially the same person the same soul that's been split in two and they're always desperately trying to be one again, they literally can't live without eachother. The last part gave me chills, I sat in front of my phone in awe at this incredible description of the antler formed shadows behind him 👌.

Hear what?” You murmured, fingers loosening their grip in his hair.“The woods’ whispers.” perfect way to end this story ❤️! And like you said in your notes, it's open to the reader. I personally think the whispers are whispers calling them home, into the woods where they belong. And god help anyone that enters Heaven and Arthurs domain.

I can't express how much I adored this Shark. You are an incredible writer hun. You have mastered the supernatural tones needed for your stories. I'm always left sitting there speechless after reading your work as my mind trys to catch up with what I just read. Amazing hun ❤️😘!! P.S, sorry for the long comment, I couldn't help it 😩.

The Woods Whisper || 2/2

Summary: After a terrific nightmare, your and Arthur’s life change for good. You start to suffer from a mysterious and excruciating hunger, which always seems to lead you to the forest.

Words: 3.5k

TW: Extreme violence, angst, cannibalism, graphic depiction of mutilation, graphic depiction of murder, gore, ehh dubcon

Notes: written for @peakyswritings's 2k celebration and Halloween. Nina belongs to her. + important notes at the end and no proofreading because we read like warrior here.

Reader is Heaven from the series Heaven in Your Eyes.

When the heavy doors of Arrow House opened, revealing your dainty frame bathed in the pale moonlight that reflected on both your silvery mane and the whiteness of your fabulous outfit, all the guests' eyes opened wide in surprise. If there is one thing they did not expect it was you participating in the dinner Tommy's new wife, Nina, had organized. While not particularly comfortable with hosting an event, the young Italian lass had wished to consolidate the family ties, missing the warmth of her own since she moved to Birmingham.

The shock of your presence did not come from resentment but rather surprise since you carefully did your best to avoid any social contact for the last couple of weeks. Getting used to Arthur coming alone to family meetings or celebrations had been utterly odd considering how symbiotic your relationship was, to the extent of becoming a physical and emotional dependence most people deemed unhealthy and vaguely unsettling. Yet, they never dared to inquire much about the matter.

The reason behind their discretion wasn't a lack of curiosity, but rather how the lanky gangster waved off the questions by replying with vague and stern explanations about some unnamed sickness that kept you in bed. Moreover, his dissuasive growls and murderous glare had been enough to keep tongues shut. But among the family and acquaintances, one soul couldn't be fooled by empty excuses and it bore the name of Nina Ferrante Shelby. The cunning dark-haired girl reckoned that the two lovebirds had been trying hard to hide an ugly truth she couldn't pinpoint yet, but her sharp eyes noticed a few details everyone else had missed.

It had started with Arthur, whom she saw compulsively readjusting his shirt's collar in an attempt to make sure that most of his flesh was well-covered, protected from indiscreet eyes. Where Tommy believed he was hiding some hickeys, Nina's honey glance caught sight of the swollen and reddish edges of a deep wound carefully hidden under the fabric of his shirt the moment Arthur had turned his head to look at Finn and rebuff him in a condescending older brother way. When his steel blue eyes met Nina's, he understood that she had seen the scar and quickly readjusted his collar, clearing his throat in embarrassment before bringing her attention to another topic but it was already too late. He had just confirmed her suspicions by doing so. The second alarming detail she caught was when she came to your house following Arthur's announcement that you were sick. She noticed how your eyes had changed since your last encounter, shivering at the way their aquamarine color had mysteriously turned one shade paler. Not only did they become almost white, but their black pupils were covered by a milky veil that rendered them as blank and glassy as a decaying corpse's. As much as Nina liked you, connecting with the wild and untamable nature you both shared, her blood would instantly run cold in her veins each time her gaze met yours: the loving and knowing looks you would often give her had turned into a dizzying void: all she could find in your eyes was emptiness.

But what had startled her the most hadn't been Arthur's odd behavior nor the disturbing abyss of your clouded eyes, but rather the frozen and disturbing something that radiated off you. In truth, you had always been surrounded by an ethereal, cold, and otherworldly threatening aura. A part of it was certainly due to your unusual appearance and your frozen beauty though. Yet, as you passed by her tonight, Nina knew it was different. You might have looked the same, dressed in a seductive and revealing dress adorned with expensive gold jewels, but apart from your familiar appearance the Sicilian nymph couldn't recognize you anymore. Worst than not recognizing the only friend she had made in England, Nina couldn't understand why her whole being reacted with unexplainable spikes of panic each time her skin grazed yours. It was as if her unconscious could foresee the monster that was lurking behind your seraphic complexions even before her eyes could.

As the dinner dragged on, Nina grasped the visible discomfort that had been growing on your face. The more minutes passed, the more you looked as if you were about to snap.

"Are you okay?" The Italian beauty mouthed, but the only reply she got was sheer silence. Overwhelmed by your bottomless hunger, you were trying your best not to let the delicious scents of human flesh get the best of you. Staring at the void, you nervously rubbed Arthur's thigh under the table and completely ignored Nina, far too busy trying not to think about her exquisite tan skin. Would she taste as sweet as the honey of her eyes? With his attention caught by the friction on his thigh, the gangster quickly glanced at you, concerned, and gently pressed his large and warm hand on yours in silent support. He knew you were starting to lose your patience.

"Can't you make her shut the fuck up?" Your siren-like voice, colder than Everest's snow, echoed in the room with such a caustic tone that Ada opened her eyes wide, an expression of pure shock on her doll-like face when you cut her off that bluntly. So bluntly even Nina, who was aware of the colder nature you hid from the rest of the world, couldn't help but almost choke on her wine.

