#Yelling is Arthur's love language | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ravengards-rogue · 2 months

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WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ;

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur.

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun.

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him.

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate.

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy.

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures.

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember.

Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him.

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain.

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down.

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something.

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while.

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately.

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you.

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish.

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting.

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit.

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs.

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,”

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,”

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,”

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.”

You giggle back at him

“What kinda trouble is that now?”

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice.

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.”

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly.

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn.

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted.

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it.

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily.

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show.

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp.

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms.

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine.

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that.

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.)

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did.

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it. It was just all too easy again, to be with you.

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family.

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see. Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street.

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy. John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you.

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you.

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision.

You might turn him into a literate man yet.

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life.

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself.

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck.

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?”

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you.

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,”

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat.

“John,”

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.”

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,”

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,”

“A foolish one,”

John laughs.

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving.

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get. He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently.

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.)

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters.

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living.

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is) loyal to Dutch. To the gang.

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after.

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long.

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time. He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about.

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around.

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen. If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing.

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.)

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit.

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would.

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d never find again.

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves.

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too.

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you.

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him.

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him. You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,”

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease. All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides. You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space.

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words.

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.”

Darling as you always are, you nod softly.

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ;

Wandering.

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on.

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly.

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains.

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few.

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it.

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list.

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are.

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him.

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some.

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you. And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything.

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not.

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss.

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars.

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze.

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks.

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?”

“Well, I’m not fine with it.”

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?”

“Please, what?”

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.”

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life. “Yeah, that’s good to hear.”

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto.

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head.

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,”

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires.

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you.

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed.

“Kiss?”

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #rdr2 x reader #rogues love letters #red dead redemption 2 x reader #THIS IS THE LAST TIME. THE LAST FUCKING TIME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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love-belle · 11 months

Text

you are in love !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which he finally realises that she's the one he has loved all along.

for when you realise that it's always been them. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

real life // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language, car crash (not detailed), mention of someone being high (not relevant to the story)

author's note - hello!!! i really hope you like this, i enjoyed writing this so much, charles' pov was definitely interesting. i hope you like this <3 i love you, thank you for reading.

≡;- ꒰ °real life ꒱

the first time charles leclerc thought he was in love, he didn't even know what love was. which, of course, made sense, considering he was seven years old.

he just knew that it was when two people really liked each other.

coincidentally, he also knew he liked the girl that sat next to him in class, the one who was always colouring in pretty flowers or leaves or clouds. he liked having her around.

she was sweet, she didn't talk much which was okay seeing he also didn't, she brought pretty colours to school everyday and she shared them with charles.

so yeah, it was natural that he liked her.

and because he liked her, he noticed that she liked flowers.

everyday, without fail, she would walk into the class with a pretty flower tucked in her hair, sometimes in her pocket or sometimes in her hand.

and on days where charles just wasn't in the best mood, the flower became his. it just sat on his desk, the bright colour a striking contrast against the plain desks that brightened up his mood, had him telling everyone that she ("my best friend, y/n,") got him ("she got me, me, a flower,") a flower ("it's my favourite flowers now, the most favourite!"). it was what made it all worth it, for a seven year old kid, at least.

sure, just the sight of it was enough to make charles smile for the rest of the day.

but the thought that y/n got it for him was enough to make him happy for this lifetime.

≡;- ꒰ °real life ꒱

the second time he thought he was in love with his best friend, he almost lost an eye.

that was a bit dramatic but to be fair, her high heel did come quite close to his eye and in her defense, he shouldn't have ruined her date.

"i cannot believe you, charles marc hervé perceval leclerc!" y/n exclaimed as she picked up her one black high heel from the floor and moved towards the living room, charles following after her like a scolded puppy, the rest of his family following him. "like — what was the reason?"

"y/n — " charles opened his mouth to explain but shut it, seeing her and noting that she was ready to throw her other shoe at him. he looked at his mom for help, his eyes pleading for her to intervene but pascale just shook her head, looking at him with a disapproving look.

"tu es incroyable," y/n muttered, glaring at him as she flopped down on the couch, inhaling sharply, "can you believe him, maman?" ( you are unbelievable // mom )

"charles," pascale started in a resigned tone, sitting down next to y/n and putting a reassuring arm around the girl she considered her daughter, "pourquoi ferais-tu ça?" ( why would you do that? )

"je ne savais même pas qu'elle serait là!" charles exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "and please, the date was not ruined. not until you saw me in the back and threw a fit over it." ( i didn't even know she would be there )

arthur stifled a laugh, getting a warning look from charles, pascale and y/n. he cleared his throat, and pointed back at his brother.

"you're mad at him, not me," he said, shuffling away from the group only to be stopped by lorenzo who gave him a look and pushed him to sit on the armchair., making him groan. "i hate every second of this."

"you were wearing a fake moustache and a wig!" y/n yelled at him, moving to stand up but pascale held her back, rubbing her back soothingly. "et je me suis tordu la cheville à cause de toi!" ( and i twisted my ankle because of you )

"that was your own doing," charles pointed at her, though he could feel like heart twisting with guilt. he honestly did not mean for that to happen. collateral damage, he guessed. at least she wouldn't go on another date with what's-his-name again anytime soon.

