#he loves his girls and everything us picture worthy

[imthursdaysyme]

Ronance against Steve and his camera

[idksmtms]

The Comeback (Tommy Shelby x reader, Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess)

Request 

A/N: I changed the request a little because the only person who comes back from the dead on Peaky Blinders is Alfie Solomons. He reserves the right. But I also felt like this could fit in so well with the end of S1/start of S2 story where Grace has gone and Tommy is on his own in Small Heath and she comes back out of the blue. 

Summary: After Grace left and he couldn’t follow, Tommy decides to get on with his life and agrees to marry the daughter of a local businessman who could help further the Peaky Blinders’ operation. When the line of his feelings begins to blur, Grace reappears. 

Word count: 6,862

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, some show spoilers, angst, era typical attitudes on men, women, and marriage, marriage of convenience, (seeming) one-sided love, (seemingly) unrequited love, smoking/reader + characters smoking cigs, cheating, divorce, (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Peaky Blinders characters. I do not claim to own any of the Peaky Blinders characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

When Thomas Shelby agreed to the proposal your father had set forth, you were initially quite surprised. You had heard talk of an Irish barmaid at the Garrison, or maybe it was that one black-haired prostitute in Small Heath, you couldn’t quite remember, but you had heard that his heart had been intrigued if not settled upon a woman. 

Your father had mentioned a marriage between the two of you would be beneficial, which you took to mean that he would most certainly be proposing it, and had decided to do a little bit of snooping. Nothing major, you simply wanted to know a little more about the man you might be forced into marrying, and little whispers of his reputation reached you through the household staff. 

He was intimidating, never smiled, was always focused on business, and he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. With each word you felt a nail hammer into your coffin. But then it was also said he was loyal to his family, to his people, that he would do anything for them, and it made you feel a little better. It made him at least partially human, anyway. 

You didn’t know much, the name Peaky Blinders was thrown, speculation about him was always in the air, but you knew very little else. You had no idea what he looked like, what his voice sounded like, what he thought of Small Heath. What did he think of your father? Was a marriage to you a worthy consequence of business? Did he know what you looked like? Did he think you were pretty? 

So when your father had initially told you that he would be offering your hand to the notorious man, you had expected him to return with a furrowed brow and a gruff question as to why the hell the man wouldn’t want to secure a partnership in such a way. Instead, you found your father grinning in the living room, clapping his hands upon seeing you and telling you that the wedding date had been set for February 1st, 1921. 

You had taken everything in stride. You weren’t really in a position to complain about a marriage that would give you security and allow you to keep the lifestyle you had been accustomed to. Though you had once had girlish fantasies of marrying a man who loved you to the fullest, who got down on one knee and proposed in front of everyone because he couldn’t bare the thought of never calling you his wife, you had quickly abandoned them when the realities of the world were slowly revealed to you. 

You had seen friends get pregnant as young girls and thrown to the streets by disgraced families and left by men who couldn’t be bothered to care for them. You had seen women marry men they loved only to be beaten black and blue for the rest of their lives until they jumped into the river with their children to end their suffering. You had seen girls from well off families, who had fathers made rich off the war and mothers who spent their lives cajoling them, suddenly turned into prostitutes because the man they thought would marry them sullied their honour and left with nothing else to say. 

You were alright with this marriage, you only hoped that Tommy would treat you with respect, that he would never lay a hand on you in anger, and that if love did not blossom then you could at least be happy with each other regardless. It was simple, it was realistic. 

You met Thomas Shelby for the first time on the day of your wedding. He had sent you one letter before that time, brought to you in your father’s coat pocket after he announced that Mr. Shelby had accepted the proposal. His writing was clean if a little hurried, no random inkblots or crossed out words, and he addressed you as ‘Ms’. He expressed that you could do as you pleased for the wedding, he would show up on the day and say ‘I do’ and need not be involved any more than that. He told you about the new estate he had purchased, Arrow House, and how it would become your new place of residence after the wedding. He wished you well at the end, but signed only with his name. You had folded the letter again, pressed it back into the envelope, and then deposited it into your nightstand. 

On the day of the wedding, you were suddenly alight with the nerves that had not presented themselves at the time of his accepting your father’s proposal. Minutes before you were due to walk down the aisle you began to question the entire event, began to question if this was really the life you would choose for yourself and how difficult it would be for his men to track you down if you ran away right at that moment and hid yourself somewhere in Cornwall. Instead your father gripped your arm and threaded it through his and walked you through the doors of the church. 

When you saw him for the first time you were a little shocked that someone who was commonly described as a gangster looked so elegant. He wore a wool suit in navy blue with a matching bowtie and a little sprig of snowdrops in his breast pocket. They matched the flowers in your bouquet. He had the same haircut as his brothers, shaved on the sides and long on the top, and the blackness of his hair reminded you of coal. He was going a little grey on the sides, but you couldn’t tell how old he was and whether it made sense for grey hairs to already be appearing. He had very faint freckles all over his face and down his neck and a natural pout to his lips. On anyone else it would make them look endearing, on him it made him seem sullen and dangerous. 

Somehow you were unsurprised that his eyes were so blue. In the dim light of the church they were greyish, but piercing like the distant beam of a lighthouse on the blackest night. They fit him, you thought as you walked closer and closer. They were so open, yet they revealed nothing. They were the eyes of a dangerous person, of someone who didn’t smile often. They were rather terrifying. You wanted to know what he thought of you. 

Your father shook Tommy’s hand as he gave you over to him, smiling a proud smile as if he were marrying Tommy himself, and kissed you on the cheek quickly before finding his seat at the first pew. You glanced at his eyes once as he took your right hand, but then turned to look at the priest and kept your eyes there. 

You felt distant from yourself at the ceremony, like you were at the shop counter waiting for the grocer to hand you your items so you could pay and leave. You said ‘I do’ mechanically, pushed the ring over his finger like it had been rehearsed a hundred times, and let him press a soft, unfeeling, kiss to your lips. 

He kept your hand in his as you walked out of the church, and he helped you step up into his car. He waited until you had gathered your dress around you before closing the door and walking around, then waited for you to finish waving to your family before driving in the direction of Arrow House. You would see them all in a few hours for the celebration dinner at the estate, but it felt like such a final goodbye that a few tears slipped down your cheeks. 

He didn’t say anything as he drove, just casually rested an elbow on the door and kept his eyes trained on the road ahead. But you were impatient, and surprised to find that you had actually enjoyed the sound of his voice the few times he had used it in the church and wanted to hear it again. 

“Your brothers seem nice,” and you winced because how could those be the first words out of your mouth when you were alone with your husband for the first time. His lips twitched in amusement and you flushed with embarrassment. 

“Not one of my siblings could ever be described as ‘nice’.” You frowned but the way he said it wasn’t insulting, it was almost as if he was proud that they weren’t nice people and it made you turn to look at him for a long moment. 

“Hm, I’m not sure what that says about you, Mr. Shelby,” you hummed, pressing your lips together then releasing them then pressing them together again. 

“Must it say something about me?” He asked, one eyebrow raising as he glanced toward you. You smiled then, letting out a little laugh as you shook your head. 

“I suppose not,” you sighed, “I suppose not.” You turned to look at the road ahead and shrugged your shoulders. “I guess I’m just attempting to learn more about you Mr. Shelby, however roundabout my methods may seem.” His face looked a little calmer then, less severe, and you felt triumphant that you had somehow caused it. 

“Ask your questions, miss, and I will find a way to answer them,” he replied with a nod, but you smirked. 

“It’s Missus now, Mrs. Shelby,” and the way you said it made him huff out something you believed was a chuckle. Another success. 

“Ask your questions then, Mrs. Shelby.” 

“Why did you agree to this marriage?” He raised an eyebrow again, changing the hand he used on the steering wheel and turning a little in his seat to look at you. The road ahead was empty, but he still glanced back every few moments to ensure he was driving straight on it. 

“Your father’s business can process the money from mine and turn it into legitimate investments. It would have been stupid not to agree,” he said it simply, with slightly wide eyes and his head shaking a little, like it was an obvious answer. You hummed and nodded, but were left a little unsatisfied. The juvenile part of your brain hoped that he would say something about how he had seen a picture of you and felt in his heart of hearts that you were the one for him. Though now having met him you supposed he wouldn’t say something like that even to the true love of his life. 

“What do you think of me?” You asked. You had tried to sound confident but it came out small and apprehensive, as if you weren’t sure you actually wanted the answer to the question. “Be honest,” you added hastily, and he looked at you again. His eyes were so focused on your face that you turned away bashfully. 

“I believe,” he began slowly, thoughtfully, and paused to pull his cigarette case from his pocket. He pulled one out of it and rubbed it along his bottom lip once, then twice before settling it at the corner of his mouth. He began to reach down for the lighter in his outer pocket but you quickly slipped your hand into it and pulled it out. He looked at you with that raised eyebrow frown he seemed to enjoy using, but let you flick the flame into life and bring it to the tip of his cigarette. “You are someone intelligent enough to know that you have limited choices in the world,” he sucked another breath from the cigarette, “but strategic enough to accept only those that benefit you.” You smiled at that, a small conspiratorial smile that you aimed at your own lap. “That is why you allowed this engagement in the first place.” 

“You seem to think highly of me. How do you know I didn’t simply bend to my father’s will?” You asked, raising an eyebrow in return and looking at him as if you were daring him to answer. 

“You could be right,” he hummed, nodding in thought, “I may have completely misjudged you, but I don’t think so,” he shrugged and you just watched him as the car brought you both closer and closer to your new home. 

“Would you like to know what I think of you?” You asked, but regardless of his answer you would tell him anyway. 

��Go on then,” and he sounded a little exasperated but you ignored it. 

“I think you’ll be the death of me.” 

As the days, weeks, and months passed on your marriage, you and Tommy found an easy companionship with each other. You wouldn’t say the two of you ever found a routine, per se, you believed he would never not be all over the place running and expanding The Shelby Company Ltd. but the moments that the two of you did have together were enjoyable, pleasurable. 

The days he was on time for dinner, whether that be coming home on time or leaving his study, you would eat across from each other at the dining table and you would fill the silence with chatter. He didn’t often speak, but neither of you minded really, he was still a part of the conversation. He would huff out a laugh at anything humorous, offer a sarcastic comment or thoughtful observation when he felt it prudent, but otherwise sat there and took in all the details. 

Tommy found that he enjoyed listening to you, learning about your day or any little details about yourself you offered in your little speeches. Though he had never thought himself domestic, never imagined himself in a scenario such as this where he was sat eating a calm dinner with a wife, he found he secretly enjoyed it. 

He began looking forward to the evening time where he would breeze through the doors of the dining room to find you about to have a seat in your usual place at the far end of the table. His place was always set, and he wondered if you looked at it and imagined him on the days he wasn’t there. You would smile when you noticed him, grazing your eyes over him as if looking for something, then sit down carefully in your seat as Frances began bringing the dishes out from the kitchen. 

“How was your day?” You always asked it first, always looked at him with big open eyes as if you were genuinely interested and anything big or small he had to tell you would be appreciated. He would nod, pulling out his own chair and settling himself down quickly, offering you a distracted little smile. 

“Alright,” that was always the answer, whether it had actually been ‘alright’ you would never know, especially because you refused to question him further than that unless it had been a particularly boring day for you and poking and prodding at his stony facade would be your only fun activity. 

You always hummed and stayed quiet for a little while, smiling brightly at Frances and thanking her as she put down the last dish and began serving you both a first course of soup. You were all manners, waiting politely until both bowls had been filled and Frances had stepped away before taking a sip and humming in delight. Then you would dab the corners of your mouth and begin speaking without looking up from your bowl. 

“I went out for a ride today”, “I went to a little afternoon tea at Mavis Weatherby’s”, “My mother came for lunch”, “I’ve started reading a lovely little novel”, “I’m planning a little trip to London to see a milner’s and a tailor”. 

You always had something to tell him, no matter how mundane, and he always listened despite his stoic and almost disinterested face. He found your voice enjoyable, if nothing else. The hum of it in his ear was pleasant, and sometimes if he lost himself in his thoughts, it would be like a soft little kiss against the shell of his ear as he traversed the paths of his mind that needed tending to. 

You would tell him in extreme detail about whatever it is you did that was taking your fancy for the day, describing and explaining wherever you felt it prudent. You always looked him in the eyes when you spoke to him, and if you noticed him start to drift away, a mischievous little smirk would cross your mouth and you would suddenly go silent, waiting for him to refocus before continuing. Neither of you would say anything about the minor interruption, but he would often feel his own lips twitch in response to your little smile. 

Once dinner was finished, the two of you would walk out together and pause in the hallway. You would stand as close to him as you could get without actually touching him, the cloth of your dress brushing against him as you looked into his eyes with a warm little smile. At this point you would tell him that you were going to read until it was time for bed, either in the library or in the sitting room, and every single evening you offered him an invitation. “Would you like to join me?”, “You could join me if you wished”. And every single evening, he refused you politely, “it’s alright, sweetheart, you go ahead.”, “I’ve got some work to finish, you enjoy yourself, darling”. He knew you knew he would refuse the invitation, but the fact that you offered every single evening, without fail, made something warm bloom in his chest. Something that now seemed to slip over his eyes whenever he looked at you and made him see the world in a way he hadn’t seen before. 

You would nod simply, a smile on your face that said “I knew this was going to happen but I enjoy our little routine” before reaching up and pressing your lips to his cheek in a soft kiss that always made him stiffen up a little then unwind a little more than he had before. 

You both shared a bedroom, something he hadn’t expected but you had insisted upon. You took the left side of the bed, saying you preferred to sleep away from the door, and he obliged because he had never cared what side he was on anyway. You seemed to enjoy the view you got from the windows on that side of the bed and far be it from him to deny you something that gave you joy. 

Your respective nightstands were so clearly depictions of yourselves. Yours was covered in books and jewellery and little trinkets of yours and creams you forgot to put on before going to bed but kept there anyway. His often only had a single book on it, his cigarette case, his lighter, and an ashtray. Sometimes in the evenings, when he was lying in bed next to you, trying to read with tired eyes, you would lean over him, crushing the book to his chest and pressing the side of your torso to his face, as you reached for his cigarette case and lighter. 

This little moment, this little instance, endeared you to him the most, somehow. The little huff you would let out just before, placing your book on your cluttered nightstand before offering a quick ‘sorry’ and then just draping yourself over him with a disregard for his focus to haphazardly grab at his nightstand until the cigarette case and lighter were in your hand before falling back into your place. The reach over always managed to press your breasts to his face, and he supposed he would never complain about that regardless of who the woman was doing it. 

You always took out a cigarette for him first with a sheepish smile, as if knowing you had disturbed the fragile thread of attention he had been trying to stitch to the book, and brought it to his mouth, rubbing it across his lip before settling it into the corner of his mouth like he always did. You would light his cigarette as he smirked a little, turning away to blow the smoke so you couldn’t see the expression as you shook one out for yourself and lit it before handing both the case and the lighter back to Tommy so he could toss it onto his nightstand himself this time. 

You had an awful habit of forgetting your own cigarettes everywhere, and then stealing Tommy’s. The first time you had taken one of his, you had complained about the brand he smoked, said it was much too strong for you, but you kept stealing and smoking them regardless. He found himself refilling his case a lot more since you came into his life. Not only that, but he found himself filling half the case with the brand of cigarettes you liked so that you would have them whenever you misplaced your case or simply couldn’t be bothered to look for it. You had never mentioned it the first time he had done it, but he had seen your little smile when you opened his cigarette case for the first few weeks after and it had motivated him to continue his new little routine. 

Then, after you had placed the cigarette in your mouth and taken a gentle drag, you would look at him out of the corner of your eye with a little smile quirking at your lips despite your best efforts to try and hide it. He would smirk, the clearest smile he would ever give you, and with a little giggle you would take the cigarette from your mouth and stretch your arm out to hold it away from the two of you as you draped your body over his and pressed your lip to his. His mouth would already be parted slightly, his tongue leaping out to caress yours, and your giggles would muffle against his lips. He took the cigarette from your fingers and pressed it to his own before mashing the ends haphazardly into the ashtray on his sidetable and wrapping his arms around your torso. 

All you could say was that these evenings were long and… pleasurable. Subsequently, it came as no surprise that within three months of the wedding you were pregnant with your first child. 

You had mentioned to Tommy that you weren’t feeling your best for a few days when Polly decided to make a ‘surprise’ trip to Arrow House. Within one look at you she had smiled broadly and mischievously and congratulated you on your pregnancy. It had come as a shock, an undulating mix of fear and joy and elation churning in your chest and gut. 

When you had told Tommy, he had stood still for a few moments, gazing at your face as you smiled hesitantly. You had hoped he would be happy, and despite his status as your husband, you could never quite be sure of his reaction to anything. His face hadn’t changed at the news, but quick as a flash he was standing so close to you that you felt almost attacked. His hands gripped your face, almost squishing your mouth into a pucker, and he was kissing you like you were keeping air from him in the moments your mouths weren’t pressed together. Salty tears made the kiss briny and you almost sobbed against his lips but he didn’t let you go. 

