#it’s about Arthur coming back but getting cursed as soon as he walk out of the lake

[achillesuwu]

Babe, what wrong you barely touched your +6k « just some ideas » about « a fic I will definitely not write »

[miley1442111]

(part 6) ladies choice- a.donaldson

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a/n: dw there are more parts after this :)

summary: how you start moving on, and how Art starts moving away.

pairing: art donaldson x fem! reader | patrick zweig x fem! reader

warnings: smut, piv (wrap it up plz), reader is mad mean to Tashi, usual upset and depressed Art, etc.

PART 6 of 12

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“What the fuck are you doing here?” you asked. 

“I wanted to talk,” Patrick shrugged. His loose t-shirt hung off his well-hidden muscled torso and arms. 

“About what?”

“Your break-up.”

“If you’re about to try and convince me to get back with him-”

“No way!” he assured you.  “I wanted to see how you were. Art’s broke up about it but it’s not like he’s the one who got cheated on.”

You were both silent for a moment.

“How are you?” Patrick asked, fiddling with the straps of the tote bag over his shoulder.

You sighed. “Honestly, I’m kind of shit.” 

“I guessed. That’s why I brought ice cream,” he smiled sheepishly. “And I thought we could watch something?”

You smiled. “That sounds nice.”

“So let me in then,” he smiled. You opened the door and the night was full of laughter, ice-cream, and hazily falling asleep in his arms in your bed. 

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“Stay in touch, yeah?” he smiled from the end of your bed. He had to leave, his train was in an hour and he wanted to be at the station before he missed it out of pure idiocy. He’d never been good with being on time. 

“Yeah,” you agreed and took his hand, lazily bringing it into your own. “Thank you for last night Pat.”

“Thank you, you make a lot of things a lot better.” 

You smiled at his compliment, and smiled even harder when he pressed a soft kiss to your hand before he left. 

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“What the fuck are you doing here?” Art cursed, watching Patrick leave your dorm room. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Patrick shot back, a satisfied smirk on his face. 

“Visiting Y/n-”

“You mean your ex-girlfriend, right?” Patrick mocked and Art rolled his eyes. 

“I have some of her old stuff, I wanted to give it back,” Art admitted. “Now, what are you doing here?”

“You shouldn’t care. We’re not friends anymore, remember? And you and Y/n are broken up, because you cheated on her, remember?” 

Art felt the stab in his heart when he remembered his infidelity. He didn’t love Tashi. He loved you. He’d always love you. But Tashi and he made sense. Before you, he’d wanted Tashi. Now he couldn’t have you, Tashi was his second choice. 

“See you around, Arthur,” Patrick smiled, walking past him. 

Art was seething. 

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“Are you fucking Patrick?” Tashi demanded, stalking onto the court as you ran drills. 

“No,” you answered, your focus staying on the balls being thrown at you by your coach.

“Then why did Art tell me you were?”

“Because he’s a liar?” You sighed after missing a ball. “Keep me out of your relationship, you’ve already fucked one of my boyfriend behind my back.”

Tashi rolled her eyes. “Why are you-”

“Focus on your injury, Tashi. Maybe one day you’ll be able to beat me,” you snarled. 

Tashi’s face fell. 

“Oh wait, no you fucking won’t. ‘Cause you’ll never play again,” you snapped. “Now get off the court, actual athletes are trying to play.”

Tashi walked away, a certain shake in her step as you watched her retreat. 

You had to call Patrick. In recent weeks, he’d been your only real friend. The only person who understood you and the pain you were under. Tashi had fucked Art, Patrick was cheated on as well, right? You two were one in the same. 

“Patrick?” you questioned. 

“Hey honey,” you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Everything alright?”

“Can you come visit soon?”

“Of course. It would be my pleasure,” he smiled. 

"When can you come down?" you asked, biting your nails.

"How about Friday?"

"Perfect."

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When Patrick opened your dorm door, he found you studying over some material for a biology test.

"Hey beautiful," he smirked and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"Hey Pat," you sighed. "How are you?"

"I'm good, happy to see you. How are you?"

You held back tears as you explained what had happened earlier that week, but when he pulled you into his arms you broke.

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It felt good having Patrick fuck you. You didn't know how it had happened. One second he was comforting you about your fight with Tashi, the next his lips were on yours, the next you were being fucked into next week on your bed.

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“So beautiful,” he smirked, pummelling into you. “So pretty like this, taking me so well.”

“Patrick-” you whined, grasping at the headboard of your bed as you bucked off the bed. You could feel every inch of him, and trust me, there was a lot. His fingers swirled over your needy clit as you bucked into his hips, fucking yourself onto his cock.

“Such a pretty girl, too pretty for Art,” he groaned into your neck. He took notice of how you clenched around him when he called you pretty. "You're too good for them, for both of them. Art and Tashi. I'll make you forget all about them, yeah pretty?"

You honestly could've cum for his words right there. He looked so good right now, a thin layer of sweat across his naked body, his curly hair on his forehead wet with sweat. “I-I’m gonna-” 

“You gonna cum? Come on, cum on my cock,” he whined. This is what he had wanted, he wanted to be with you, sure. But the sex was a big part of it too. You were drop-dead gorgeous, and from what Art had told him, you were incredible in bed. Art hadn’t lied.

It was all too much, too good. His hand on your waist, his way-too-big cock inside you hitting spots Art could only dream of hitting, his fingers swirling around your throbbing clit, it was all too good.

“Fuck!” you shouted and came around him with a shudder. He bit down on your neck as he came inside the condom, broken moans leaving both of your mouths as you rode out your highs. 

Patrick lay beside you, his hands wrapped around your bruising waist. 

“So…” you took a deep breath.

“I wanna go out with you,” he admitted. “Not just to get back at Tashi and Art, because I think you’re really interesting and special.”

You smiled. “Alright.”

“So, can I take you out on a date?”

“Yes.”

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Everything was going wrong. "We want you to go pro," his coach smiled at him. He nodded, no excitement behind his blank expression.

"Can't wait," he plastered on a fake smile.

"You'll be represented by Nike, your female ambassador is Y/n Y/l/n. We're so excited for you."

Art smiled but it was fake. everyone knew it was fake. Seeing you at practice everyday was sure to kill him, if Tashi didn't first. Their relationship was slowly falling apart, and it was all because of him.

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"I think we should see other people," Tashi sighed over dinner. Art just nodded along.

"I agree."

"You have to get over her Art, she's with Pat now-"

"What?" he snarled, venom in his confused voice.

"She and Patrick, they're going out now," she explained. "I told you-"

"No you didn't. You never told me."

Art's head was spinning, you were moving on. You were moved on. He'd lost you.

To Patrick.

Great.

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art donaldson masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[emmcfrxst]

the only heaven i’ll be sent to (is when i’m alone with you); arthur morgan x reader

word count: 2K

warnings: smut!, afab!reader, religious themes (kinda. a bitch loves blasphemy<3), oral (f!receiving), body worship (arthur worships the ground you walk on), multiple orgasms (again, f!receiving), expressively asking for consent because that’s sexy! also yes the title is a hozier reference! feedback is appreciated as always <333

!!!!!MINORS DNI!!!!!

The wind blows softly over the half-closed lapels of the tent you and Arthur had set up somewhere around Dewberry Creek, your old, rusted lantern creaking as it sways with the night breeze. The flickering light does not seem to bother your companion, however, as he flattens his tongue over the seam of your cunt, moaning greedily into you. Arthur’s eyes flutter closed in ecstasy as your fingers tangle in his hair, giving the honey brown strands a sharp tug when he delivers a particularly hard suck to your pulsing clit. Your legs close around his head instinctively, trapping him between your thighs, tense muscles flexing against the sides of his face. A soft, breathy apology leaves your swollen lips, the pressure disappearing soon after as your lover pins your body down with calloused hands, brushing off your apology with a chuckle against your skin. You do not have anything to apologize for; Arthur Morgan, a man who has escaped death more than once, would gladly let himself be smothered by your cunt if it came to it. What a way to go that would be, he thinks. The closest to heaven’s gates he will ever get. And although Arthur isn’t a man of religion, he is more than willing to spend every day and every night praying at the altar that is your body, worshipping every inch of you with his eyes, his lips, his hands. Every kiss, every mark you leave on his skin is a holy reminder of the love shared between the two of you; of the passionate nights where Arthur can forget all about his sins and fully allow himself to be bathed in the sacred light of your affections.

“There you go, beautiful. Come back to me.” he coos at you, pushing hair out of your teary eyes, a tender grin on his face. His thumb gently runs under your eyes, wiping away the moisture there as you come back to your senses, focusing on his form above you. The sight of him is like a punch to the gut; blue irises swallowed up by fully dilated pupils, lips swollen and shining with the evidence of your previous orgasms, his beard is soaked through and his breathing ragged. You let your eyes wander down to where his bulge is straining against his union suit, biting your lip. The effect is immediate— his cock twitches under your sultry gaze, a soft groan leaving your lover’s throat.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.” Arthur warns lowly, calloused hands running over the bare skin of your thigh. You giggle, lifting yourself up to brush your lips against his, your hand running down his chest, feeling his muscles flex under your touch.

“Like what?” You ask innocently, the teasing curve of your smile betraying your oblivious act. Arthur glares at you playfully, hand coming down to squeeze your inner thigh.

“Like ye wanna do real bad things t’me.” He mutters, voice raspier than usual, dripping with arousal. Suppressing a grin, you sit up, letting your hands slide all the way down to cup him through his clothes, thumb gently pressing against the wet spot on his underwear. A sick sort of satisfaction fills you at Arthur’s reaction —pretty blue eyes fluttering closed, his lips part in a strangled moan, hips jutting forward, seeking more pressure. You allow him a few moments to bask in your touch, swirling your thumb around his tip through the fabric and cupping his balls, before taking your hands off of him, leaving him breathing heavily.

“Maybe I do wanna do real bad things to you, Mr Morgan.” you whisper against his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses over his pulse point. A satisfied little giggle leaves you when you hear him cursing under his breath, hips bucking upwards of their own volition. Your victory is short lived, however, as your lover pinches your clit in retaliation, making you cry out. Satisfied, a smug grin on his face, he finally bares himself to you, making your breath hitch. It isn’t the first time you see Arthur in all of his glory —far from it, really, but the sight of how strong, how capable he is always manages to steal the breath right from your lungs. Freckles adorn the robust planes of his shoulders, ascending all the way across the broadness of a back toned from years of hard work; a petite waist and powerful hips curve out into muscled thighs and chiseled calves— Arthur Morgan is truly a sight to behold. He flushes under your heated stare but says nothing —how wise of him, you think, for he knows by now that you would never allow him to look down on himself, not even under the pretense of a joke. You deserve better than the way you treat yourself, you’d told him a million times. And you’ll spend the rest of your life proving it— that he’s worth it, be it through words, comfort, actions or through the passionate entangling of your bodies and souls. Because sex is more than just that to the two of you; it is a way of communicating the love and the needs you have for one another— Arthur, so painstakingly touch starved before you came along, now revels in the physical familiarity you two share. From fleeting touches to lingering kisses, he simply cannot seem to get enough of you; he does not believe the longing in his heart could ever be quelled completely.

Trembling gasps leave the two of you as Arthur slides his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. Jolts of pleasure thrum through your body every time his tip bumps against your swollen clit, your soft cries of pleasure causing Arthur’s cock to twitch.

“Sweetheart, if you keep makin’ all them pretty noises it’s gonna be over b’fore it even starts.” His accent is thick and his voice is shaky, excited little tremors running through his body at your state of undoing —all because of him. He’s made a real mess out of the two of you; drenched, sweaty and needy — thick strips of your wetness clinging to Arthur’s lower abdomen, precum pearling over the tip of his cock and gliding down his length; yes, your lover is more than willing to drown himself in your shared desire, to indulge in the carnality of your bound. Wrapping a hand around himself, he groans behind clenched teeth, sensitive to the touch, fingers quickly getting wet from how thoroughly turned on he is. He, however, remains unashamed, having accepted long ago that he will never be in control when it comes to you —he has never felt so connected with another human being, be it physically, psychologically, mentally or emotionally and he no longer bothers trying to hide the way you make him feel.

Understood. Respected. Appreciated. Loved. Alive. He’d never felt so many emotions prior to meeting you. Had never felt so alive; had never wanted to keep going as much as he has since you walked into his life. You make it worth it.

Letting his lips brush along your brow line, Arthur curls the fingers of his free hand around one of your thighs, spreading you open for him.

“Ye still good? D’ye want me to stop?” He asks, blue eyes roaming over your bare form with tenderness, trying to assess the situation. Even with you soft, pliant and soaked underneath him, Arthur Morgan would never dare to make assumptions about your desires, would never be so single-minded as to claim you without expressed consent from your part. He needs to know you want this as much as he does, wants this to be good for you— he thrives on your pleasure and your pleasure alone; can only feel good if you are. It is one of the many reasons why you love him so deeply, but in your lusting daze, you find yourself too strung up to fully appreciate it.

“Arthur Morgan, if you stop now m’gonna kick your sorry ass—oh!” Your voice breaks off into a pitiful little whimper when his cock teases your entrance, a low, rumbling laugh leaving him.

“As you wish, m’lady.” He allows himself to be playful for a few moments longer, basking in the frustrated little furrow of your brows and your pouting lips before pushing inside in one smooth glide, aided by your shared arousal. Arthur curses under his breath as your cunt flutters around him, trying to adjust to his girth. The blunt ends of your nails leave crescent marks onto the broadness of his shoulders and Arthur clenches his jaw, doing his best to stay still and allow you a moment of reprieve from the sensations that overtake your body. Busying himself with leaving marks onto your skin, he soothes the spots where his teeth have dug into, lips moving feom your neck to your chest to take a nipple into his mouth. The loud, broken mewl you let out at the action makes him shiver, goosebumps spreading all over his skin at the sound, but he continues to stay still, waiting for you to give him the permission to go on. It’s only when your legs wrap around his waist that he does finally let himself move, pulling himself almost all the way out before sliding back in with a quick snap of his hips. Another cry leaves your lips at the action, although this time sounding strangled, your cunt clenching around your lover’s cock at the delicious friction he provides you with. Your foot presses into the meat of his ass, encouraging him to go faster, deeper— a silent demand he is quick to indulge in. A series of loud, wet noises begin resounding around the two of you, only motivating Arthur on to thrust harder; your back arching up into him when he starts battering that one spot inside of you, rough fingers coming down to rub circles onto your clit. The moans pour freely from your mouth and into his as he kisses you, tongues tangling together in a messy, sloppy fight for dominance. You’re vaguely aware of the spit trickling down your chin but are far too gone to care; the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter with every powerful snap of Arthur’s hips into yours. Already sensitive from your previous orgasms, you rake your nails down his back, trying to warn your lover of your impending climax. Alas, gargling moans are the only thing you can manage before you finally snap; vision going white, body going rigid under his, you repeat his name like a prayer as waves after waves of pleasure wash over you. Arthur isn’t far behind you, spurred on by your own release, a long, incredibly deep moan rumbling through his chest before he pulls out of you, sticky cum splattering across your stomach. Coming down from your high, you tuck a few strands of hair behind Arthur’s ears, fingers lingering on his face lovingly. He leans into your touch immediately, turning his head to press a gentle kiss into your palm, his body trembling with the aftermath of his own orgasm.