"how did that even happen?" arthur asked, looking between his brother and y/n, equally amused and confused.

"she chased him out of the restaurant and ended up falling on the sidewalk," lorenzo explained, his expression mirroring arthur's. "it was certainly a sight to see."

"je vous déteste tous les trois," y/n mumbled, looking at pascale with a defeated look on her face. "puis-je avoir une de vos robes d'été? celui ci est déchiré?" (can i have one of your sundresses? this one's torn )

"of course, ange," pascale smiled, standing up and pulling her out of the room with her, not before throwing a stern look in charles' direction. ( angel )

the room was very silent after they both left, leaving the leclerc brothers alone. it was all silent, perfectly quiet for a minute before arthur burst out laughing and lorenzo followed after him, their laughter echoing.

"i hate you," charles rolled his eyes, falling down on the couch and leaning his head back. "none of this is funny."

"it's a little bit funny," lorenzo replied, still chuckling as he sat on one of the empty armchairs around the coffee table.

"not for you, of course," arthur added, wiping his eyes as his body shook for laughter, "for us, it's hilarious."

"va te faire foutre," charles muttered, narrowing his eyes at his siblings. "how am i ever supposed to come back from this?" ( fuck you )

"well, for one, you can start with telling her that you're sorry," lorenzo started, looking up at the ceiling, "for crashing her date and for letting your jealousy ruin her night. that'd work."

"yeah — what?" charles asked, his face scrunched up in confusion as he looked at lorenzo. "why would i have been jealous? and please, the night was already ruined way before i got there. i did her a favour, getting her out of there."

"and breaking her ankle in the process."

"shut up."

"so, you weren't jealous about the fact that she was on a date? not with you? with someone who was not you? with someone else? with someone whose name was not — "

"i know what going on a date with not-me includes, thank you," charles snapped, glaring at nothing in particular as his mind raced with the possibilities.

why had he crashed her date? it wasn't as if she hadn't gone on dates before, she had. of course, she had.

but that's all they were, just dates to her. dinner, small talk, a few jokes and then back at home, she'd be laying next to charles, telling him all the things she hated about her date. his one guy couldn't stop talking about his yacht, this one thought having a mercedes automatically got you a girlfriend, this girl was high the entire time, this dude was the captain of the football team and that's was his entire personality.

and that's how charles knew, knew that those dates meant nothing to her. they were just dates. those people weren't laying next to her, hearing her talk about stars and how much she wanted to travel, how do flowers grow from pollen. they didn't know that she liked to fiddle with her rings when she was nervous or the fact that she had a small scar right above her lips. they didn't know that she loved it when people complimented her but she never knew how to respond, always opting for a 'thanks! you too! haha!' they didn't know any of that.

but he did.

he had assumed that this date was just another of those dates and by eleven, they'd be talking shit about that dude while eating chocolate and watching a trashy romcom. that was their routine, that was their thing. it was theirs. just theirs.

but then he noticed the way she talked about that guy, the way he had helped her with their psychology project, the way he had asked if she wanted to grab coffee around the weekend. he noticed the way she was actually looking forward to this.

it wasn't as if she wasn't excited for her past dates, she was but this time, it was different.

this time it looked like she really wanted to go on that date and for the first time, charles was afraid that she wouldn't be by his side at eleven, talking shit about that dude while eating chocolate and watching a trashy romcom.

and suddenly, time had stopped for him and it was almost comical, just like the movies, the way his mind became a mess, clusters of all the things they did, shared laughs, holding hands while walking on the pier, holding the other person close, leaning against each other, making flower crowns, saying 'i love you' out of the blue and on top of this mess, his mind just went 'y/n! y/n! y/n!' and that was it.

the next thing charles knew, he was dodging his best friend's high heel.

"there are other ways to tell her that you like her," arthur's voice brought charles back to their living room, his heart racing as his closed his eyes, a soft 'fuck' leaving his mouth. "start with not wearing an obnoxious wig and a fake moustache."

"i — i don't like her," charles protested weakly, as if he was trying to convince himself. "she's my — she's my best friend."

"we know she is," lorenzo leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "but with the way you look at her, it's nothing short of love."

love.

that word made him feel like a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown at him and it hit him like a block of ice, with the bucket.

do i love her? is it love? is it just like — likeness, whatever? it wasn't love? can it be love? will it ever be love? why isn't it love? i wish it could be love — oh.

oh.

≡;- ꒰ °real life ꒱

the third time, the thought of being in love crossed his mind — not that it ever left him, it had just been mere hours since the high-heel-almost-lost-an-eye incident.

he was in since room, a random show playing on his laptop that laid open in front of him but he couldn't bring himself to pay any attention to it. he couldn't even bring himself to close it, his eyes glued to the time.

10:37

he hadn't seen her since their argument and he couldn't blame her for not wanting to see him, he had ruined her night after all. it just felt weird having her over at his house — which was her second home, but not with him.

charles sighed, pausing the show as his eyes locked in on the time at the bottom of the screen, making his frown deepen.

10:41

he thought about what his brothers had said, he thought really hard.

he liked y/n. of course, he did. she was his best friend, after all. but when it came to liking her romantically, charles wasn't sure where he stood.

it was no secret that y/n was beautiful, she was. but more than that, it was her nature, her personality, the way she made people feel at ease around her, comfortable. that's what drew people to her.

that's what drew him.