Nine months later, and you were welcoming a beautiful little boy with Tommy’s eyes and your hair into the world. Eighteen months later, a little girl with your eyes and Tommy’s hair took her place in the nursery. Your little James and Margaret. 

In that time, slowly and carefully, you had somehow built the dream family you had once imagined for yourself. One evening in the sitting room, after the children had been put to sleep and you were curled up on one of the sofas with a book, you looked up to Tommy at his desk to the side of the room. He had taken to doing his work there in the evenings during your first pregnancy, and as if feeling your eyes on him, he had glanced up, a little smile at the corner of his lips. You simply smiled in return and brought your gaze back down to your book, but your heart was racing without your control and you had to clench your jaw to stop yourself from yelling ‘I love you!’ over and over again without a care. 

In the time Tommy had been married to you, everyone had noticed the change taking place in him, except him. Though no one other than Polly dared to say it to his face, they noticed the new threads of gentleness that appeared when you were near. They noticed how much easier his smiles came (despite the continuing rarity) and how he watched you without wavering when you took care of the children. 

Polly often teased him to shut his mouth lest he catch flies around you, and would whisper about him to you in front of him in a way that made his mouth set into an almost petulant frown (that only made the two of you giggle further). He wasn’t sure why Polly liked you so much when she had felt no fondness for Grace. If all her teasing was right, was he not just as distracted with you as he had been with ‘the Irish barmaid’? But she seemed to dote on you like she had done on Ada, and took time to come see you and the children every week. 

One evening, Tommy watched you from his place at the desk in the living room, and even the simple activity of laying his eyes on you made his chest feel a little calmer. He wasn’t quite sure when the tide had turned in his feelings, when he had so unforgivably lost control of his own heart, but here he was now, absentmindedly rubbing his cigarette against his lip, wondering if love might be real… 

Times of peace weren’t meant to last. The first thought that crossed your mind when you learnt the news. You stood frozen in front of Tommy’s desk, staring at the little card you had pulled out of the drawer while searching for his spare lighter. Your cigarette was already dangling from your lips, unknowing the turmoil it’s user was going through. 

You had only gone in search of the spare lighter. You knew Tommy kept one in there for you when he was out of the house and you couldn’t find your own. There were dozens of spares all around the house for you. He knew how absolutely lazy you could be when you wanted to and he left a lighter in every room to make sure he didn’t have to hear you moan and groan about getting up when you were already comfortable in your space. 

The children were busy with lessons in their playroom upstairs, and you had been doing some correspondence in the sitting room so you could be near the big radio. You had hummed along as you got up and moved to the desk, pulling open the first drawer, the one you had seen him pull the lighter out of countless times, and there, right at the centre, as if carefully placed lest the paper be ruined, was a card with the name ‘Grace Burgess’ written in pretty looping handwriting. The lighter sat right next to it. 

Everything seemed to tilt and for a moment you thought you would fall over. You picked up the card gently by the corner, depositing it onto the top of the desk before pulling out the lighter and hurriedly lighting your cigarette. If you didn’t have a drag of it within the next second you might collapse. 

You took at least three drags from the cigarette before you were ready to turn the card over and read whatever was written there. It was in the same loopy, feminine, handwriting in a bright blue ink that reminded you of Tommy’s eyes. You almost picked up the lighter again to burn the paper. 

It was short and simple, an invitation to meet at a hotel, dated about a week prior. You dropped it back onto the desk, watching the thick cardstock fall with a light thump, and closed your eyes. You took deep, heavy, breaths of the cigarette until your hands stopped shaking and your mind felt like it had settled again. You grabbed the lighter but left the card on top of Tommy’s desk, turned the volume of the radio as high as possible, and returned to your position on the sofa. Every time one cigarette finished, you lit another, but you didn’t move from your position on the sofa. 

At one point the children came tottering in and you haphazardly wiped at your eyes before smashing the cigarette into the ashtray and patting the spot on the sofa beside you so they could come in for a snuggle before dinner. You hadn’t even realised the sun had set long ago. You kissed them on the tops of their heads and tried not to cry into their hair. 

Frances came in to tell you that dinner could be served when the main door opened and Tommy came whirling in. The children scrambled off the sofa and ran down the hall to greet their father who was already reaching down, ready to pick them up, one in each arm. You weren’t sure you could face him yet, so you slinked through the side door and went straight for the dining room. 

Tommy went first in the direction of the sitting room, but as Frances came out of the door for the dining room to gather the children, she cleared her throat and informed him that Mrs. Shelby was already there. He nodded, turning around to get to you, realising how odd it felt that he had been in the house this long and you hadn’t come to greet him, hadn’t pecked him on the lips and beamed up at him as you usually did when you heard the door open. 

You were sitting in your usual seat but he could tell something was wrong. You were staring at the plate as if you had never seen one before, and your hands were tightly clasped in your lap. He could see how tense your forearms were, and after depositing the children in their seats, he went over to you and reached down to gently pry your hands apart. He watched your face for any sign, anything that would tell him why you were acting this way, but you just closed your eyes until he let you go and went to his seat. 

Could you perhaps be pregnant again? But that would be happy news, something to celebrate, not despair over. Was there something wrong with your father? A death in the family you had been phoned about during the day? He couldn’t tell. And he hated it. 

Dinner was an awkward affair. You spoke very little, and when you did speak it was only towards the children, asking them about their lessons and how they were enjoying their days thus far. You refused to look at him during the entirety of the meal, and anger and frustration were slowly beginning to rise inside of him. As soon as it was over, you were ushering the kids out and up the stairs so they could start readying for bed. You went with them, a clear attempt at avoiding Tommy’s company, and he stormed into his study, slamming the door behind him. 

You took as long as you could, kissing their little heads and pulling the sheets up to their chins before steeling yourself and heading downstairs. The door to his study opened just as you hopped off the last step but you continued into the sitting room. Tommy followed, and stood just inside the door with wary eyes. He watched you walk all the way over to his desk and pick up a piece of card sitting on the top. You held it up so he could see the sender but your face betrayed nothing. He had never seen you look so stoic. 

“Did you go?” Your voice was quiet, small, the kind of voice Margaret used when she had a nightmare and came knocking at your door. 

You had thought that despite the circumstances that began your marriage, the two of you had found love. You loved him, you were sure of that. But looking at the note, knowing who it had come from, you felt like the naive girl who had once wished for true love and hadn’t yet realised that wasn’t possible. 

Of course it was unrealistic for you to think he had grown to love you just because he was kind to you. Of course it was unrealistic to think he felt he needed to be faithful to you, he was a man after all. Of course it was unrealistic of you to think your beautiful family would last… 

You could feel tears press behind your eyes but you simply gulped again and again to push them away. Tommy’s face hadn’t changed, his usual stoic expression that you once found intriguing, then endearing, now only annoyed and enraged you. 

“Yes,” he answered, and he didn’t say anything else. You just stared at him, at the way he reached into his coat pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. At the way he opened his cigarette case and offered it in your direction before taking one. It meant walking over to him to take it. You stayed where you were and he slowly picked a cigarette out of it and rubbed it against his lip before lighting it and putting everything back where it usually resided in his coat pockets. You gulped again. The tears were getting more aggressive in their mission to escape your eyes.  

“Did you fuck her?” You whispered, hands shaking as they clenched on the edge of the desk. It was quiet for a moment, and you wondered if he had even heard you. “Did you fuck her?” You asked it louder and then cringed. The word felt so crass coming out of your mouth, so wrong. 

“Yes.” And that was all that needed to be said, wasn’t it? What else really mattered? Because in that one word lay everything you had wanted to know in the first place. Did he feel the need to be faithful to you? No. Did he care about you and your little family? No. Did he love you? No… 

You stood there for a few minutes, fingertips pressed as hard as possible into the top of the desk. Your eyes were closed, hoping to trap the tears inside. You didn’t move, and Tommy watched you the entire time. 

Then, like a radio being switched on, you took a deep breath in and opened your eyes. You straightened up a little and slowly took your hands off of the desktop. You looked at Tommy and nodded. 

“Ok,” and then you walked past him and out of the room without a second glance. 

By the time Tommy came up to bed close to midnight, only the lamp on your vanity was lighting the room and you were under the covers, turned onto your side to face the windows and breathing slowly as if you were asleep. 

The next few months were different in a way that Tommy despised. You had pulled away from him but in such a subtle way that no one else would recognise that everything had changed between the two of you. 

You still accompanied the children to the front door when he came home, but you no longer kissed him there. You still asked him about his day and engaged the children in conversation over dinner, but you barely spoke of yourself anymore, no longer telling him the stories of your mundane activities or unnecessary details about little things of no consequence. You still read next to him in the evenings, but you no longer leaned over him to grab for his cigarettes. In fact, you no longer took cigarettes from him ever. You were careful about taking your case and lighter with you everywhere, and if you didn’t have it around you, then you went out of your way to leave the room and get it rather than ask him for one. The cigarettes he kept for you in his own case were now left unused. 

Everything became so much worse when Grace revealed that she was pregnant. She had been so happy to tell him despite her own marriage, and he could never be sad knowing that a child of his was coming into existence. He loved James and Margaret with all the soul he possessed, he could never be sad about a child. But the news caused a turmoil inside of him that he didn’t know how to handle, because now came the time to decide, to look into himself and question if everything he felt for you was love, and not only love, but a stronger one than the one he had with Grace? 

You didn’t give him the time to decide. When he told you about Grace’s pregnancy, you had walked out and refused to speak to him. You had taken your things into Margaret’s room and slept curled up on the edge of her bed. 

When Tommy arrived home the next evening, there were no children to be greeted by, no smiling wife, just Frances holding an envelope with his name on it in your careful writing. 

Dear Thomas Shelby,

Please do not be alarmed at the absence of the children or myself, it was of my own volition that we have gone. Though I know it is cowardly of me to express all this in a letter, I could not bring myself to face you. 

The children and I have gone to my sister’s home for the time being while everything is finalised. Enclosed in a file on your desk, you will find the papers required for us to be divorced. You need only sign them, everything else can be handled by a lawyer. 

From my father, I understand that your business has become fully legitimised, but for extra safety I will ensure that it is understood by all that this divorce is my own fault and you were merely subject to it. 

In due time, I will begin looking for a place to live near Arrow House or Small Heath so you may visit the children as often as you please. I would not dream of keeping them from their father or vice versa. It is my assumption that you and Grace will take Arrow House as your residence when the child has arrived. 

Please be happy with her. If the love I hold for you is even half the strength of the love you two share, then I would rather deal with my own pain than keep you from it. 

Love, 

Y/n Shelby

Frances watched Mr. Shelby carefully place the letter back into its envelope and turn and walk into his study and close the door behind him. There was a crash and the smashing of glass and then some more crashes and smashes. A guttural scream that made her heart clench in fear and her eyes close. 

Frances had helped you pack your things earlier in the day. She had helped the children ready to leave, had listened as you phoned a lawyer in London and had the papers drafted and sent over to the house, had watched as you wrote the letter to Mr. Shelby. You had kissed her on the cheek and told her to come visit you as a friend, and she had promised she would with tears in her eyes. It felt as if the world was ending. 

But she knew that eventually you would find a nice house for you and the children, supported by your father’s money. You would send them to visit Tommy at Arrow House where Grace would pretend to care for them and they would slowly grow unhappy with their father and his wife. 

Or maybe Tommy would go over to you and you would tell the valet to only open the door for your former husband as you walked the grounds to avoid having to speak with him. And he would try all he could to speak with you, try and surprise you so you would be forced into speaking to him, but you were an intelligent woman, and Frances knew you were highly capable of avoiding someone you didn’t want to see. 

And eventually, despite your heartbreak, you would meet someone truly worthy of you, and he would be willing to become the father of your children and you would want to love him, and everything would feel right for you again. 

But what did Frances know?

Taglist: @4ria790 (I wasn't sure if you wanted to be tagged in only Cillian Murphy RPFs or his characters too so I added you here! Pls let me know if I should only tag you for the RPFs)

[imastrangeone98]

Homecoming

(A/N: boothill my cyborg my love my life my everything-)

WARNING: fem!reader, SMUT SMUT FRESH OFF THE PLATE MINORS GTFO ILL WHOOP YO BUTTS, probably ooc!boothill but whatever it's fine lmao, his exact birth name isn't known so I didn't put a name for him- if there is one I'll replace it; but I found some X art that called his baby girl "cherry" and I really liked it so I'll use that, and way too much plot as always

"Well, hello there! What'cha lookin' at, sweetie?" You bend down to the little girl's eye level, peeking at where the child's gaze is locked on, then smiling in understanding. "You like those ones? They're moon lilies; they're flowers that are really special!"

"Pe... shal?" the little girl babbles, and you laugh.

"Yes, dear. Special." You pluck one of the flowers, beautiful with light blue petals and golden pollen, and offer it to her. "They mean loyalty, and undying devotion, because they only grow in places they like, and they won't grow anywhere else."

"Loya..." the girl mumbles. You chuckle and pick her up, carefully tucking the flower behind her ear.

"Now, where's your mama? Or your papa? I'm sure they're worried sick about-"

"Cherry! Sweet pea, where ya at?!"

Your ears prick, and the girl giggles and claps at the sound. "Well, I guess we found him."

You maneuver through the crowd until you find the source of the call: a man, tall and lean, with flowing black-and-white hair and piercing gray eyes.

Oh. He's beautiful.

The little girl squeals with delight at the sight of her father, and his head whips towards your direction. He sprints over to you and takes the child in his arms, pressing her close to his chest.

"There ya are, ya little rascal! What'd I tell ya about runnin' off?! Ya had me worried sick!" He kisses her forehead, then looks at you. "Thanks, I would've lost her without ya."

"Of course!" You wave it off, hoping he doesn't notice your hot cheeks. "I will say, she has good taste in flowers! If you'd ever like to buy a bouquet, you should bring her along!"

"Flowers? Oh..." He looks at his daughter, finally noticing the moon lily tucked in her hair. His cheeks flush a bright red. "Aw, man, I'm sorry for the trouble, I can pay for it-"

"Oh, don't worry about it, it's on the house! But I do hope this won't be the last time I see her!" You wave at her, and she giggles.

The man laughs at that. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind." He then stretches out his hand to you. "I'm [???]."

"(Y/N)."

He repeats your name slowly, thoughtfully, then smirks. "Guess I'll be seeing you around, lady."

"I'll be looking forward to it, cowboy."

Your eyes crack open.

Instead of a bustling marketplace, you're in a small shack in the middle of nowhere.

Just a memory.

You rise, body aching with fatigue and heartache, but you force yourself to push it to the side.

There's work to be done. You grab your phone and send a message.

ML: The USB is ready. I'll leave it at the usual place.

BH: ca nt maek it cme her

You stare at the coordinates your contact sent you with a groan.

You don't do face-to-face, too much risk. And the information you collected is time-sensitive; you're not sure if you'll be able to make it to the abandoned planet of Mavorosa in time for it to still be valuable, and your spaceship isn't one meant for such great lengths.

But this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity: Oswaldo Schneider is likely to make an appearance at the upcoming IPC Centennial Gala, and BH has proven themself capable of terminating that sick bastard.

You know you're not strong enough to do it yourself, but BH is. And anyone capable of taking down the son of a bitch who destroyed your home, your planet, your lover, is worthy of your trust.

So you bite your lip and bear it. You'll work something out.

ML: ok. I'll be there tomorrow @ 18:00, don't be late.

BH: k

You roll your eyes. Never mind.

With a heavy sigh, you carefully take out the picture/ only one you have of him. With your little girl in one arm and the other wrapped around your waist, he stares back at you with a grin. Bright, beautiful, alive.

"Don't worry, darling," you whisper, tracing the lines of his cheek and hair on the photograph. "We're one step closer to our goal. That bastard's a dead man walking now that we got BH on the case. They're good; strong and capable, I know they'll get the job done for us."

You gently press your lips over his image. And for a brief moment, you let yourself pretend that the paper is a good replacement for his callous skin.

"Once everything's done, I'll go over and join you and our girl. We'll be together again, I'm sure."

He smiles eternally at you, and you find yourself smiling back.

"Wish me luck, darling. Help me be strong."

[...]

His little girl adores you.

Each time he comes by the market, the first thing she whines for is to see the flowers. And you always indulge her, lifting her in your arms so you can show her all the pretty little blooms you have in your small cart. You give names to each one, tell her what they mean as though she understands you.

And you laugh. And he finds himself thinking that his little girl is a good judge of character, because he's starting to adore you too.

And it's becoming obvious, since Nick and Gray give him the occasional nab and jab, wondering out loud when they're going to see him get married and give them another grandchild. His siblings too, always cackling and yapping about how he might be the first to hang up his boots and settle down.

He rolls his eyes, but he's not too displeased by the idea. You're soft and sweet, with a kick of spice to match- the thought of settling down with you and Cherry on the farm is surprisingly sweet.

So he leaves Cherry to her loving grandparents and invites you out on a moonlit stroll through the hillside meadow, the one with the perfect view of the blooming moon lilies and the spring lake that reflects the starry night sky.

"I've never been here before," you gasp in awe, eyes aglow as you absorb the scenery. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah," he murmurs, gaze fixated on you and the moonlight in your eyes. "You are."