"The hell is wrong with you, Heaven? She's a baby and sometimes babies cry! What a surprise!" Ada was quick to reply, instinctively hugging her newborn daughter closer as she cradled her. Elizabeth had been uncontrollably sobbing from the moment her big brown eyes had met your dead gaze. They said babies are more sensitive to silent threat, you know. Agnese once told Nina. Her cries, piercing and nerve-racking, had worsened the insufferable famine that howled inside of you. Not hiding your annoyance anymore, you rolled your shoulders to ease the tension of your stiff body but it didn't work, "I'm serious Heaven. You should consider getting used to it if you want to give children to Arthur one day." Ada lectured with one raised brow, making Elizabeth hop on her thighs to try to hush her. It didn't work. You dug your sharp nails into Arthur's thigh in reply, feeling your self-control break down at the child's exciting sobs and Ada's mouth-watering perfume. Arthur let out a low-key growl and squeezed your cold hand tighter.

"She's been screaming into my damn ear for God knows how long, Ada. Don't you think I've been patient enough? Isn't it enough for you to calm her down?" Your voice was hushed, barely above your normal tone, and yet its anger resonated loudly. Each word was carefully pronounced with a tense stillness between them, cold, sharp, and cutting like a razor slicing through the air, "So either you make her shut the fuck up..." You growled, the raging storm coming, "Or I'll bash her fucking head against the table!" You suddenly commanded, standing up so violently that your chair fell behind you in a noisy thud.

" Arthur!" Ada screamed, astounded and furious at your insolence.

"Arthur! Can't you control your wife?! Oh Arthur! Can't you put a damn leash around her neck?!" You cut her off, hitting the dining table with your delicate palms. All the plates and glasses clinked. Silence fell upon the room, the family now looking at you in a combination of fright and surprise. Even Tommy, who never missed an opportunity to fight with you, found himself petrified by your rage. It was even more surprising considering how you weren't the one to lose your temper easily, rather leaving this behavior to your husband. In other circumstances, Nina would have giggled for when she talked one could often hear revolution, but it didn't make her laugh. Quite the contrary. She stood up at the same time Arthur did, and gently put her warm hands on Ada's shoulders while the lanky gangster wrapped your waist protectively and pulled you closer.

"Please Ada, don't take it personally," Nina started, "Heaven's been struggling to sleep for weeks, that's just the fatigue talking. Right Arthur?"

"Right." The oldest Shelby brother mumbled, "C'm'here angel, you're going to rest a bit in one of the guest's bedrooms ay." And without further ado nor apologies, Arthur hurried on and led you out of the dining room, quickly climbing the stairs of Arrow house to lock both of you in another wing of the mansion. "Okay you calm down now. Told ye it was a bad idea." He urged, his calloused hand cupping your face to keep you focused.

"But Nina worked her arse off for this party. I had to come." You grunted through gritted teeth, all of them sharp and pointy except for the upper and lower central incisors, "I feel like I'm becoming crazy." Pushing Arthur away, you started to pace in the bedroom while pulling your hair back. The gangster's eyes followed your every move, heart racing in his chest as he witnessed you becoming more and more feral and mentally unstable. He knew he had to do something before you slipped into another murderous craze, as you did the night you came back covered with fresh blood.

When Arthur exited the room he was as white as a ghost. Wobbling on his long legs, the gangster made a few steps before he had to lean against the wall so as not to fall on the wooden floor of the corridor. He had lost so much blood that he was pale and sweaty, a confused look etched on his face. With his breathing shallow and ragged, Arthur knew he was about to faint at any minute. After a quick but rough fuck, he had cradled your dainty body in his arms while your teeth broke his skin and muscle — He didn't let it show, but he had almost passed out twice. Bringing one trembling hand to his forehead, the gangster let out a shaky sigh as he relished the cold sensation of his rings against his burning skin.

"Take." A ghostly female voice resounded in the hallway, making him turn around in one vivid movement that instantly made him regret doing so. He grunted, the drowsy feeling worsening, but as black dots appeared in front of his eyes, he could still recognize the charming silhouette of Nina who was handling him some chocolate squares. Her magnificent amber eyes curiously gawked at him, then at the red stain on his disheveled shirt he didn't even button up properly, "It would be a shame for you to die the night I hold my first party here. And Tommy wouldn't be happy about that."

"Fookin' hilarious, eh." Arthur grunted but still took the chocolate, quickly putting two squares in his mouth. Not that it would be the first time Nina would see him collapse on the floor, usually drunk as fuck, but it just wasn't the same. Fortunately for him, sugar did its miracle and he soon retrieved color.

"Eat everything, stùpitu. It will do you good. My whole lineage would probably pray for you if they ever see how slim you are." Nina stated quietly, but asparkle glowed in her cunning eyes. Her brother-in-law raised a brow but obeyed, eating the rest of the chocolate before quickly slicking his hair back to tame the wild locks that had fallen in front of his face. "Now you gotta tell me what's wrong with Heaven."

"For fuck's sake," Arthur growled and rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed by Nina's insistence, "Told ye, she's sick." And that was all he said, already turning his heels to leave but Nina managed to grab him by the wrist before he even moved, her small hand firmly tightening its grip around him.

“Enough with the bullshit, Arthur. I heard uncle Charlie and Curly talked days ago. They said you came at night with three half-eaten corpses, asking them to help you hide them!” She retorted more bluntly than what the gangster expected. Astonished by the girl's temper he shot her a murderous look from over his shoulder. It didn’t seem to impress her — not in the slightest. Danger wasn't Arthur Shelby to her, it had been Stefanor Spinetta and a forced wedding. Now that she was far away from those two threats, nothing seemed to sincerely scare her anymore, "Look at you! Do you think I'm stupid or blind?" Her fingers clenched around his wrist even more, clinging to his warm freckled skin, “She’s not herself and you know it! Look at what she did to you! What happened to her?”