10:49

he could be himself around her, he could be charles.

he didn't have to pretend to be the boy that everyone saw on screen, the confident look that was etched on his face, the way he never seemed to back down.

he didn't have to keep the pretendence up while with her.

he could be loud, he could be vulnerable, he could let down his guard, he could ask for help, he could just let out all of his worries.

he could be at ease and he knew that this whole thing was a two way street.

that was them, y/n and charles.

best friends, even if it weirdly pained him to say it now.

10:55

he looked away from the screen, a sharp exhale leaving him as minutes trickled by and there was still no sign of y/n.

a small polaroid stuck to the wall opposite him caught his eye and as it registered in his mind what it was, a small smile stretched across his lips subconsciously.

to everyone, it was just a normal photo. just two people — could potentially be mistaken as a couple, side by side with beaming smiles on their faces. the girl was leaning her head on the boy's shoulder while the boy had his arm around her shoulders, pulling her even closer to him. that's all it was, just a normal photograph.

but to them, to y/n and charles, it was everything. they had known the exact situation, the exact circumstances in that photograph, what they had felt when it was taken and how it had felt.

charles had felt his heart skip multiple beats when y/n leaned her head on his shoulder, looking up at him for just a moment, as if to ask if it was okay — it was. he had felt the way her breath hitched as soon as he placed an arm around her shoulders, squeezing softly before pulling her even closer.

he had felt it.

he had felt the way none of them did anything to move away, even after the photo was taken and lorenzo exclaimed that it was beautiful ("i took it, of-fucking-course it's pretty.") they just stayed there, just for a moment too long before they moved away reluctantly.

11:02

charles snapped out of this trance, staring at the photograph as a knock resonated throughout the room and he had to stop himself to grinning.

he said nothing, choosing to stay silent as he quickly closed the laptop and laid down, his heat beating against his rib cage so fast that he could hear his heart beat in his ears.

it was silent for a moment and he wondered if he should tell her to come in, tell her that it was okay but before he could even get the first syllable out, the knob twisted and the sharp light of the hallway made its way into the dimly lit room.

the door closed quickly, a soft whisper of 'sorry' making its way towards him that had him smiling against his pillow. footsteps could be heard as walked towards the other side of the bed and quietly got in, choosing to maintain a small distance between charles and her.

no one said a thing, their soft breathing was the only sound in the room and for a moment, charles thought that she fell asleep or that she was still mad at him and wasn't going to talk.

he was about to turn around, sighing softly before he heard her move, the sound of the sheets rustling before she began to speak.

"this one was a complete asshole, like — i was about to..."

yeah, he could fall in love with her.

≡;- ꒰ °real life ꒱

the fourth time it happened, it had been during a race. well — whatever was left of it.

it was not the perfect weather and since five a.m., y/n had her phone open in front of her, looking through the hourly weather forecast.

"you know it's not gonna change, right?" charles had laughed at her from across the table. "why are you worrying? je vais bien, je reviendrai. ( i'll be okay, i'll be back )

"promets-moi?" y/n had asked, looking at him all serious, no hint of laughter or amusement in her eyes and charles sighed, knowing that she was worrying herself to death every single time he was out on the track, arthur was out on the track. ( promise me? )

he couldn't imagine what it was like on the other side of the radio, clinging to any sliver of hope, desperately waiting for anything, any response from the other side.

he couldn't imagine doing it regularly, having your whole world stop while silence continued to answer your pleas.

"je promets, ange." ( i promise, angel )

y/n had said nothing, moving towards his side of the table and hugging him, her head in the crook of his neck as she held onto him, not wanting to let go even for a second.

and when she eventually did, he reminded her, that he was going to come back to her, come back home and they were going to watch that damn movie they had been putting off for weeks now.

he would come back and they would go on with their lives until the next race weekend came and the cycle would repeat itself. but in that moment, they just had to get through that one race.

and then, it happened.

y/n wasn't even sure she was breathing. one moment she had been hearing charles' voice through the headphones and the next, a sickening crash of metal on metal and the screech and the noises and everything and then it was nothing.

just blank, just a void, just one whole minute of silence that seemed to last for an eternity.

in that one minute, y/n's world stopped.

the entire garage held its breath, voices asking charles to confirm that he was okay, that he was fine, that he was okay.

he had to be.

he was okay, he was okay, he was okay, he was okay, he was okay, he was okay, he was okay, he was okay, he was —

"i'm okay."

y/n could finally breath again. her lungs seemed to cave in on her as she took a deep breath and looked down, the floor become a mosaic as tears filled her eyes. she didn't hear people heaving a sigh of relief, she didn't hear one of the interns telling her to wait for him by the medical centre — seeing charles had always requested for her whenever he got hurt and at this point, everyone knew that as soon as something, god forbid, if something happened, y/n had to be at the medical centre.

she didn't remember the trip there, only registering carlos hugging her before she was off to where charles was and before she even knew it, he was in front of her and he was okay.

he was okay.

"hey, cheríe," charles smiled at her, a slight wince leaving him as he struggled to sit up in the bed and y/n was moving towards him immediately, helping him sit up straight. "have you been crying?"

y/n shook her head, sitting on the chair next to his bed and looking down, trying her harded to keep the tears at bag.