You turn your head, and your eyes meet. "Huh? Did you say something?"

"N- nothin'!" He faces the lake, and hopes you don't notice his red cheeks. "Said nothin'."

You laugh, and god, he melts at the sound. Then you rub the back of your head, and turn away, blushing. "I... I think you're very beautiful too."

His brain short-circuits. "Pretty... you think I'm..." Then he gasps dramatically. "So you did hear that! You sneaky mouse!"

He playfully tackles you, and you both laugh and chortle as you wrestle one another to the ground. But then he opens his eyes and finds himself on top of you, hands intertwined, faces so close he can feel your breath, smell your moon lily scent.

The moonlight bathes you in silver, and god, he wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you senseless, run his callous hands on your soft skin, wrap your plush thighs around his hips and-

"Can I...?" he whispers, weak and wanting. "Just... just a taste, I swear..."

You stare up at him, eyes so big and wide that he swears the moon itself disappeared to light up your gaze, that he doesn't notice you untangling your hands from his until you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Just a taste, cowboy?" you tease. "You don't wanna try... anything else?"

You raise your hips and grind on his pelvis, and he moans and kisses you, hard.

Eager hands dart across skin, tearing off clothes. He runs his hands over your plush tummy, hooks your thighs around his hips and moans when he finally enters you.

He'll never forget this moment. Even if he were to die and be reborn, he'll never forget you. Your pleasured moans as he slides himself inside your tight heat, your teary smile as you open your arms to let him press his chest against yours, your starry eyes so full of love and desire that mirror his own.

You make love for hours, the stars and moon lilies your only witnesses.

"-hill. Boothill."

His eyes crack open.

Instead of a blooming moon lily meadow, he's in the underground repair shop.

Just a memory.

He rises with a groan, mechanical joints creaking from the lack of use. "Done already? I was havin' quite the nice dream."

The mechanic rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I can tell. Anyway, speed upgrades are done; the rest of your body is the same- sensory receptors are good, memory chip still intact, et cetera."

She rambles on and on; he's used to tuning her out at this point. As long as his body is in peak condition, he doesn't need to know what else extra she's stacked on him.

"-and the dick. Make sure to test it out at some point."

He blinks. "What'd ya say?"

She groans. "The dick, Boothill. Make sure to test it."

"What dick are ya talking about? If you're trying to say I'm a piece of shi-"

"I added a dick attachment to your body, dumbass." She points towards his crotch. "I had an extra one that I really need to get rid of, so I'm giving it to you. Use it, rip it up and toss it, I don't care- just get it off my back!"

And with no further explanation, the mechanic practically throws him out the store, slamming the door with extra ferocity. Boothill lies on the ground, blinking a few times in shock, before checking his pants, and lo and behold, there is a silicone dick attachment. Sensory receptors and everything, he hisses when he pokes lightly at it, the wires in his body jittering at the unfamiliar sensation.

Doe eyes and a teary smile flash in the back of his mind.

He suddenly jumps to his feet with a vengeance and slams on the door. "You cheating, deceitful shirt-bag! Take this fudging thing off right now! You hear me, woman?! Take this shirt off right now!"

He's no doubt starting a commotion, a crowd drawing in to witness his rage-induced ranting and raving. But then his phone dings, and he's forced to put a pin in it, taking out the shitty device to hear the alarm: Meeting with ML @ 18:00! Meeting with ML @ 18:00! Be there or be square!

Ah, shit.

He can't miss this meeting, not even to blow a hole right between that shitty mechanic's eyebrows. ML is too valuable to lose, having provided him with incredibly detailed information on Oswaldo Schneider and the IPC time and again. Almost as if they have an agenda against that sick bastard as well.

Well. The enemy of an enemy is a friend, right? He'll take what he can get. And if they end up turning their back, well, he's sure his bullet is faster than their legs.

So he leans to the door, whispers a deadly "I'll be back for you, baby," and dashes to his spaceship to head over to Mavorosa.

And as he's prepping for flight, he looks over at the picture on the dashboard.

It's the only one Boothill has of you. The three of you, together- him holding little Cherry in one arm and your waist in the other, you wrapping your arms around him and your baby girl with your sweet smile and moon lily eyes.

He brushes a metal fingertip over your face.

"Just hang in there, moon lily," he whispers, a clump in his throat. "We're one step closer; ML's got some good intel on the son of a nice lady that destroyed our planet- our home. That destroyed you."

Boothill lost the ability to cry long ago, but the corners of his eyes itch all the same. He gnaws on his lip so hard, drops of blue blood trickle down his chin.

"I swear to you, darlin', I'm gonna get our revenge against that beautiful bench. He'll wish he never set his filthy sights on our home once I'm through with him." He gently picks up the photo and presses his lips to your image. "And then I'll come home. To Cherry, Nick and Gray, my siblings. I'll come home to you. We'll get started on that house we talked about, maybe some runts so Cherry can be a big sister..."

He swallows, then carefully puts the photo back on the dashboard. The lump doesn't disappear, so once the spaceship is cruising through the stars to Mavorosa, he sets it on autopilot and descends into the belly to go to his chest of valuables. He opens it up and delicately takes out the moon lily crown.

The one he was working on for you, a promise of his undying devotion. Before the world exploded in fire and ash. Before the IPC decimated his family, the moon lily meadow... decimated you.

He closes his eyes and raises it to his face. Even preserved, the petals are still soft to the touch, and smell just as lovely.

Just like you.

He won't let your death be in vain. He won't.

The lump in his metal chest morphs into rage.

Boothill opens his eyes.

[...]

If not for the Stellaron, Mavorosa would be a wonderful planet. A once lively city now stands abandoned, its skyscrapers and glass structures being embraced by nature once again.

You stand on the rooftop, mask and voice synthesizer on, fidgeting with the USB, simply observing everything when-

"So this is what you look like. I thought you'd be bigger," a male voice calls behind you.

Your body freezes. That voice... it sounds like...

No. You must be wrong. Maybe you've been so lonely that every male voice just starts to sound like your deceased lover.

"I thought you'd be here earlier," you reply with your warped voice. "Time is precious to you and me both, BH."

"Sorry, had to wrap up some... personal stuff on my end. I'm here now, ain't I?" The oh-so-familiar yet distant voice chuckles. "Well. Business ain't gonna settle itself. Where's the drive?"

"Where's the payment? We both know I don't work free."

He huffs. "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. Don't worry, I got your cash. Just fork over the drive, no need to make things difficult, not after everything, yeah? Haven't I earned your trust by now?"

"You realize how difficult face-to-face is? It takes a substantial amount of effort to get this intel, not to mention the possibility of being-" You turn around in your exasperation-

And you drop the USB.

Tall and metal. Flowing black-and-white hair. Piercing gray-and-red eyes. Sharp teeth.

"Y'know, I've always wanted to be a gunslinger, just like Nick," [???] cackled, whipping out his revolver and making dramatic poses with it. "Maybe be one of those boothills of legend."

"I'd rather you not," you murmured as you brushed off some dirt off of his shirt. "Those boothills always died on their feet. I'd rather you not die at all."

He softened, and with a smile, he put down his gun and sidled up to you, bringing you in his embrace, warm and strong. You breathed in his comforting scent and sighed happily.

"Don't you worry about that, hun." He kissed your cheek, then square on your mouth. "I ain't goin' nowhere. You can't get rid of me that easy!"

BH. Boothill.

How could you not notice earlier?

Your mouth dries. You can't move a muscle.

It's him. Mechanical, but very much alive.

"Hey, watch the merchandise!" he hisses, pointing at the fallen USB. "I need that, don't you forget it!"

"How are you..." you weakly gasp, then you grab the USB. "Here. Take it. Forget the money."

You slide it over to him, and he stops it with his foot. But his eyes narrow at you.

"Whaddaya mean, 'How are you,' huh?" He walks towards you, slow and leisurely, like a coyote cornering its helpless prey. "You say that like you're shocked I'm still around. What'd ya do, huh? Sell me off to the IPC?"

"No!" you cry, shocked. "I would never-!"

"Why so jittery, partner? What are you hiding?" He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "How about a show of trust, huh? You take off that cute little mask of yours, I don't shoot you dead, and we keep our little arrangement goin'. Sound fair?"

You turn around, eyes searching for an escape route.

Aeons above, you need to leave. You can't show him your face. You can't remind him of everything he lost, the people he couldn't save. You can't hurt him any more than you already have. You're afraid. You want to hide. You're selfish. You want to tell him. You're in love.

You want to die. You want the ground to swallow you alive. You want to hole away in your shack and wallow in your grief, descend into a spiral of what-ifs: what if you tried harder to find him? What if you searched the whole IPC ship you snuck on trying to resolve things peacefully until you found him? What if you ran out earlier and tried to bring him with you? What if, what if, what if-

"Now that you got some measure of my grit," he whispers in your ear, suddenly standing behind you, "I'm sure you know how this ends, yeah? C'mon now, take it off."

You pant heavily, head dizzy with his close proximity- god, even with the metal, he still smells the same. "I- I can't-"

"Feelin' shy? Alright, I'll do it for you."

"No! Please, no!" You swat at his hands and try to break free of his iron grip, but he grabs you hard and pulls you against his chest.

He cackles, metallic and bitter. "And here I thought I finally had an ally, but no- you're just like the rest of 'em shirt-bags." He whips out his revolver and raises it to your head. "Take. It. Off. Now."

You want to cry. You don't want to hurt him.

Slowly, with trembling hands, you take off your mask...

And his gun falls to the floor.

Doe eyes. Soft cheeks. Scars. Floral scent.

"What made you wanna be a florist?" he asked you once, helping you water the rainbow roses. "They're pretty and all, don't get me wrong. But don't you want somethin' more exciting?"

"On the contrary, I think they're very exciting," you explained. "They all have their unique personality; some need lots of love and care, and others don't mind if you go missing for a week or two. There's flowers that only stay with you for so long, and there are others that will love you for as long as you'll let them."

He grunted. "Sounds like you'd do just fine without me."

"Oh, please." You put down your watering can and embraced him from behind. And just as planned, he melted at your touch. "Moon lilies love the moon, but they need the sun to grow. And that's exactly what you are to me."

"The moon?"

"The sun."

ML. Moon lily.

It's so obvious, how did he not realize it sooner?

He lets you go. You immediately stumble away from him, hands covering your face in shame.

Boothill has no lungs, yet he feels his chest collapse.

"(Y/N)?" he calls to you, weak and desperate. "Moon lily? That's really you, right?" He reaches out, hand shaking. But when he grazes your shoulder, you hunch further into yourself. "I- I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to scare ya. Please..."

Boothill willingly let go of his humanity. But right here, right now, he wishes he still had his skin.

"Please, darlin'... turn around? Let me see you, please."

You shiver, tears spilling down your cheeks, and slap a hand over your mouth. You can't hurt him, you'll never hurt him. "I can't... I can't see you."

His body wants to collapse. He wants to grab you by your shoulders and kiss you senseless, look at you from head to toe and sing praises to Lan for protecting you and keeping you safe.

But you won't see him. You won't turn around.

"Why?" he whines, like a pleading child. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not the same anymore!" you sob. "I'm not your moon lily anymore! I don't want to remind you of everything you lost! I don't want to hurt you anymore! You don't know the things I've done, the blood I spilled, all to destroy the IPC!" You sink to the floor in despair, echoes of the dead haunting you, swarming your mind. "I can't bear to see you hate me for being alive when everyone else died. I already hate myself so much, hated myself because I couldn't save anyone else! I thought I lost you, but now I realize I didn't search for you at all! I didn't even try to find you, I..."

You cry and sob and scream. You pound the floor with your fists. You pull at your hair, your clothes, your skin, so hard that drops of blood water the cement.

Boothill's eyes itch with tears that will never spill. His chest burns with a profound grief that will never truly be his own.

"You think I don't feel that way about myself?" he finally whispers. Bravely, he takes a step closer to you. "From the moment the bombs fell, I was never the same. I changed too much to be that man you met at the market- hell, I don't even have the body anymore." He sits just behind you, close to touch but not close enough. "The blood I spilled would be enough to fill oceans. But I'm still here. I still remember everything. I still remember you." His hand, feather-light, brushes your arm. You don't pull away. "I thought I lost you. When I went back to the ranch and couldn't find anyone there, I thought you were one of the piles of ashes on the ground." He chokes as he speaks, but he pushes on. "I never hated myself more. I failed to save them; I failed to save you."

You shake your head, but he gently rests his head on your back, right between your shoulder blades. He breathes you in- dust, machine oil, and moon lilies.

You smell so alive.

"How could you think I'd ever hate you," he whimpers, "when there's no one I hate more than myself? No, sweetheart, I could never hate you. I never will. Nothing you do could ever make me hate you. So please, turn around..." He grabs a fistful of your shirt and tugs. "I'm begging you. Let me see your face, please."

Your heart breaks. You couldn't fathom how much he suffered, how lonely he must have felt, the self-loathing that coursed through his wires every time he looked in the mirror.

Just like you.

"Don't hate yourself," you sniffle, rubbing your eyes. "Nothing you do could ever make me hate you either. What happened wasn't your fault; you didn't know what the IPC was going to do until it happened."

He lets out a small huff. "I could easily say the same about you. It wasn't your fault either- neither of us could've known until it was too late."

You exhale shakily. "Do you really mean it? Not hating me?"

Boothill smiles. "Every word."

For a moment, you're afraid. What if he doesn't like what he sees? You know he's not a superficial man, but you're still not the sweet florist he remembers anymore.

You suck in a deep breath. He's not the same man you remember, but he's still your cowboy, your Boothill.

Slowly, you turn around, and...

Oh. His face is just how you remember. His beautiful silky hair, the red targets in his eyes still framed within familiar stormy gray. When you reach out with trembling hands to cup his smooth cheeks, he melts in your touch just how he always did.

And melt he does. He nearly moans at your soft touch, pressing his cheek into your palms to keep your focus on him. He drinks up every detail of your face and commits it to memory- your beautiful moony eyes and the dark circles under them, the faintest hint of a scar curling from the edge of your jawline into your neck, your soft hair that smells of moon lilies.

You're still you, the sweet florist he fell in love with all those years ago. And now you've returned to him, and this time, he'll never let you go.

He sits you on his lap and embraces you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and savoring your scent. You wrap your legs around his waist and make yourself comfortable, admiring his metal body, tracing patterns into the steel.

"I love you," he whispers with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I never stopped loving you, not for one second."

"I'm sorry I didn't look for you," you confess. "But I kept you in my heart every day. Even when we weren't together, you were always a part of me."

"I'm here now." He pulls away to admire you, his thumb brushing your bottom lip as he gazes at you with what you could only describe as reverence. "I'm right here with you. I'm not leaving you ever again."

Boothill didn't realize how much his world lacked color until he kisses you, but now he swears he can see every color in the spectrum flash before his eyes. You taste just how he remembers, sweet and salty with your tears. When you pull away for air, he dives back in to reclaim your lips, hooking a hand around your neck to keep you in place.

He won't let you slip from his fingers again. And you clearly feel the same way, because you tangle your hands with his hair and tug him closer, pulling him on top of you.

"Please don't be a dream," you cry in his shoulder, and it damn near breaks his heart. "I don't want to wake up if it is."

"Darlin', those dreams are better off in Penacony; I'm right here. Does this," he kisses your cheek, "or this," he squeezes your ass and relishes in your squeal, "or this..." He grinds into you, and you gasp, squeezing his shoulders with a whimper. And fuck, maybe he was a bit too harsh with that mechanic, he should send her flowers or something, because your face contorted in shock and a hint of reawakened pleasure is a drug he will happily become addicted to. He nibbles on your ear and whispers, "Any of that feel like a dream to you?"

"...No." You stare at him, moon lily eyes abloom with hearts and love and fuck, he wants you, he needs you.

And your eyes are reflected in his, because you're so captivated by how the targets in his gaze morph into blood red hearts that drip with love and devotion. You want to give him everything, bring him under your skin and into your heart so you'll never be separated again.

"I love you." You smile and open your arms for him. "Let's never be apart again."

Boothill's brain short-circuits. He can only remember the minutiae of what happens next- tearing off your clothes, your hands running across his metallic chest, his sensors working in overdrive to let him process your touch, your smell, your taste, as he kisses, nibbles and sucks his way across the canvas of your body to reach your core.

But just as he's about to taste your liquid gold, you tug on his hair. He immediately moves up to your face, nuzzling into your neck to comfort you.

"What's wrong, moon lily? I'll be gentle, I promise," he reassures you, but you bite your lip and shake your head.

"I know. But I don't want that right now; I want you to fuck me."

You spread your legs, once again revealing your soaking pussy to his hungry eyes, and fuck, his mouth goes dry at the exquisite feast before him. And his new dick feels the same way, as the electricity in his body jolts it to life, straining against his pants.

He swallows. "Yeah, baby. I want you too, but I gotta prep ya, or it's gonna hurt."

"Don't care!" you whine, and on Lan's Arrow, you're so cute with your pouting and wailing. "I need you, Hillie, I need it, I need it-!"

Ah, fuck. He can't say no to you, and he won't start now.