“Was…” He clears his throat, rolling off of you and pulling you along to rest on his chest. “Was that good f’r ya?” The gravelly tone of his voice cannot conceal the genuineness of his question, his fingers running down the length of your spine. It makes you smile— he makes you smile, your sweet cowboy. Shifting to look at him, you kiss him right over his heart, fondness warming your features.

“It was. It always is, with you. I love you.” And despite it not being the first time you utter those words— far from it, really— emotion still takes over Arthur’s heart and features, eyes shining with a sheen of tears.

Love. You love him.

No, Arthur Morgan may not be a religious man, and he remains unconvinced of God’s existence, but he does know one thing; you are his little piece of heaven on Earth.

[mentally-a-slut]

Three Days (Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader) (SMUT)

Anddddd here we are! Part two of 'Staring Problem'! This can be read as a stand alone, but if you want a suggestive lead up, then go read part one! I tried my best with this one, but I haven't written explicit smut like this in a long time, so go easy on me! Writing this also reminded me that I loathe writing in second person, so from here on out I think I'll either do first or third. I won't bore you with details here, but I'll put up a separate post updating y'all on some stuff. Anyway, enjoy, and please leave feedback! Silent readers are appreciated but leaving comments helps me get motivated to continue! Even just a one word comment or an emoji helps! - Azi >:)

Summary: Arthur's been gone on a job for three days, which isn't a new development. However, a new development in your relationship just before he left leave you wanting. But fear not, as your troubles will be soon solved!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: unprotected PinV sex, smut, oral (f receiving), overall filth, reader is female, unedited (sorry), probably OOC Arthur but we're here for dick not character analysis!

You had always hated when Arthur went away on jobs, but ever since he left you hanging, your distaste for his long absences had grown.

You hadn't seen the man in three days, only getting a parting kiss and a heavy, heated promise as a farewell. The first day he was gone, you were mostly in awe of what had happened, wistfully going about your day and daydreaming of things to come.

The second day left you a little frustrated, the ache for him only growing with his absence. The other girls had noticed too, only making you more irritable as they teased you relentlessly for your obvious attitude change.

The third day was when you started to get worried. He'd been gone on longer jobs than this before, but you still couldn't help the nervous bouncing of your leg as you sat across from Tilly, trying to busy yourself with patching up some clothes.

"I'm sure he's fine. He's been gone much longer than this before."

Your lips contorted into a line, eyebrows knitted as you shook off the pain of the needle piercing the soft pad of your thumb. "I know. Just miss him, I guess."

Tilly just smiled and let you work in silence alongside her.

Arthur had gone to rob some stagecoach close to Emerald Ranch, along with Javier and Micah. You trusted Javier to help bring him back safely, but the addition of Micah made you nervous. He had a reputation of losing his cool and endangering the lives of everyone in a five mile radius.

Abigail had been very helpful the last couple of days. She understood every minor shift in your demeanor in the time he was gone. John was no stranger to long jobs, so Abigail knew exactly how it felt to sit idle while the men were out in danger.

John tried to be helpful, saying things about how Arthur had been bled half to death before and still made it back alive, but that only made things worse. You appreciated the effort, though.

It was getting close to evening now, the light of the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon. You tried not to feel disappointed, knowing that if they were on the way back, they would likely stop and make camp for another night before arriving. Riding at night was never good unless they were on the way to a job. Riding back during the day was safer, and helped them keep an eye out for any witnesses or general hinderances along the way.

Just as you were about to resign yourself to your lonely bedroll for the night, the sound of rumbling hooves shook the ground under your feet.

You whipped your head around to see three healthy horses slowing to a walk near the hitch posts, each one carrying an upright, unharmed figure. You silently cursed the fact that Micah had made it back alive, but figured it was too much to hope that you'd get Arthur back and get rid of Micah in one day.

You didn't care what it looked like to the others, throwing all cares out as you rushed over to greet the man that had been haunting your thoughts for the last three days. He was just finishing up tying his big black shire to the post, taking the weight off his horse for the night, when you tackled him into a hug.

He stumbled slightly, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist as he snaked an arm around yours to steady himself. His breath tickled the top of your head as he chuckled. "Miss me?"

You scoffed and pulled your head from his chest, still gripping the sides of his jacket as you looked up at him. "You were gone three days!"

He smiled down at you and pulled you back against him, settling his other hand to cradle your head against his chest. "I missed you too, sweetheart."

All of a sudden, he withdrew, his eyes landing on the man a few feet away that was tending to his horse. "Javier!"

He turned. "Yeah, Arthur?"

"Tell Dutch me and my lady are goin' on a little vacation for a while, will ya?"

Javier nodded with a smirk, and you shrieked as Arthur lifted you onto his horse without warning. He followed shortly after, kicking his horse into a fast walk as a few wolf whistles resounded from camp.

You held onto his waist tightly as he sped up. "Where are we goin'?"

"Just into town."

"What are we gonna do there so late at night?"

You felt more than heard his responding chuckle. "Get a room."

"Oh. Oh."