"hey, hey, hey," charles cupped her face, forcing her to look at him and y/n closed her eyes, tears finally slipping out and falling down her cheeks. "i promised, didn't i? i told you i would come back, to you. i always would."

"i was so scared," y/n admitted, her voice choked up as she let out a sob, the sound muffled against the back of her hand. "when you didn't reply, i was so — i didn't know what to — i — "

"mon amour, breath," charles pulled her closer, leaning forward until their foreheads connected. he could feel the way her hands were shaking, the way she looked so scared, like she lost him.

she almost did.

"when i was in the car," charles began, their foreheads still touching and he could feel her inhale as he spoke, "with the radio disconnected, the thing i could thing of the promise i made to you. that i would come back to you, i would come home and we would watch that damn movie. i wasn't thinking that i was literally in the middle of a track which had several cars going around at dangerous speeds or the fact that i could be hurt, i was just thinking about you."

"i don't know if that's cute or stupid," y/n mumbled, making charles chuckle before he continued, leaning back slightly just so he could look at her.

"every time i get in that car, i make a promise to myself that if i finish this race, i would tell you how i feel. i would tell you everything and every single time, i break it. and this time, when there was a possibility that i wouldn't be able to ever, ever tell you that — "

"don't say that," y/n looked at him, her eyes bloodshot as she shook her head. "no, no, no, no, no. you will always come home, you will always come back to me. you promise me that."

"listen to me," charles pleaded, taking her hand in his as he intertwined his fingers with hers. he brought her hand to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on the back of it. "please."

y/n said nothing but nodded, her hold on his hand tightening.

"i knew that as soon as i got out of there, i had to tell you that — that — " he hesitated for a minute, wondering if he really was about to risk their friendship. take a chance on the person he wished to have forever in his life. risk lose his person, the one who always got him, the one who was his everything. " — that you're more than just my best friend."

charles heard nothing after that and he refused to look at her fear of her looking at him like he was completely mad. it was silent for a couple minutes, the only noise being the annoying beep of the machines and the chatter from outside as well as the crowd and the cars and a lot other things but the only thing that charles could focus on was the fact that y/n had yet to say something.

he sighed, gently pulling his hand out of her grasp and began to do the damage control, his mind racing on factors he could blame it whole confession at.

"that was just the painkillers talking and i think i'm going crazy, can you please call the doc — "

he was interrupted by her kissing him, her hands on his cheeks as she pulled him towards her and a surprise noise left charles' mouth and as soon as his brain caught up, he was kissing her back. he kissed her like it would the last time, tilting his head so that he could deepen the kiss. he could hear her say 'i love you' in between kisses, the words repeated like a prayer, a promise between. this was everything, the way she kissed like there was no tomorrow, the way she was in charge of the kiss, the way she sighed into his mouth and he swallowed the sound.

it was everything.

he almost thought that they'd never pull away and he was sure that they would've have, if not for the annoying beeping that filled the room, making them break away from each other and look at the cardiograph on the side of the bed.

the graph went up and down rapidly, which was no surprise to charles because he could feel the way his heart thudded in his chest.

the neon green line spluttered as it went up and came down, and charles reckoned it was exactly the way his heart did whenever she existed.

exactly the same way their heartbeats spelt 'i love you.'

#f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagines

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mydear-corinthian · 25 days

Text

Fainting || Shelby brothers x reader

Sypnosis: How they react when you faint. Pairings: Tommy Shelby x reader, John Shelby x reader, Arthur Shelby x reader (individual) Warnings: mentions of fainting (reader), pregnancy, skipping meals, may be out of characters, may contain a spoiler. Note: Not proofread. Click here to find the main masterlist. Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS masterlist.

THOMAS 'TOMMY' SHELBY

🥃 His face shows calmness but deep down he is already panicking.

🥃Tommy just went back from his paperwork in his office when he saw your son on your arms, cradling him to sleep. "Why aren't you asleep yet, love?" he asked you, giving a kiss on your forehead before taking the little baby on your arms to his instead. You sighed in exhaustion, your lips were chapped, your face was pale as a ghost, your once neat hair bun turned into a madness; little strands of your hair was detached from your messy bun. 🥃 "I was just waiting for Charlie to sleep." you answered. His brow raised a little, showing a sign of confusion. "Then why are you so pale? You look like you've seen a ghost," his fingers found the strands of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. Charlie finally stopped crying, his eyes fell down as he snuggled on his father. "I'm just tired, that's all." reassuring your husband as you replied. Your husband gently placed your child on the white wooden crib, letting the baby sleep comfortably. He was starting to get worried, your breaths aren't steady, the way you denied that you aren't fine even though you look sick, his heart itched.

🥃 Holding your shoulders with his rough palms, he asked again, "Are you sure, (y/n)?" Your vision was starting to get cloudy, you felt like the floor and the walls were shaking, Tommy's voice felt like it was speaking to you from afar. Your hands met his hands, gripping them tightly for security before you passed out. "(Y/n)? Are yo- (y/n)!" the sight of your body falling into his arms made his sentence cut off, he gasped your name, there was a tone of a rough yell at the same time. His body shows signs of calmness except for the eyes; the eyes never lies. Thoughts were racing on his mind, full of what ifs and worrying what will happen to you.