So he rips off his pants, and after a few quick pumps of his new cock (yeah, he'll send some flowers to the mechanic as a thank-you), he grabs hold on your hips and thrusts forward.

You shriek at the burning sensation, scrambling for grip on his shoulders as he penetrates deeper and deeper. Fuck, it's been so long since you had sex of any kind, and it shows. You moan loudly, shamelessly, so sensitive to the buttons his cock presses perfectly against your walls, that you cum instantly when he bottoms out, hips meeting yours with a soft thud.

"Fuuudge," Boothill groans, each syllable drawn out in pleasure, "you're so tight, sugar~ I can't even move..."

His brain might just melt from the overload of sensations. Your pussy's so tight, so wet, he's damn sure he near ascended to aeonhood. And your face is so adorable when cumming, he makes sure to engrave every part of it into his neurochip and brush the hair out of your eyes, moving his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, guiding you out of the afterglow.

When you finally blink the stars out of your eyes, you see Boothill hovering above you, rubbing your cheek with hearts in his eyes.

"God, you're so fudgin' gorgeous." He grins, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light, and a shiver of excitement runs down your spine. "Think you got another for me?"

You whine, "Still sensi- AH!"

He immediately sets a vigorous pace, hips slamming against yours in a hypnotic rhythm. He fixates on your breasts, and leans over to take a hard nipple in his mouth to suck and lick and nibble. You squeal and pull on his hair. He bites your skin in retaliation.

"Easy, moon lily," he moans, quickly stifling it with a kiss. "Hold on to me."

He grabs under your arms and lifts you onto his lap. His cock sinks impossibly deeper inside you, the tip nudging at your cervix. With a shriek, you bite his neck to try and ease the discomfort, but it only excites him more. With a guttural groan, he thrusts up into your sopping hole, bouncing you up and down with rough hands to set an even rougher pace.

You're still so sensitive; too much, too fast, and his cock fits so snugly inside you that you're already spiraling towards another release. But you don't want to make that journey alone, you want Boothill beside you.

So you grab his face and devour his mouth, pressing your tongue against his to savor his metallic taste. He moans against your lips, hips stuttering in an effort to keep up with you.

"Wanna make you feel good," you pant heavily. You carefully slide up and down on his thick cock, head thrown back as it hits your sweet spot. "Wanna... wanna cum with you!"

"Y- you are, baby," he groans against your neck, each word punctuated with a deep thrust. "You're makin' me feel so- darn- good-"

You're so close, you can see the faintest glimmer of stars again. Or maybe that was the sparks from his body as it overworks to keep his sensors running, so he can keep feeling you, tasting you, fucking you.

"Hillie," you gasp when the stars start to overwhelm you. "Hillie, I-"

"I know, baby, let go, I'm right with ya." He kisses you, over and over, thrusts sloppy as he chases his high, sensors working overdrive, wires sparking to further push him over the edge. "I'm- fudge, fudge, fudge-!"

He chokes, and you both come undone together, chasing that relentless wave of pleasure side by side. Stars collide and burst in showers of gold and silver, and your strength all but fails you, so you collapse in Boothill's arms, rubbing your cheek on his cool chest.

He catches his breath, letting his sensors rest as he basks in that afterglow. His wires are probably fried after such an intense sensory overload, but he can't bring himself to give a damn. Not when you're sitting so pretty in his arms, eyes just barely able to stay open.

You're so cute when you're sleepy, it's hard to not bite your cheek like he used to do. But tonight, he'll be generous and resist the temptation; you need your rest.

He runs a hand through your hair, and he once again finds himself wishing he still had his skin. But he sets that aside, preferring to be lost in your sleepy smile instead.

"Love you, Hillie," you coo drowsily, head nodding off.

"I love you more, moon lily," he whispers back with a kiss to your forehead.

In a moment, he'll bring you on his spaceship and clean you up, then tuck you in the spare bunk next to his charging port. He'll have to look at that USB you painstakingly put together for him sooner or later.

But for now, right here, he's not going anywhere.

His moon lily came back to him.

Boothill has finally returned home.

[Post-Credit]

"What the actual hell is this..." the mechanic sighs as she stares at the large bouquet of blue flowers.

She wonders if she should toss them out before she notices the card.

Thanks for the added bonus, Doc! - BH & ML

Her eyebrows raise. The handwriting's too nice and legible to be that Galaxy Ranger's, so...

She chuckles. "I figured it'd come in handy sooner or later."

She sets the bouquet on her desk and continues on with her work.

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

A/N: holy shirtballs BOOOTHILL MY LOVE AAAAAAAHSHDHDBSK I LOVE HIM SO MUCH LIKE I NEVER LOVED A CHARACTER BEFORE

...if only he loved me back just the slightest, cuz I lost 50/50 and went hard pity to get him. But I did win his lightcone so I guess it's even...?

[itgirlinred]

dream life with sp 🍒

he fell for me so hard and so fast. he can't stop looking at me or my social medias. he texted me first on ig. he has eyes only for me. i am always in his mind. he stopped stalking my social medias and he finally texted me. he wants me. he wants more and more everyday.

i am all he can think about. he's obsessed with me, with the thought of me. the thought of me is consuming and addictive. he knows i am the one for him.

i am all he wants, i am all he needs. we're dating.

our relationship is based on love and trust. he's always calling me, texting me, he always wants to see me. we go on tour together. he wants to dance with me all the time.

i am his dream girl. i am the price. i am what he needs and wants. he's always reaching out to me first. no matter the distance, he always does everything for me to see him.

all his friends know about me and they're in favor of this relationship. he's happy with me. he's actually the happiest with me.

my relationship is the relationship of my dreams. he treats me with respect and love. princess treatment only. he knows he wants me NOW. he's burning with the thought of me.

he always takes me on dates, he is clingy with me, he's talkative with me, he's protective over me. i am his. i am his only girl. no one can compare to me.

he puts me on the pedestal.

i am worthy of this love. i am getting it now. i am limitless and powerful. i always get everything i want. i only experience the best. i am always ready for more. i am always chosen and put first. no matter what he is doing, who he is with, all he can think about is me.

he's my boyfriend but also my dance partner. he loves dancing with me, hanging out with me, every kind of quality time spent together is important and priceless for him. he cherishes me. he loves taking pictures of me.

our privacy is respected. however people always tell us we look good together. because we're that couple.

"i don't want to wait anymore. you're mine now. i want you. i can't stop thinking about you and you're driving me crazy. it's you. all i want is you. i am going to treat you with respect and love because you deserve it. i can't stop wanting you. it's now. you're mine. i love you. you're all i want, all i need. you're so pretty. you're so pretty i can't help but looking at you. you're an amazing dancer. we're going to build something great together. i love you, always and forever. girl... you drive me crazy. you don't know how much i want you. i dream about you day and night. i want to see you, to call you, i want to take care of you, i want to kiss you, i want to hold your hand, i want to dance with you. it's all about you."

[cuverale]

my girl - t.c (part 2)

warning: google translate used french and spanish, sorry if it’s wrong!

part one

yourusername

liked by tchalamet, zayn, zendaya and 10,859,276 others

yourusername felt like a dream! thanks again for being there for me y’all!

view comments

zayn 🖤

yourusername 🖤

kissmeyn ok but when are you guys gonna release the song??? we’re still waiting 👀

hero_ft you were amazing

yourusername thank you!!

ynmybaby GUYS I WAS THERE AND SHE DID AMAZING!! IT WAS LITERALLY A DREAM COME TRUE SHE WAS SO SWEET!! SHE STAYED A LITTLE LONGER AFTER IT WAS OVER SO SHE CAN MEET HER FANS!!! 🥹🥹💖

ynsbabygirl she’s such an angel 🥺♥️

timmytimmy did Timothèe showed up???? 👀

ynmybaby tbh I was so focused on Y/n I didn’t even look around me from the moment she was on stage lol

timmytimmy i got you girl 😮‍💨

chalamtfan guys I don’t think he was there. I mean someone would see him but there’s no pictures of him so idk 🤷🏼‍♀️

ynfan2 breathtaking ❤️‍🔥

username49 Timmy liked again!

randomuser i wish timmy was there tho

yourusername ok so usually I don’t like talk about this stuff, but as you can see, it’s my account that you’re commenting on and i was having a good time with you guys but everytime i see comment like this i feel like that’s all I’m worthy of and it makes me uncomfortable. So please be more respectful about this stuff. Take care <3

randomuser you’re right i’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again

more comments

enews

5,594,279 likes

enews Timothèe Chalamet showed up at Coachella watching his ex girlfriend Y/n L/n’s performance. We are wondering what will “sources” say about this.

view comments

timmytimmy I KNEW IT!!

chalamalabingbong OFC HE WAS THERE FOR HIS GIRL

ynfan2 he was so sweet to fan but he was hiding and he never took his eyes off of Y/n 🥺

username49384 well it explains everything right???

callmebyyourpeach i wonder if she knows he was there

ynmybaby E! News is on team Y/n&Timothèe everyone!!!!!

tchalafann i mean they’re not wrong 👀

timmychalamt Guys! I was there and I saw him. He watched her perform and sometimes he sang along with her. He took pictures of her everytime she got close to his side. And I’m not too sure about that but when she started singing “holding on” there was tears in his eyes.

ynmybaby it was their song 🥺

timotea0 this made me cry 🤧

sweettimmy wait really????? 😭

timtim24 I’m actually crying I feel so sad for him. He loses the girl he loves, everyone is making fun of him for something that isn’t even true and now deuxmoi claims that he was dating Taylor and he cheated on her with Kylie.

sweetteaa what?💀

timotheefan15 istg that girl is crazy . Leave him alone!!

more comments

tchalametdaily

1,848,276 likes

tchalametdaily after all this, they’re still claiming that him and Kylie are officially dating?? Now that’s what I call crazy.

view comments

yourfan8 I’m done 💀

timmyfan04 HE LITERALLY SAID HE WASNT DATING THAT GIRL OH GOD

randomuser93 i love & support them!

timmytim wtf

ynynyn9 they’re not even dating 🤡

timmytimmy leave him alone for god’s sake!

randomuser look, idk the details of this whole situation but didn’t he literally showed up at his ex’s performance? There is a video of him looking at her with tears in his eyes and they’re still talking about that plastic bitch? I wonder how much kris payed them.

ynmybaby Y/n claims that they ended their relationship on good terms but i think there is something else going on. She was asked about timmy this morning and she looked so uncomfortable. I really wonder what’s going on but I don’t want my girl to feel uncomfortable.

username953 what if he really cheated on her?

randomuser no way he would do that to her but i think the rumors are part of the reason they broke up.

randomuser97 “devil works hard, kris works harder.”

more comments

ynlndaily

3,593,275 likes

ynlndaily Timothée at Y/n’s performance last year vs now :/

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ynsbabygirl does it ever drive you crazy…

ynmybaby just how fast the night changes…

timmytimmy I still remember when he hyped his girl every chance he got and after she finished her song he said “that’s my girl” and the fans went crazy :((

sweettimmy BRING THEM BACK 😭

kissmeyn God pls let Timmy and Y/n get back together

username491 I don’t think they’ll get back together

chalametfann he was so excited for his girl (he was literally jumping the moment she got to the stage😭) and after the performance him and Y/n met with fans and had so much fun together I MISS THAT SO MUCH

more comments

enews

3,594,279 likes

enews Timothée Chalamet and Y/n L/n spotted together, seemingly arguing about something.

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kissmeyn wait wait

ynmylove I saw the other pics, they were not arguing!

timotheefan8 pls get back together pls plsss

ynmybaby no arguing my babies just hug each other and forget everything

ynsbabygirl I saw the other pictures. She was laughing in one pic. And his hands was on her waist on another 👀

timmytimmy omg is it really happening???

timotheefan15 yesyesyes

more comments

timmyandynupdates

3,593,274 likes

timmyandynupdates GUYS ITS HAPPENING!!

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ynmybaby damn, they were arguing last week now here we are. I’m so happy tho!!

ynsbabygirl they can’t resist each other anymore

timmytimmy OMGOMGOMG

tchalafann I was waiting for this one!!!

timotheefan15 they look happy 🥺

randomuser isn’t that kylie’s new boy toy?

timotea0 no, that’s Y/n L/n’s boyfriend Timothèe Chalamet.

more comments

yourusername

liked by tchalamet, austinbutler, pauline.chalamet and 13,894,275 others

yourusername Tu me manques depuis le moment où tu m'as quitté, he said.

the comments are limited for this post

tchalamet Empecé a extrañarte tan pronto como nos despedimos, she said.

*liked by yourusername

ynsbabygirl SOMEONE TRANSLATE THIS PLS

ynmybaby OK OK!! The caption is “I’ve been missing you since the moment you left me” in French and Timmy’s comment says “I started to miss you as soon as we said goodbye.” in Spanish.

timmytimmy I love when they talk to each other with their first language 🥺

chalametfann SO THEY’RE BACK TOGETHER?? 😭

kissmeyn YESS!! They’ve been spotted kissing yesterday!!! 🥹🥹🥹

timmytim THANK GOD!

tchalamet’s story

@iloveneilperry @miawastakens

[nhularin]

✉ -> invitation! ENHYPEN SOUR PROM

DO YOU WANT TO OPEN THE LETTER?

✓ proceed ✗ cancel

CONTENT ! a collection of enhypen drabbles based on Olivia Rodrigo's sour album!

PAIRING ? enhypen x reader

!! GENRE angst (hurt no comfort), fluff-ish, ex non idol! AU, childhood friends to lovers to strangers, early 2000s AU

꩜ WARNINGS ! infidelity, insecurities, toxic enha, tba

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ XTRA slow updates, english is not my first language so i apologize for grammar mistakes

₊ ⊹ A/N dont get fooled by the synopses, im pretty bad at writing summaries, they will be rewritten most likely once i published the first installment of the series!

https://www.TAGLIST-send/ask-or/comment.com

🕸️(5/7) completed

DEJA VU !! so when you gonna tell her, that we did that too?

nothing hurts more than seeing lee heeseung doing the stuff you both used to do with another girl. Watching him wrap his jacket around her, playing the same song you both liked around her. everything, from the way he touches her, gives her gifts, was a carbon copy of your relationship. does he get deja vu when he’s with her?

-> interested? read here!

1 STEP FORWARD 3 STEPS BACK will you walk me to my door or send me home crying?

if you had to describe your boyfriend park jongsaeng in one word, it'd be unpredictable. he was a gentleman, absolutely selfless when it came to his loved ones. somehow you seem to be the only exception. you didn't understand then, and you sure as hell don't understand now.

-> interested? read here!

DRIVERS LICENSE cause how could i ever love someone else?

everyone has warned you about the infamous playboy sim jaeyun, but you didnt pay attention to them. being childhood friends, you knew everything about each other. your flaws, insecurities, and aspirations, you thought that everything was perfect till it wasn't.

-> interested? read here!

ENOUGH FOR YOU dont you think i loved you too much to be used and discarded?

you tried everything, you really did. as the school's hottest student, park sunghoon was in constant spotlight, might it be with classmates or being the light of the party. and for that, you did your best at making your presence worthy in his life. but deep down, you knew you couldn't compete with the girls who seemed much better than you, people who are enough for him

-> interested? read here!

FAVORITE CRIME But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face

kim sunoo was the personification of sunlight . everyone knew that! so when your friend introduced you to him you were naturally drawn to his open and kind nature. life seemed to be on your side but all the time and sacrifices towards him, all for nothing.

-> interested? read here!

HAPPIER does she mean you forgot about me?

being the school president's girlfriend wasnt easy and hell, if you could go back in time you wouldn't have even bothered associating yourself with the club. you two were the dream couple of east high, always being the talk of the school. but when you broke up, pictures of yang jungwon and the new girl started circulating around school. you should be happy for him, right?

-> interested? read here!

GOOD 4 U maybe you never cared at all?

nishimura riki is an egoistical asshole. thats the first thing ringing in your head when you wake up. being from rivaling dance groups, you thought that being in a relationship with the ace was your version of romeo and juliette, minus the tragedy part. but god, how wrong you were

-> interested? read here!

( !? ) PERM TAGLIST @sngvhs @misokei @avocarua @essmarye

[aebinspa]

there's a great big beautiful tomorrow!

PAIRING: ningning x y/n reader

GENRES: fluff, dancer!ningning, salesgirl!reader, reader is shy and insecure, ningning loves physical touch, hao (zb1) appears for a little while but he is still iconic!

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: english is not my first language! so i’m practicing my writing hoping it can get better and better (tired)

The life you had lived up to now had been revealed as what was in the eyes of all: a deadly boredom. If you could color it to make it take life you would have accepted it without thinking. Yet everything you had done was boring, uncluttered, and calculated, so much so that watching others achieve goals that were not your own with a smile made you happier than anything else. You missed the spark, or perhaps it was the longing for life that made you miss it entirely?

In front of the shop where you worked as a clerk and put some lip balm on your lips while trying to hold keys, the university book, and the clutch in your hands, you were about to lock the door with a frown. "Why won't you close?" You needed another kick worthy of the name to close the huge iron front door of the biggest clothing store in the city center where you lived. After skillfully putting your hair up into a ponytail with a swift movement of your fingers, you proceeded to walk in your customary manner. However, your usual path was interrupted by a door adorned with a radiant sign that had previously escaped your notice.