“Piss off, Nina! That's none of your fookin' business ay.” He snarled, teeth bared like a rabid animal about to bite. If she hadn’t been family, he would have probably gone for her throat but, instead, he just snatched his wrist from her with one violent movement that almost made her trip on her own feet.

“Vaffanculo!” Nina not being afraid of him was one thing, but her throwing herself in his arms to tear his shirt apart and expose his chest was another. He had tried to push her but she had been too quick. Arthur stood there motionless in the dim-lit corridor, mouth agape, and steel blue eyes wide open as Nina stepped back, one of her hands covering her mouth as she saw them. The dozen red and swollen bite marks on her brother-in-law's neck, shoulders, and torso. A whispered prayer escaped from her charming lips as her honey-pools eyes surveyed the wounds, some of them indicating that his flesh had been ripped off. It was a miracle Arthur didn't already die from pain, blood loss, or infection.

"Nina, love." He started, his voice soft and quiet as if he was cautiously trying to approach a wild animal, "You shouldn't tell anyone alright?" Arthur made one step towards her but she backed off in reflex, terrified, "Not even Tommy alright? You know he'll try to cure her with a bullet between her eyes."

Arthur and you left Arrow House in a hurry, right after Nina had lent him one of Tommy's shirts. She didn't know why she helped, but she did, probably feeling guilty of discovering something she shouldn't have.

It has been three days since the disastrous party, and since then you refused to leave your house, afraid of losing control again. Three days during which you remained curled up on the sofa, your blank eyes staring at the hearth. Arthur had been outside since the early morning doing God knew what, so all you did was keep watching the fire and trying to ignore the whispers. Its dancing flames, casting their orange glow on your face, didn't even manage to warm up your dying body. Absent from your own mind, you didn't even hear Arthur coming, nor leaning against the door with his arms crossed, observing you with undescribable worries shining in his loving eyes. His throat tightened with frustration at how powerless he was starting to feel, not able to do anything except watch you slowly disappear until all remained was an empty carcass only animated by hunger and bloodthirst. Somehow, he hoped what he did in the forest would soon bring you some comfort.

"Angel," he called, walking towards you and putting one gentle hand on your shoulder. He had barely touched your skin when he backed off, your iciness biting him as if he had just dipped his hand in liquid nitrogen. You looked at him, offering him a tired smile -- a smile that was only expressed by your lips curling, for your cloudy eyes looked desperately devoid of life.

"Oh, your skin's warm. It feels good."

"Come on, we'll take a hot shower." He said, pressing a kiss on your head and helping you stand up.

"Hm." You didn't protest, in fact, you let him handle you as easily as a lifeless doll until you were both in the bathroom, Arthur's skilled hands running down your shoulders and making your nightgown fall at your feet. All you did was shiver with cold, goosebumps adorning your marble skin at the frost that had settled in your bones. "I'm cold, Art..."

"I know, love." His gravelly voice slightly trembled as his fingers roamed over your protruding ribs. With thick eyebrows knitted together, Arthur let out a long sigh, "You really need to eat." He said, the palm of his free hand caressing one of the pointy bones of your hips. Still, he found you as stunning and mesmerizing as he always did.

"No, I don't want to kill another family." You retorted, pursing your juicy and glossy lips together like a sulking teen. Not that you felt any kind of emotional empathy towards your victims, but it wasn't a pleasant experience either if omitting the gargantuan pleasure of finally feeling satiated for a while. The most annoying part had been eating their daughter, no matter how tasty, fresh, and juicy her flesh had been. With that being said, you turned your head to the other side to deny him a kiss. Arthur grunted and pushed you a bit more impatiently into the shower, frustrated by your bratty behavior, which didn't disappear despite all the changes you've been through lately.

"And I don't want to see ye starving yourself," He scolded, joining you.

“It’s freezing!” You hissed, not even noticing the suffocating steam that accumulated in the shower nor how reddened your husband's skin was at the places where the burning water rained down. The feeling of it on his freshest wounds made him grit his teeth but the pain didn’t keep him from staying in the shower with you.

“It’s burning hot, love,” Arthur replied, his gravelly voice softened, filled with undeniable concern at your inability to properly feel the temperature. Noticing that you were quite literally shivering despite the hot water pouring on the two of you, the gangster’s slim arms wrapped your waist and pulled you closer to interlock your bodies. Each of your curves and shapes perfectly melted into each other, like the pieces of the same jigsaw. Only when you crashed against him you let out a sigh of relief, your shivers suddenly disappearing, and Arthur’s natural warmth spreading under your skin, crawling to your icy heart.

You hugged him back softly. Then tighter. More, I need more of him. Then so hard that your nails broke the skin of his back, scratching him until his crimson blood stained your growing claws. A hoarse whimper escaped from his trembling lips, halfway between pleasure and pain. Lately, your relationship has been filled with pain. So much pain. So much blood. You hurt him with teeth and claws, and you ate his very flesh, but to Arthur and his mind, which was sinking as deep as yours, it felt like true love.

"You don't want to kill ay," He mumbled between two kisses, "Fine, I'll do it for ye hmm?"

"No, it's not your role to do th—" He didn't let you finish your sentence, moaning as you scratched his back again, leaving long and red cuts on his flesh.

"Listen, little one," He grunted, one hand pressing against the wet wall of the shower to keep his thrusts steady, the other grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him right in the eyes, "I'll do anything for ye. Any-fucking-thing."

"Ow!" You winced when Arthur hit a painful spot inside of you but suffering quickly blended with pleasure.

"I'll let you eat me own flesh y'know." He growled again before stroking the fragile skin of your throat with his hungry tongue, the caress of his mustache sending shivers down your spine, "But you don't want that ay? And ye don't want to kill either but love, the truth is ye need to eat fookin' human flesh hm. Fuck—" He slammed his hips more fiercely, your love-making looking more like savage breeding than anything else lately. One might even wonder if pleasure was really the goal behind it, or if you were trying to see who could hurt the other the most, "So I'll —slam— fookin' —slam— hunt fresh meat —slam— for you. For us."