The excitement that tingled through your body was electric, buzzing the whole ride there.

~~~~~~

You would have flustered at the knowing look on the hotel receptionist's face if you had been at all aware of anything but Arthur.

Arthur thanked the man before leading you up the stairs to the room, his large hand gripping yours the whole way there. You expected him to jump straight into action the second the door closed behind you, but instead his strong arms pulled you into a hug.

His arms encircled you and pressed you against him as he nestled his face into your neck. The vibration of his words against your neck sent sparks through your body straight to your core. "Thought about you the whole time."

You sighed into him, holding onto his as if he would disintegrate upon letting go. He only pulled back to gently tilt your chin up, pressing a sweet kiss against your lips.

The kiss was so soft, so filled with emotion, his fingers brushing lovingly across your cheek as your lips molded together. You were the one to lean into it, chapped lips parting and teeth nipping lightly at him.

The responding noise from him fueled your desire more, the desperate groan making your whole body ache for his touch. His hands moved from your waist to your hips, fingers bunching up in the fabric of your shirt as he fought your tongue with his.

When his rough fingers brushed against the bare skin of your waist, you whined into the kiss, arching into him. He chuckled against your lips, brushing his hands even further up your shirt and coming to a stop just under your tits.

You broke the kiss just for a moment to lift your shirt over your head, discarding it wildly behind you. You yelped as he lifted you and spun you around, walking you backwards towards the bed. You tugged him down on top of you, slipping a hand under his shirt to feel to ripples of muscle on his chest and stomach.

"Arthur," you whined, tugging at his shirt. He got the hint, discarding his shirt before meeting your lips again. His kiss was rougher this time, wet and messy as he took in the feeling of your body against his. You brought your legs up to circle around his waist, and you whimpered when he pressed his hips forward against yours, his hardened cock straining against his pants.

You tangled your hands in his hair, tugging lightly. He squeezed your hips in response, kissing down your neck and nipping at the skin on your chest.

His hands snaked around your back, undoing your bra without even pausing. He broke the kiss only when he pulled the straps down, revealing your chest to the open air. Your first instinct was to cover yourself, but he didn't even give you the chance.

You didn't have the brain capacity to be embarrassed at the sound that came out of you when he took a nipple into his mouth, gripping the other with his large hand. He groaned against you, his erection brushing against you. He was growing harder by the second, the mere sight of you arousing him intensely.

His unoccupied hand stroked down your stomach, slipping two fingers in the waistband of your pants. You nodded and begged desperately, writhing against him. "Please! Please, Arthur..."

He moved his lips to your other nipple, quickly unbuttoning your pants and ridding you of both them and your panties in one movement. His lips separated from your chest as he moved up to you, staring into your eyes with intense lust. "I'm gonna get you ready, baby, that okay?"

Your heart swelled with emotion, only intensifying your desire. Even when he was desperate with lust, he looks at you with such caring, always making sure your okay. "Yes, yes, please!"

He smiled at you before kissing you sweetly, slowly kissing down your body. You whined as his hot breath brushed your core, your head tilting up to look at him between your legs.

His eyes glittered with amusement as they met yours, a teasing finger brushing your inner thigh. It was so close to where you needed it, but so far. "You're a tease."

He chuckled, "Can't help it when you look so pretty beggin' for me."

You threw your head back and groaned, half in frustration and half in arousal. Your noise quickly shifted to a whine when he suddenly slid a finger across you folds, head fuzzy with pleasure. "So wet already. All for me, sweetheart?"

You groaned and nodded, hips shifting towards him in an attempt to get him to do it again. "Ah, use your words."

Your words were half whimpered. "Yes! All for you, only for you, please!"

"Good girl."

He swiped his finger through your folds again, this time teasing his fingertip around your aching entrance. You bucked against him when his thumb brushed against your clit, breathing coming out in short, whiny sighs. "Please."

"Whatever you say, baby."

You moaned as a finger slid into you, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. Before you could complain at the lose of stimulation when he removed his thumb, his lips connected and sucked harshly. Your moans were surely loud enough to be heard, but the pleasure that wracked your body was so overwhelming you couldn't bring yourself to care.

His finger slowly moved in and out, brushing against your sensitive walls as his tongue assaulted your clit. You tangled a hand in his hair, tugging harder than you intended. He groaned against you, making a jolt of pleasure shoot through you.

The stretch of another finger was added, making you cry out. It wasn't enough to be painful, just enough to make you stretch around him so deliciously. He pulled his lips off of you and looked down at you, eyes hungrily watching as your cunt swallowed up his fingers. You looked down at him, lips parted with pleasure as he worked his fingers inside you. "More."

He glanced up at you with a smirk, slipping in a third finger. It sent a small jolt of discomfort through you, but it was quickly overwhelmed with pleasure as the third finger pressed against the most sensitive parts of your walls. "Oh, fuck, Arthur!"

"Feel good, huh?"

"Yes! Please, please, I'm gonna cum!"

He sped up, his fingers pumping in and out of your relentlessly. He leaned back in to swirl his tongue against your clit, which made you walls start spasming around him. Your thighs tensed, threatening to close around him, but he pulled back and held your legs open.

"Go on, baby, I wanna see your pretty face when you cum."

You couldn't form any words as his fingertips curled inside you and prodded against you in a way that made you see stars. His encouraging words only pushed you closer and closer.

"Good girl, doin' so good for me." You moaned and clenched around his fingers, muscles spasming as the dam broke. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you came, short, whiny moans escaping your lips as he fingered you through it.

With a gentle kiss against your clit that made you twitch, he pulled his fingers out of you and rose to look at you. You forced your eyes open, smiling breathlessly up at him. "You okay?"

You couldn't help but laugh, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. "More than okay. That was amazing."

He smiled and kissed you again, slow and loving. You knew you could tell him you were done for the night and he would agree in a heartbeat, not even caring about his own unresolved desires. But his sweet kiss only fueled another spark, already tingling through your body. His moaned against your lips as you arched against him, legs moving to wrap around his waist and pull him against you.

He pulled away with a raised eyebrow. "You're a needy one, aren't you?"

"Only for you."

You pulled him back down, kissing him roughly and pressing your hands all over his bare skin. His hips bucked forward when you tugged at his waistband, his desperation shining through even when he tried to stifle it.

You pushed him back, catching him off guard and shoving him onto the bed. He chuckled and shifted further back, letting you swing your leg across his hips and straddle him. You leaned down to kiss down his neck, smiling at the soft murmurs of content as you nipped at his collarbone.

You reached between the two of you, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them down. He helped you and kicked them the rest of the way off, leaving him in only his boxers. You stared down at the bulge that strained against the white fabric, a wet spot of pre cum soaking a part of it. You looked down at him with a proud smile. "I do that to you?"

His hands slid up your thighs and caressed you hips. "You do so much to me. More than you could ever imagine."

You leaned down to kiss him, pouring all your emotions of admiration and lust into it. His hands moved to your ass, squeezing as he groaned against your lips. Your hips pressed down against his. sending a shock of pleasure through you as your clit brushed against his clothed bulge.

He would have been content to kiss you like that forever, but you were growing more and more desperate with each touch. You slid your fingers into his boxers without breaking the kiss, gently stroking his cock. His reaction spurred you on, and you pushed his boxer down to release him.

You marveled at his size as he helped you discard his underwear, leaving him fully bare underneath you. He was thick, and longer than anyone else you'd ever had. Your hand continued to slowly stroke up and down his shaft, thumb smearing the beads of precum around him. You were transfixed on him, lost in the feeling of his soft skin against your palm.

"Fuck, baby, as pretty as you look doin' that, I don't wanna cum just yet."

You slowed your movements to a stop and looked up at him with a soft smile. The admiration you felt for the man beneath you was overwhelming, and you didn't know if you could ever truly explain to him how much he meant to you.

You slowly moved to kiss him again, soft and sweet. You let your hips relax against his, smirking as his hips shifted under you to gain friction. You moved your hips against his shaft, your cunt dragging against him. You continued grinding on him, breathing growing heavier as the tip of his cock teased at your entrance with each movement.

After a few more seconds of torturing him, you lifted your hips and gripped his cock, prodding him against you entrance. Before you moved, you pulled away from his kiss, sitting up and placing a hand on his chest for balance. He groaned as he looked up at you, poised above his cock, cunt dripping with anticipation.

Emotion shone in his eyes, gaze still so loving even when clouded with lust. With a sigh, you lowered yourself slightly, taking his tip inside. You knew it was going to be a stretch, so you had to restrain yourself and take it slow.

He groaned at the sight of your cunt swallowing him, even just the tip of him. You held his gaze as you lowered another two inches, fingers gripping his chest at the slight stretch. Soon, his hands gripped your hips tightly as he helped you sink down all the way, clit brushing against him as you were finally fully seated against his pelvis.

Your eyes were dark with lust, cunt clenching around his cock as you adjusted. His eyes flickered over you, rapidly moving between your joined bodies, your heaving chest, and your face. "So perfect. Take me so well."

His words spurred you to move, lifting your hips slightly and moaning sweetly as you sank back down. The pain of the stretch had completely disappeared, replaced with a blinding pleasure. You rolled your hips a few more times before rising further, speeding up.

His hands held your hips tightly, his thighs tensing as he tried to hold himself back. "Fuck, sweetheart, look at you. Swallowing me up like that."

His words only increased your desire, your hips rising and falling faster, legs lifting you further off his cock. His moaned as he stuttered out praises, hands tightening on your hips as you rose fully off him and slammed back down again. Your pace increased, his length filling you up perfectly and brushing against the sensitive spots within you.

You struggled to hold yourself as you got closer and closer, pace faltering. You whined, every breath coming out as a soft moan. "You're doin' so good baby, want me to take over?"

You managed a messy nod, and his hips immediately rose up to meet yours, hands moving your hips up and down on him. You threw your head back as your cunt spasmed, orgasm coming down hard and fast. "I'm- fuck! Gonna cum!"

"Go 'head baby, I've got you."

With his words, you moaned with your release, his cock still pounding into you as you rode it out. Your senses were fuzzy, everything covered in a blanket of pleasure. You didn't even realize he had flipped you over, your head against the soft pillow. As your vision cleared, you looked up at him, blissful smile on your face.

"You did so good, honey, think you can gimme another?"

You nodded blearily, spreading your legs further as he continued thrusting into at a ruthless pace. You were building up to another one fast, barely even recovered from your previous one. His hand rested against your throat, grounding you but not squeezing. "So gorgeous, my pretty girl. Look so good stuffed full of my cock."

You moaned pathetically, hands going up to hold his face and grip his hair. "You feel so good, Arthur, I- I love how you make me feel."

He groaned in response, slamming into your cunt even faster. "So tight for me, gonna make me cum. Where d'ya want me?" He struggled to get the question out, his voice stammering through moans.

"Inside. Fill me up, Arthur."

His hand tightened around your throat for a moment at your words, and he moaned loudly. "Fuck, you're gonna kill me."

His movements grew sloppier, fingers pressing against your throat as he pressed his lips to yours in a messy kiss. With a few more thrusts, your own orgasm came to a head, only slightly preceding his.

His groaned against your lips and your walls clenched around him, his cum painting your insides as you milked him. He fucked you through it, kiss growing softer as he slowed to a stop. He stilled inside you, pulling back to look in your eyes.

You looked back at him, lips curled into a soft smile as he rested his forehead against yours. He pulled out carefully, planting a sweet kiss on your lips to distract you from any discomfort.

He shifted to lay next to you, turning his head to look at you. "You okay?"

You smiled and looked at him. "With you? Always."

[saturnxlust]

Sighhhh this is a shit post cause i have nothing else to do🫶🫶

John Marston x Fem!Reader

Hes a interesting lover

He isnt that bad but hes not like amazing

I imagine he was a good dad for the most part to john but i dont think he’d want another kid

If you do he might just shove jack in your arms and let you take care of him for awhile

Jack is a sweetheart though🫶🫶

I dont think abigal could really complain about their marriage other then the fact he ran away for about a year and constantly left for days at a time without telling anyone

If you have a problem with that he might just shrug and offer to take you with him

But if you decline and ask him to stay home with you hes not too keen on it

Most of the time its usually missions dutch sends him on that take days but there have been a few occasions where they take a week

When everything went bad with the gang at the bank his first priority was you and jack

He wanted to get you out of this life and run away like he had before blackwater

He knew everyone would be counting on him and arthur to keep dutch sane though so he begrudgingly stayed

When arthur, dutch, javier, and micah go missing its chaos

He goes practically insane not knowing what to do

He also heavily mourns the loss of his “adopted” father hosea

He shuts down almost completely and relies on you for almost everything

Most of his days are spent in his cot wishing for them to come back, that is until you join him

He gets distracted by you almost enough to forget hes lost his 2 father figures and his older brother figure

Micah he doesnt really care about, never understand why the man was so sour all the time

Javier he misses, mostly wanting him to be at the camp to bring everyones spirts up by playing a song

Secretly sings one of javiers songs while working by himself

When they finally come back hes never been happier, but while he was slumped in bed he was imagining hosea would come back with them and that they had grabbed his body to keep him alive

When thats not the case he cries

Genuine tears fall from his eyes that night as he holds you and goes through the grieving process all over again

It took some words of encouragement from arthur to get him up and moving the next day

When dutch and micah flee leaving arthur and him and a few others to deal with their attackers

He doesnt let you out of his sight

Not wanting you to get hit in the crossfire

Once everything was over and you all were safe again he never left your side and his hands stayed on you at all costs

He feels like if he isnt holding you and constantly around you then something will happen

When evrything goes bad and arthur dies? Oh god

You thought he was bad before

Hes awful now

He starts crying as soon as he finds out and if your off doing something he immediately seeks your comfort

Walking up to you and holding you while he cries into your shoulder is the only thing he knows to do right now

When he eventually calms a little hes gone

Lost almost completely

Theres not much you can say without him breaking down again so you decide to be silent

Holding him and running your hands through his hair

He falls to his knees infront of you and his arms wrap around your wait as he cries into your stomach

His hat is long gone somewhere but it didnt matter to him

All that mattered is that his best friend and brother was dead and there was nothing he could do

He wished arthur had told him sooner

He wished he had read the signs after micah began calling him black lung

He wished he had gotten arthur medicine

Even if it wouldnt have helped much it wouldve done something

And then the anger sets in

He gets up abruptly and walks away

Beginning to throw and punch things, nothing at you

Not even close to you

He screams and curses micah and dutches names

Feeling betrayed by those he once called his family

Once the anger leaves he breaks down again

Sobbing and shaking as he reaches out for you, silently begging you to do something to fix this

You just walked over and held him in your arms, letting him fall asleep against you

The last thing you remember seeing is him snoring softly in your arms as you leaned against a tree

Falling asleep yourself after being so tired of being on the run

God knows what happened to the rest and may god keep them safe is the last thought that rings through your head before you fall asleep with john pressed against you

Oh my god i didnt realize how in depth i went with his grief😭😭

[nyasiaaaaa]

In the Bleak Mid-Winter

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem reader (Nurse)  Fem reader x Arthur ( platonic) Fem reader x Micheal ( platonic )

Summary: This is a story about two people who become constants in each others lives, and eventually fall for each. While one learns to love again, the other learns the cost of loving a man like him. 

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: Cursing, blood, death, child birth, drinking, alcohol, talks of war, guns, Tommy Shelby ( If I missed anything or you think something should be added please tell me.) ( Also Y/N is on dick, IDKY she acts like this)

A/N: part 1 takes place during season two, part 2/3 season 3 and 4/5/6 season 4. This is a Slow burn there will be smut eventually. 

There is month and week time just in here, this is the only part where I would do that cause I had a lot to fit in. Because I had a lot of fit in, I have to add another part so too much won’t be going on all in one part. Also this is bit of a filler for that time jump from the end of season two to the beginning of season three

Part 1  Part 3    Part 4   Part 5  part 6

*******************************************

Although you didn't see Thomas again for nearly a year, you knew he was there watching you, keeping tabs on you. You had seen Arthur more than you had seen Thomas; he'd often come in, all cut up and in need of stitching.

 You still remember the first time you met Arthur; you were busy with a patient in one of the ER exam rooms when one of your fellow nurses slid back the curtain.

"Hi, excuse us. I need to borrow her for a second," She said, smiling towards the patient as she grabbed your arms, pulling you out and sliding the curtain back.