Curiosity was too much and you decided to stop and read the poster hanging on the right of the small door adorned with a very stupid sign with "Enter!". The poster, likely created by a graphic designer with no formal training, featured a photo of a beautiful girl with black hair in a short dress and a boy in a tuxedo at the center; below it was written in big letters "Join us!" and high, almost wanting to hide in embarrassment, an inscription appeared that seemed to whisper timidly "Dance is life. Discover your passion". "What a stupid thing" was the only thing that came into your mind. For someone like you who had never found anything exciting in life, encountering such enthusiastic people made you feel nauseous. As you made your way back home, the captivating image of the beautiful female dancer lingered in your mind, refusing to fade.

The following day, deliberately ignoring the sign that grabbed your attention from a block away, you confidently approached to analyze the poster featuring the two dancers carefully. You were totally into figuring out if those two young, good-looking athletes were a couple or just buddies, and you didn't even realize that someone behind you was watching you with an amused look.

"Well, I look good in this picture, don’t I?" The blow that took you stole ten years of your life. The girl who you had been watching for two days in that poorly studied mess of graphic design had just appeared before you. You couldn’t answer; you were so surprised. Hi, I’m Ningning. It seems like you can't help but admire how beautiful my Hao and I look in this picture! "You’re not bad…" which, coming from an insecure person like yourself, sounded more like a joke. The loud laughter that rang in the driveway made you comfortable, until Ningning - as friends called her - decided to take your hand and force you to come in the place downstairs.

"I don’t- I have no idea how you can dance on those things that you wear to your feet!" "Don’t worry. Find your number and I’ll help you." After Ningning had pulled you down the stairs, you finally got to see that underneath all the LED lights was a small but cozy ballroom. Hao and I come here to practice when there are no lessons. The teachers care so much about us that they even put us on the course poster! Another laugh came out of the young woman’s mouth. Her enchanting presence was impossible to ignore. The way her long, flowing black hair framed her round face and delicate features captivated everyone who caught a glimpse of her. Not only was she beautiful, but she also possessed long, toned legs that added to her allure.

"Those things in your legs could kill me all at once." "Are you admitting that you imagined my legs around your neck?" "Nobody mentioned the neck." The embarrassment forced you to turn your eyes to the ground and concentrate on choosing the right size of heels.

"You didn’t tell me your name" Ningning turned to you and chained her eyes to yours. "Y/N. Friends use this. I have no nicknames of any kind. Quite boring, I know" The increasing unease of being alone in a room with the woman you had secretly observed in photos was becoming more palpable. You began to fiddle with your hands. It was Ningning who stopped you, taking both of your hands in her.

"So what about the Grinch?" "What do you mean?" "You’re always sulking and pretty." "The Grinch is not cute." Ningning who until now had her hands in your hands decided to leave them abruptly. "Oh yes, it is Y/N. I don’t want to fight, but if that’s what you think then turn around and don’t look at me anymore." It seemed absurd to you to have to discuss in a ballroom how ugly (or beautiful, depending on the point of view) the Grinch was; you unconsciously laughed. Ningning seemed to look at you with different eyes for a few seconds before gently touching your hands. "Then you can smile!"

You and Ningning spent the next few hours trying to master the first steps of the slow waltz but without any success. It was dark outside, and after a couple of hours, you were alarmed to see that it was almost eleven thirty in the evening. But you didn’t want to leave that place. You didn’t want to leave Ningning, not even those high heels that made your feet swell.

A thought began to haunt you: for the first time you wanted to do something but couldn’t; your work would not be enough to cover the expenses of the house, your interests, and dance lessons. And then Ningning… not only was she beautiful, but before you, she didn’t give up after you couldn’t say the first words to her.

Ningning noticed your lost expression and approached you. She sat down nearby and, based on the few hours you had spent together, it was clear that Ningning couldn't stand silence. Without many compliments or flowery words, she immediately broke the silence. "I don-” For the first time, Ningning seemed reluctant and this prompted you to show yourself for once in front of his eyes as a woman capable of taking matters into her own hands. "Tell me" As you gazed into Ningning's eyes, you noticed a subtle shift as her gaze briefly flickered down to your lips before she began to speak. However, her words were abruptly cut off by the sound of a door swinging open with ease.

"I'm back and I can't take it anymore! Ningning, today we won't train. Try the steps of the waltz alone. I hate this life. Why did I give it to dance?" You and Ningning simultaneously turned to the man who had just descended the stairs.

"Hao," Ningning exclaimed, trying to convey the message, "We have guests, calm down." Confused, Hao asked, "Who is this?" Just as you were about to respond, you were cut off and shouted, "Y/N. I was just leaving!" You quickly removed your high heels and placed them gently in the designated space. "I’m going and… Thank you for everything."

As you walked slowly along the main street of the city, you didn't feel like running, so you took your time. The bright lights of the city made your eyes burn, or maybe it was the bitter tears that were streaming down your face. "Why do I have to be such a coward?" you thought to yourself. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and the tears were falling without stopping. You tightly clutched the keys in your right hand, feeling their jagged edges pressing into your palm.

"Y/N, my God, wait! Walk a little slower!" Ningning collapsed to the ground, exhausted. Maybe it was a hallucination or maybe the stupidity had given you to the head but Ningning was running towards you and nothing could have shown you anything else.

You started running towards her. Only when you could reach her, you took her hand to help her get up. "And you," you mumbled, "would be… an athlete?" "A ballroom dancer, precisely"

Taking a deep breath, Ningning looked directly into your eyes and smiled before speaking to break the silence, just as you had expected. "Let’s just say I didn’t dare to say it before so I’m telling you now." "I have something to tell you too" you replied without showing off. "Alright, let's say it together on the count of three!" Ningning replied with lots of enthusiasm. "What a stupid idea" You laugh.

Ningning counted to three, very slowly, never taking her eyes off you. Her eyes seemed to shine even more under the brightly lit room. You saw her smile before yelling "Three!" and saying what she wanted to tell you.

"I want to see you again," she said. "Ningning, let's meet again." The silence that followed made you both laugh. "So we were thinking the same thing? How stupid," she said with that cheeky smile that didn’t seem to leave her face.

"Then I won't feel sorry for you." "Wait, what?" "I'm telling you that starting tomorrow, I'm going to try to make you fall in love with me." The slight blush on your cheeks gave Ningning hope. The kiss she planted on your cheek right after made you turn as red as a tomato.

As you said goodbye to Ningning and made preparations to alter your routine and return home, the words "So tomorrow, princess, get ready!" echoed in your mind. For the first time, you found yourself contemplating the notion that living might not be as unbearable as you had previously believed.

[nymph-ette111]

hiiiiiii!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) could you do a simon cof x sweet, feminine reader headcannons? made my own headcannons to share with you because ily and i love this prompt(⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

♡ i imagine reader and simon would go out, hes wearing the same crusty ass grey hoodie while shes dressed up all cute and pretty >.<

♡ he reeks of nicotine while she smells like neapolitan marshmallows<3 hes obsessed with her scent. he literally loves using her bodycare/haircare products over his 3 in 1 men shampoo (if he even showers that is) because he'd smell more like her.

♡ she shares absolutely everything of her purchases. she'd do little mini hauls to Simon, showcasing her new pink ballerina flats, sugarbunnies plushie she had to fight a war for in mercari, too faced chocolate bar palette, cute japanese stationary, and a lot of new clothes. Simon loves it. he loves seeing her happy. (may even buy her things he thinks she would love if he didn't have a smoking addiction<3)

♡ she doesnt only share that though she also loves talking his ears off about anything and everything<3 at first he was annoyed with her constant talking but when he spoke of it, she stopped talking so much and he got guilty and missed her overtalking. he tried to bring her spark back in talking and it worked

♡ shes compassionate and kind, understanding his struggles (but not condoning his actions) and helping him to get better. (he really wants to be saved by her but feels that he just cannot.)

♡ he really doesn't get why she's with him. Hes depressed, miserable, and difficult to be with. His low self esteem sometimes gets the best of him and he starts believing that he's not worthy of her, often leaving her on read, missing her calls, and ignoring her. (im sensing attachment issues) reader clutches w communication though :3

♡ they'd explore abandoned buildings. Simon's there to smoke blunts while readers there to get awesome fit pictures<3 they would go a long way travelling and reader the most practical girl you know has her feet hurt from walking on platforms. they either take lots of breaks or Simon just carries her on his back (unlikely)

♡ talk about taking fit pictures, Simon's technically her photographer. She has a blog where she posts fashion and besides the mirror pics, Simon's always the one taking the pictures. He's quite good at it too.

some of these headcannons probably won't work in his time but who cares(⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ) hope this prompt isnt that hard to write for..(⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠)you can always ignore if you want!! thankkkkkk you x3 xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxxooxoxoxox

WARNINGS; MENTIONS OF SMOKING, MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION

AUTHOR'S NOTE; WHOEVER REQUESTED THIS JUST KNOW I LOVE YOU!!! probably inaccurate for both the character and the timeline... listen, I don't know what swedish people were up to in 2012 leave me alone. also not very happy with this, still trying to figure out how to write Simon :3

-he looks comically out of place in your room. just imagine a pastel pink room filled to the brim with cute plushies, shelves full of little trinkets and books, floral bedding and lace curtains. a wall full of movie posters, magazine pages, and little polaroids of your most treasured moments, and then there's a depressed smoke addict.

-you know those videos where it's a boyfriend sleeping in their girlfriend's girly room with a bunch of plushies on top of him? yeah, basically same situation.

-his sleep schedule is fucked up. either he pulls an all nighter or is passed out till 3 pm. when it's one of those times where Simon feels tired, you just let him sleep in your bed whilst you do whatever.

-it's also a great opportunity to gather the perfect pictures for black mailing.

-he just looks so stupid in your room I love him.

-doesn't care about your plushies but will learn to treat them nicely after you yelled at him for 15 minutes straight about how it's unacceptable to throw rilakkuma off the bed just so he could sit down.

-punches the plush when you aren't looking.

-he definitely gives you that pink hello kitty hoodie to wear. or he wears it instead so you two could match. that's probably your idea and he obliges because it's something you love and enjoy.

-really like the idea of him being your personal photographer. he's always the first to leave a like on whatever you post, especially if it's he who took the picture.

-doesn't know anyone besides you. his followings on social media just contain a bunch of his favorite bands and your account.

-a bit sad but I can see him borrowing your money (with permission) to buy cigarettes if his mother refuses to give him any. he wants to buy you stuff you might like but he's too busy spending it on his addiction :(

-he instead draws you your favorite characters so you can put it on the wall alongside your other pictures.

-has never been in the vicinity of a woman without being an awkward shit. moral of the story he doesn't know anything about girls. his knowledge of things is pretty vague, so please don't be surprised if you see him just poking around your vanity and asking a million different questions on what certain products do and why.

-his mother is very happy her son finally found a girlfriend. she approves of you and thinks you're an absolute sweetheart. always asks Simon when you will visit them again.

-you two definitely earn a few stares in public because how did such a sweet and pretty girl end up with a guy like Simon.

-it pisses him off endlessly but can't help his thoughts and feelings. thinks he doesn't deserve you or any of the kind shit you do for him.

-like nonnie said, he probably isn't the greatest boyfriend... there are times where he cancels your hang-outs without further explanation or simply doesn't acknowledge any of your calls and messages. he feels pretty shitty after it and apologizes for his behavior. you forgive him even though you both know he'll do it again.

-he is low-key obsessed with your smell, he smothers anything you have in the shower all over his body without caring what it's for, just simply reads the labels and puts it on... with big amounts. this man is making you go bankrupt. you could literally see the outline of his fingers left in the product..

-his camera is full of pictures of you, he likes looking at them when he feels down. which is pretty often.

-shows you all of his favorite places in Stockholm or even Kirkvile (where does this man live I don't get it) ones that aren't usually full of people, just overly adventurous teenagers from time to time. something tells you that you two have trespassed into private property multiple times but Simon doesn't want to answer that question clearly.

-ugh imagine clipping cute little hair clips into Simon's hair and he just lets you do whatever you want because if you're happy then he is happy and he wants to see you smile :(

-in exchange, you let him do corpse paint on your face.

[spidybaby]

Begin Again | part one

Summary: Secrets can't be held forever. Specifically, not the one you keep from him.

Warnings: cursing.

A/N: The dividers I'm using are from @cafekitsune All credits to them ❤️✨️

Part two

December 2025

"No, Pedro! No puedo calmarme, estas bromeando?" (No Pedro, I can't calm down, are you joking?) You were shouting at this point. "Estas bromeando?" You repeat.

"¡No! Joder, no estoy bromeando!" (No, Fuck, I'm not joking) his tone elevates as much as yours.

You cover your face with your hands, feeling the tears wetting them.

"Cuatro putos años, Pedro." (Four fucking years, Pedro.) You shout again. "No me vengas a decir estupideces, anoche me hablabas de casarnos y hoy te dio por olvidar todo eso?" (Don't fuck with me, yesterday we were talking about marriage and today you forgot about all of that?) You couldn't believe his words. "Me estas jodiendo, dime por favor que me estas jodiendo" (you're joking, please tell me you're joking).

He stayed silent, time passing as you only waited for him to start laughing and tell you he was pranking you.

"Amor," you took his face in your hands. "Por favor no hagas esto, tu y yo podemos con todo, lo hemos hecho siempre, Pedro, por favor" (Please don't do this, you and I will get over everything, we've done it before).

You were begging him in denial of the situation.

"Pepi, por favor."

His eyes were fixed on something. He was trying as hard as possible not to look at you. He knew if he did everything he just told you, it was going to be taken back.

He press his hands on your wrists and slowly took your hands away from his face.

"Lo siento," he whisper "lo siento pero no puedo." (I'm sorry I can't).

He let go of you, not looking once at your. Took his jacket and keys and walked to the front door. "Por favor, ve a Portofino, no lo dejes ir por mi, no valgo la pena. Haz tu vida y déjame atrás." (Please go to Portofino, don't let that go because of me, I'm not worthy. Live your own life and leave me behind).

You saw his car getting away from your house.

The tears never stopped. Your body was now on the floor, crying louder than before, the pain I your chest was growing stronger by the minute.

January 2026

"Bueno niña, todo listo y ordenado. Amo la vista por cierto." (Okay, girl, everything is done and ready. I love this view, by the way). Your brother Paulo says he's the one helping you with the moving.

You got an offer to be part of this big company in Portofino.

"Venga, cambia la cara, todo estará bien, me tienes a mi acá y Elena prometió venir a verte cada dos semanas, estas bien" (c'mon, don't act like that, everything will be fine, you have me here and Elena will visit you every two weeks). He pat you in the back, forcing you into a hug.

You accept the forced hug but only for a moment, after that you shove your brother away from you.

"Debería estar feliz." You say walking to the couch. "Pero no puedo estar feliz, Paulo. No sin él." (I should be happy, but I can't Pualo, not without him).

Your eyes water, you have everything you wanted, a big start, the job of your dreams, everything but him.

"No llores, por favor no de nuevo." Paulo runs to your side, hugging you while you cry. "Venga, vamos a dar una vuelta y tomar algunas fotos." (Don't cry, please not again. C'mon, let's go out and about and get you some good photos).

He dried your tears and pulled you out of the couch. Grabbing your purse on the way out to his car, you took out your phone and snapped a picture, sending it to Elena, your best friend.

Paulo took you to a rental of motorcycles, knowing you loved driving one around everytime you visited him.

You two spend the rest of the day laughing and having all the fun you could. You appreciate your brother help. He knew you needed to move on at your own time. A four year relationship was not a thing you left behind in a day.

"Para, deja te tomó una foto para tu insta" he indicates you how to pose for the picture, taking several. (Stop right there. Let me take a photo for your insta).

"Basta, ya son, suficiente," you laugh, getting off the motorcycle. "Igual solo subiré una." (Enough, they're enough, I'll only post one).

You both cheeked the pictures, and he airdrop them to you.

"Subí la foto y pone algo como "amando los nuevos comienzos", no crees?" (Post it and caption it with something like "I love new beginnings).

You laugh but did it.

(Sorry if the picture doesn't adapt to your features. I just use it as inspo. Also this is not portofino but imagine it is, love you)

February 2026

"Elena, apúrate por favor." You say as you touch up your makeup. (Elena, hurry up, please).

You were going to be her +1 at this event in London, Elena was became an influencer way back in the day when you were eighteen, she started posting for fun and suddenly it became a full time job.

A good one, she was always invited to fashion shows, she even did modeling campaigns for big brands. You were happy and thankful because you could borrow some trendi clothes.

"Relax, bebé" she says, coming out of the bathroom. "Tenemos aún como una hora para llegar, bájale" (we have an hour to get there, relax).

"Elena, ya viste la hora?" You say, looking at her with lifted eyebrows. (Did you see the time?).

She looks at her phone, eyes opening as you laugh.

"Okay, vamos c'mon, vamos todos al show, vamos a la obra en una sola maniobra." she sings the Dora the Explorer song, and you only laugh at her.