"Arthur! St— Stop." His sudden roughness startled you, making you momentarily snap from your emptiness. Surprised and overwhelmed, you tried to gently push him away in order to make him stop, or at least, to make him slow down his merciless pace but he didn't.

"Don't." He hissed in your ear, the tip of his nose bumping against your cheek and his scorching breath fanning over your skin. The faint and familiar whiskey scent would have usually lulled you if your sharp senses hadn’t grasped the metallic smell of blood. "I said don't.” He repeated on a firmer tome, letting go of your chin. His free hand was now firmly grabbing one of your butt cheeks to keep you from pulling your hips away from him.

You screamed at the sharp, searing pain that jolted through your body like lightning, sending a wave of raw sensation crashing against your neck. The violence with which Arthur had bitten your flesh was a shock, the intensity so sudden and overwhelming that for a moment, you felt lost in a world where pain was the only constant. His lips curled as blood gushed from the bite, tainting your immaculate marbled skin with red trickles. Eyes rolling back into his head as pleasure washed over him, Arthur hummed. "No..." You whined, panic coursing through your veins as you slowly understood the reason behind his absence earlier and the erratic behavior he was displaying. "What the fuck did you do?!" You yelled at him, struggling in his arms and whimpering at the same time, assaulted by his relentless thrusts and trapped between his body and the shower wall.

Nevertheless, you managed to slip one trembling hand on the back of his head while he relished the sweet taste of your ambrosia blood and the tightness of your sensitive walls around him. Gathering your remaining strength, you pulled him by his wet hair to free your neck from his bleeding and starving mouth. He hissed like a wildcat it reply. "Why?! Why did you do that, you bloody idiot?!" Your agonizing and furious screams seemed to work some sense back in his head though. He finally slowed down, now barely moving. In fact, he just rolled his hips sensually against yours, which resulted in a wave of pleasure that eased your pain and made you feel comfortably full.

" 'Cause I love you.” He stated, “Remember what we said when we decided to get married?" His crimson lips curled in a twisted smile, beads of blood clinging to his mustache. "If you suffer, I'll suffer. If you die I'll die," He repeated, like a proud schoolboy who had learned his lesson by heart. A gloomy and obsessive one. "And if you starve, I'll starve..." A glimmer of madness sparkled in his eyes. As the moonlight enlightened his face through the window, its deathly glow casting antlers-shaped shadows behind him, the darkness of his pupils faded from his eyes, losing their usual depth and color for an empty fog. “And if you hear them, I’ll do it to.”

“Hear what?” You murmured, fingers loosening their grip in his hair.

“The woods’ whispers.”

notes: You’ve reached the end of this story, congratulations! Admittedly it didn’t come out as I wanted first but it would have been far too long and I didn’t feel like writing a whole new series. Also it was supposed to be more graphic. When referring to the Algonquian myth of the Wendigo there are two ways to turn into one: either by dreaming of it like Heaven, who was plagued by its spirit since she was young, or by eating human flesh. This explain why his transformation is faster than Heaven’s. Upon discovering what she suffered from, Arthur decided to eat human flesh and turn into one not only to share her pain, but also to remain by Heaven’s side forever. He knew that her new condition meant she would live quite eternally and didn’t want to leave her alone. The ending is open: it’s up to you to what the woods are whispering to them and also what happens to both of them after this. Thank you for reading this disturbing Halloween AU!

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

✞ Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996

[amanyay556]

Hi dear donors ! ❤️

I would like to extend my thank and gratitude for the support you have been offering over the last eleven months. ❤️☺️

My family and I have been suffering and going through the hardest days we have ever experienced in our life . Things are very hard to get and and sometimes unattainable.😭😓

Our sufferings and hardship started on the first days of the war when all our possessions were completely destroyed and burned. We have become displaced and homeless , finding ourselves in a small tent in streets with no means of life. We lack every single necessary thing of life; food, water, hygiene essentials, and other necessities have become scarce and rare.

A photo taken to show how incredibly harsh our life has become after the war. We are struggling and facing lots of barriers to obtain the simplest necessities for living. Everything single thing is a complete story.

You can't imagine what difficulties we have been going through all these days of war. No cooking gas , nor cooking tools exist . We struggle to prepare a small meal of food.

No bakeries are available. Everything seems a miracle and unbelievable.😭 The war has stolen our joy and smile, leaving us busy thinking only of staying safe and alive. Our future has gone with the wind and our kids lost their dreams and ambitions.

This is a part of burying the dead. We also face some problems in the process of buying our dead people as no place is there for the family. Tombs aren't enough for the number of people living on a small spot of land.

A photo taken for the morning queue of filling our gallons with drink water. We wait hours to get some water for drink. Our life is full of tragedy and sadness.

Our sufferings and hardship started on the first days of the war when all our possessions were completely destroyed and burned. We have become displaced and homeless , finding ourselves in a small tent in streets with no means of life. We lack every single necessary thing of life; food, water, hygiene essentials, and other necessities have become scarce and rare.

A photo taken to show how incredibly harsh our life has become after the war. We are struggling and facing lots of barriers to obtain the simplest necessities for living. Everything single thing is a complete story.

So I am asking you generous donors to help me find safety and stability for my family through your generous donations whatever you can or through your shares of my messages and reposting them to help reach the ultimate goal sooner.

Yours.

YOURS

[help-lana]

I am Lana, a Palestinian residing in Gaza. It is with deep sorrow that I reach out to you today, seeking assistance to relocate my family from Gaza to Egypt. Allow me to briefly share my family's story: During the war, we were compelled to move from the north to the south, experiencing displacement and enduring over seven evacuations. Our current living conditions are incredibly challenging. The situation in Gaza is dire, intolerable, and our lives are in grave danger.