"What" 

"You've been asked for by name, exam room three. I'll take over here."

"Why, what's going on”You asked confused.

She shrugged her shoulders, 

 "All I know is that it's a peaky fellow, a Shelby, to be exact." 

She went back into the exam room, but you stood still. Thomas, he's here to see you? You were confused, if he wanted to meet, he could've just come to your apartment; he did know where you lived. 

Then it clicked ,he's hurt again; he has to be. 

You turned and started to walk down the hall towards the third exam room. Walked…. ran the same thing.

Soon, you were standing in front of the curtain to exam room three. You took a deep breath as you smoothed your outfit out. 

You don't know why you were so nervous to see him; you felt kinda silly; you had literally performed surgery on this man and dressed him.

 You shook your head, then quickly pulled back the curtain before you could change your mind. 

You’re puzzled because the man sitting in front of you is not Thomas Shelby. 

"Hi," you drew out, unsure who this man was and what he wanted with you.

"Oi, you the girl that took care of Tommy when he was here?" he asked, all chipper despite his ear being split, cuts on his face, and blood being littered all over his body.

You shook your head slowly, still unsure where this was going

"Tommy sent me here to get patched up; he said you were, uh, sympathetic to the cause." That made you laugh a bit 

"I guess I am; let's see what's going on here, Mr.Shelby." You stepped into the room, closed the curtain behind you, and went to the table to find some gloves.

"It's Arthur"

"Oh, Arthur, and who is Thomas to you again?" 

You pulled the stool underneath you as you began to clean the cuts on his face with some wipes. 

"He's my brother; I'm the oldest, then Tommy, and then John, and last Finn."

You made a face; you didn't know Thomas had a brother, let alone three; in all the stories you heard about Peaky Blinders, only Thomas had been brought up. 

You continued to clean Arthur up, and as you did so, you asked a million questions like where they grew up, how old they were, and how betting even worked. 

You have learned so much from Arthur in the past 30 minutes about the business and Thomas than you would have ever thought. 

Arthur was so talkative, he answered all your questions, he honestly was a bit too happy, you had assumed he was on something but wasn't sure. 

He had just gotten done telling you a story about when he and Tommy were younger when you finished his last stitch.

"It sounds like loads of fun," you said, cutting the string to the last stitch. 

"Yeah, it was different back then; Tommy was different back then. " 

You had wanted to ask what he meant, but he had gotten up before you could. He walked over to the mirror to look at his face; as he did so, you pulled some cream out of the draw for him. 

"Here, make sure you put this cream on so you won't scar." 

"Ahhh, thanks, Doc; Tommy told us whenever we need fixin' to come to you, and you didn't disappoint." 

"And how is Tommy? Is he all healed up?" Part of you just wanted to say his nickname out loud, and another hoped that Arthur would continue his over-sharing streak. 

"Yeah, all good; you know our Tommy strong as a horse," He said before walking away. 

You smiled and waved to him, watching him walk away. Our Tommy that made you giggle and smile like an idiot. You started to clean up your mess and wipe stuff down when you suddenly stopped, and your smile dropped. 

It had just dawned on you, but It was too late; he was far too gone when you realized. What did he mean by Tommy told us whenever they needed fixin' to come to you. You were hoping it didn't mean what you had thought, but it did. 

To say you were overworked was an understatement; you couldn't have imagined first how many men were peaky blinders and second how often they got hurt. 

Every time you turned around, your patient was a peaky boy, saying Tommy had sent them to get fixed up. Some of these men came into the hospital standing even though they had cuts the size of your arm on their bodies. They were bleeding out, but they remained calm like it was just another Tuesday, and soon, so did you because eventually, it was just another Tuesday. 

You and Arthur became close; you would even say you became friends. You saw him often; either he was in for himself, getting more stitches, or he was dropping off a person to get help. And on those sad, rare days, he was picking up a body, someone you couldn't save. 

You and Arthur talked a lot about everything and anything; you felt like his priest with the kind of things he confessed to you. How he felt the business was going, how he was still messed up from the war, how lonely he was. 

On those days, you would just listen to him talk and give him a hug after; you knew he needed it. Your relationship truly felt like brother and sister, and you couldn't have been more happy about it, seeing as you are an only child. 

Arthur and Thomas were the only Shelby brothers you had the pleasure of meeting. Polly and Ada, you have not, but Arthur said you shouldn't because they don't get involved in dirty business. Finn was far too young; he often just hung back, and Micheal Polly's son only handled legitimate business. 

So you were pretty shocked when you had been requested, and Michael Gray was behind the curtain. 

"You the peaky doc."  

"I am." You had tried to tell the boys that you were only a nurse, but none of them listed, so you just accepted the nickname.

He nodded and started to take his shirt off; he had bruises and cuts all over his body. One big cut on his stomach and one on his forehead; that's the ones you will be focusing on. You put your gloves on and got to work; you cleaned the cut on his stomach a bit before starting your stitches.

Your head was down the whole time you stitched him, but you still knew he was staring at you; you felt it, and the way he looked down at you made you slightly uncomfortable. 

Once you finished the stitches, you stood up from the stool, making you come face to face with him.

His eyes were quite different from Tommy's; you didn't know yet if it was in a good way or bad.

He cocked his head to the side as he looked at you, then looked down at your name tag before looking back up at you.

"Can I smoke in here?"

"Sure, and do you mind if I stand right here? It's the only way I can reach," you said, pointing to in between his legs. 

He took a long drag of his cig before responding, "Whatever you want, doc."

Even from this position, you had to stand on your toes; he was pretty tall. You were pulling a stitch through when you almost fell, but Micheal had placed his hand on your back, keeping you upright. 

You cleared your throat. "Thanks" 

He just nodded at you with his hand still on your back

"Tommy pays your rent, right? I've seen your name in the books."

"Yeah" 

"I always had thought he did that cause you to stitch the boys up with no questions asked and no coppers involved." 

You just smiled back, unsure what to say 

"But now I'm not so sure."

"What do you mean"

At this point, you were on your last couple of stitches 

"You have your own protection detail; he sends his most important men to you, and he pays your rent."

You knew about the rent and never paid much mind to why Tommy started sending his men; you'd just assumed that it was your payment for free rent. A protection detail, though, you were confused; Micheal had to be mistaken. You'd never seen anyone following you, or maybe that was the point. 

You tied the thread before cutting it,  all while Micheal's hand remained behind your back; you looked down at him and asked. 

"Why"

He shrugged his shoulders, taking one last drag before putting the cig out on the tray behind you.

He blew his smoke to the side before saying, "Tommy takes care of his own; he protects what's his." 

You were stunned, but Micheal didn't allow you to process. He stood up, putting on his shirt before walking towards the door.

"Thanks, doc," he yelled as he left

You smiled and nodded back before turning around and cleaning up.

Had you really made that much of an impression on Tommy, you were confused and stuck, your mind racing to solve this riddle. If you had left such an impression, why hadn't you seen him in weeks? Not even so much as flowers or Arthur playing playing messenger, nothing. Micheal had to be wrong. 

But what if he wasn't? What angle was Tommy playing? What was his end goal? 

Your head was starting to hurt, maybe cause you were tired or cause your brain had been overworked trying to figure out what this man wanted from you. You decide to go back to work cause, whatever was happening, you wouldn't figure it out.  

*******************************************

It had been a little over nine months after your visit from Micheal that you saw Tommy again. 

You had been requested at his house, Arthur came and got you. This house wasn't in Birmingham it was nice and big, a mansion. You knew why you were here. Arthur had been keeping you up to date with all the Tommy and Grace drama. After Arthur told you about Grace and her and Tommy's Past and present, you knew that Micheal was wrong. 

He couldn't have been more wrong cause here you are, arriving at Tommy's house about to see him for the first time in a year to help deliver his baby.  

"There already a doctor there, you say," you asked Arthur as he helped you out of the car. 

"Yes, Tommy said he still wants you there, though."

You didn't understand why you had to be there if a doctor was already there, someone who has had more schooling than you and should hold more knowledge. 

Arthur had led you through the house, at first he got lost, it was a big house, but soon he found his way and plus it wasn't hard you just followed the screams and cursing. 

You should have braced yourself before entering the room, but you had thought you would be fine; you weren't.

As soon as you opened the door, all eyes were on you, including Tommy's, his eyes which you hadn't seen in so long; they were so intense. 

He was standing next to Grace, who was lying on the bed; he was holding her hand, blood smeared on his shirt. Two women were on the opposite side of him next to Grace, two women you assumed to be Polly and Esme. 

You kind of just stood there, unsure of what to do and a bit scared. Grace's head popped from behind the doctor who stood in between her propped-up legs. 

"Arthur, would you shut the door" Grace yelled

He laughed awkwardly. "Sorry, I didn't see anything, Tommy; go on, Doc." He gave you a push as he shut the door. 

"Umm, where can I help?" you asked, and it was clear that you were nervous, but you hoped they thought it was because of the situation and not because of what it actually was, Tommy.

"The doctor is saying the baby is trying to come out feet first and that he must cut her open. Polly and Esme say that the baby can be turned, and if she is cut, she will bleed out." Thomas said as he rubbed his face; he was trying to hide it, but you could tell he was nervous.

"OK, OK, OK, Excuse me, I need to assess Grace to see which option is better." You placed your bag down and pulled out some gloves before approaching Grace.

"OK, Grace, I'm just going to see where the baby is at," You said as you reached up in her cervix, checking for the baby, and it was trying to come out feet first. You pulled out of her before speaking again.

"OK, Grace, the baby is coming feet first, but it's still far up, so I think we have a good chance at turning it around. It will be painful, but it's better than cutting you open and risking you bleeding out."

"Well, I can't do that, and I still believe that a c-section is the way to go; I've done many and have had many successes." The doctor tried to argue, but you knew that the risk of her bleeding out was higher than her not. 

"I can do it. Trust me, Grace, I can do it."

"Are you even a doctor?" the doctor asked. 

"No, but that doesn't matter. Grace, what do you want."

Graces looked between you and the doctor before looking up at Thomas, who was looking at you. And for the first time since you stepped into this room, you looked at him in the eyes. You nodded slightly, telling him you had this; he stared at you a little longer before telling you to go ahead. 

You got right to work pushing on Grace's stomach, pushing the baby's head, and slowly turning the baby. She screamed in pain, and Thomas held her hand, encoring her along; after 30 minutes, you finally got the baby in the correct position. You would’ve let Grace take a much-needed break, but she said she felt the need to push and couldn't hold back. 

"OK, Grace, that's fine. Push." You got back between her legs and sat on the stool at her feet.

It only took two pushes, and the baby was out, but It wasn't breathing; you panicked, and everyone looked at you scared. Except for Thomas, he looked at you in a way you can't describe as anything other than murderous. 

You held the baby in your hands, quickly walking over to the dresser and placing the baby down before grabbing the suction ball from your bag below you. You sucked the goo from the baby's mouth and throat and ran your knuckles across his chest. 

The baby still didn't cry out, and you were nervous. Had you pushed on its head too hard? You had never done it yourself, only seen it done, but-

The baby coughed and let out a cry; relief flooded your body, and tears slipped from your eyes. You cleaned the baby before turning around and walking over to Thomas.

"Here you go, Mr.Shelby, a beautiful, healthy baby boy." 

For the first time ever, you saw Tommy smile, like a full ear-to-ear smile, as you handed him his son. You smiled to yourself before stepping away and collecting your things. You looked at the doctor who stood in the corner, flipping him off before saying.

"You can handle the rest, right, or do you need help with that too?" 

He rolled his eyes at you before walking to Grace to clean her up.

You opened the door and saw Michael, Arthur, who you assumed to be John and Finn, and many more waiting outside the door.

"Grace is fine." 

"And," Arthur asked. 

"And it's a- " 

"It's a boy," Thomas said, interrupting you, you turned around, and he was standing right behind you. 

"Congratulations," You said to Tommy. 

"Thank you," he said back before he got rushed with a bunch of hugs.

You went down the steps, deciding to wait for Arthur outside, and truth be told, you needed some air not only because of Tommy but also because that was the most ballsy thing you had ever done in your career. You just delivered a baby, all on your own. 

You weren't waiting on the steps outside long when you heard the door open, and you stood up, brushing the dirt off yourself, slowly turning around.

"I thought you had gotten lost again. Arthur thought I had to come to find yo-"You stopped your sentence abruptly, seeing as Arthur wasn't the one standing in front of you.

"Micheal, where's Arthur?"

"I had asked him if it was alright if I took you home." 

"Oh, OK, let's go," You said before hopping in the car, with Micheal right behind you, sliding next to you in the driver's seat.

The drive back was quiet, and soon you were back at your house; you hopped out of the car and walked towards your apartment building, Micheal right behind you.

"You don't have to walk me to my door, Micheal; I'll be fine."

"Who am I to defy orders?" 

That made you stop and turn towards him. 

"You’re wrong, Tommy's with Grace. We're friends; he has no feeling like that towards me."

"You sure about that" 

"I just delivered his baby, Micheal."

"Exactly," he said, then turned around and left. 

You walked into your building and up the steps to your apartment; you stood at the door searching for your keys and became frustrated when you couldn't find them. You threw your bag at the door, making everything fall and spill across the floor. 

You took a deep breath before squatting down, picking everything up, and putting them back; your keys had also been on the ground. You grabbed them and unlocked the door, walking in and shutting it behind you.

You walk over to your bed and jump in it; you don't even have the energy to change. You were so tired, and your head hurt trying to figure out what Micheal got from playing with your head like this. 

You wouldn't even let yourself go down the guessing road; he was with Grace, and that was final. They were apart and came back stronger than ever; their love was fairy-tale-like. 

You couldn't help yourself, though; a small part of you still thought, 

What if.

********************************

Months have passed since you last seen Tommy since you delivered his baby. You haven’t seen him, but you know he was keeping tabs on you. You also started to see Arthur less; he was a changed man so he says. He met a new dime, Linda. You’re not going to lie, you don’t like the bitch, but Arthur does, and seeing as he has stopped the fighting, drinking, and even snow, you’ve decided to let it go. 

You still see peaky boys, though; they have become a part of your day-to-day life. You can’t remember the last time you had a regular patient or even a day off. And you needed a day off, you barely sleep cause of all the doubles you’ve been pulling at the hospital, and you never go out anymore. You honestly don’t remember the last time you got laid.

It’s been a while. 

So that’s why you decided to take the day off and to take up one of the doctors at the hospital's offer to go out.

You honestly didn’t care where the doctor took you or what y’all talked about; you had one goal tonight: getting laid.

You were ready to go out, sitting at your kitchen table bucking your shoes, when you heard a knock on your door. He was early, but you were ready, so it was fine. You walked over to the door, a smile taking over your face. You opened the door and were immediately pushed out of the way as someone invited themselves into your home.

“ Um, excuse me,” you said, turning around to meet the stranger.

Only it wasn’t a stranger. It was Tommy

And he wasn’t alone; he had his son in his arms.

“What's wrong?” You asked, rushing over to them. 

“ he fell. I was changing him, and he fell, and he cried and cried, but then he just stopped.” He was pacing your living room with the baby still in his arms.

You slowly approached him. 

“ It’s ok, Tommy, babies aren’t glass, ok. Every kid has been dropped on their head, I’d reckon Arthur, more than once.”

You got him to stop pacing with your words, but he still held the baby in a death grip.

“ Let me see him, Tommy; everything going to be fine, just let me see him.” You spoke as softly as you could as you stood before him, placing your hand on his shoulder. 

He looked up from the baby to look at you; you nodded as you placed your hands under his to take the baby from his hands. He slowly let go of the baby, releasing him to you. Once you fully secured the baby, you held him close as you walked over to your med bag at home. You fetched out your stethoscope and put it on before listening to the baby’s heart rate and breathing; you then checked his pupil reaction with your small flashlight. 

The baby seemed fine; Tommy probably put the baby to sleep by rocking it for so long, that’s why it probably stopped crying. 

“ Your baby’s fine, no signs of brain damage; he is just sleeping. That’s why he stopped crying,” you said, walking back over to him, and handing him back his baby.

You could see his body ease up slowly as he rocked the baby back and forth. 

“ Did you drive here, or” you trailed off

“ Yeah, but my car ran out of petrol; I’ve sent Curly to get me some more.” 

You nodded slowly; you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do next.

“ Do you have a quiet place where I can put him down?” 

“ Yes, my bedroom, it's over there,” You say, pointing towards the back of the room.

Tommy walks back towards your room, and you just stand there, uncertain what to do in your own home. He came back soon and started to head towards a seat in your living room and to make things less awkward, you took a seat across from him in the other chair. 

“ Can I smoke in here?” 

You nodded to his question; he pulled out his cigarette holder and took one before offering you one.

“ Oh no, I don’t smoke,” you said, making him make a face.

“ I only smoked that one time cause I was a bit stressed.”