🥃 When you woke up, Tommy was beside your bed, sleeping uncomfortably on the wooden chair. His arms were crossed, his clothes were still the same indicating that he was 100% focused on you while you passed out. You called out his name softly, trying to reach his arms. The sound of your soft voice woke him from his uncomfortable slumber. He stood almost immediately, how are you doing. "How are you now?" his palms cupping your right cheek. "I'm fine, Tommy." you replied, holding his hand that was on your cheek, caressing it with your thumb. He sighed in relief, "The nurse said you were stressed and your stomach is empty," "I know, I'm sorry. I was so busy taking care of Charlie, I forgot to eat." you replied, your head dropped, you felt embarrassed.

🥃 His head shook, both of his palms were now on your cheeks, his glowing blue eyes locked with yours. The way he's using his eyes as his language. "Shhh.., no need to apologize, thank you for taking care of our Charlie. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you." "Thank you for understanding, love. It's okay, I understand how busy you are in the betting shop." you said, giving him a kiss which thankfully he returned it. Tommy's personal nurse knock on the door before entering your shared room, her arms carrying a plastic tray with your favorite food and a warm tea. Your husband placed the tray on the small table near the bed, giving you a plate of your food. "Eat, you'll feel better."

JOHN SHELBY

🚬 You've been feeling unwell lately. Your head ached, your muscles were sore, you had strange food cravings, and you felt sick in the morning. You knew what this hinted at, but you can't be positive, and the last thing that should be checked is that your period is late.

🚬It was an awful day. You vomited in the morning, and your joints hurt. Washing off the vomit from the metallic sink, you checked the date on the small white calendar beside you.

🚬 You were definitely late. For over a week now.

🚬 Sighing in exhaustion, you accepted the outcome of what would happen to you. Your partner, John, had already gotten you pregnant before. This will be your fourth child. - You weren't precisely sorry about it, but you were worried about what would happen to your unborn child, and you felt stressed out because of your job as an accountant for Shelbys. There was a lot of paperwork to be done, but not as much as Tommy had, but it was still exhausting.

🚬 It was already ten in the morning., John was gone on business, and the rest of your children were in school. The house was now yours alone, and there was food on the circular dish on the dining table that John had left for you before leaving to start his day. You finished the meal. Your stomach was now satisfied, but your muscles remained sore.

🚬 Grunting in pain, you approached to the front door as you heard a knock. You opened it to see your husband standing there. His peaky hat adorned his hair, and a light wooden toothpick displayed his lips rather than his thick tobacco. "John? Your shift isn't going to end for hours," you questioned as John entered the room and removed his hat. "I know; I just want to see you," John said. You chuckled at his response and taunted, "I'm your wife, John. You literally see me every day." "It's just that you've been feeling ill lately, and I needed to take care of you, so I left the office early," he explained, his arms gently gripping your hips.

🚬 "Honestly love, it's fine. I can handle it, I just need to re-", fefore you could finish your sentence, your head felt like it had erupted. Your temples felt like they were twisting. Your vision was becoming increasingly fuzzy, and your husband's sight was beginning to fade away. He called your name worriedly, catching your attention. He tried again, but this time louder. All you could hear was your husband calling your name and a long bell sound. His hands tightened around your hips, stabilizing your body. His eyes were filled with concern. Suddenly, your legs and muscles gave out, and your frail body fell onto his broad arms. Your face was pale and your lips were dehydrated. Panicking, he quickly lays you down on the vintage couch. He contacted his aunt, Polly, for help.

🚬 "She's pregnant." Polly announced to his nephew, who was pacing back and forth and unintentionally messing with his hair while his aunt checked on his wife. "H-How so?" he asked. "Well, maybe it's because the both of you fucked?" Polly coldly responds. This gave John an unimpressed expression. "The morning nausea, unusual cravings, the sore muscles, all that you mentioned it," she said. "Oh for fuck sakes, John, give (y/n) a rest. Every year she's fucking pregnant, control that cock of yours." Polly's statement made him laugh. John was happy that they are again to bear a kid but he can't also help but get worried and scared at the same time since getting into labour's hard. "Thank you, aunt Polly," he thanked the older Shelby, helping her make way to the door. "Take good care of her, John,"

-🚬 "I will." 🚬 You woke up, your clothes has been changed and there was a glass of water on the table near the couch you were laying down on. You called your husband's name, hoping that he was still here. "How are you, love?" he asked, combing your hair with his fingertips. "I'm fine now. John, I-I think I'm.. pregn-" "Pregnant." he cut you off. Your head tilted to the side in confusion, looking at him, his face was plastered with a big smile. "Aunt Polly told me. I called her for help when you passed out. When did you knew that you were pregnant?" "Just today, I already accepted that my period was late and I'm bearing your child again." you answered, emphasizing. "Hey, I can't help it you know, you're just so pretty, I can't help but fuc-" "John!" embarrassed by his reply, you cut him off. Your cheeks heat up at his answer. "What, it's true! Let me take care of you, love."

🚬 "As you should, Mr. Shelby." 🚬 "I will, Mrs. Shelby."

ARTHUR SHELBY JR.