I hope to be on your list or pin the post. Thank you for your humanity.

Relly Need Your Help To Evacuate Them To A Safe Plece As Soon As Possible Outside Gaza

❤️🖤🤍💚❤️🖤🤍💚❤️🖤🤍💚❤️🖤🤍💚

To donate please click here

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[fastandcarlos]

On The Mend : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: with your lack of presence in the paddock, fans are starting to worry, little do they know that you happen to be a little broken back at home

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liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 849,183 others

oscarpiastri: another successful week of racing, super proud of the whole team to get the car all the way to P2 this weekend 🏆🏎️

35,058 comments

username1: congratulations oscar, such an awesome drive!!

username2: just a shame that yn wasn’t there to see it once again 🙄

landonorris: so proud of you osc 😭😭😭

username3: surely they can’t still be together, she hasn’t shown her face in weeks…

charles_leclerc: mum is very proud that the two of us were on the podium btw

oscarpiastri: @/charles_leclerc it was all thanks to her pep talk ofc

username4: we’ll still support you osc even if yn won’t

mclaren: the whole team is so proud of you, congratulations oscar!

username5: enjoy the celebrations, I’m sure the team will be there for you at least 🥲

danielricciardo: congrats brother, always nice to see you repping for down under

username6: either something must be seriously wrong or yn really just doesn’t care anymore 😭

maxverstappen1: hell of a drive from you, great to see you back where you belong!

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ynusername posted two private stories

replies

georgerussell63: thanks for reminding everyone I got a penalty yn 😂😂

oscarpiastri: make sure you’re resting, you don’t need to worry about the race sweetheart!!

ynusername: I’ve never missed a race of yours 😩

danielricciardo: why tf are you in hospital and why didn’t you tell me immediately so that I could help!!

nicolepiastri: sending you lots of love sweetheart, sorry we can’t be there to help you 💕

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oscarpiastri: I promise to sneak you in loads of snacks as soon as I’m there 💞

lilymhe: I miss you so much, hope you’re recovering well girlie

landonorris: he’s on the first flight outta here straight back to you 🧡

carmenmmundt: sending you all the healing vibes in the world ❤️

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liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant and 812,948 others

oscarpiastri: wish me luck on the flight, some weird passenger keeps looking over their shoulder at me 👀

36,950 comments

username7: that poor pilot having to drive these two home lmao

danielricciardo: now you get to experience my struggle before you came along 😭

oscarpiastri: @/danielricciardo idk how you ever did it 🤦🏻

username8: at least oscar has lando to celebrate with even though others have abandoned him

alex_albon: why else do you think we offered to take you home on our plane instead?! 😂

username9: i wonder if he's going home to yn being there or not

charles_leclerc: you're incredibly brave volunteering to travel home with him 👏🏻

username10: yn should be there with him, i really hope that they're okay

username11: what would we do without these two in our lives!?

maxverstappen1: we tried to talk you out of it but you didn't listen 🤷🏻

username 12: i love how all the boys are exposing lando as a terrible travel partner hahah

landonorris: stop trying to make it sound like we're not bffs osc 💔

oscarpiastri: @/landonorris that's because we're definitely not best friends

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liked by landonorris, alex_albon and 793,722 others

oscarpiastri: seeing as some people want to make it their business, we thought we’d share why yn hasn’t been around recently. a couple of weeks ago she had a nasty fall at home which resulted in a broken leg. yesterday I finally got to bring her home and begin helping her with recovery…just call me doctor piastri from now on 🧑🏻‍⚕️💞

57,492 comments

username13: i hope all you losers who thought they broke up are proud of yourselves 🙄

landonorris: you guys know where i am if you need anything!!

georgerussel63: we love you yn, make sure you get plenty of rest ❤️❤️❤️

username14: sending you so much love yn, get plenty of rest

ynusername: apologies in advance for the lack of sleep you're about to get because of me 😂

oscarpiastri: @/ynusername as long as you're healing idc 🥹

username15: can't believe some of you were so stupid to ever think they'd actually break up

alex_albon: glad to see you're back at home where you belong yn

danielricciardo: do i even want to ask how she managed to break her leg??

oscarpiastri: @/danielricciardo if I told you I don't think you'd believe me 😂

username16: poor oscar looks exhausted having to drive and take care of yn too

charles_leclerc: pls tell me I get to sign the cast ✍️

ynusername: @/charles_leclerc i'll save a spot just for you

username17: please make sure you take care of yourself yn and ignore what everyone has to say

carmenmmundt: sending you so many healing vibes yn, we miss you at the paddock

username18: during a time when they need privacy and instead they've been hounded by nosey idiots 🤦🏻

maxverstappen1: can't wait to see all the doctor piastri content from you! 😂

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liked by georgerussell63, carlossainz55 and 682,058 others

oscarpiastri: the only way to get her out of the house atm is to bribe her with coffee ☕️

63,957 comments

username19: it's adorable how much oscar cares about her 🥰

lilymhe: tell her im omw with coffee as we speak to get her out again!

username20: it's so good to see yn back up on her feet and moving around again 🤩

alex_albon: i actually forgot what yn looked like stood upright for a moment

username21: why does it feel like oscar is one of those partners who is constantly checking on her making sure she's doing her exercises and following every single bit of advice

maxverstappen1: yn's injury is really making you look like the doting boyfriend rn ❤️

danielricciardo: if yn ever gets bored of being entertained on a walk by you, you know where i am!

username22: i bet yn can't wait for race weekend again to get rid of the nagging doctor 😂

landonorris: wish you looked after me as well as you look after yn

oscarpiastri: @/landonorris just a shame that we're not dating then really huh?!