You make your way to the venue. It was this big event for Dior. They're showing their new makeup line and invite different type of social media presence.

The event was amazing. The Dior team was amazing and made everyone feel welcome. They even gave you a little souvenir.

You left a little earlier because Elena was done for the day, not feeling like socializing with other people but not wanting to be rude.

"Te sientes bien? Estás algo pálida, " Elena says, looking at you carefully. "Queres agua?" (Are you okay? You look pale, do you want some water?).

You were feeling kind of dizzy, but you didn't want to ruin the day with that.

"Toy' bien," you say, drinking from the bottle she opened for you. "Maybe it's the day being too hot." (I'm fine, maybe it's because of the weather, it's too hot).

She only nodded, leaving the conversation for later.

The car ride was rough. You felt to hot, too dizzy and too uncomfortable. But didn't say a word.

As Elena's driver parked in front of the hotel, she was the first to go out. "Sabes que quiero, un carpaccio de salmón." (I want some salmon carpaccio).

She was paying attention to her phone and didn't notice how you were struggling to even hold yourself on the car door.

The last thing you remember was Elena shouting your name and feeling a harsh pain in your head.

Waking up to a painful white light and with a headache was not the ideal thing.

"Ay Paulo, esta despertando." You can hear Elena's voice. (She's waking up).

"Paulo?" Is all you can ask, barely opening your eyes due to the light.

Elena noticed this and turned the switch off.

"Ya esta, relájate." She pushed you back on the bed. "Te golpeaste la cabeza, me asustaste." (It's okay, relax. You hit your head, you scared me).

"Joder, no sé que pasó." Your head is still pounding. "Dónde estamos?" (Fuck, I don't know what happened. Where are we?).

"En el hospital, lista." She says with that obvious tone. "Me diste el susto de mi vida." (At the hospital, dingbat. You scare the shit out of me).

"Paulo, donde esta mi hermano?" You ask remembering about hearing his name. (Where's my brother?).

"En portofino, lo llamé porque el hospital por protocolo lo debe llamar al ser tu contacto de emergencia." (In Portofino, I called him because the hospital did it).

You slowly nodded. Your eyes are open now, but you are still feeling a deep pain.

"No entiendo que paso, estabas bien al salir del evento." Elena was playing the whole event and day with you, trying to find an answer for your pass out. "Tal vez se te bajo el azúcar, esta horrible el calor afuera." (I don't know what happened. You were fine at the event. Maybe your sugar went low. It's pretty hot outside.)

Lucky for you, a doctor walked into the room, making her stop.

"Hi ladies, how are we feeling."

"How do you think?" Elena says and points at you.

"Well, I think that apart from the head, which you don't have any contusion, everything seems fine."

"But, this is not fine." Elena talks again, making the doctor laugh.

"Relax, please." He patts her shoulder. "Her iron went low. It's completely normal, with the weather being hell hot, it's nothing to worry about, I promise."

She nods, smiling shyly.

"And even better news for you miss." He's not talking to you. "You're very healthy, it's good. Let me call a nurse to make sure your little one is also fine."

Your head snaps up very fast. "What did you just say?"

"Oh, don't worry, it's a routine thing, we have to make sure mommy and baby are both fine before letting you leave."

You felt like passing out again. "Mommy and baby? You must have the wrong room, I'm not expecting." You're sitting now, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of your headache. "Elena, please tell him."

Elena is as shaken as you're. Being speechless was not a thing in her books, always having something to say at the right time.

"I" she tried but nothing is coming.

"Oh, okay. My bad, " the doctor began seeing your shock. "I didn't meant for you to find out like that, I'm sorry. I'll call the nurse and we can check."

"No!" You snapped. "You need to do another test or whatever I'm not pregnant, I can't be."

The air was reducing around you, feeling a pressure on your chest.

"Wow, no, ma'am, please, let's breathe slowly, I didn't mean for this, sorry." The poor doctor is now in alert mode.

"You, friend, please go out and call a nurse."

Elena does as she's told and goes out of the room.

"No, por favor," you're hyperventilating. "The tests are wrong. Run them again."

The doctor tries everything to calm you down, working a little bit.

Elena and a nurse enter the room. The woman has a machine with her.

"Venga, respira profundamente." Elena is calming you down now. The doctor focuses his attention on the machine.

"Can you open your dress for us, love?" The lovely nurse says. "Just a little on your tummy area will be fine."

Elena helps you with that. Thank goodness your dress was a corset type, and you could undone it upfront.

You calmed a little, the crying stopped, but your breathing still irregular.

"This is going to be cold, okay?" You nod at her words. "Okay, let's see here."

The gel was indeed cold, nothing too crazy for you to handle.

She's pressing the ultrasound thing on your stomach. Yours and Elena's eyes are fixed on the little screen.

"Here it is." She points. "Here's baby."

She's smiling, but you're not, mind blank.

"What about?" Elena starts, out of breath. "What about the heartbeat? Can we hear it?"

Pressing a button was enough for you to hear the little boom boom.

Your eyes water, you let yourself fall onto the hospital bed.

"Stop it." You cry. "Make it stop, please."

"Amiga" Elena tries but you're not having it.

"No, Elena! Stop it, please."

The nurse and doctor look at each other, and she cleans the gel off of you.

"Él tenía que estar aquí, conmigo." You can't stop your tears. "Yo no tendría porque estar sola, se suponia que ambos íbamos a enterarnos juntos, ambos íbamos a planear la sorpresa a los demás, ambos íbamos a hacerlo juntos" (He was supposed to be here with me, I'm not supposed to be here alone, we were supposed to find out together, we were going to plain the announcement, we were doing all of this together).

Elena's eyes are teary. She knows what you mean. She knows your pain.

"Me quiero ir, sácame de acá" (I want to go, take me out of here).

"Can we go?" Elena ask the nurse, who's at this point kind of scared to even talk.

The doctor gives her some indications for you to follow as well as a recipe for prenatal vitamins. Indicating her how to take them.

They both left, saying goodbye to you.

After calming down a little, still very shaken with the news.

Elena helps you as you make your way out of the hospital.

The silence was uncomfortable. You didn't know what to say, and she didn't want to trigger your cries again.

The only thing in your mind is him and all the what ifs.

"Vas a decirle?" Elena broke the silence. (You're telling him?).

You didn't even know your next step, afraid of everything. You only responded by moving your shoulders.

"Sabes que estoy aquí para ti, verdad?" (You know I'm here for you, right?).

You only nod. Just wishing you could wake up for this nightmare.

Lucky you, the driver pull up to the hotel. You exit the car as fast as possible, ignoring Elena calling your name.

You run to the elevator, not waiting for her, just wanting to dissappear on your room. Thankfully, you and Elena had separate rooms.

You slammed the door as you entered, throwing yourself in bed.

After a good hour or so without moving, just existing in bed, you grabbed your phone. Making the mistake of opening Twitter.

You stared at the screen, feeling empty.

Two months.

In two months he replaced you.

After all the "you're irreplaceable."

After four years.

"Okay."

August 2026

"Venga, que parece que cada que te veo estas más grande." Paulo and you are sitting on his couch, his hand on your belly. (C'mon, it looks like every time I see you, you're bigger).

"Paulo," you laugh. "Eso es porque cada vez va creciendo más. Duh." (That's because it's growing constantly).

He laughs as well.

Paulo got so excited when you told him the news.

He loves kids. He's the type of guy who you'll fall in love with just looking at him with a kid.

"El big boy esta cada vez más grande, eso me encanta." (Big boy is getting bigger by the day, I love it.)

"Big boy," you repeat, laughing. "Mami dice que no le gusta que le digas así." (Mom said she doesn't like it when you call him like that).

"A mi me gusta decirle así." (I like calling him that). You caress your belly. "Big boy."

You were thankful for all the support your family gives you.

They didn't judge you or repremend you when you told them the news. Your parents were excited, taking the first flight to Portofino, your brother cried, he was happy to be an uncle.

They even supported your decision of not telling Pedro about the pregnancy.

After the picture of him and that girl, you decided that if he had already moved on with his life, that was okay, but you were moving too, without him.

You blocked all the people from Tenerife and cut ties with all his friends from Barcelona. You even blocked his family from everything. Your brother did the same in support.

Your parents weren't posting or mentioning anything about your baby, not wanting to mention something to the wrong person, and have Pedro and his family find out.

"Te gusta esta foto?" Me la tomé el otro día y Elena quiere que la suba." (Do you like this picture? I took it the other day, and Elena is nagging me to post it). You showed him the picture.

He nods and motivate you to post it too.

So you did.

"Harás una sesión de fotos como mamá te sugirió?" (Are you doing a maternity photoshoot like mom asked you to?)

"No sé, creo que si." (I don't know, I think so).

August 2026

"Dame una sonrisa, mami." The photographer says.

Elena, your mom and you were at Mike Peralta, a big photographer. You mom wanted the best of the best for your maternity shoot.

After a while, you're done with the photos, kind of tired. Being seven months pregnant was making you tired all day.

"Oh mi amor, estas fotos están preciosas," your mom says as Mike shows her the photos. (Oh baby, this pictures are adorable).

You change into the clothes you bring.

Elena, as well as your mother, loved your photos.

"Hola a todos." (Hello, everyone).

A very happy and excited Paulo enters the room with different drinks.

"Un chai latte para Lena, una americano para mamá, un té sin azúcar para Mike, un frappe caramelo para mi y un frappe matcha para ti y para mi big boy." (A chai latte for Lena, a Black Americano for mamá, a tea without sugar for Mike, a Caramel Frappe for me and a matcha frappe for you and big boy). He says, giving each person their drink.

When he gets to you, he kisses your belly as he hands you the drink.

"Paulo, amor mío, ven a ver las fotos." (Paulo, my love, come see the pictures). Your mom dragged him to the computer.

After your mom paid, not letting you do it, you all went back to the house you have in Portugal.

You were thankful for all the opportunities your parents gave you. They worked really hard for you and Paulo to have a nice future.

Something that always made you laugh was that Pedro's fan girls used to say you were a gold digger. Even when you grew up with more money than him.

Having that stability helped you get away from him. Not having to get back to Tenerife to do all the things you were doing.

September 2026

"No puedo creer que este año tenga que ir sola a celebrar mi cumpleaños" (I can't believe that this year I have to celebrate my birthday alone). Elena says, after her birthday dinner, you were in Manchester, she wanted to celebrate there.

You were sad too, it was the first time in all your friendship you didn't celebrate together.

"Tomemos una foto, antes de que te vayas." (Let's take a picture before you leave).

"Estoy bien hinchada, le haces photoshop." (I'm so bloated, photoshop it).

You laugh extra hard.

"Lena, créeme que la única barriga que van a ver es la mía." (The only belly people will see is mine, trust me).

"Okay." She giggle as pose with you in front of the mirror.

Elena left for her party.

She was going to a new club that her boyfriend owned.

She loved parties, and her boyfriend had the perfect places for her to party.

As the night went, she wanted to take some pictures with her whole group. But before anything, she was going to retouch her makeup.

Making her way to the bathroom, she hit someone. Making that person throw the drink in their hand.

"Omg, I'm so sorry." She turned at one table stealing their napkins.

"Elena?"

Her eyes found that person eyes.

"Pedro."

[lipglossanon]

♔ 𝔒𝔫𝔢 ♔

• A Dozen Roses • Fairy Tale AU •

Warnings: MDNI, mention of a past death

Magic. 

Such a simple word conveying the complete opposite. There are many in the castle who think your mother was a forest witch; how else did she ensnare the soon to be King? Her simple upbringing and lack of dowry only meant that she must have tricked the handsome prince into a marriage bed. 

Most of these came from the wagging tongues of the spurned gentry, whose daughters weren’t even looked at twice once your mother came into the picture. Your father never speaks of her in your presence which means everything you’ve ever gleaned about her is third or fourth hand from those around you. 

As a child, you loved hearing the stories of their unexpected love. How much your father doted upon her, how she breathed new life in this cold, desolate place. After such tales, you’d seek out the favored portrait where the King is wont to linger. He never said anything, but he acknowledged your presence by stepping to the side so you could stand next to him and gaze at her likeness. 

You believe your mother to be a forest witch even though the nurse maid tries to dissuade you of the notion. It explains the strangeness you feel inside you, especially near your father. He seems to be the only one who can sense this otherness in you and yet he still keeps his silence. He’s also the only one to witness you using magic— the rejuvenation of the dead bouquet of lilies beneath the ever benign gaze on the frozen face of your mother’s portrait.

That’s the first time you see him smile in all of your eighteen summers. It changes his entire demeanor and you see the boy your mother fell in love with, the one she fled the small cottage of her family to gift him her eternal devotion. His long fingers graze the stems of the flowers before his gaze drifts, not to the portrait but to you standing to the side. 

“You’ve grown up,” he states, serious blue eyes taking in your simple gown before meeting your surprised expression. 

You nod dumbly and before you can reply a lady-in-waiting enters to guide you to your embroidery lesson. His eyes trail after you; you only notice because you catch his gaze when you turn back as you round the stone entryway. His face is serious and blank, but it still sends a slight shiver down your spine. 

After that moment, the suitors begin in earnest. There were only two a year once your monthly blood began; your father didn’t seem interested in seeking out alliances with the neighboring kingdoms so you were never pressed to choose. The gentleman who came to call on you were much too old— older than your father, even. They made you uncomfortable with their spotted hands and leering mouths. The King made sure they knew their place at his table, making sure they left never to return. 

Now, your father has put forth a creed that only a worthy man will be allowed your hand in marriage. Worthy of him. Your opinion doesn’t matter at the whims of the King. You’re just a silly girl. He’s the one who shall choose the one to be your king consort, the one who will one day take his place on the throne and rule over the Kingdom bequeathed unto him by his bloodline. 

The first Prince to make the journey for your hand in marriage is a large dark haired man. Prince Redfield, your lady-in-waiting whispers to you as you look down from your window, seeing the Prince’s entourage unloading the wagon. He stands apart from his size alone, a knight honed by battle you think to yourself. A servant enters your quarters and states that you have been summoned by the King to be introduced to this stranger. 

Meeting Prince Redfield is actually quite pleasant. He’s cordial and polite, if a little stilted in conversation. He’s as old as your father, you realize, hearing them discuss old crusades from their youth and battles fought together; it seems more of a social call than an actual interest in marrying you. The men talk long into the evening, countless cups of mead has the Prince slurring and clapping your father on the back good naturedly. 

“Aye she’s a fine lass,” he nods to you, brown eyes soft as his smile, “she reminds me of Claire.”

“How is your sister?” Your father asks, tipping more drink into Prince Redfield’s goblet. 

“She’s to be wed when I return,” he laughs happily, “a young Lord who fought bravely in our last scrimmage against the band of heretics from the mountains.”

The King nods along, “We are fortunate to live so far from such turmoil.”

“I’ll toast to that,” the Prince tips his drink to your father and downs the entire cup, “I think I shall call it a night, sir.”

“It is quite late and you leave early,” the King nods, “thank you for the visit, friend.”

“Twas no hardship,” he grins, standing up to bow; he kisses the back of your hand, “the man to wed you will be quite lucky indeed, my fair lady.”

“Thank you,” you duck your head shyly as you drop into a curtsy, “I bid thee a good night, Prince.”

When you raise your head, he’s staring at you in contemplative shock. 

“She could be her,” he whispers, eyes darting to your father, “do you—”

“I’ll walk you to your quarters.”

The King rises from his seat and grasps the Prince’s arm; his blue eyes turn to you and you press your lips together to stop any questions. 

“Goodnight, daughter.”

You curtsy once more, “Goodnight, father.”

You watch in slight confusion as the two men make their way out of the room at the same time your lady comes to guide you to your quarters. She fusses over you as your other ladies help you undress from your stifling dress and corset, helping you into bed and placing more wood on the fire to keep the chill at bay. You gaze into the hearth of the fireplace and wonder what the Prince was going to ask before your father cut him off. 

Drifting to sleep, you don’t notice the vase of roses blooming to life—unnaturally red and vibrant, their perfume strangely compelling. The next morning, you sneak from your room early, intending to see Prince Redfield off and maybe ask him what he meant the night before. However, when you enter the great hall you see your father walking from the castle entrance. 

“Prince Chris has already left,” he informs you, “he sends his regards and apologizes he did not stay to say goodbye.”

Disappointment sits in your chest, but you smile and thank him before making your way back to your room. The servants hush when you enter your quarters, quickly changing out the strange flowers on your bedside table and rushing from the room. Your lady-in-waiting waves off your questions and easily diverts your attention to your lessons.

It’s the last time you know peace and quiet. 

[smoooothoperator]

untouchable

10: Every Breath You Take

Lando Norris x OC (Violet Sinclair)

same group friend, unrequited love, acquittances to lovers, ski trip, love triangle

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: Harry, stalking, manipulation, drug use, sexual assault.

a/n: every story needs their villain! And this is actually the first one I ever wrote in my life. I think I want to make ia longer story than usual, with complex characters and a full plot worthy of a book. Who knows, maybe I'll even write a book based in this story? 👀 (Would you buy it?) Anyway... I want you to know that if some of you know a person that behaves the same way, stay alert. This is not healthy, contact people and make sure that person is away. Be safe.