🥊 Marriage to a man like Arthur Shelby was dangerous. Risky in the sense that you are afraid your illness will worsen. 🥊 Arthur was a good partner to you. He is both a provider and a lover. However, he was a heavy smoker. You can see him smoking his thick tobacco every day; it's as if he can't function without it.

🥊 It was an ordinary morning; you were just staying at home, and he was smoking brown tobacco. The hazardous air entered his lungs, and he exhaled the surplus air very near you. This has been going on for several days. His smoking became worse as a result of his distress about what had happened to his father. His father abandoned them for years, and when he returned, he left them again. You choked as he exhaled the noxious air, but it was even worse. Your coughing episode lasted over five minutes, burning your throat and making your heart race. When your partner spotted the never-ending fit, he promptly discarded the unfinished cancer stick. "Hey, love, breathe," he patted your back hardly. Thankfully, your coughing fit ended, but you were beginning to notice little spots all over you. You blinked rapidly, attempting to get rid of the spots. "Hey - are you okay?" Arthur asked. "Arthur, I can't - can't see clearly." You worried and looked everywhere. Your heart pounded quickly, and your breathing became heavy. Your dizziness gradually overtook you as you fainted.

🥊 When you awoke, you expected to be in your room, but instead you saw grey walls and a strange mattress. You looked around the room before calling your husband's name. The wooden door opened, and the oldest Shelby brother entered the room. As he approached you, he removed his peaky hat. His face expresses worry and sorrow. He sadly smiled and reached out for a hug, which you accepted. You were panicking deep inside. You've been hiding your disease since you met your husband; you didn't want him to find out because it might make him upset or, worse, leave you.

🥊 There was an unpleasant silence in the room before Arthur chose to break it. "How are you managing now, (y/n)?" he asked with a heavily sigh. "I'm feeling better now, fortunately." There was more silence. "The doctor says you have arrhythmia .. it looks like you have it for quite some time now. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

🥊You always assumed that this day would come, but you didn't expect it to be today. Your mind is filled up with thousands of unpleasant thoughts. 'What if he leaves me?' 'My life would end without me' 'What do I-' "(Y/n?)" Shaking your head, you determined to give him the truth, even if the outcome wasn't pleasant for you. You took a long breath and eventually explained to him. "When I was a child, I had a very narrow arteries. It got worse when I grew up and the doctor diagnosed me about it. I'm sorry, I should've told you sooner, Arthur."

🥊 His hands found the side of your face and gently stroked your cheekbones. "It's okay, love. I understand. And I'm sorry for smoking all around you. I won't do it again." He kissed your forehead before massaging your back. "It's fine, Arthur; you didn't know." You smiled as you held his hands on your cheeks.

🥊 "We'll be fine, right?"

🥊 "We will." THE END

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #john shelby #john shelby x reader #arthur shelby #arthur shelby x reader

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brummiereader · 9 months

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PREVIOUS PART

Killing Me Softly (PART EIGHT/ DARK!TOMMY)

Summary: After Tommy gets mysteriously shot the responsibility to nurse him back to health falls on you. Will you be able to accept Tommy's apologies and give him a second chance when the guilt of how he has treated you slowly creeps up on him?

Warnings: Language, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, angst, controlling behaviour, toxic marriage, psychological mind games, Dark!Tommy (this is a dark fic, please read the warnings before continuing)

" Shot? What...what happened?" you said resting your back against the headboard, rubbing your eyes in the process as sleep continued to weigh them down.

" I don't know Y/N, I don't fucking know!" he replied in a panicked voice as he removed his peaked cap, pinching the bridge of his nose. " He's asking for you, come on let's go" he said grabbing your hand when you suddenly pulled it back. "He's your husband...what's wrong with you?" John asked as he furrowed his brow in confusion at your reluctance to follow. "What the fucks going on in here...?" he said looking around the somber room once again when the door suddenly flew open and Arthur came frantically running in.

"John! I can't get the bullet out by myself, you need to hold him still" Arthur said as he stood by the door, wiping the sweat from his forehead as blood dripped from his hands. As John ran out the door Arthur looked back at you, reaching his hand out for yours.

" Y/N. Tommy needs you" he said ushering you forward as he looked at the hesitation in your eyes.

"No..." you mouthed quietly, shaking your head as you grasped the bed sheets tightly in your hands.

" I don't have bloody time for this" he muttered under his breath as he let go of the door handle, quickly disappearing from the room.

Sitting on the edge of the bed you listened to the sound of your husbands cries echoing through the house as an unpleasant feeling arose in your chest. Contentment, contentment at hearing him in pain, hearing him suffer. The same level of pain and suffering he had unforgivably inflicted on you.

" Where's my wife?!" You heard him yell between groans as you now stood at the top of the stairs, your feet unwilling to move any further. His wife. The wife he had abused since the day you committed yourselves to eachother, the wife he had embarrassed and belittled without hesitation, the wife he had tormented relentlessly with his sadistic games, and now what? He expected you to comfort him like any loving wife would?

"Arthur hurry the fuck up and get it out, else I'll do it myself!" You heard Tommy bellow whilst you walked slowly down the large wooden stairs, the sudden desire to see him in pain pushing your feet forward with each step you took.

Waiting by the living room door you watched John pinning Tommy's arms back behind him as Arthur sat in front of him ripping his bloodied shirt from his body, giving it to John who then threw it into the crackling fire next to him.