username23: anyone else noticed how many drivers have been round this week to take yn out and make sure she's staying active too

username24: @/username23 i think she might just be the most popular wag on the grid

ynusername: i hate you but i love you at the same time these days 💞

oscarpiastri: @/ynusername if the doctor says you keep moving, it's my job to make you move 😂

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liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt and 59,491 others

ynusername: I always knew oscar was secretly boyfriend coded but damn having him look after me is making me fancy him all over again 🔥

12,056 comments

username25: i think i might've just fallen in love with him all over again too 😍

alexandrasaintmleux: make the most of all of the attention you're getting girl

ynusername: @/alexandrasaintmleux oh I am, he doesn't let me lift a finger 😘

username26: soft, doctor boyfriend oscar might just be my new favourite thing

charles_leclerc: if i see many more of these posts from you i might just need a sick bucket 🤮

username27: yn you really are the luckiest having this guy in your life

carlossainz55: i always knew he was a softie deep down 🥺

oscarpiastri: you know i'd do anything as long as it meant getting you better again

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri you're an angel in disguise i swear

username28: i'd break my leg too if it meant oscar piastri was there to look after me 😂

username29: it melts my heart to see how caring oscar has been over the past few weeks

danielricciardo: even i found myself getting a bit excited when i saw these photos yn

username30: everyone needs an oscar piastri in their life

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ynusername posted two stories

replies

landonorris: you're ruining oscar's image with every post you share these days 😂

oscarpiastri: there's nowhere else that I'd rather be

ynusername: we'll pretend you didn't complain that it wasn't race weekend first thing this morning shall we???

carmenmmundt: hope it's good news, lemme know how you get on!!

alex_albon: praying for you and hoping that it's the beginning of the end now 💕

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danielricciardo: thinking of you guys, tell the doctor if he doesn't give you good news i'll break his leg 💞

ynusername: something tells me you might find a few challenges in doing that hahah

georgerussell63: you're so strong yn, just remember we love you

charles_leclerc: the whole family is hoping for good news for you and oscar ❤️

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liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 70,238 others

ynusername: the moment i've waited for for so long, back in my second home of the garage and back supporting my love during race weekend

14,592 comments

username31: make sure you keep taking care of yourself yn!! 💕

oscarpiastri: cannot begin to tell you how happy i am to have you back with me again ☺️

ynusername: @/oscarpiastri the best feeling in the world being able to cheer you on again

danielricciardo: ik just how much this means to you, welcome back to us yn

username32: it's so good to see you right back where you belong again

username33: it feels like you've never been away, I'm so happy for you guys 🥹

charles_leclerc: on the mend at last, i hope you know just how many people can't wait to welcome you back this weekend

username34: we love our favourite #81 fan 🧡

iamrebeccad: i am hurrying over to that mclaren garage as fast as i possibly can rn ‼️

username35: so happy to see you back on your feet and back with our favourite duo again

username36: this is the content we've been waiting for, it's so good to see you back

landonorris: as much as i hate having to share oscar again, it's a joy to have you back 🙃

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[the-nameless-ramekin]

🤧🤧🤧 THIS IS EVERYTHING TO ME 

genuinely at a loss for words and pumping my brain for actually coherent English things to say JAHSJKHKH so there's just brain dumping in the tags 👇

Tumblr can't deal with all of my tags RIP so here's more things I included that got thanos snapped:

this has had more cultural impact than the renaissance. not even my partner on our wedding day could move me to this degree.

not me not realising your two accounts were the same person LMAO 🤡

genuinely am so overwhelmed by the sheer prowess, beauty, intricacy of this masterpiece. bias aside (being my story and also my existing love for your art) it's just objectively the most visually stunning thing I've ever seen

I will blast my current story with copious amounts of leorook in honour of you

how tf did it take me an hour to type everything out + wrangle Tumblr

i drew a thing for this beautiful fanfic by @the-nameless-ramekin >:3c i 100% recommend this fic for people who enjoy crying (and beautiful writing in general!!) anyway hey rame...it's ao3 user bachstreetsolo o(-( i love your writing (i cried!!)

keep reading for rambles and alt images 🌟

fun little detail (kind of) - i gave each character clothes in a hue close to their partner's hair colour...vil's was a bit hard to work in but she has a bit of white in her hat. also sorry for having the opposite of same face syndrome

honestly i think this might be the most detailed piece i've done? even my rook birthday art wasn't this intense omg. i aim to do more detailed pieces in the future 💥 i can't keep doing flat backgrounds forever...i'll keep improving 🔥 and seriously read the fic it's crazy good

[child-of-the-danube]

Agatha All Along in general but especially Agatha and Rio are so fucking special to me and I cannot be normal about this...

We are finally not being queer-baited. Whether they seal it with a kiss or a flashback scene or a happy ending it doesn't matter. We have confirmation that those two women were and still are deeply in love.

It's two mature women. No weird age gap, no mentor-pupil dynamic, no disproportionate power play. I find coming out and setting into your queerness stories incredibly important but it is so refreshing to see a story where the discovery and accepting that you're queer isn't the focal point. They just are who they are and neither them nor the people around them had a big dramatic reaction to it like it's something strange or unexpected. They just ARE and my god is that beautiful to witness ❤️

Their softness, connection and care for eachother is so heartbreaking. Agatha smiling and leaning into Rio when talking about her scar cause Rio already knows, Agatha melting just by having her hair played with, Rio refusing the kiss cause that would be taking advantage of Agatha's weak moment, making sure she knows that Teen isn't her son, Rio regretting what she had to do for centuries. I am losing my mind over here

The whole cast is mature women (well, + Joe haha) which again, refreshing as hell to see. And I love how the focus isn't just completely on Agatha. We get constant glimpses into everyone. Jen saved the day twice already. Alice had her beautiful moment in e4, Teen is basically their spirit guide with his spell book. Adore that lil funky boy Agatha technically kidnapped but whom she very obviously cares for more than she would like to. Lilia is my favourite of this new found coven family. Her and Agatha are the oldest and have seen the most and suffered through so much. I think that's why she softened up to Agatha and vice versa. Beside Teen, Agatha seems to be the softest towards Lilia like when she had her hallucinations and she didn't mock her but reassured her it's ok and Lilia's constant blurting out of prophecies like "Protect Agatha" 😭😭. I could go on for ages about all of their dynamics.