He just nodded at you, lighting up his cig and taking a drag, and y’all just sat there; honestly, how long does it take to get some petrol. You couldn’t be this still any longer. You had to get up.

“ Would you like something to drink?” You asked, walking over to your drink table.” Whiskey fine?” you asked, even though you knew that’s all he drank 

You turned back to see him nodding his head, so you continued to ask, “ Brown or white?”

“ Brown” 

You poured the both of you a cup, filling yours up a bit more than his; you would need the whole bottle if he stayed any longer. You walked over to him, handing him his cup before sitting back in your seat. The silence followed again shortly after, and it was killing you; he had finished his cig, and you had finished your glass; you were seriously thinking about getting that petrol yourself. 

“ You were a nurse in the war? “ Tommy asked, pointing towards your medals on the shelf above your fireplace.

“ Yes, I was stationed in France, you? “ 

 You already knew the answer, though, cause of Arthur

“ Yep, I was in France, tunneler.” he finished his drink before continuing, “You kept your medals?” 

Even though he didn’t phrase it like a question, you still knew he was asking why you had kept them.

This question caught you slightly off guard, but you knew most people around here threw theirs into the cut as a fuck you to the king for the way they were treated when they got back.

“ You mean, why didn’t I throw them in the cut like everyone else?” You asked as you got up, getting his cup and you for a much-needed refill. “ I don’t see them like how you might; I see them as my team telling me good job and not the king. My team nominated me for the medal, not the king.” 

He nodded, slowly taking his drink back and sipping before asking you another question. 

“ And the war,” he cleared his throat, “is it still with you.”

You didn’t know why he was asking you all these questions, but you didn’t mind answering them. The more you talked about your experience, the easier it was to continue your life and leave the war in the past.

“ Honestly, there must be something wrong with my brain because no matter how hard I try to think back, I can’t remember half of the things that happened.” You let out a slight chuckle as you spoke. 

“Nothing, eh?” 

“ Well, not nothing; I remember why I was nominated for that medal.” You paused, unsure if you should tell this story. Men like Tommy don’t often reminisce about their time in France. But Tommy tipped his glass towards you, encouraging you along.

“ Ok, umm, my group and I had been relocated closer to the battlefield; we were located where fighting had taken place and tunnels dug. So there were a lot of caved-in holes and shells everywhere, but they said they had swept the area, and there were no bombs or anything. Nightfall came, and we were all set up; everyone but the guards were asleep. I couldn’t, though; I could hear the fighting going on in the distance. And even though it was really dumb, I went for a walk. I just couldn’t keep still and didn’t want to wake up the others.” 

You looked down and realized that you had finished your drink, so you got up to get some more; you went over to the drink table but didn’t pour anything. Instead, you just leaned against it before turning back to face Thomas. 

“ I was walking, and um, I tripped, fell right on my face. I had dropped my flashlight, hitting the ground must have turned it off. So I reached around looking for it, and that was when I touched something, but it wasn’t my flashlight; it was my hand. I panicked and backed up as quickly as possible and ended up finding my flashlight. I quickly turned it on and saw a hand sticking up from the mud, almost like it had broken through. I was trying to calm myself down when I saw the hand twitch; I had assumed the guy was dead. Next thing I know, I’m on my hands and knees digging through the dirt, and it seemed like no matter how fast and hard I dug, dirt kept refilling up the hole.” Tears started falling from your cheek, but you wiped them quickly, not wanting to cry in front of Tommy.

“ I uhh eventually was able to dig his head out, then shoulders and then I was able to pull him out, he wasn’t breathing, so I began CPR and mouth to mouth, the mud got all in my mouth cause his face was caked with it, but I didn’t care. Finally, after five minutes, he began coughing and gasping for air; I pulled him up into my lap, propping him up a bit, hoping that would help. Then he opened his eyes. He had tried to speak, but he just kept saying the same thing over and over again; he wasn’t making any sense. I told him he should save his strength, which made him quiet down. And so we just laid there for a bit, with him in my lap holding onto my arms; he just looked at me, and I looked at him. He eventually remembered that other men were still down in the tunnels, and thankfully, the tunnel hadn’t fully clasped. Together, we dug them out and helped them back to camp. They were all too badly injured for us to help, so they were driven to the nearest hospital.” 

You had walked over to Thomas, picking up his cigarette holder, taking one, and lighting it up. Tommy took notice but didn’t say anything. 

“ Soon after I was nominated for the award, the soldiers I had saved and the nurse in my unit nominated me. And the rest is history.” You took a couple more puffs of the cig before putting it out on the table since you didn’t have an ashtray. 

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but there was a knock at the door; you walked over to it, opened it, and was greeted by Curly.

“ Tommy, I’ve got the petrol for you and filled your car; it's all ready to go.”

You turned to face him, smiling, before heading to your room to pick up the baby. You brought the baby out to Thomas, placing him in his hands.

“ Welp, this has been fun, but I’m tired, and this little one needs to get home. See you, Tommy.” 

He said your name, tilting his head down before leaving your apartment.

 You have never told that story to anyone before; it brought up a lot of emotions, more than you expected. It had felt good telling that story, though, especially with a person who also served, who might have understood where you were coming from. 

You had washed up and changed your clothes; the Whiskey made your eyes feel heavy, and you practically had to drag yourself to bed. You did make it, though. You got under the covers all warm and cozy, and you were about to fall asleep when you suddenly realized, 

You never went on your date.

********************

You wish you could say the next time you saw, Tommy was as pleasant as the last.

You had a late shift at the hospital tonight.

You walked into the hospital late, around 8:00 p.m. The air felt good, and you had been inside all day at home, so you decided to walk to work; it wasn’t far. You had run into a friend at the door and were walking in together. She was talking to you about her lazy husband, but as soon as you entered the hospital, you had tuned her out. You heard a voice screaming in the distance; you knew that voice. You started running in the direction the voice was coming from, leaving your friend without a goodbye.

It felt like you were running in slow motion; the hallway was getting longer and longer, and you thought you would never get to the end. 

When you finally reached the end, you stopped and scanned the room. Tommy was being held back by multiple guards and doctors, Polly and Linda were screaming at the nurses, Arthur had been pressed to the floor, and John was against the wall. 

“ Mr.Shelby, if you don’t calm down, we will have to put you out,” one of the nurses said, trying to get him to calm down, but that only made him more mad.

The nurse screamed as Tommy held a gun to her face. “ I’m sorry, what was that? hmm” 

You had rushed over, placing yourself in between the gun and the nurse, 

“ Tommy, Tommy, look at me. What's wrong? Tell me how I can help.”  

His breath was coming out shaking. He waved the gun to the side, trying to tell you to move, but you didn’t; he did it again, and you still didn’t move.

“ Move!” he yelled. 

“ No, Tommy, what’s wrong?” 

He yelled out in frustration, then put the gun back in his holder. He turned around walking away from you, putting his hands on top of his head. 

“ Talk to me, please, Tommy.” You begged 

You blinked and suddenly he was in your face, he was so close you could feel his breath on your face. He squatted down to your eye level before pointing his arm out in no particular direction, his mouth opened and closed, as he struggled to find the words.

“ Them fuckers shot Grace, and now these doctors won’t let me see her.”

“ Ok, I will go check on her, okay, but you can’t threaten them; they’re just doing their job.”

“ Ok, Tommy,” he nodded slowly back at you. 

“ Ok,” he whispered.

You turned to the nurse you had protected earlier. 

“ Take them to a private waiting room, please.” She nodded, whispering a small thank you as you walked towards the surgical wing. You were about to walk through the door when you had been tugged back; it was Tommy.

“ I got her, Tommy, I promise.” He squeezed your hand before letting go. 

You pushed through the door to the surgical wing and started to run; you weren’t sure which room she was in, so you checked every single one, busting through the door and looking at the person on the table. You have reached the last surgery room with no luck so far. Grace had to be in this room; it was the last one. You opened the door, saying a slight prayer.

“ Time of death 10:55” 

You tried to talk, but the words got trapped in your throat; you felt it sitting there, causing your throat to burn as you struggled to breathe. Tears began falling down your face as you fell against the wall, feeling too weak to stand alone. This wasn’t supposed to happen; this isn’t how things were supposed to go. 

“ No,” you sobbed out.

“ No, no, no, no, no, what did you do?” you screamed at the Doctor.

You pushed yourself off the wall, walking over to Grace; you touched her arm, and she was still warm. You looked up at the Doctor; it was Dr.Brown.

“ What did you do? The shot was to the fucking shoulder; what - did - you - do” 

He just stared at you, not answering you. You looked around the room, and everyone was staring at you. You went around the table and pushed Dr.Brown against the wall; you didn’t know what you were doing; you didn’t know what you wanted from him.

“ Do you think you could tell Thomas for me?” his voice was shaky. 

You let go of him, walking backward. You stared at him in disgust, and then you started to laugh. 

It was an eerie laugh; you were practically choking on it. You wiped the tears and snot from your face with the back of your hands.

“You want me to tell him that you killed his wife because you don’t want him to smell the alcohol on your breath 'cause you want to live right.” 

The Doctor stared at you with his mouth gaping open like a fish; you even saw his eyes start to fill up with tears.

“ Oh, don’t worry, I’ll tell him, and when he’s in the right mind, I’ll tell him that you’re a drunk and you killed his wife.” 

You walked out before he could spill some bullshit to you. 

You wanted to walk slowly and drag your feet, but you knew better.

You’ve lost patients before and family, but it didn’t feel like this. You’ve never felt like this; you never felt so responsible for someone's death. 

You know that there was no way you could have stopped it, and there was no way you could have known. But what if, what if you called a taxi instead of walking? What if you told the police about the Doctor's drinking. So many moments played through your head, so many moments you wished you changed because somehow this feels like your fault. You knew that. Dr. Brown was a drunk; you should have fought harder with the hospital board. You should’ve- 

You stopped cause; deep down, you knew there was nothing you could have done. There is no way you could have saved Grace. 

You approached the private waiting room and stood there for a second to gather yourself. This death isn’t yours to cry for; it’s theirs. You wiped your tears and snot on your shirt; you cleared your throat and took a deep breath.

You pushed open the door and entered the room; they all stood when you entered, except for Tommy, who already standing cause he had been pacing. You looked around the room. Every single person's eyes were on you, waiting for you to speak; it was so quiet, no one made a sound.

“ So,” Tommy’s voice cracked as he spoke.

You took a deep breath before you tried to speak, and you tried, you really did, but you couldn’t keep it together. A sob left your mouth before you could stop it.

This caused Polly to bring her hand to her mouth as she fought back her tears.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before trying again.

“ I’m s-so sorry, Tommy; when I got there, she was already gone. There was nothing I could do.” Your voice grew horse as you spoke, and your throat burned as your fought back tears.

“No,” he whispered. 

“ Tommy”

“NO!” he shouted before throwing the chair across the room.

Polly started telling everyone to get out and give him some space, but you stayed. You knew the last thing he needed was to be alone with his thoughts.

Everyone had left, and it was just you two alone. 

He had stopped throwing things and rested his head against the wall.

“ Get out” 

“ No,” you said, walking over to him, 

You had placed your hand on his shoulder, but it was only for a second cause soon he had flipped you, and now you were against the wall. He held a tight grip on your shoulders, keeping you bound to the wall. His eyes started directly into yours, and even though he appeared mad, his eyes showed he was hurt. 

He pushed you deeper into the wall. “Why didn’t you save her?” You heard the pain in his voice as he spoke. “You saved me; you brought me back to life; why couldn’t you save her? Why couldn’t you bring her back.” He whispered out

You just stared at him; you were speechless. 

Then it finally happened: he broke down; you put your arms around him as he slowly fell to the ground, with you falling with him.

You held him in your arms as he cried; his grip on your arms kept tightening as if you would let him go. You hadn’t planned on it; you would hold him till he asked you to let go. You’d lay here as he slept if he needed you to. 

He needed you, and you were going to be there for him. 

[dinums]

Secrets and Broken Hearts

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

Chapter 3

Thomas Shelby x (Writer) Reader

Ms. Bennett is a peculiar woman whose motives are always unclear, though, of course, she alone has grace this knowledge upon herself and none of anyone she knows. What happens when an inspector and his spy come to town? Shall she make due and quench her curiosity or finally learn to back down? Who knows, maybe at the end, she'll compromise. A conflicted woman will always be a surprise. You can trust that. It's Ms. Bennett afterall

Ms. Bennet's P.O.V.

...

"This is pointless as it is stupid." I mumbled to myself. Tossing and turning on my shared bed with William. If a national treasure really did get stolen, what treasure would it be?

Minerals? Gold? Jewellery? Some ornaments from the royal family? Placing my arm to cover my face, I groaned in frustration. Surely, these factors I laid out won't be considered. After all, all these can easily be replaced or would have no effect to be a threat to this very constitution. Treasure.

"What's a treasure besides Gold that once in the hands of others you would crumble..." I thought deeply, a world run by men surely limited me to a few other factors.

"My guess is, it's either illegal documents, ledger, guns, some proof blackmailing Churchill himself." Talking to myself aloud, I rolled on my stomach. My face buried in the pillows as I screamed internally.

"Thomas Shelby and Freddie Thorne, one of them might know a thing or two." As if hit with adrenaline, something clicked in my brain, I sat up and thought more clearly.

"Freddie either did or did not know what the national treasure is, nor who stole it. If he knew, he wouldn't have said those words to Thomas... but if he did, was it to catch Thomas with a bluff? What does bluffing get him? Anyway, he knew even if Thomas knew something, he wouldn't tell Freddie... meaning that rules out the second probability"

My thoughts turned to Thomas earlier, I decided that he would be the one I would use as lead.

"How in the world am I to get close to a mobster?" Without realising it, I started to bite my lip while my nails made their way to claw on my thigh. Once I tasted blood, I stopped and lied back down.

The Shelby's were people I was acquainted with, much like half the people in Small Heath. Jon Shelby and I were classmates. He and his brothers would cause mischief here and there before. I then remembered the time they would encourage cigarettes and alcohol to the students in school. That made me laugh, I remember Jon giving me a handful, which caused Arthur to smack him in the head, saying , "Oi! Yer only supposed to give em one of each! Then, after the second time, you rip their money off! It's what Tommy said!" Turns out it was a money laundering little scheme which got me a bit close to the two Shelby brothers. After that, they treated me nicely, Thomas, on the other hand... well, he was just there. Nothing more, nothing less. At least I can speak a bit freely than others would.

"Maybe I can use this closeness with Jon and Arthur to get close to Thomas..."

Looking up at the ceiling, I blinked a few times. If only I knew no bounds, then maybe, maybe I wouldn't want to stick my nose up in other peoples business.

"Morris Dawn"

My penname, a reminder of my other life. I had to write about something soon. If I were to investigate and yet not publish this, what good does it make? I'm risking my life and earning nothing. Must I be damned to be a curious writer by heart? I cursed myself under my breath.

Looking over my side, I see that night has already come. William isn't home yet.

"Make up your mind. You're wasting time." I groaned, talking to myself once more. Standing up, I walked towards the vanity, formulating every plan for every possible outcome already.

By the time William came home, I lay in bed, asleep. Brain fried. Odds and probabilities everywhere.

"Oh, love..." William chuckled, undressing himself down to only his trousers before making his way to bed and underneath the covers.

When I woke up, I was alone in bed. A note to my right that read:

"I had to go to the shop early today, made breakfast for you. Just the way you like it"

-William

I smiled at the note before making my way to freshen up and get ready for the day. Later that morning, I went and ran errands. Going to my usual go-to bakery, i smiled at the familiar woman handling the register.

"Oh, Ms. Bennett! What a lovely surprise"

"Hello, Mrs. Fer. How are you?"

I asked, as then she answered me. We go about our conversation as I picked out some bread and pastries from the older woman.

"Oh? By the way, Ms. Bennett"

"Mhm? What is it? Anything wrong? Maybe I can help, " I said kindly, the bag of food around my arm.

"I heard there's an inspector in town. He came last night... Best be careful, Ms. Bennett. My husband told me to stay quiet about this, but I just worry for you. Thought I ought to let you know that you're like the daughter we never had after all..."

My heart swelled with love for the older woman, reaching out to squeeze her hand to comfort her, I decided to ask more for purposes, of course.

"But Mrs. Fer, what about the inspector? Surely he wouldn't harm innocent people here, right?" The older woman only shook her head and sighed.

"My dear, you're far too nice for this town. Why not move away to somewhere safer with your lover? Get married, have a peaceful life -"

"And leave you behind? I'd rather not Mrs. Fer, I've come to love the people in this town enough to stay." I interrupted her, which made her frown deepen. I only shook my head and gave a soft smile. It was the truth, after all.

"The inspector called for a meeting, all the policemen and some new lackeys. Told my husband and the others that he would be cleaning this town up. Dear, a man like that -" She stopped herself and cupped both of my cheeks before continuing, "a man like that will stop at nothing, so it's best to keep safe, aye?"