"Shit Tommy, two inches to the left and you'd be a dead man" Arthur announced as he picked up his pocket knife dousing it in alcohol. "This is gonna hurt like hell brother..."

" Wait, wait!" Tommy said through gritted teeth as he spotted you."Y/N sweetheart, come to me" Tommy pleaded as he pulled his hand away from John's grip, desperately reaching out for you. With the three brothers now staring back at you, you felt you had no choice but to go to your husbands side. With his hand now firmly wrapped around yours, you finally looked down at the bullet hole below his collarbone. Arthur was right he could have died it was mere centimeters from his heart, almost the exact same location as a previous gunshot wound.

" Did you call an ambulance?" You said turning to John as Tommy's grip tightened around your hand at the sight of the knife moving closer to his body.

" I'm not leaving this house Y/N" Tommy said as he looked up at you, his hair disheveled, a layer of sweat coating his face as he breathed heavily through his nose.

"John" Arthur said looking to his brother as the youngest pulled Tommy's arms back once again. With one last glance to you, Tommy licked the sweat of his top lip nodding to Arthur as he braced himself for what was about to happen.

" Three two.." with the countdown unfinished Arthur plunged the sharp blade through the gaping hole in Tommy's chest, squeezing his fingers around the bullet hole as he tried to pry the led from his body. You watched on as all the bravado he once possessed left his body as he whimpered and yelled in pain, his eyes scrunched shut as the knife pierced his already wounded body. "There's the sneaky bastard" Arthur smiled as the silver bullet fell into his palm. "Here, one more to add to your collection" he chuckled, dropping the small piece of led into a glass ash tray on the table beside him. "Now drink this" he added, picking up a bottle of whiskey that Tommy swiftly grabbed from his hands, downing a third of what was left within a few seconds. " Right. Hold on" Arthur said taking it back, pouring the rest of its contents straight into the open wound.

" FUCKK!" Tommy shouted in response letting go of your hand, his eyes now locked on Arthurs face as his fist came up to punch his older brother in the cheek, a punch Arthur dodged almost instantly.

" Come on Tom, soldier up" Arthur laughed patting him on the back as he exchanged a grin with John." Y/N, you bandage him up" your brother-in-law said as he walked off to get himself a well deserved drink.

" Arthur I don't know how to..."

" There's nothing to it Y/N, here" John interrupted, passing you the bandages as you looked down at your husband hunched over trying to catch his breath.

" Maybe it's best..."

" Darling...please" Tommy said grabbing your arm, his thumb gently rubbing across your skin. Swallowing harshly you sat down in front of your husband as he tried to focus his eyes on you through the pain radiating through his chest, groaning as he straightened his posture out.

" Bet your loving this ey?" he scoffed as his trembling hands reached for the packet of cigarettes next to him, his eyes following yours as you placed a square of cotton over his open wound. Ignoring his remark you continued to bandage him up as Tommy tried to catch your eye, needy for his wife's attention. "Hey" he said grabbing your hand as you finished fastening the bandage across his chest. " You don't fucking care do you?" he asked tilting his head, squinting his eyes in disbelief as his cigarette hung from his lips. Looking away you tried to stand up, only for Tommy to pull your arm, forcing you back down Into the chair, his jaw clenching in annoyance at your continued refusal to meet his eyes.

" What happened?" Polly said walking through the door as she hurried over to Tommy to check the damage.

" Fuck sake" Tommy mumbled under his breath unaware his Aunt had been called.

" Found him on the ground by the front door as we pulled up" John said as he walked back over with a drink in his hand, seemingly unbothered by his brother having just been shot.

" John I'm gonna need a bit more information than that" Polly said as she opened the bandages to check the wound, her eyes darting to you still sitting next to your husband, his hand firmly holding onto yours.

" Bloody hell Pol!" Tommy said wincing in pain as she pushed the flesh around the bullet hole checking for any fragments. " The bullet came out clean, Arthur saw to that" he said looking over to his brother who tipped his glass of whiskey in Tommy's direction.

" Where's his shirt?" Polly asked as she looked back at her nephews." Where's his fucking shirt?!"

" John threw it in the fire. Polly will you calm down, I've got thumping headache after tonight's events" Arthur complained as he let himself drop into a nearby arm chair, desperate to go home.

" Bloody idiots" she mumbled under her breath looking up at the ceiling as if she was asking a higher power why she had been unfairly blessed with three halfwits for nephews. "Now that I don't have his shirt I can't see if any cloth is missing and lodged inside, can I?" she huffed standing up.

" I put half a bottle of whiskey on it, he's good" Arthur said rubbing his forehead as he let his head drop back onto the cushion behind him, closing his eyes.

" For your sake he better be. And you still haven't told me what happened" Polly asked as she placed her hands on her hips, looking around the room at each of her nephews.

" Was coming back from the stables. Two chancers tried their luck. Took a shot at me" Tommy explained casually without giving anymore detail as he took a drag of his cigarette.

" I didn't hear a gunshot" you spoke up, your eyes darting around the room at everyone only to catch Tommy's, his brows raised in surprise at your outspokenness as an unnerving glint shone in his eyes. Swallowing harshly you looked away as Tommy squeezed your hand in response. Had you said the wrong thing?