And everything about the production and the actors themselves being SOOO invested into the story and clearly loving what they do.

I don't give a shit about Marvel in general but damn, they got me with this one. Canonically gay witches, Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey Plaza, musical numbers and then they throw in miss icon legend mother Patti Lupone on top of it all. I am in every possible way the target audience

The talk about how witches, monsters and in general creatures feared by the wider population are so very deeply queer coded is for another day but AAAAAAAAAAA I love everything about this show so much I might just explode

[boyapologist]

also what are the odds of someone putting dnp on my dash just now that I'm considering watching their stuff again....

[brummiereader]

Ohhh, my heart ❤️😩! This was absolutely beautiful Lee, I'm speechless.

The way you captured Tommy and Lily's grief is so accurate to any parent having lost a child (although for me not the same degree of loss as Tommy and Lily's, I have personally had pregnancy losses). It's raw, unforgiving and soul destroying. This was so powerful to read. Tommy delving in to his own grief is not something we usually see men do, especially not men from his generation, and you wrote it so well, you can feel his torment and desperation to have his wife come back to him. I know this sounds weird to say but hearing about Tommy's pain was almost a relief, it took the pressure off hearing about Lily's, hers pulls you down into a feeling of dread and despair with no light at the end on tunnel, where Tommy's grief has hope and the want for calmer times. I honestly can't praise your writing enough, you have an exceptional way of writing characters feelings, there's so much empathy and care written in your words. It's like you are looking out for them, holding their hand as you guide them through your story ❤️.

“Yes, sir. Only open when the wind blows. Or as my mum used to tell us —fairy folk hid in the petals and closed them up when it threatened to rain,” Please...i want this to be true because that made me smile so much ❤️. It's just wonderful 🌼.

Honestly this story has really touched me, and you have given anyone that has gone through something similar hope that even through the darkest moments the Windflowers will reopen and peace will soon arrive, beautiful Lee absolutely beautiful, thank you ❤️❤️.

Windflowers

Tommy Shelby x Lily Shelby (OC, Tommy's wife)

Summary: A continuation of my fic, Lily, where we revisit Tommy and his wife a year after the death of their daughter. As Lily wakes from a nightmare Tommy is there to comfort her and they have a break thru in her recovery.

Author's Note: Requested by @jomarch-wannabe who wanted to read a fic about Tommy comforting someone after a nightmare. I decided to use my OC. I hope that's ok!

Warnings: drinking, PTSD, mention of child death

“You’ve brought her those every day for months. Why?” Tommy gestured wearily toward the white and black flowers, thinking how much they reminded him of funeral flowers. They were nothing like the cheerful pink tulips and red roses his wife had kept in the house before their daughter was taken from them. Why must the color be stolen from every corner of their lives, Tommy wondered. 

“Where streams his blood there blushing springs a rose and where a tear has dropped, a wind-flower blows,” Ada mused softly as she arranged the blossoms carefully in a vase. Turning to face her brother she explained. "These flowers only close at night and open in the morning. Like an anticipation of something soon to arrive.”

“What are you on about, eh?” Tommy asked, stamping out his cigarette in frustration. His head throbbed with a fresh headache, the first whisky of the day not doing enough to quell his growing fears about his wife’s condition.

"I thought Lily should have something to remind her of her strength," she said, holding Tommy’s gaze for a moment before reaching forward to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

As his sister’s hand slipped from his calloused fingertips, Tommy called out, “Ada, what if…”

But she interrupted, knowing all too well what trepidation he held close to his heart. “She’ll come back to you, Tom. Give her time,” she said quietly.

“She will,” Tommy agreed quickly. He paced toward his desk, stomping the thought out like burning embers of weakness he didn’t dare let catch fire.

There wasn’t anything anyone could do except wait for Lily to reemerge from the dense forest of her mind. She seemed to wander aimlessly about Arrow House as though in a dream, but when she slept she seemed to be fully conscious elsewhere, her facial expressions changing in her sleep. 

While she lay in repose, Tommy kept careful watch over her, noticing these small shifts of movement, wanting nothing more than to reach for her and stroke her cheek. He wondered in those moments if she might awaken and speak to him as she used to, looking up through heavy eyelids and smile when she realized how adoringly he gazed upon her. Would she blush and giggle as she did when they were first married, hearing him compliment her natural beauty?

That night as Tommy watched Frances gather his wife’s nightgown and slippers, he stared at the flowers on the bedside table. 

“The windflowers are lovely aren’t they, Mr. Shelby?,” she asked, making pleasant conversation. 

“Windflowers? Is that what they’re called?” he responded. 

“Yes, sir. Only open when the wind blows. Or as my mum used to tell us —fairy folk hid in the petals and closed them up when it threatened to rain,” she added with a chuckle, heading toward the bathroom to help Mrs. Shelby dress for bed.

Tommy smiled at the children’s tale, having heard similar stories in his youth of fairies and their world of twilight. For a moment he thought of sharing it with his daughter, a funny little bedtime story, and then he remembered her empty room at the end of the silent corridor. It was moments like those that made him lose breath, the unbearable ache taking him from joy to grief so suddenly he felt nauseous. Sitting forward on the bed, he placed his head in his hands to keep the room from swaying, waiting for his balance to return before descending the stairs in a panic.