I nodded as she released her hands from my face. Bidding goodbye, I walked out of the bakery with my freshly baked goods and onto my next errand. Mrs. Fer, an old lady married to a policeman sure does have its perks, added points that she's quite fond of me as I with her.

Though I did feel guilty using these people, masking and hiding beyond a facade of a sweet young lady. I stopped in my tracks before shaking my head, trying to get physically rid of these thoughts.

"Remember, if what you're doing is for their good... a little harm here and there wouldn't hurt, besides... it isn't like they know any of it"

The day went by smoothly, and I finally had something to work with. From the bakery I found out of the inspector, from the butcher I heard some men talking about what they knew of the said inspector whilst the women talked about someone trying to find the identity of the mysterious Author, Morris Dawn which in turn made me gulped, I had to be careful. lastly, from William's shop, I found out how there had been people, mostly wives gone missing. Feeling lucky, I put the things I bought inside the flat, there had been new things to investigate, so many things to know, getting a few breads I bought before putting them inside a basket. I decided to go to the Garisson, to at least visit Harry, I forgot that I hadn't had the chance to pay for my drink last time, hence the bread.

Walking down the familiar path down Watery Lane, I think of the words to say when suddenly, someone harshly bumped into me. My focus on the bread as I tried to save them, but alas, only one was left safe.

"There goes my luck then... shouldn't have spoken too soon..."

"You're luck, eh?" A familiar gruff voice said, whipping my head from the bread on the ground towards the person. My eyes locked into those blue crystallike eyes of him.

"Yes, my luck. Mr. Shelby. This was for Harry, I ought to give him an apology for not being able to pay for my drink-" realising I was giving out too much of my thoughts to a man who wo t even care, I shut my mouth, blinking a few times, what am I doing.

After an awkward silence, I stepped out of his way, noticing the alchohol bottle he was holding, knowing better than to ask him to pay for the soiled bread. Going inside the pub without another word, I walked to the bar. To my surprise, a young, beautiful, blonde woman came into view, working at the bar, pouring drinks instead of Harry.

"Oh- hello, you are -?" I asked kindly, though it was overshadowed by my surprise and confusion.

"Grace, Grace Burgees. I'm the new Barmaid," She explained, an Irish accent to her. I nodded and smiled.

"Do you know where Harry is? I ought to give him some bread..."

Just in time, Harry came I to view, to my relief. I explained to him why i only had one loaf of bread rather than more. Nonetheless, he accepted it with gratitude. When I gave him money for the drink, though, that was the time he refused. I shook my head and accepted defeat, still talking to Harry as Grace was on the side.

"I'm really sorry to give you a half-hearted apology, Harry. If only I'd look in the way Mr. Shelby -" I was cut off by Harry reassuring me once more that it was fine. After a bit, Grace looked at me, I gave her my name, which she responded with a smile. We talked for a bit, she told me which town she lived in back in Ireland, how life was like there while I told her how I lived my life here in Birmingham, saying words enough to satisfy her curiosity but not enough to give anything away.

"I better get going then. Next time I visit, I'll bring you some bread too!" I said, smiling at her before leaving the bar. She smiled and waved me goodbye.

A woman from the same town as the inspector, someone who came to Small Heath the same time the inspector did. It didn't take much to put two and two together, though that just means they'd do the job for me, correct?

"Maybe I don't have to investigate anything after all..."

Putting this 'treasure' to the side, I went to go look for any leads, common things between these missing wives. If I moved too slowly, either this incompetent policemen would forget about this or have more people killed than needed.

Putting myself with the burden of such heroic secrecy, I walked down Watery Lane. Knocking on the door of one of the husbands of a missing wife.

"Ms. Bennett?" The man asked, surprise he knew who I was.

"Oh- you know who I am?" The man only gave what little smile he could before explaining himself.

"There aren't many people helping around for the good besides that, Pastor." He said, shaking his head.

After a bit of small talk he led me inside, I told him that I wanted to help babysit for their son whilst the coppers try and find his wife since it was well known how he wasn't doing well takinh care of the little critter, that was a mere alibi of course. Though it felt nice to help, my motives were clear to me as the night sky. I am no saint, a mere sham. A lie and a lie I will always become. If a false Saint will be able to keep everyone I could help safe, I'd gladly be one.

[daisybianca]

pairing: charles leclerc x femalereader

summary: you and charles enjoy some time alone after a family dinner and then his mother accidentally... ruins it.

warnings: swearing words, sexual activities

IT WAS ONLY the second time you had visited Charles' family after being invited to dinner by Mrs. Pascale.

Throughout the day, various photo albums made there way onto your lap, as Pascale and Arthur enjoyed teasing Charles and took delight in his embarrassment.

Your cheeks hurt from the painfully constant smile you had on your face, and from laughing as his family told you stories about his childhood and how he was always getting his younger brother into trouble when growing up.

Just as Arthur was looking through a cabinet for the dreaded home videos, Charles' mother called, letting everyone know dinner was ready, saving Charles' skin for today.

It was a big family affair, as it always is in the Evans household. After dinner you and Charles retreated upstairs to his childhood bedroom to watch TV and snuggle in private, trying to relax.

Lying down with your head resting on his chest is one of your favourite positions, gaining comfort from listening to his steady heartbeat.

Your boyfriend had his left arm around you, resting his hand on your ass while slowing drawing circles on your lower back with his thumb. Slightly lifting your head up to his level, you could see Charles looking down at you through hooded eyes. Suddenly his lips were on yours in a soft and gentle kiss.

Before you had time to think, his right arm came around your waist and he moved on top of you, pinning you to the bed underneath him. His kisses grew messy and impatient as his hands fumbled with the buttons of your blouse, desperate for skin on skin contact. Reaching the last button, you broke away from the kiss, lifting off the bed slightly so he could pull it up and off your body, throwing it across the room.

Settling back on the bed, your intense make out session heightened your arousal, and you thrived to feel more.

His hands are roaming along your body, coming up to squeeze your breasts through your lacy bra. With his head at the nape of your neck, he started kissing and sucking against your sweet spot while pulling the cup of your bra down, running his thumb over your hardened nipple. You let out a deep moan, surprised by the growl like noise you produced, while your stomach fluttered in excitement.

Just as you ran your hands down his sculpted chest to the tent in his jeans, giving the hardness you found there a little squeeze, the door swung open and Pascale walked in, asking if either of you wanted anything from the store.

Your breath hitched in your throat with your cheeks turning the darkest shade of red in embarrassment.

After quickly straightening up your clothes, you ran your hand through your hair trying to tame the mess that Charles created. Feeling exposed without your shirt, you pull the covers up over your body, pushing your boyfriend away from you slightly. He groaned into your neck, cursing at his mom for not knocking, trying to hide his growing erection by grabbing a discarded pillow and pulling it in front of himself. Pascale tried to avert her gaze from the both of you, embarrassed by herself, and was failing miserably, giving you both a knowing smirk.

“Ma, seriously? I’m busy!” Charles' choice of words makes you lightly punch his arm in annoyance.

Pascale knew she wasn’t going to get an answer from her son and his very flustered girlfriend any time soon, so she retreated back to the hallway, pausing at the partially open door and saying. “Text me if you think of anything. I’ll leave you kids to it.” Giving Charles a wink she finally closes the door fully, giving the flustered couple privacy. You swear you can hear her happily chuckling back down the stairs.

Dropping back onto the bed in a huff, you gave your boyfriend a shove. “Oh God, Charles! How can I look at her in the eye to say goodbye later?!” You squeaked out in a small, high pitched voice, pausing for a moment. “Actually how can I ever look at her ever again?!” Being caught in the act by his mother was, singly, the most embarrassing moment of your adult life.

Trying to keep a steady and apologetic voice, Charles said. “Ah shit baby, sorry, I thought I locked it.” He was looking over at the door with wide eyes and then moved his gaze back to you. “And for the record, Ma loves you.”

“Yeah, you sound so apologetic.” Your sarcasm dripping though as you picked up on his amused tone, raising your eyebrows at him.

Shrugging at you, he looked deep into your eyes holding your stare for a moment before the both of you burst into a fit of giggles like a pair of teenagers.

Charles jumped up from you, still giggling, and walked over to the door making sure that this time the lock was firmly in place.

Just as you were about to question him, he came back towards you, eyebrows raised wickedly, and pounced back on top of you, pulling you towards him as he nestled himself between your open legs, fitting perfectly in the space there. He gazed into your eyes and asked, in a low, sexy voice, “Now where were we?”

●○•°•○●

requests are always open for my wags <3

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Arthur Morgan Headcannons

I just wanted to write some headcannons, about Arthur, literally anything, I don't care what it is exactly so that's what you're getting.

Some of the headcannons might be a bit more oriented towards a female reader, but not all, I myself am a woman, so, I'll more than likely put some in.

Arthur Morgan is a man who will gladly enjoy any person, regardless of size, but let's be real, I think he has a bit of a soft spot for bigger women. Chunky or thicc, he likes 'em

He thinks that with more there, there's more for him to grab and less of a chance that he'll break something when he's with you, whether it's in a bit more intimate situation, or even when he's just giving you a small hug or kiss.

Arthur is extremely observant. He pays attention to the things you like, and he is literally always on top of doing the things you like or buying you whatever will make you smile. 

If he finds out how much you like his voice? Uses it against you, because he doesn’t want to torture you, but he does want to see you riled up. 

You like how warm he is? He’ll always be watching to see when you get cold, and the moment you do he’s right behind you with his arms around your waist. 

Arthur has a SEVERE gambling addiction. You thought his smoking was bad? He plays poker almost every single night that he’s in camp, and sometimes it’s a blessing and others it’s a curse. He can go rounds at a time, winning each one, but as soon as he has one bad round, they all go bad, but he’s never willing to give up until you make him, and by the end of the ordeal he’s lost more money than made. 

He also has a huge ego problem, obviously he’s mentally ill and he’s depressed with who he is as a person, and he doesn’t think very highly of himself, but the moment you manage to boost his ego, that little swagger walk of his that you so dearly love grows more confident. 

Hell, sometimes even you just saying good morning can change his whole mood, and he’ll even be nice to other people in camp when he usually only tolerates them.

Arthur has this thing, that when he leaves camp for a certain amount of time, anything that’ll be longer than a day really, but usually when its about a week of being away. He’ll come back to camp, make a beeline for you, and whisper only loud enough for you to hear “Can you be quiet for me while I fuck you or do I have to take you outta camp?” 

And thus, you are prepared, obviously.

He’s like a dog in heat, mainly because he hadn’t been with anyone in so long and after a while he’d stopped going after working girls. No one had really made his body react like you did, so it never became a problem until he got with you. 

He draws you all the time, obviously he draws, he’s got a whole sketchbook dedicated to it, but he draws you almost any chance he can. Not because he’s some corny “I love you more than life itself” kind of person, which, he is, but because he thinks that out of everyone in camp you are the most fun to draw, your features are just more entertaining and enjoyable to make out with a pencil.

Arthur loves to eat good food, and while Pearson does a decent job it’s not exactly what he would consider gourmet food, so whenever he gets the chance to try new food, or get good food at least, he’ll splurge the money. The only reason he hasn’t gotten completely fat, though he is a little on the chubbier side, which you absolutely love, and think is hot as hell, is because of all the work he does for the gang.

He calls you all kinds of nicknames and pays attention to the ones that get the biggest reaction out of you. 

He’s found that Princess does a particularly great job at getting a rouse out of you, but he’s also found that if he says it in his normal tone it doesn’t have the same effect, he has to lower his voice for it to work the way he wants it too. 

Darlin’ and Sweetheart have about the same effect, although Darlin’ seems to make you feel a little more for him in serious situations. 

Sugar makes you go beet red in the face, and he’s figured out that one is another one he can lower his voice for. 

Honey is one that he thinks you like, but he also thinks you’re a little neutral on it. Sometimes it works, other times you just don’t seem to care that much. You’ll answer to it, but that’s about all.

Good Girl, or My Girl, regardless of tone, but especially when lowered, always gets you messed up and he knows it, which is exactly why he waits until you’re at the fire surrounded by the gang to whisper it in your ear. 

On the other hand, you have only a few nicknames for him.

Cowboy, it’s tried and true, describes him, basically to a Tee, although Outlaw works better. 

Honey, again, a neutral one. 

You are the only person, and I mean, only person he allows to call him Pretty Boy, if anyone else tries it they’re liable to find a knife beneath their neck.

Big Boy will send him skyrocketing, his face will flare so hard his ears will turn red and he’ll start stuttering over his words like a newborn calf stumbling on its legs. 

Good Boy will really get him motivated and usually if you say it to him in public, he has to excuse himself until he gets rid of his problem. 

You hate to admit it, because you know it’s bad for him, but you think that when he smokes cigarettes, he’s at one of his hottest points. When he finds this out, he makes it his goal to smoke more around you.

Occasionally he’ll wait until you wake up and walk out of his tent shirtless and lean against the wooden poles to smoke, and he’ll send a smirk your way, that he knows you like. 

When you start to share his tent together, he does the same thing, however, rather than getting up he just simply leans over you and grabs the smokes, he’ll light a match against the wagon and puff away with his hands behind his head. 

His absolute favorite thing to do is smack you on the ass and run away, he thinks it’s the absolute funniest thing ever to watch you chase him, he’s got longer legs, so it’s easier to stay away from you. 

He also loves it when you wear his hat, however, if you do, he’s going to use it as an excuse to take you to the tent. 

If you get him drunk, first off, I’m sorry, second off, you better have a leash. He’s a lot happier drunk, he likes to sing and talk, and he compliments everyone, but he also likes to stumble around and go adventure, and if you don’t keep a good eye on him he’s liable to mount up on his horse, albeit slowly, and then make his way into the nearest town to cause mayhem.

Do not let him drink with John, because rather than being a fun loving drunk he will start trying to fight John and then the night is ruined for everyone. 

He also gets more handsy when he drinks, he was already handsy before, but now, when he’s drunk and he couldn’t care less about what people thought about him, he was going to touch wherever he wanted on you. 

Your stomach? He’s got his arms around it.

Your ass? Being grabbed any time he’s walking, or stumbling rather, with you. 

Tits? Regardless of gender? They have been honked at least twice. 

He will kiss you, if it’s on the lips or on the neck, that is anyone’s gamble. 

He’ll even talk dirty to you, and not quietly like he would if he was sober, he’ll do it for everyone in camp to hear, and the only way to shut him up is to either kiss him or somehow drag all two hundred and forty pounds of him into his tent. 

All in all Arthur Morgan is Arthur Morgan and if you make the decision to be his you better be ready to deal with it.

[daisyblinder]

Bread/Thomas Shelby x fem!reader

🦚 Summary: Misunderstandings cause issues with new lovers. Johnny’s misunderstandings.

🦚 Warnings: Cursing

”Ada, bring the cookies”, Polly orders. Polly, Ada and Y/n were setting up the food for little Finn’s 11th birthday. The boys were in charge of keeping Finn busy and decorating the house as much as possible.

 With quick steps, Y/n comes into the kitchen holding a big steel pitcher. ”We need to save as much of this as we can for Finn, he is the birthday boy. Katie and James were already trying to get their share”, she says putting the pitcher on the table.

 Soon enough, their small cake, some cookies and sandwiches were set on the table, tea was prepared and juice was poured into five small glasses.

 ”I need to get going, say my love to Finn”, Y/n says and goes to take her coat from the back of a chair.

Polly and Ada share knowing smiles. The older woman goes to stand behind Y/n, takes a hold of her coat and brings her arms out of it again.

 ”You cannot avoid Tommy forever darling, you’ll have to look him in the eye someday”, she teases. Y/n fights a blush and shakes her head.

 ”I would rather drink whatever poison Johnny and Arthur can come up with when left unsupervised with alcohol”, She groans her cheeks already heating up from thinking of the infamous Thomas Shelby.

 ”Why, sweetheart, I think that is quite rude don’t you think”, deep voice causes shivers to travel across her spine as she feels her face getting even more hot under her skin. ”Johnny and Arthur took Finn swimming, they’ll be here soon”

 ”Oh goodness, where is the rest of the bread?”, Ada gasps mock distressed. ”Oh Tommy, Y/n please go pick up some bread fast. Henry is still so small, he can’t have the sandwiches, he needs some bare bread so he won’t become a monster at the table”

 ”I can go alone, I’m sure Tommy would like to rest his legs after such a fast morning”, Y/n tries. Thomas on the other hand is seemingly very happy with torturing her.

 ”Actually sweetheart, I don’t. Let’s get a move on, eh”, he smirks winking at Polly as he takes Y/n’s jacket from her hands. ”My lady”, he offers as he holds the coat for her to put on.

 ”Thank you”, Y/n grumbles and swiftly makes her way out of the door. Polly gives a big wink at Ada who giggles and runs to look out of the window at the pair going out.

**

”You’ve been avoiding me”, Tommy starts with a cigarette between his lips, speeding his walk to match the speed of the woman in front of him.

 Y/n does not answer him, she only continues to stare down at her shoes as she walks towards the bakery. How dare he

 Tommy sighs at her silence. ”Alright, what the fuck have I done?”, he asks exasperated. He still gets no answer, but when he starts hearing sniffling, his heart speeds up.

 ”What happened in Garrison, in the snug-”