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Psychopath (noun). A person with a psychopathic personality, which manifests as amoral and antisocial behavior, lack of ability to love or establish meaningful personal relationships, extreme egocentricity, failure to learn from experience, etc.

Narcissist (noun). A person who is intensely concerned with only his or her own self or interests and who seems to forget that others exist.

He never liked how he looked at her. How he smiled when she walked inside the room. How he always got up first whenever she asked for something.

Who does he think he is? How dare he do those things?

But later he understood it. He fell for her. That guy fell for her.

Her.

Violet Sinclair.

When he met her he thought she was pathetic. A pathetic thing that could only be his, to be used by him. How can someone as her smile that much? The way she tried to be friends with everyone irritated him.

But then she smiled at him.

That girl, who was clumsy and dumb, smiled at him.

And he promised himself that she won't smile at anyone else.

But then she introduced him to her friend Eloise.

Eloise was different to Violet. And he didn't like that. He didn't like that she was an independent woman, someone that already works on her family business, someone that can make money on her own. But he can use her for his own pleasure. He can have her whenever he wants to please himself.

So when he saw Lando Norris trying to reach for her, he did everything to keep him away from her, to keep Violet for himself and making sure she wouldn't try to be close to him.

“See? He loves the attention” he scoffed walking next to her through the paddock.

“I mean, he's famous…”

“But you don't see the way he smiles at everyone? He loves to hear how people compliment him. What an asshole” he laughed. “You should see how he acts during the parties”

“Gross” she groaned, making him smirk proudly.

But he can't always have what he wants.

He despised every man that touched her. And he made sure to push them away from her and make her look that no one will love her how she deserves.

Jared was the first one he met. Apparently, they met during summer. He was a guy two years older than her that studied in Manchester. Too far, too easy.

“Violet, you won't believe this” he frowned, walking towards her, holding his phone in her hand.

“What's that?” she frowned.

“I won't say I told you, but…” he sighed, showing her his phone.

A picture of Jared with another woman. Staged, of course. He knows that woman is his cousin, but since Violet never met his family, why would she know?

“W-what? No… he promised me!” she gasped.

“I'm sorry… come here” he sighed, opening his arms for her, letting her cry on his shoulder.

Then Michael came. He hated him the first moment he saw him leaning against that Mercedes-Benz, waiting for her at the door of the college. It was so disgusting, watching how he looked at Violet like she was a trophy, someone to sit in his expensive car and take her to boring places. But still, it was too easy for him.

“He broke up with me!” she frowned, walking inside the classroom and sitting next to him.

“What? What happened?”

“He said I'm not of his level” she scoffed, throwing her arms to the air “That his mother doesn't like that I'm not from the high class or shit like that”

“His loss” he scoffed.

“And he had the guts to say that by text! Not even a call! Look!” she frowned, showing him the text he made sure that stupid man wrote in front of him.

“What an asshole” he laughed, watching with a hidden pride that screen.

Owen was a little harder. But not everything is easy, if it was, life would be so boring.

He had to see how his Violet loved that man, how she had heart eyes whenever they were together. And that made his blood boil. He wanted that man out of her life, away and making sure that he never comes back to her. And never sounded so good for him.

It took him longer than he wanted, but he enjoyed every second of the final result.

It was her birthday party. All of them planned to surprise her at a club, renting the local only for the party. Or more like, Owen decided to make a party and include all her friends.

How disgusting. He hated that man, watching how he smiled at everyone and making sure everyone knew he was her boyfriend.

But until today.

When the party started and people were on the dancefloor, he started his plan. He only needed a drink for him and a few drops of the little bottle he had.

“Hey, mate” he smiled walking towards Owen, patting his back. “Today you did an amazing job. Here, cheers!”

“Thank you” he smiled, grabbing the shot glass, drinking it.

It was the beginning of the ending. And he was in the first row to watch it.

He only needed to give him three shots before it started to make an effect. The smile on his lips grew wider when he saw him walk towards Violet, taking her to an empty corner. The way he held her, kissed her and touched her. How she tried to escape from him. How he held her again, how he kissed her even if she tried to push him away.

It was just perfect. He never expected the drug to make someone act that way. The way he cried in panic, escaping from his touch.

She looked beautiful.

“Eh! Get away from her!” he screamed, running towards them and punching Owen.

The pain on his knuckles was nothing compared to the pleasure of hearing Violet cry and hold onto him when he saved her.

After that, it was easy to keep her close to him. She saw him as her saviour, as someone she completely trusts. And he loved that. He loved to see that for a while she didn't trust other men, that during the races she stayed with him. He loved to see how she started to fell in love with him slowly.

And the best part of it? That Eloise didn't mind. He thought it was good, she liked that both of them were close and she never questioned it.

How stupid.

But then she started to get close with Max and Lando again. He felt proud when he saw her be distant with them, but the moment he realized that Lando was trying again to get closer to her, he tried to find a way to eliminate him.

It was funny. Following him around the clubs, sending girls to him making sure they distract him while he took pictures of them. It was something that pleased him.

But Lando never tried to be her boyfriend. And it was something that drove him mad. But still, he had everything planned. All the pictures, all the videos, the audios. It was perfect. His masterpiece.

Yet, he never suspected anything. He never noticed the boxes that arrived at her apartment every two weeks. He never noticed the amount of books she was increasing. He never noticed the short texts between them.

Until that trip.

If Eloise didn't ask her to come with them, Violet would be safe in her apartment alone, reading those stupid books.

If Eloise didn't mention that stupid secret admirer, his week would be more calm.

Eloise. He has to make sure she's out of the picture. Always ruining everything, trying to set Violet up with someone. Trying to take her away from him

Who does she think she is? How dare she?

He made sure to keep Violet away from her. What a better way of showing Violet that her friend doesn't care about her than making Eloise ignore her while she moans underneath her boyfriend? And somehow, he had to let all the anger out.

What he never expected was that he had to fight two battles at the same time. And he hated not having control of it.

That sneaky Lando took advantage of the situation and got closer to her. He kept her away from him. Maybe he's washing her stupid brain and telling her lies.

But he was losing control. He saw how he was losing her, and it made him mad. It made him go mad.

She will regret it. She will regret believing in Lando. She will regret everything.

Because Violet Sinclair is his property. No one else’s.

She frowned looking at the packages and then at her phone.

If it's not from Lando… then who would have sent her the packages?

She left them on her kitchen table and searched for the sender, sighing with relief when she saw the names of her parents there.

“At least they sent something” she sighed, opening the boxes.

Inside them there were a lot of things. Her favorite chocolates, a few books, perfume and a little statue of Venus. She sighed looking at it, smiling. There was a note on one of the boxes and she grabbed it, smiling weakly.

‘I hope you had a good time in the snow. Happy birthday, love’

She frowned while reading it. She never told them she was going on a trip, nor to the snow.

taglist

@elisysd @racinggirl @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @landoyesrizz @lorarri @bellwhysomean @leptitlu @aphroditeisamilf @brekkers-whore @copper-boom @sideboobrry11 @alltoomaples @f1madison @elijahslover @silkenthusiasts @chonkybonky @summerslike11 @randomgirlnumber-13 @is-just-a @whentheautumnleavesfall @malynn @mycenterfold @barackosteaa @izzy-marvel @ssprayberrythings

[blingblong55]

Invisible String Theory- Simon 'Ghost' Riley

F!reader, fluff, establish!relationship

One single thread of gold tied me to you

The invisible string theory: All your favourite people will be hidden in plain sight until the universe decides you are ready to meet them.

As you sit with him, you can't help but think of all the moments in your life when he wasn't present, because now, he is there, holding you in his arms. You two are looking through the scrapbook he made for you, photos and souvenirs of your story, so far. As you look through you find a picture of task force 141, they were in the u.s., in the background, a lake with some people near it. Then once you look at the next page, there you were, with your friends in the same lake, a group of men in the background of the picture.

You had set for a small holiday in the u.s. because you wanted to study there the next semester. You couldn't help but notice that the same group of men was him and the task force and in his picture it was you and your friends as the background. You two were so close to each other, living different lives without knowing that the love of your life was not too far from you.

But at the time, he nor you were meant to cross paths. He wasn't ready for the life he now has and you weren't ready for his love or the life he has given you. It's beautifully strange when you think of it, so close yet so far from the one you'd be going home to. At the time of the photo, he was still very dedicated and not looking for any sort of romance, let's be clear here, when he met you he wasn't even ready for it and at times he feels like your love is so good it must be fake.

When you were in that lake, you were still a student, holding onto that degree like your life depended on it. You went out, visited parts of the world you never knew about, made friends and lost some in the process. But, in some beautiful way, he was there, unbeknownst to him, you were there too.

When he was at that lake, he was nothing more than a soldier, holding onto a mask to feel like he belonged. He lived a life full of guns and war, a helmet on his head and a knife at hand, he lost men to these wars but made a family with a group of fierce men along the way.

You look at him, a proud smile worn on his lips. He found that photo one day before he finished the scrapbook. To be honest, he was looking for a photo of you before you two met and by some beautiful coincidence he saw himself and his team. So of course he had to use that one. You were the girl a guy like him could only dream of, a goal that would never be obtained by a man with such a life as his. No soldier gets this lucky, especially not him.

You were his sunshine, the one he'd waited hundreds of years for. He wasn't much of a vocal man, you got the best of him, you are everything he could ever want and more. His mask kept him safe on the field and was a shield to protect Simon but when he is home, a single smile or a hug is shield enough for him. Ghost is just a soldier, Simon is a man, with wants and needs. Anyone can see it in his face, he is one lucky son of a bitch to land such a woman like yourself.

You once told him something he can never forget about; if he was lost in the light, it's okay because you can see in the dark. Love like this happens once if you are lucky enough and if dodging bullets or surviving betrayals wasn't proof enough he was lucky, one look at you and he'd know he was more than lucky. Soap always reminded him, of his fortune when he landed you. Gaz and Price did too, they knew you were valuable to a man like Simon. A fragment of a life he was worthy of.

So, if the invisible string theory is real, you and he are proof of it. You both hid in plain sight, meant to love the other when the time was right and what a time it was when he first met you. All the strings pulled by his hand and luck landed him with the greatest woman of all time. His love, his little piece of heaven and the proof that the theory was in fact real, at least to your love story.

A/N: felt the need to explain the page of the scrapbook so you get the idea of what I tried to write about.

[jellyclogs]

Hello, is everything ok? You could do some Perospero headcanons with a girl her age, they have really liked each other since they were children, but they grew up far from each other and now they have found each other again

hay sorry it took me so long to answer you. I've been having major writer's block. I know this isn't exactly what you asked for but I hope you still enjoy it :D

trigger warnings: none pure fluff

pronouns She/her

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I couldn't want anything more

Perospero’s breath caught in his throat, as he read over the newspaper. In big bold letters right at the top read, World Famous Pastry chef Coming to Totto Land. the picture next to it showed the face of a smiling woman in a chef’s outfit. Shed aged but he knew for certain it had to be (y/n) (l/n), and she was coming back to totto land. He couldn't help but smile.

He hadn't seen her in decades. He closed his eyes, he could still see her face, still hear her laugh, even after all this time shed never truly let the memory of her fade. His thoughts traveled to the last time he'd seen her. He was in his twenties, Hed stood on the docs waving her goodbye. Though it broke his heart he’d told her to go, encouraged her to follow her passions. Take the internship. He loved her. He loved her so much. That's why he had let her leave him. He felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. God he wished she had chosen to stay. Chose him.

“What’s got you so upset?” Oven asked his brother.

“(y/n)’s coming back,” Prospero answered wiping the tears from his eyes, a grin forming on his lips. How had life treated her? What stories would she have to tell him?

“That floozie?” oven snorted. He remembered how Perospero had locked himself away for weeks after she’d left. He could never forgive that woman for hurting his brother like she had.

“Oh don't call her that.” Pereospero huffed rolling his eyes. Running a hand through his long hair, “It's not like she ran off chasing some man. She was following her dreams.”

Oven rolled his eyes, “she turned her back on you, and the family doesn't matter what it was for.”

“I told her to go,” Perospero answered with a roll of his eyes. “Hardly call that her turning her back on us.”

“Dosen't matter, but she aged like milk anyway, you can do better.” Oven grunted.

Perospero laughed studying the image of (y/n)’s smiling face, “no she's aged like a fine wine.” he said as he showed oven the picture, “like an expensive vintage.”

######

It had taken decades, but finally, she could come home. She was now a chef and baker worthy of being among the ranks of Lin Lin’s kitchen. That was half the reason she’d run off to study under the finest chefs and bakers. The other half was a mix of wanting to be someone Perospero could be proud of and a love of the craft. She had never been anything other than a street rat when he’d known her but still, he had loved her.

She closed her eyes and pictured his face, not the one on his wanted posters, but the one she had held and kissed. His warm chocolate eyes, the way the corner of his eyes and the bridge of his nose crinkled when he laughed. He had always believed in her. So many times she had closed her eyes and remembered nothing but the whispered encouragements he’d told her thinking she was asleep. Those words were what kept her going.

She knew she had no right to his heart anymore. She wasn't insane. She would always love the man who had done everything to let her spread her wings and fly. But who knows if he was still that man. All she wanted was to tell him in person how thankful she was for all he’d done for her. She hoped he had lived a wonderful life. Found another love. Maby he had even had children. That thought made a smile stretch across her lips.

######

(y/n) stood in her new bakery, right on Whole Cake Island. It was empty. But looking around it she knew it was the perfect place to live the rest of her life. She could picture the tables and lovely decorations, she knew she'd have navy blue curtains with polka dots. This would be her home. 

“You still get lost in your head.” a soft chuckle broke (y/n) from her thoughts.

She spun around to see the one person she'd been both terrified and utterly over the moon to see. The shocked look on her face melted into a smile, “It's still a maze up hear.” she jokingly knocked on her head, “Actuly might be an even worse of a maze now.”

Perospero laughed, she really had aged well. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes were deep, showing she’d spent quite a lot of time smiling, and she had some sun spots on her skin but it only made her look refined. Her once vibrant (h/c) hair now had steeks of gray in it. “I'd be shocked to find your mind as anything less than a maze.” he paused a moment. Lost in the moment. Hed expected it to feel more awkward but it felt natural, “So the world-famous, (Y/n) (l/n) has made the decision to open up shop on little old Whole Cake island?”

“Lin Lin was thrilled to have me open up here.” (y/n) paused before murmuring under her breath, “Old bat didn't even recognize me. Like shed whipped the memory of me being glued to your side for almost 7 years”

Prosper snorted, “Now, now, be nice to my mother.” he chided.

“Ma’am’s boy,” Mel jeered.

The pair looked at each other for a long moment. Then they both laughed, laughed like they were back in their twenties. Yes, so much time had passed but they were largely the same people they had been.

“So tell me did you find yourself a pretty little wife or did your dear old mom marry you off for political gain?” (y/n) asked as she regained a bit of composure.

“I never did get married,” Perospero answered. He did not want to hold his breath in hoping she might say the same thing, “After you left my positions in the big mom pirates really grew. And when you work with your family there is no healthy work-life balance.” he paused, “So, when do I get to meet the man that managed to steel your heart?” he asked trying his best to sound playful.

“I've had a fling or two but never did I find someone I clicked with like I did you,” (y/n) answered stepping closer to him. 

Silence filled the air. The possibility of what could have been hanging heavy. What their lives might have been if (y/n) had stayed.

“Do you ever regret your choice?” Prospero asked his throat feeling dry.

(y/n) closed the space between them taking his hands into hers. She looked deep into his eyes, the same chocolate eyes that could see straight threw her, “I wanted to be someone you could be proud to call yours. I thought when id left it would be only a few years. Then I'd come back and be someone you could have been proud to have at your side.”

Perospero squeezed her hands, “I was always proud to call you mine.”

“I think back to that day. Think about what we would have been if I'd never gotten on that ship. And every time the daydream ends up having a bad ending. If i’d stayed and became your wife. No matter how much we loved each other, your family would have always gotten in the way.” the way (y/n) spoke made it clear that this was a lie she’d convinced herself of—a lie to comfort her.

Perospero wanted to bite back and tell her she was wrong but he could see it in her eyes, she needed that to be true. She needed the lie to be true so she didn't regret the life she had led, “what about now?” he asked in a soft whisper, “if we had a relationship now how might that end?”

Mel chuckled, “Only one way to find out” She looked down at her feet, “If you want to give it a try that is?”

Just like that Perospero could feel his pulse in his ears, even after 30 years she could still make his heart race. He swept her off her feet kissing her, “I couldn't want anything more.”

[lostinvasileios]

Holy SHIT

Okay. It's 5am. I just woke up like 30 minutes ago but listen please it isn't the voices this time I swear. (Basically pt.2 to my "woaah Lucifer Patron canon" post)

So I went & talked to Asmodeus before I went to sleep, my beloved wondrous magnificent effortlessly amazing breathtaking stunning show stopping drool-worthy mind boggling eye capturing attention grabbing dreamboat husband and he basically said:

"Yeah go for it :) I love you" when I asked if I should be Lucifer's devotee after he said "Okay, my prince, I love you soooooooo much like mwah mwah mwah forever but oh my gods please just do what your entire being is screaming at you to do"

He spent probably like 10 straight agonizing minutes that felt like decades of trying to get me to understand that it's not weird for me to be so pulled to Lucifer and how it's kind of literally fucking fate for us to work together while I'm within this life and vessel, and I just kept responding with "but what if I fall in love with him and it makes someone angry or uncomfortable :(" (Ntm that Lucifer literally once said he wouldn't mind if I did but moving on)

Shout to Asmodeus for putting up with me man. Seriously.