It wasn’t until hours later, he returned to bed, properly numbed by the alcohol and stacks of paperwork. Lily slept, though he couldn’t quite tell if it was a peaceful slumber. She often moved about the mattress at night and currently she was laying across it so there was little room for Tommy. He didn’t mind, taking up a place in the armchair across from her to keep watch. He had only just sunk into the deep cushions when her lips parted in a shallow cry and Tommy lurched forward in fear, worried tonight might be a rare occasion for the doctor. 

Tommy placed a hand on the duvet to be closer to her, though he didn’t  dare touch her directly. In the early days that had sent Lily into a panic, setting off screaming and thrashing that could only be calmed by sedatives. Now Tommy was more cautious in his approach. However, tonight would be different. To his surprise, Lily’s demeanor was calm and contented as she seemed to be having a  pleasant dream. Her hand reached for something in the darkness and Tommy observed with awe, enchanted by her beautiful smile.

Then suddenly she recoiled and her body began to shake uncontrollably. Tommy froze, unsure what to do. Should he wake her or allow the dream to continue? Uncertain what she was seeing, he debated for a fraction of a second. When Lily began to toss and whimper painfully, he could not restrain himself any longer. He hadn’t been there when the Changrettas tortured his wife and daughter, but he was here now and he could comfort her. He had to try.

Sliding into bed beside his wife, he took her in his arms, smoothing back her hair as he hushed her. “Lily, darling, it’s me. You’re home. You’re safe,” he whispered to her as he rocked her. To his surprise she clung to him, fingers gripping him with brutal strength he didn’t know she possessed. Then her eyes opened, wild and frightened at first. 

Suddenly, she focused on him, seeing him for the first time in months. Eyes glistening with tears, her lip trembled. “T-tommy?” 

“Yes, yes,” Tommy replied, overwhelmed by the sound of his name on her lips once again. 

“I’m here. You’re safe with me,” he repeated as he kissed the top her head. “I love you, Lily,” he said, feeling tears stinging his eyes. Feeling her in his arms was a revelation, the solace he had been seeking all that time without knowing it. Had she really said his name or did he imagine it?

As they sat huddled together, the sun began to rise in the distance. For the first time Tommy noticed what Ada and Frances had told him. The flowers were opening slightly and leaning toward the light. As Lily stroked a hand down his chest, he felt hopeful. She had let him comfort her and she had said his name. He was sure of it now more than ever, she would return to him.

-----------------------

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@christinasyellowflowers

@theshelbyclan

@areyenotfondofmelobster

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@jomarch-wannabe

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@everythingelseisextra

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@cillmequick

@look-at-the-soul

@runnning-outof-time

@dandelionprints

@rangerelik

@babayaga67

@babaohhhriley

@callsign-shark

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@trixie23

@mythos-writes

@padfootdaredmetoo

@moral-terpitude

@dearshelby

@anonymooseforever007

@thegreatdragonfruta

@peakyltd

@brummiereader

@kmhappybunny240

@pherelesytsia

@toms-cherry-trees

@l1-l4

@mrs-bellingham

@duckybird101

@gypsy-girl-08

@murderousginger

[https-papaya]

such a gentleman — max v.

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( masterlist | guidelines | drop a request )

PAIRINGS: max verstappen x fem!reader

SUMMARY: max' best friend breaks up with her boyfriend in spectacular fashion. maybe this is the push he needs to finally admit he's in love with her.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i'm genuinely blown away by the kindness and support i've received from everybody so far. i was really nervous to start posting here, but you've all been incredible! i hope that you guys enjoy this one as much as i enjoyed writing it — WARNING that this smau involves references to infidelity (not max or the reader). have fun and feel free to send me requests!

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yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, danielricciardo and others

yourusername what better way to take my mind off things. monaco, you were a dream. next stop...?

view all comments

maxverstappen1 Thank you for being there. 💛

liked by yourusername

user2 hope you're feeling better!

user3 You should totally go on holiday somewhere and just forget about him tbh

yourusername that's the plan 😉

user1 ugh i hope max dropkicks him into next year

liked by maxverstappen1

danielricciardo my offer still stands...

yourusername you're just built different 😔 aus is too hot for me!!

landonorris thanks for convincing max not to order in the sushi platter

yourusername anything for my favourite papaya 🧡

oscarpiastri hey.

yourusername sorry osc, he's got the longevity :( give it a few months?

user4 oSC????

yourusername added to her story

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, landonorris and others

yourusername much needed.

view all comments

user2 the second pic???

user4 omg i cant believe max and her went together sdjhfhdj

danielricciardo and here i thought aus was too hot for you??

yourusername 🫢

user1 oh theyre in love ur honour

user7 showing the ex what he's missing fr

liked by yourusername

landonorris without me??

yourusername next time xx

user3 the fact this means max took the first pic has me spiralling

user5 no way her ex isnt seething over this LMAO

user6 his fault for cheating imo 🤷

liked by maxverstappen1

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and others

yourusername another month, another race. glad to be back 💛

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user2 no max in the likes?

user3 its over i fear

landonorris supporting the hometown boys, i hope?

yourusername count on it!

user1 and if i speak-

user4 don't.

danielricciardo was the coffee as good as he says?

yourusername even better i promise

user5 HE???

user6 surely-

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, landonorris and others

maxverstappen1 Didn't get the win this weekend, but I won something better.

tagged: yourusername

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user1 oh my god.

yourusername thank you for loving me ❤️

maxverstappen1 Always ❤️

user4 its so over for her ex BYE-

user3 more affection than her ex ever showed her i know that's right

user2 They're sickeningly cute I can't rn

user5 parents???

danielricciardo fucking finally

landonorris it was almost painful fr

yourusername oh shut up

oscarpiastri no no he has a point

yourusername do you want me to pay for lunch tmr or not??

oscarpiastri i'm willing to take the risk

liked by landonorris and danielricciardo

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