”Nothing happened, Tommy”

 ”Well something clearly did”, he snaps not in the mood for games. ”Come on”, he takes a hold of her arm and drags her to an alley pressing her back against the wall. ”Talk”

 Y/n sniffles a little as she tries to come up with the right words. ”I though that the words and the touches in the snug meant something, the things you said walking me home but no. I woke up, hearing the words of how you had had Lizzie Stark that night. In the snug”, she groans realizing how desperate she sounded.

 Tommy’s brows raise to his hairline as a wide smile spreads to his face. His eyes looking all too boyish for a moment.

”Stop smirking you smug bastard, I was just another notch in your belt”, Y/n snaps eyes stinging and slaps the grinning man’s chest. Tommy catches her hand with ease and let’s out a chuckle.

 ”So this is what this is about? John fucking Lizzie Stark?”, he confirms causing Y/n to snap her eyes to his. Her mouth falls agape as she waits for him to continue.

 ”You see, Johnny did in fact enjoy her services that night. I did not. Though she did sit on our table for a hot minute after I walked you home”, Tommy purses his face in faux concentration as he recalls the night.

 ”What I can attest to and what Arthur and Aunt Polly can prove; is that Arthur and I carried our John-boy home, after he had his fair share of fun. Then the two of us went to the betting shop, drank another bottle of whiskey, and passed out under Arthur’s desk”

 Y/n narrows her eyes to look for the lie but Tommy looks back at her with a soft relaxed smile. ”So what happened between us was not just a game? I-I’m not just a game to you?”, she confirms softly, hating her own frailty.

 ”I don’t play games with you, sweetheart. What almost happened in the snug was not a game. You dumb bastard are still just too gullible to the old hags”, he jokes though his face remains serious.

 Y/n’s nose wrinkles as she looks at him ’offended’. ”You are a real stinker you know that right?”, she decides making Tommy’s mouth fall open.

 ”And what have I done? Didn’t I just prove my innocence to you?”, he asks pointing a finger right at her face. Y/n lets out a laugh and playfully kisses the finger. Tommy taps the finger gently to her nose before giving the spot a small kiss.

 “So am I forgiven? Can we continue from the goodnight kiss and forget all this John mess?”

“I’d like that”, she whispers with starry eyes. Both of them look at each other with light amused smiles as the tension between them switches from anger to something else.

”Let’s go get the bread”, Y/n whispers breaking the silence between them. Tommy shakes her head.

”One more thing”, he whispers before bringing a hand into her hair, drowning her questions with his lips.

[reddeaddamnation]

RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2 PREFERENCE: Their reaction to your death

Arthur Morgan

"Get me a doctor, come on!" Arthur yelled, galloping into camp with you in front of him, seemingly barely hanging on on the saddle. The gang immediately gathered around, shocked and worried about your condition. "What happened?" Dutch asked. "O'Driscoll boys." Arthur sneered "Ran into us on the way back. Got them to back off but not without trouble."

Miss Grimshaw carefully took you down from the saddle, grimacing at the gushing wound on the side of your belly from a gunshot. "Miss Grimshaw. Put her to lay down somewhere. John, go into town and get a doctor. Quick!" Dutch started barking orders around "Mr. Pearson, give her something for the pain. Arthur..." he looked at the man with a look of sadness and muttered quietly "I'm sorry, son."

"I don't think she's gonna make it." Micah said indifferently, watching Susan carry you away, as you slipped in and out of consciousness while stumbling on your way. "You shut the hell up!" Arthur yelled, jumping down from his horse and grabbing Micah by the shirt "What do you know?" Micah scoffed "I know enough that if there's an exit wound, she's lucky enough to make it here alive enough to say goodbye."

John Marston

Someone ratted you out. This was a trap. The stagecoach was a setup, because as soon as you, Arthur, John and Sadie stopped it, you were overrun by Pinkertons, who chased you into the woods to a cave where you hoped to hide. Except that they cornered you inside and were nearing your hiding spot while Arthur was cursing and looking for a way out discreetly behind some stalagmites. There was a tight opening near them, but you would be too slow to escape in time. You looked at John, heart pounding in your chest as the voices neared. Arthur was urging Sadie to go in the opening and beckoning you to follow her. You squeezed John's hand. "I got this." You got up, ignoring the hushed scolding "Are you insane?", "What are you doing?"

"Sirs." You walked out of the hiding spot slowly, hands up "Agent Milton." You nodded at the Pinkerton. There were at least 15 people aiming at you. "It seems... you caught me. It was a fun chase." You scoffed. "Surrender your weapon, miss L/N." Milton ordered "This doesn't need to get bloody." You slowly dropped your gun to the ground, side eyeing the others, who watched you from behind the rocks. "Where are your associates?" Milton interrogated. "It seems we got split up. I'm lost and they left me behind." You answered, walking closer to them so their attention is only on you.

"This one could be a valuable asset to lure Van Der Linde out of hiding, sir." Agent Ross mumbled to his colleague "With her, we don't even need to look for the others. They will come to us." Until the end, you were sure nobody would shoot. You knew they know how close your gang is. Surely even if you were captured, they would come to save you and the agents knew it. Milton was thinking silently. "You know what, Ross?" He thought "I don't think so." Gunshot. You gasped and hunched over, leaning on one of the rocks, holding your chest, where blood quickly painted your shirt red. "It's easier picking them out one by one."

John wanted to scream. He wanted to jump out and massacre them all. You slid down the stalagmite until you were sat. Your eyes briefly met his before the life drained from them and he was left, locking eyes with a corpse. He was ready to jump out and start shooting, before Arthur grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back roughly. "We'll come back. We'll avenge her. I swear. Let's go."

Charles Smith

How many more people was he going to bury? Lenny, Hosea, Arthur... now... the unthinkable. Saint Denis wasn't a place for you and he was cursing himself for bringing you here ever since you settled in. You always told him how much you hate the big city and how would love to have a homestead somewhere in the countryside... he knew everything about you. How depressed you feel in this grey, corrupt city, how it made you feel chained and small. He swore you will buy a homestead soon when you have money.

But that day never came. Today, tuberculosis finally got the better of you. And Charles blamed everything on himself. From where you contracted the illness, he didn't know. All he knew was that he despised this disease ridden society. He couldn't listen to your painful hacks and coughs day and night without his heart wretching in pain. You were such a shining and bubbly person before the illness dimmed your flame.

After the burial, he sat at your grave all day. Neither crying nor smiling, not thinking or moving. He felt empty. For all he cared from now on he could die too for bringing this upon you. He knew he shouldn't have moved you here... he would blame himself for the rest of his life.

Dutch van der Linde

Guns blazing in the distance. The O'Driscolls scattered, panicked, reaching for their guns. You watched them with a smirk. Dutch was coming. You heard him. "Face me, you scum!" He yelled, mercilessly shooting anyone in his way, his gang behind him. "He's gonna get you now, Colm." You teased your captor "And he won't be as gentle as you were." You sneered menacingly, spitting blood on the ground, which had been drenched in your blood from five days of torture and malnutrition. "Shut your mouth, harlot." Colm was panicking. "I told you but you didn't listen." You laughed "What do you know, huh? We've been through this before, me and Dutch. And I'd do it again." Colm grabbed you by the throat "You're just a disposable toy to him. I bet in a month from now I'd be doing this with another wench I don't even know the name of." You spit in his face, making him back off.

"I'd think you're in love with him more than me, Colm. You're obsessed. You wanna be next in line, huh?" You mocked, laughing loudly to let Dutch know where you are. "Why you..." he grabbed you by the hair and aimed his gun at your neck. "Colm!" Dutch kicked the door in, aiming his gun at Colm's head, along with Arthur and Bill.

The house you were kept in was in a remote place in the mountains near the Grizzlies. Dutch must have rode for days without rest for him to find you so fast. "Here we are again, Dutch." Colm smirked "Too bad I don't have a brother for you to kill nearby."

Dutch growled "It will not happen again. I guarantee it." Silence. Colm thought for a moment before raising his hands "Alright." He cut the ropes holding you up "You win, Dutch. You outnumbered me. I won't be the one to kill her." You fell to the ground, wrists sore from the days of being hung up. Colm backed away towards a window. "My darling Y/N." Dutch held out his hand, but not leaving Colm out of sight "Let's get out of here."

You were about to stand up when a gunshot pierced your side and Colm disappeared through the window, broken by the bullet. "No!" Dutch screamed falling to his knees to hold you. He didn't have any words left to describe his hatred for Colm. No punishment would be enough for him. Arthur ran to the window but quickly ducked before the sniper could shoot him. "Y/N.." Dutch caressed your cheek "I'm here." History was repeating itself. "Dutch..." you whispered before passing out. If he didn't have a reason to live before, Dutch was now determined to destroy Colm O'Driscoll's life and give him the most painful death.

[olympeline]

Ah fuggit, FrUK hanahaki AU:

Nations do not get the infamous flower sickness. It’s one of the perks of resembling humans without actually being one. They can experience ordinary deaths (e.g. falling in battle, the plague, drowning, etc.) but they regenerate and reappear again soon after. Hanahaki is a sickness of the heart and soul, though it affects the body, and a nation’s soul is normally too strong for the affliction to - ahem - take root. They’ve watched it carry off many unfortunate humans, but never a nation.

Almost never

Not many of them are old enough to remember Atlantis. The ones that are - China, and a few others - never talk about him. Nations can die permanently under the right circumstances, but only after the “concept” of them fades from the world. The map part, the culture and borders, have to go before the national personification. Like Grandpa Rome fading away only after the Roman Empire ceased to exist. But Atlantis was different. Atlantis died, and it was his death which caused the cataclysm that wiped his land from the face of the earth, rather than the other way around. The island, the people, even the memory of him, almost faded completely from humanity’s shared consciousness. It was a terrifying event for any nation around to recall it. They’re not meant to die that way and take all their people with them in the process. It’s the kind of thing nations have nightmares about

None of them knew what caused Atlantis’s fall. Thousands of years later, they finally get the answer when history nearly repeats with another island nation: merry(?) old England

See, even pre-flowers, our English gentleman is already sick: lovesick, that is 😘 For a certain frog, no less! How could this have happened?! If Arthur ever needed proof God hated him personally. Why did it have to be Francis? Why his eternally aggravating neighbour and not someone sensible like Portugal or Netherlands? It’s his most shameful, awful secret that he’s kept for hundreds of years. If anyone ever found out, if Francis ever found out…Arthur would just walk into the sea and never come out, most likely. Being in love with the damn frog. Just kill him. Of all things this is the worst possible thing!

Arthur keeps his feelings buried deeper than hell and vows no one will ever learn of this insanity he’s been cursed with. Besides, there’s no way Francis would ever love him back, anyway. If he were human he’d already have been coughing petals years ago, lucky for him, he isn’t. But his luck runs out when an ancient spellbook happens to fall into his hands. Arthur loves collecting them and this one looks particularly old and intersting. Written in some weird dialect of Ancient Greek and takes hella long to translate. But when he does, Arthur is in awe when he sees the book might have exactly what he needs. On the very last page, written in a shaky hand, an experimental spell to remove unwanted emotions

It’s like an answer to his prayers! Of course Arthur has to try it out right away.

What’s the worst that could happen?

The spell blowing up in his face, destroying his cellar, and hurling him across the room like a ragdoll would be a start. Not only that, but it didn’t work in the slightest! Arthur still can’t get that damn frog out of his mind. Nothing’s changed! Spell’s obviously a dud. Arthur, battered and frazzled, puts it away and tries not to be too disappointed (and fails). Little does he know, the spell was more dangerous than he could have dreamed. It didn’t quash his love for Francis, but it did crack the veneer of his immortality. Not much, Arthur is still a nation, but just enough to let a little bit more mortality/humanity seep into his soul. Enough to plant a seed that otherwise would have stayed dormant

Arthur is oblivious to all this. A nation’s work is never done and soon he’s back to normal, trying to get the spell out of his mind. The next time there’s a world meeting, Arthur goes as usual. Francis is there and ready to tease and flirt with him, as usual. Arthur feels his heart flutter and compensates by turning scarlet and snarling at Francis, as usual. Must the bastard torture him like this? It’s downright cruel! Fury to smother the pain is Arthur’s shield and armor. Has been for centuries and he’s not going to stop now. Halfway through his tirade is cut off by a tickle in his throat, which blooms into harsh, dry coughs. Francis even has the nerve to offer Arthur his handkerchief (lace and doused in French perfume) then say he can keep it. Arsehole. Arthur loves him so much. The meeting goes ahead and it’s a good thing Arthur kept the handkerchief because the tickle returns a few times. It doesn’t clear up over the next few days, either. Arthur first worries his bosses are up to some mischief that’s hurting his people, but no: everything seems normal. Must just be a human illness, then. Nations get them from time to time, so no need to worry. He’s the proud nation of England - he’s survived wars, pestilence, famine, and raising Alfred - he can tough this out.

Except the tickle evolves into a full blown cough over the next few weeks, and that cough only gets worse. Soon he’s bent over, gasping for breath, throat feeling like fire. He swallows medicine like water and hides it from the other nations. The ones that know and love him best aren’t fooled. Especially Francis, Matthew, and even Alfred sees through his charade. Dodging their mother henning gets exhausting fast. It’s only a frog in his throat (🥁) for God’s sake! There’s no need to worry. He insists he’s fine and life goes on as normal

One day, Arthur is taking tea with Matthew when the lad happens to bring up Francis. Suddenly, Arthur can’t breathe. It’s the worst fit yet and Mattie has to run around the table and hit him on the back with what feels like a fear-induced touch of his brother’s super strength. Arthur coughs, wheezes, chokes, and, to his horror, feels something come away. He spits it into Francis’s handkerchief and hides it from Matthew, who’s still fussing and trying to help his father up so he can go inside and lie down. Arthur won’t allow that (lie down and rest in someone else’s bed? Even if it’s his son’s? The horror!) but he does let Matthew make him hot maple tea with honey to soothe his throat. Arthur drinks it, compliments Mattie on his brewing abilities, then leaves as soon as it’s polite to do so. He rushes home and brings the handkerchief out of his pocket to examine the contents. Holding the little, crumpled thing under the light, there’s no mistaking it:

An iris petal.

Like uncountable mortals before him, Arthur feels that first stab of raw terror. Though in his case, it’s quickly smothered by blustering anger and denial. Nations don’t get hanahaki! It’s a human disease. Nations are immune! Besides, even if they weren’t, he’s not in love with that damn frog. Not really! It’s just some silly infatuation that has lasted centuries but will surely end any day now! Surely! (David Attenborough: And here we see the tsundere in its natural habitat: Egyptian river).

Arthur decides firmly it’s a fluke. They were outside and he just breathed in the petal somehow. He doesn’t have hanahaki. It’s impossible.

He throws the petal into the fire and watches it turn to ash. Unfortunately, he soon finds out that it was only the first of many. When the next coughing fit comes, it brings another iris petal. The fit after that brings two. Arthur’s head is spinning even as he tries to follow his own advice and Keep Calm and Carry On. He can’t admit how scared he is. Hanahaki is always fatal unless the feelings are returned, nothing else stops the wicked flowers growing more and more until the sufferer eventually drowns in their own blood, lungs shredded. Arthur has “died” mortal deaths and been resurrected many times, just like all long lived nations. But this feels different. Somehow, he’s grimly sure that this time, if he dies, he won’t come back. He is a nation: the soul of England, and this is a sickness of the heart. This time, he’s dying for real, and there’s no new nation around to take his place like the Italy brothers did for Grandpa Rome

National personifications are only supposed to fade away after their nation does. If Arthur dies first with no replacement, what happens to Britain? To his land? To his people?

He doesn’t know. He does. He doesn’t want to find out. Remember Atlantis.

Keeping the terror clamped down tightly, Arthur goes on the hunt for an explanation. He’s no fool, he hasn’t missed the this all started after he tried the spell from that mysterious book. Arthur finds it again and begins looking for answers. A suspicion is growing within him alongside the flowers. Arthur prays he’s wrong. He takes the book to the professors at Oxbridge, shows it to the curators at the Ancient Greek wing of the British Museum. He sees the dizzying excitement bloom in these learned men and women and feels his heart sink. Does he have any idea what he’s brought them, they ask? What a rare find! What a treasure! An artefact from Atlantis!

Arthur thanks them and takes his book back, promising to lend it to them for study when he’s finished. He takes the book home and sits, staring at it, as the sun goes down. Atlantis. Even now, what happened is still something they never speak of. Even Alfred knows better than to bring him up, especially around elders like China. Atlantis died long before Arthur’s time, but his shadow hangs over him now. He feels the scratch and tickle in his throat, the sharp pain in his chest. Another fit brings up three petals and a spot of blood into Francis’s handkerchief.

Have they solved the mystery of Atlantis at last?

(I have to work now. I’ll finish this later (◕ω◕✿) and lol ain’t that flower emoticon just so appropriate?)

[soup-14]

Dutch Van Der Linde x gn!Reader

Summary: You and the boys go on a job in Saint Denis and end up hiding from the law.

Warnings: smoking, violence, mild cursing, Dutch mentioning mangoes.

“Trelawny got a tip about some sort of secret operation. It's in the basement of a saloon, in Saint Denis.” You say leaning up against the post of Dutch’s tent. “Said it should be easy. Sneak in the back door, down the stairs, quietly take out any threats, grab the cash, sneak back out, split up.”

Dutch stands from his chair and pulls a cigar from a small box on his shelf. He holds it in his teeth and reaches for his matchbox. He opens it only to find it empty, he growls and tosses it aside.