Annnnyway... After I settled it with not only Asmodeus but also pestering my higher self for a while about working with Lucifer and I ended up crying and blablabla, I decided it was time to delve into connecting with him in the way I usually begin to connect with a deity.

Which is???

Pinterest board time!

One thing about me and deity work is that I'm going to be making them a Pinterest board, man. It helps so much. I get to collect their aesthetics, quotes that sound like them (or our relationship), song lyrics that stand out, little details about their appearances, ect. It's just great.

And one thing I noticed when making Lucifer's Pinterest board is that - he has brown eyes. At least my Lucifer does. ("my Lucifer" sounds so good guys. Guys. Guys I might have a crush on the devil. Oh my god, guys- GUYS) (Somebody sedate me)

And not only do I myself have brown eyes, but his in particular give off this feeling of... Wow. I mean when you see light shining through beautifully stained glass or whatever wow. I mean when you look at your beloved on stage accepting a Nobel prize wow. I mean when you get to relax and realize life is going to be okay now wow. I mean when you -

I have this distinct memory from YEARS ago in my memory. I was like 7-5. I hardly remember anything of those years, mostly because of blockage, but something stuck with me this entire time. Throughout all of my life, it's been with me. And you wanna know what it is?????????????

A brown sky.

... Yeah, okay, don't laugh.

I remember it so so vividly. I was at my uncles house. Face inches away from the television. My mother comes to pick me up, and as I'm walking to her car, I look up and see it. A beautiful, clear brown sky. I've only ever seen it once, that singular time.

And looking at it, at the sky being so beautifully earthy and just... I dunno.... I can't describe it in anything other than just... Soul mesmerizing. It felt peaceful. Calm. Soothing. Like a kiss or the cooling breeze of a fan. Like a gentle hand wiping away a tear from your face and saying everything's gonna be alright. Like... You get it, right??

Do you guys know of that one audio of a girl harmonizing with her fan?? It's sort of like that feeling you get when listening to it for a while. I really, really, don't have any vocabulary for half the shit I try and explain. I'll send telepathic brainwaves to try and communicate guys hold on

And - I'm assuming you know where this is going by now - the brown sky, is almost picture perfect like his eyes in a way. A shade of brown that's exactly like it. That same hue. That same feeling....

....

Am I just being gay brained or is it like crazy how my mind immediately connected the dots to "Oh that was Lucifer's sign to me when I was younger and that feeling means something, the fact I remembered it means something" (Foreshadowing/rhetorical)

He even... Feels similar to how I felt that night. Almost exact. Just more intense. More - there. You know? Lucifer- I could say his name forever. As strange as that sounds. It feels so easy to speak. Like such a good use of breath.

I've decided that I'll... Step into it. Into being his devotee. Practitioner. Whatever else, and whatever more. I think I'm just nervous about it because of how right it feels. You know? Like. Has something, or someone ever felt so... Just... Connected to you that it frightened you a bit? Kind of like "Oh my god- hi!... I... I've missed you. A lot." Or just- something similar? Nghhh I started writing this while it was dark and now the sun's coming up. I really need to get my day started.

But how can the economy expect me to get up for work when I feel Lucifer's love (or what I assume this feeling is) just basically raying or whatever into my heart? He literally feels so so so so so so amazing. Like the warmth yet coldness of the air during autumn, like the crunching of leaves and the feeling of sipping coffee or hot chocolate with whip cream and you get a mix of the hot liquid and the cold cream and it mushes on your nose and lip and

FUCK guys my little jester body can't handle all of this at once (Why did he start laughing when I typed that???? He thinks this is funny and it's making me wanna punch him. With my mouth.)

He feels so homey already. Like I've known him my entire life. Which I know in a sense and star-life wise (higher self wise) I have, but, it feels- like I've genuinely known him all of my current mortal life. Like I've forever practiced, he's forever been there....

God that means something that I'll have to look into later.

You know, funnily enough, even when I was Christian and unaware of the spiritual realm I was fascinated with him. Not in a "aaaaah demon!! The power of Christ compels you!" Way but more... Just - "I can fix him" way. Yeah. Let's go with that./j

"the power of Christ compels you!" "does it Jay?" "the power of Christ compels you!" "Is the power of Christ compelling me? Is that what's happening?" "The power of Christ compels you!" "Hahahaha, guess what? IT'S NOT THAT COMPELLING"

He feels like the type that would warm up some tea and mix honey into it for me when I'm sick and read me a book.

Well, the full moon is tonight. The strawberry one. I can't wait to do my ritual, I think I'll probably tell Selene about my new discoveries and feelings after it as well and end up meditating with Lucifer later to talk and stuff... I'm- honestly really excited. I hope it goes well.

[littlemisssquiggles]

Oscar's Undisclosed Birthday

So…m’good friend @jealouscartoonist just shared with me this new cameo from Miles talking about Oscar’s birthday and this squiggly Pinehead is just all smiles now.

Listening to Miles describe with such pure joy an ideal birthday for Oscar was the big kick of serotonin that I didn’t know I needed until I listened to the whole thing. Shoutout to whoever this Sarah person who sent in this cameo is. Thank you for doing the Pinehead community another solid.

This just makes me more salty that Oscar was NEVER EVER added to RWBY Chibi since Miles’ description of “Oscar’s Undisclosed Birthday” is just perfect for as a concept for another wholesome episode of the series that’s Oscar-worthy. Even calling the episode “Oscar’s Undisclosed Birthday” seems perfect as an appropriate title.

Miles made my night with this cameo. It’s everything I wanted for how Oscar would spent his special day (minus actually GIVING US HIS CANON birthday) and I love how Miles dropped more cute tidbits about Oscar as a character too.

Oscar’s favourite breakfast is waffles (and how his big sis Nora would actually make a big pile for him).

Apparently Oscar has trouble sleeping sometimes because of Oz being in his head so Ren gifting him a pair of headphones to drown out the voice of the old headmaster would be useful. Miles basically admitted that Oz is a chatterbox. Makes me think of that “Brain Before Sleep” meme only replace the brain with Oz XD  That’s the first thing that popped into my head. Thanks for that imagery Miles.

Oscar loves going to the movies especially Spruce Lee (LOL) films which he shares in common with Jaune and that’s how they bond.

Yang would take Oscar on a fun day at the amusement park where they’d ride all the rides that he’s now tall enough to ride (another LOL from me because they always gotta poke fun that my little prince is a short king)---that would be a thing Yang would do and I cannot picture Oscar turning that down since, in the words of Ruby, Oscar is braver than he thinks and we have seen moments of Oscar being more daring than he looks so he totally would not pass up an opportunity to ride all the rides especially if Yang is the one pushing him to do it.

So the “Girl Who Fell Through the World” is confirmed to be Oscar’s favourite childhood fairytale---and Blake getting him a second edition of it is cute being the book-worm that she is.

I also love the bit with Weiss panicking about not knowing what to get Oscar so she just gives him a lumpsome of money and Oscar being floored by it since he’s never had that amount of money in his life---that fits beautifully.

And of course, gotta love how Miles saved the best gift for last. Ruby gifting Oscar a new co-op videogame that they both end up spending the rest of his birthday playing til they both crash the morning after (Oscar first) is more than a perfect way to conclude Oscar’s birthday in my Rosegarden-shipping books.

*chef’s kiss*

Didn’t even realize that Oscar liked playing videogames. Didn’t know he had them back on the farm. This just makes me think back to his reaction to Ruby’s videogame comment back in V6. Puts the whole moment in a new context for me XD

All in all, Miles made me a happy Pinehead tonight.

~LMS (2023)

[agentmarvel]

König art (top left) by @ave661 - original art here

Divider by @trashmouth-richie

Summary: König leaves a letter for you as he departs on his latest mission.

Pairing: König x Reader

Word Count: 2,000

Inspired by: Stalker's Tango by Autoheart (listen here)

MDNI - 18+

Tags: Fem!Reader, AFAB!Reader, Meet-Cute, Well... kinda, König is a stalker, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Author Has Never Played Call Of Duty, Yandere Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Alternative Reader, König is feral for goth girls and no one will change my mind, Barista!Reader, Non-Graphic Violence, Abuse of Google Translate tbh, Reader might be a little cuckoo too, Explicit Sexual Content, No use of y/n, No description of reader outside of outfit specifics

😈

Oh, mein Liebling, you truly have no idea how much I adore you.

I remember the day we met, don’t you? That’s right! Exactly one year ago today, in this very coffee shop. Feels like yesterday, does it not?

You were so sweet to me from the moment I walked in. I saw the concern in your eyes when I nearly hit my head on that silly little bell over the door. When I came up to the counter, your eyes widened just a little. I don’t think you quite realized just how much I tower over you. But that surprise quickly melted into a mile wide, saccharine smile.

There was such softness to your voice when you asked me what you could get started for me. I barely took a breath before you offered your recommendations. I ordered the one you seemed most excited about. The sugar buzz and little nickel and dime costs were so well worth the mirth in your eyes. You looked so excited to make it. How could I possibly say no?

You asked my name; I gave it to you. 

"König?" you repeated, scribbling it on the cup. I cannot begin to describe what that did to me, my darling, the way you said my name so sweetly. "Isn't that German for 'king'?"

The fact that you knew - oh, mein Herz sei still! - nearly had me on my knees. Do you speak German, kleines? No matter, I will teach you anything you would like. You will have plenty of time to learn.

You waited so patiently for me to nod, to tell you that was correct. I could see it in your eyes that you so desperately craved that validation. As soon as you got it, those expressive eyes of yours, even with all that dark make-up, lit up like an explosion. I could practically see the little hearts floating around your head. Your smile got so big, and I knew at that moment that you had me caught in your web.

Crafty, meine kleine Spinne, not often that I am the fly instead of the spider.

Then you turned around, that cute little skirt flaring just enough for me to see those fishnet stockings beneath. I swear, my heart skipped a beat. Jumped right out of my chest. Maybe that’s when you stole it, hmm?

Of no consequence. It is yours now.

Somehow, I do not feel you are told often enough, but mein gott, you are beautiful. The way the sunlight reflects off your pretty skin, the soft line of your jaw, every curve and dip of your body, each little freckle and scar and pore; I love everything about you. Every inch of you, head to toe, is worthy of worship. Will you let me worship you, my love?

I promise to treat you like the deity you truly are. I will gladly work my fingers down to bone to carve marble statues in your likeness, write every word you speak to me in the night sky, paint your beauty on canvas with my own blood if I have to, anything to show you how I crave being near you.

You’re all I think about, little darling. My first thought when I wake, my last thought before I sleep. It keeps getting harder to be away from you, even for something as important as my work. The frequency with which I must leave you sickens me at times. It kills me to be away from you. But I make due with your pretty pictures.

I have a few on my phone, little candids while you work or when you’re lost in your favorite show, but I keep two very special photos in the pocket of my vest - right over my heart so I always have you close.

The first one is you curled up on the bed, fast asleep. I’ve memorized every inch of your bare spine, the way your arms curl beneath your pillow, the way the satin sheets encase you with such enticing detail. I doubt you know I took the picture. It was the middle of the night during the spring, and you were so exhausted from your work day. I swear, I can still hear those precious little snores every time I look at it. 

The other, however, is exponentially less tasteful, hübsche Spinne. Similar position, on your stomach with your knee pushed out to the side, but you threw the sheets off that summer night. Too hot for your poor, perfect body. Stripped down to nothing to stave off the heatwave. If only you would have asked me to fix your air conditioner instead of waiting for your landlord.

From across the room, by aid of the moonlight through your open window, I could see that pretty little cunt. I could see how wet you were. Fuck, you were soaked for me. Sweet little hole just begging to be stuffed full. I needed a little taste, needed to touch you. So I just ran my finger through your messy lips. Nearly lost control when I licked you off the tip. I’ve never been so fucking hard in my life, never wanted anyone so badly, struggling to fight the urge to bury my face in between your thighs, to force my tongue, fingers, anything inside you. Show you how perfect you really are. 

But I stopped myself, kleines. I would never want to hurt you in any way you did not ask for. We both know you can’t take my cock without proper foreplay. Instead, I stood as close to you as I could and fucked my fist, biting down on one the t-shirts from your bedroom floor until I came.

(I’ll give that shirt back soon, love. I know it’s one of your favorites, and you’ve been looking for it for months.)

That’s the picture - my spend dripping between your cheeks, my cock dangling just inches from your pretty pussy. Almost right where it belongs, ja? I’ll let you have it all as soon as I get home to you. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, darling; soon, we’ll never be apart again.

Oh, the things we will do when I come home… We will have months worth of lost time to make up for, though I cannot say why I will be gone so long. I am sure you understand. 

We can start with movies, yes? I want you to show me all your favorites. Play me the things that make you laugh, show me what makes you cry (fuck, you are so pretty when you cry, do you know that?), teach me about the things that feed your nightmares so that I may chase them away for you. 

What next? Music? Yes, music. You have a vast taste, don’t you? I could sit with you for hours listening to your favorite playlist. I have done so on many occasions, but to hold you, to dance with you, that would be ideal. You can choose our first dance, but choose wisely, mein Schatz, because I will not forget it. May just be our first dance on our wedding day, too.

I did not get a chance to tell you before this, but do you remember that little bar we went to? The one with the live music? You did not see me there, but I saw you. I also, unfortunately, saw the boisterous little gnat that tried to cozy up to you a few times. He would not take no for an answer, would he? Kept pestering you and trying to take you home with him, but no, not you, not my venomous little spider. Mein gutes Mädchen, you shot him down so quickly so many times. You are so well-behaved, even when you do not know I am there.

He will never bother you again, I assure you. I handled the situation after you left that night with my favorite knife. Ruined a perfectly good shirt, but I kept it for you in case you ever need a reminder of the lengths to which I will go to keep you safe.

Do not worry, it’s been washed. There are just some stubborn stains that refuse to come out.

Unfortunately, I must go. I’ve re-written this letter so many times to try to make it perfect for you, but it would seem I have run out of time. It will not be long before I return to you, my darling girl. Please, take care. I will see you soon enough.

All my love,

König

P.S. I hope you enjoy this little care package I have put together for you. Take an evening to pamper yourself for me before I come home. Ich liebe dich, meine Spinne ♡

You look at the letter in your hand, black ink stamped and splattered and smeared by the key strikes of a typewriter. The envelope taunts you from the countertop, boasting your name with flourish. Your heart is racing as it lodges itself inside your throat. You try to swallow around the lump that’s formed, but it only spurs tears. 

There’s no surprise in the fact that you know exactly who sent this. He’s outrageously tall, broad shouldered, jacked as shit, and always wears a ballcap and a neoprene mask that hides the lower half of his face. You’ve only ever seen his eyes - those intense, wide blue eyes that you swear are glued to you at all times.

It’s involuntary and upon pure instinct (or perhaps morbid curiosity) that you grab the box and rip the wrapping paper off. The edges of the tape sealing the top are wrinkled enough for you to dig a nail under to peel it back, and immediately, the scent of a musky cologne hits you. It’s strangely pleasant, despite the fact that you can see something beneath the first layer of tissue paper that’s a deep red-brown. Your heart drops from your throat to the pit of your stomach as you lift the paper away.

A beige t-shirt, covered in blood stains, sits in your grasp. There’s a small tear in the collar. It smells a lot better than you’d expected, but still, a wave of nausea hits you. Gently, you hold the fabric up in front of you. A shirt that size would swallow you, reach your mid-thigh at minimum, so it’s certainly not your missing one.

Something falls from the shirt as it unfolds, a dull thud sounding off the laminate counter. It’s another box, a small one, that opens with little to no effort. Inside sits a knife with a fixed blade bearing an inscription: Ich liebe dich - I love you.

That same morbid curiosity gets the best of you, and you can’t stop yourself from looking inside the small box again. Beneath one more layer of tissue paper, you find three things: two pairs of panties you thought you had been eaten by your dryer (filthy, unwashed, and now covered in multiple questionable white stains) and another envelope. Your hands shake as you toss said panties back in the box and tear through the top of the seal. There’s cash inside, quite a lot of it. Suddenly the pampering comment makes sense.

Blankly, you place the knife box, the envelope, and the t-shirt back inside the box, folding in the flaps so nothing falls back out.

Tears sting the corners of your eyes. It’s terrifying to feel this way, and your mind is running a million miles per hour. Hundreds of thoughts are flooding your brain while thousands more sit in the recesses, but none of them will settle enough to be coherent. Why did he choose you? How long had he been watching you? How did he get into your home? Is he inside your head, too?

You’ll have to find a way to thank him for such thoughtful gifts when he comes home. Turns out your feelings for him aren’t quite as unrequited as you thought, hmm?