He turns back towards you, a scowl now set on his brow, only to be met with a lit match held out to him. He shields the cigar and leans towards the match in your fingers. Once lit you shake out the flame and toss the old match into the grass. Dutch removes the cigar from his teeth and blows out a puff of thick smoke. “It sounds too easy. Could be a setup, who told him about it?”

You shrug. “Josiah’s got strange connections you know that.”

Dutch hums and steps out of his tent. “Let’s see what Hosea has to say.” He walks to one of the large wooden tables and leans over the map splayed out on its surface.

Hosea sits in a wooden chair at the table already examining the map. “What have you got for us now Dutch?” He asks.

“I would say ask Trelawny but he’s already disappeared again.”

“As he does.”

“So what do you think?”

“I think it’s worth a shot, bring with you some… quieter folk and I think you could get it done.”

“Alright then. I say we hit it Sunday morning, when business is slower, all them fancy folk will be in church.”

Come early Sunday morning, Dutch, Arthur, Javier and yourself mount up. All of you dressed in slightly more cleaned up clothes. The ride to Saint Denis is short, and soon your posse rides through its golden gates.

There are people out on the streets, stages and wagons a plenty, but as Dutch suspected most folks were headed toward various churches around the city. The perfect way to distract from you and your boys.

You ride slow and casual through the streets, leading the way to the cash. You decide to hitch your horses at the end of the block and head through the alley on foot.

Once reaching the back door of the saloon, you try the handle, locked.

“Here let me.” Javier pulls a lock pick from his coat and swiftly gets the door open, which squeaks lightly as it opens. You all cringe at the sound and Arthur hurries inside making sure the way is clear. He gives the signal and the rest of you tiptoe inside. You draw your throwing knifes and creep down the cellar stairs.

Around the corner you can see three men sitting around a table, two towards the back and one on a couch with a woman. Lemoyne Raiders, and they all have guns.

You look at Dutch letting him make the first move. He draws a throwing knife and signals to take out the men at the table, for Arthur to take the two in back and Javier the others.

He counts three… two… one… on his fingers, then hell breaks loose.

You throw two knifes quick, killing two men at the table. Dutch gets the third between the eyes. Arthur and Javier rush the others. Javier kills his man just fine but the lady is screaming and he doesn’t know if he should kill her or not, he decides to let her go. Arthur is able to get one of his guys with a knife in the neck but the other had just enough time to draw his gun.

The shot goes off splitting the previous silence in the room. The bullet nearly misses Arthur and lodges itself into the war wall. Arthur draws his cattleman fast and shoots him a few times in the gut. “Goddamn it.” He curses. “The law will have heard that.”

“You’re right,” says Dutch “we have to move quick, where the money?”

The four of you rumage through the room stashing whatever valuables you can find. Pocket watches, some jewelry, $15, crackers, cigarettes…

“Aha.” Dutch exclaims from across the room. “This should be it.” Dutch heaves a huge lockbox onto the table and fiddles with the lock. “Javier, would you be so kind?” Javier reaches for his lock pick again.

Once the lock clicks free he opens the lid to reveal large wads of the sweet green you were looking for. Each of you takes a couple stacks in your satchels, hurry back upstairs, and out the back door.

“We split up from here.” Says Dutch “conceal the money, stay out of sight, don’t head straight back to camp.”

You all nod in response and go your separate ways.

The sound of lawmen shouting and blowing their whistles echos across Saint Denis. You keep close to the shadows and try to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible. You turn down a dark alleyway, trying to keep your path untraceable. You hold up against a wall, taking a short break, waiting for the lawmen to settle down.

You continue down the winding alley and around a corner, keeping your gun tight in your hand. You turn your back for less than a second when the sound of a gun being cocked behind you.

Your heart stops in your chest and your breath hitches. “Stick em up.” says the perpetrator. You know that voice, Dutch. You place your gun in its holster and raise your hands slowly, turning towards him. “Now Dutch, you wouldn’t shoot me would you?”

A breath escapes his lips as your face comes into view. "My Dear." Dutch quickly holsters his gun and steps towards you. Hands still raised you walk to him and drape your arms over his shoulders. He places his large hands on your waist and pulls your body to his.

"Gave me quite a fright there Darlin'." Says Dutch.

"I knew it was you, Dutch. Only one mans gotta voice like that."

Dutch chuckles deeply and places a firm kiss on your lips. "Are you alright?" He asks once pulling away.

"Of course. You?"

"More than that. We've just got a decent score My Love, I can smell the mangoes from here."

"I sure damn hope so Van Der Linde." You laugh. "Now let's get outa here while we can."

"Agreed." Dutch pulls you in for another kiss, then grabs your hands and leads you through the alley.

AN: Thanks for reading. I didn't know how to end this one lmao.

[jokerschuckletown]

folie is a curse for joker fans

i apologize in advance if this posts hurts sensitive people in the fandom i am done hiding my pain inside my heart it has to pour out in writing and this is my honest opinion about the sequel

i am not able to accept the things i read about joker from youtubers, shippers and few joaquin fans after watching the sequel it's confirmed this movie was not for us 💔 but there are fans loving it 😵‍💫 it's fine i am not saying nobody should like it

i am a sensitive person who finds comfort in fiction dealing with health issues in reality whatever i saw in the movie was wrong, if the society is ugly we know it we didn't need todd to bring that garbage 🗑️ in our arthur life he kept suffering in a locked room it was hell when he deserved to be treated in a hospital 🏥 the court room scenes didn't make any sense since they only had the first movie characters proving arthur does not deserve any justice from sophie to gary and his therapist who didn't care about him since day one was calling him delusional but she didn't talk about how they cut funding and arthur didn't get his medicines when he needed them to be stable

the plot of this sequel is a mental ill person has no place in society and arthur deserved to rot in the aslyum 😠 i get so angry to think about the way todd twisted mind wrote this script and gave it to joaquin 😮‍💨 while joaquin is not a saint he saw arthur as a experiment 🧪 in his acting lab i am upset with him 😒 when he should have made arthur life better

when i watched the first joker movie because of the title joker, the stairs dance scene was viral on youtube, i heard it was joker origin story and his name was arthur, i loved the movie with this idea in mind that arthur is joker but then comes todd telling us no this is not joker our arthur was never joker who gave him the right to break my heart when this joker was the reason i am alive i remember the pain i suffered in 2019- 2020 my health issues 😪 when i was admitted in hospital for a day i kept thinking about my joker he gave me strength to get well soon my only reason to survive i woke up every day getting excited to make edits for him and reading fanfiction on ao3 about him being this clown fighting the evil justice system in gotham city, i found my strength in joker , i was out of bed learning to walk and breathe fresh air with motivation to live life again, the negative thoughts disappeared and joker replaced it with joy and laughter

i expected joker to take revenge in the sequel look at the john wick movies he fights bad guys with a gun 🔫 he gets hurt but he comes back stronger a real hero he is not gonna sit and watch people abuse him it's so wrong and i hate todd for making this arthur suffer the worst things in the movie folie 😒

i wake up with this thought that man made this movie to hate us joker fans despite the fact he got paid so much money 💰 i won't accept the fact he is not joker arthur is joker for me he is smart and has the right to defend himself not get abused by guards in arkham that scene is replaying my mind like a horror movie i don't even wanna talk about the last scene 😔 no wonder everybody hates it outside gaga fandom

the first joker movie he turned into joker and won the gotham clown supporters the story ended on a good note i can watch that movie thousand times and how arthur was cute and adorable in the clown makeup and not to forget carnival , the sequel also brings that ugly lee she is an idiot obsessed with the idea of joker and not arthur himself while her shippers are the ones who love this movie 🙂 they hate arthur or they belong to happy rich families they don't care about mental health issues 😪 the ones who pretended to care about arthur are lecturing us we know our arthur better than them so shut up and keep your fake sympathy with u we don't need it, i am not a sinner for loving joker i will continue supporting him nobody cares outside stan twitter about these things we are free to have an opinion and we loved arthur before them we share a special bond with him 🤡

The ones mocking me for having that nightmare about arthur leaving me it was only a trick of my mind i don't care about it, i see it as a fictional world none of the things in my dreams is real but my feelings are real i am real so it's better i choose myself and not the sequel where my innocent artie was tortured by todd to make us suffer

i am not wasting more time sitting and crying, it's better to move on and live in peace ✌️ i will write for arthur and joker in my fanfiction i don't have to take permission from todd since it's a fictional character not a biopic of a real person i can interpret it my way he has no control over me or my creativity as a writer it's like when i make edits it's my choice to select a song not the youtube playlist recommending me music and last i am a arthur fan i love him being sweet but he killed people he is not full innocent it might sound bitter but it's the truth but i love him as joker i admit i am attracted to grey shade characters in movies

i can't imagine arthur without joker they both are the same person fighting for his rights, mental health and injustice in society

[broadraiwrites]

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” Characters: Spike Trivet, Charlotte James (oc) Pairing: None Verse: Main ( Twitter timelines ) Mentions: Sadie Cullen (oc) Christian Cage

He shouldn't be there. He knew it wasn't a good idea to be standing outside her office after everything that she had done to the man that he considered a father figure, but Spike Trivet couldn’t stop himself. His chest was so tight he felt as though his own ribs were going to be what caved in his lungs. He knew precisely what this feeling was; he had felt it a thousand times before, and over those years he knew exactly where he could go and where he would be his safest to express his feelings. He always knew that the office of Charlotte James was going to be a safe haven for him in the height of his hypochondria.

 He assumed that this particular bout with his anxiety disorder was brought on by the birth of his son Arthur just hours before. Having a new baby in the home, his mind was so much more aware of all of the germs that could possibly bring harm to his young child, and it made absolutely everything in him feel as if his very being was spinning off its axis. He knocked lightly on the door, as he had thousands of times in the years they had known each other, but something just felt incredibly different this time. He felt like this was the start of a betrayal he didn't want to have to make. "Charlotte?” He cursed his own voice for sounding like a sheepish child afraid to bother their mother.

“Come on in, sugar,” Charlie called from her spot on the other side of the office, where she was trying to refill a few small drawers with supplies that she would need for the rest of the night. "I was wondering if I was goin’ to see you or if certain people were goin’ to keep you away from me.”

“You knew it was me?” Spike asked in surprise.

“I know your voice by now, sugar; of course I knew it was you. When you're like this, just like when I'm upset, you're accent gets particularly thick when you're having a hard time of it. What's goin’ on, darlin’?” the small Texan blonde asked, turning her wheelchair to face him.

 Spike took a deep breath, trying to steady his heart that he felt was ready to beat out of his chest before his gaze fell on the blonde in the room for the first time since he had walked in. “I'm sure that you heard that my Sadie gave birth yesterday to our son, Arthur. I know that I am needed, but I'm not so sure that it is wise to be this far away from her and from them so soon after she has given birth. His immune system hasn't formed yet, and I don't want to take the risk of bringing something back to him that his little body isn't used to and perhaps wouldn't have encountered back home. You know how germs can be different in different areas.”

Charlie reached out to take the younger man's hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “You're goin’ to do just fine, y’know,” she told him gently. “I know that being a new parent is a scary thing, especially when you didn't have the greatest role models growing up. I know I was terrified when I had my Ollie. He's going to be just fine. The fact that you're worried about what might happen to him shows that you are already a better father than yours was.”

“My condition,” Spike chose his words carefully, “doesn't deal well in times of high stress; I'm sure you've noticed by now.” he let out an almost bitter laugh. His right hand squeezed tightly on the head of the cane that he was leaning on. He always felt strange using it in her office because he wasn't using it as a true mobility aid but more as a fashion statement and a statement of power, but it was a comfort item for him in moments like these. “If he finds out that I've been here, he's going to have my head,” he added with a sigh.

"Well, I'm certainly not going to tell him that would be breaking patient confidentiality. So unless you tell him, I don't know exactly how he would find out, seeing as there's no one else anywhere near the office right now. If I can be totally honest with you, sugar, I don't care if he finds out either. I don't care what he thinks of me anymore.  I know you've got it in your head somehow that you need him but you never have, and if he's going to try to stop me from doing my job and try to stop me from taking care of someone that I have taken care of for years, that's his problem.” She guided him over to a chair in the corner of the room, using only the motion of her chair to suggest his own movements.

Spike slumped down into the leather chair without a word, allowing the tip of the beak of his bird skull-adorned cane to collide with the brick wall beside him, the noise shaking him from his thoughts. “I need to pull myself together,” he spoke, almost angrily, “but my mind is already so emotionally spent.”

“I’ll get you a glass of water for now,” Charlie spoke up, already moving to fill a disposable cup for him. “You relax; take as much time as you need. We aren’t even goin’ live with Zero Hour for a bit yet, so you don’t need to worry about call time anytime soon. I can get Jill to get you access to a quiet room if you need it, if I need to see anyone else before you’re ready. We can give Sadie a call. It’s only, what? Ten or eleven there?”

“Can I just stay with you for now?” Spike asked in the same small voice that had called her name a few minutes earlier.

Charlie smiled softly. “Of course you can. I can also make you a cup of tea if you want?” I keep a little bit in my office in case I need a little extra push to get through the more painful nights. I may not have a kettle, but I do have a Keurig,” she laughed lightly.

“Charlotte, even in my current state, I would never dream of such an abomination,” Spike shook his head with a smile, “but thank you—for everything.”

[lit-in-thy-heart]

bitter is the antidote

Rating: Teen+

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Relationships: Gwaine & Lancelot & Merlin, Gwaine & Merlin, Gwaine & Lancelot, Lancelot & Merlin, Lancelot & Percival

Characters: Gwaine, Lancelot, Merlin, Percival

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jealous Gwaine, watch gwaine come to so many wrong conclusions in real time, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Gwaine Knows About Merlin's Magic, casual touches, well in theory but they're all useless with the casual part, Pre-Slash, eating an apple with a knife, Insecure Gwaine, Protective Lancelot, gwaine gets to be a bit of a bitch, Self-Esteem Issues, Loneliness, shockingly no dick jokes, Hurt Merlin, Angst, Self-Hatred, but largely mild, Episode: s03e10 Queen of Hearts, Canon Era, Good Friend Lancelot, POV Merlin, POV Lancelot, POV Gwaine, Injury, Burns, it's not graphic but there is a description of the appearance, Supportive Lancelot, man literally meets gwaine and is like well if merlin likes him then i'm sure he's great, Percival's family, sharing food, Existential Crisis, Sort Of, there will be a follow-up landing relatively soon, hopefully, Ambiguous/Open Ending

Words: 21,947

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: ‘I heard you using magic! I won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt me,’ added the voice.

The tone was familiar, in the same way that the sea and the sky was, even as the tides changed and the clouds burned in pyres that transformed their hue every night. It eddied through Merlin’s memory in plumes of drunken laughter and soft words spoken by firelight and, before he could stop himself, his mouth was opening. ‘Gwaine?’

The first hiccup in Merlin's plan to save Gwen from the flames by aging himself was not being able to undo it as easily. The second hiccup was Gaius not showing up with the potion to do it for him. This third consequence feels less like a hiccup and more like a soul-crushing revelation. Well, fourth. Ending up on a lit pyre is a rather significant consequence.

Opening:

Merlin had been expecting Gaius to be waiting by the doorway to the courtyard. He had been expecting the potion to be bundled into his hands, with some false curse bestowed upon him for such wickedness, and for him to be able to breathe a little more freely again. But, as Merlin was escorted towards the pyre by Camelot’s guards and Arthur, Gaius was nowhere to be seen – not on the fringes of the crowd, at least. He nearly walked into the back of Arthur as the latter suddenly stopped, so preoccupied was he with trying to spot Gaius. The timbre of the voice that carried out across the courtyard was familiar and, when Merlin glanced up, it was issuing from Uther’s mouth, but the words mingled with the wind clawing at the clothes of the crowd and blew past Merlin’s ears. Merlin forced his body to remain still even as his eyes furtively leapt from face to face around him, searching for any indication that Gaius was there and would be able to save him. ‘...destroy Camelot.’ Uther’s final two words cut through Merlin’s desperation as he was recalled to reality by a tight grip on both of his arms. Even with the blood draining from his face as he was pulled closer to the pyre, Merlin couldn’t help but feel a little incredulity. Planting a poultice to make Arthur and a commoner fall in love, as Uther believed he had done, was hardly torching the citadel. Though apparently it warranted torching him. Merlin understood – well, strictly speaking, he didn’t really understand, more he was aware – that any indication of magic had Uther digging out the flint, but the whole thing did seem a little excessive. He hadn’t tried to kill anyone. Well. Not for a while, anyway, and it hadn’t been anyone that hadn’t tried to kill him first.

Written for the Merlin Bingo prompt 'canon divergence'

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