" They would have used a silencer love" Arthur said putting his feet up on the sofa in front of him.

" Have you checked the grounds?" Polly asked pushing Arthur's muddy boots off the sofa with her foot as Tommy's thumb firmly rubbed small circles into the back of your hand, a warning to not misbehave, a caution to not dare speak again. Slowly disconnecting from what was happening around you, you looked up to see a small smirk form on the corner of your husbands lips through the cigarette smoke leaving his mouth, his stare boring into you as he looked down at the exposed skin where your dressing gown had come loose. Pulling your hand away you abruptly stood up closing your gown tighter around your body as you walked over to the window whilst the sound of conversation re-entered your hearing.

" I need to rest" Tommy said standing up as he looked over to you.

" What you need is a doctor" Polly answered, pushing him back down as she walked over to where you was standing in concern.

" We've already called one, he should be here any minute" John announced as he poured himself another drink, shaking the bottle as the last few drops spilled out.

" Y/N love, would you go get us another bottle of whiskey" she asked placing her hand on your arm. " Are you ok? " she said quietly, her eyebrows raised at the worried expression spread across your face. What was Tommy playing at? He had men guarding the perimeters of the property since the day he dragged you back to Arrow House. How could he have gotten shot?

" I'm fine Polly" you said as you left the room, Tommy's eyes following you as he went to stand up again, only for his Aunt to stop him for a second time.

Out in the hallway you broke down in tears. You wanted everything to just stop. The nights sudden events had set your already fragile state on edge, and with the constant threat of Tommy's ongoing punishment looming over you, you couldn't help but think this was another part of his sadistic plan.

" My wife's upset I need to see her" Tommy said as he got up from his chair.

" I'll check on Y/N, you stay seated" Polly said pointing her finger at her nephew. Falling back into his seat Tommy clenched his jaw, pinching his bottom lip as he watched his Aunt leave the room, his inability to control the situation only frustrating him more.

"He's in there" Polly said pointing to the living room as the doctor walked into the foyer. " Y/N, come here" Polly said with her arms out as she walked over to you. "You're not okay, has anything else happened ?" she asked as you shook your head in response, nervously biting your nails. "Look what happened the other day.." she began to say unable to even explain the previous days events herself. " What happened should have never took place, what Tommy did was unforgivable, monstrous. Y/N, if you're searching for the man he once was you won't find him, he died a long time ago, and I fear he would be far worse without you by his side. He's my nephew and as much as I hate the man he has become he is still family, but so are you love. I can help you Y/N" she said as she held onto your arm. " Do you want help?" Looking away tears welled in your eyes as you clutched your arms around your body looking to the front door.

" No" you sobbed shaking your head, as you watched Tommy's figure approach you both in the corner of your eye.

" Y/N let's go to bed, the doctors given me the all clear" Tommy said walking to you with a bottle of medicine in his hand as Polly nodded her head, letting go of your arm as a defeated look spread across her face. You was a grown woman she couldn't force you, she had offered help, it was now your choice to take it or not.

" I'll stay until the morning, make sure you take that" she said over her shoulder as she walked away back into the living room.

With his hand resting on your lower back Tommy led you up the stairs as you both walked up to the second floor in silence.

" No, not this room " Tommy said as he took your hand leading you to one of the many guest rooms down the hallway. Opening the door Tommy walked you in as his eyes lustfully roamed over your body.

" Why this room?" You questioned as you looked around at the dimly lit bedroom.

"Just come to bed Y/N " he said as he pulled back the sheets waiting for you.

"Your medicine" you said pointing at the small bottle in his hand as you climbed under the sheets, turning around away from him. A few minutes later you felt him climb in, his arm wrapping around you as a grunt left him mouth at the pain coursing through his body. Within seconds you felt Tommy's lips kissing along the back of your neck, his hand resting on your upper thigh caressing small circles into your skin as his fingers slowly reached under your gown.

" You were teasing me downstairs sweetheart" he moaned quietly into your throat, his lips smiling into your skin as he grinded his hips against your body. Quickly moving away you pushed his hand off you, pulling the bed sheets closer to your body.

" Fuck sake" Tommy muttered under his breath as he rolled onto his back. " If you won't let me fuck you, will you at least talk to me?" He huffed as he looked over to you curled up on your side of the bed. " Your husband gets shot and you don't bat an eyelid. You're not as sweet and innocent as you claim to be" he scoffed as he turned back to you, pulling the sheets away from under your chin. "Hey, I'm talking to you"

" How did you get shot Tommy?!" you replied as you turned around to face him unable to ignore his remarks any longer, your emotions so heightened you ceased believing anything he said anymore.

" I already told you Y/N" he said looking away as you turned back around pulling the covers away from him.

" In sickness and in health ey" Tommy chuckled as he leaned over to turn the bedside light off, his head falling back onto the pillow as exhaustion overtook his body.

" You forgot the rest of your vows Tommy"

It was early morning when you rolled over to see Tommy breathing heavily, sweat coating his body as his head turned left and right in a delirious state.

" Tommy?" You said sitting up as you shook his arm trying to wake him. He was burning up, his pillow drenched, how long had he been like this? For a moment you just sat there and watched him as he breathed heavily through strangled groans. You could leave him, let him pay for everything he had done to you. You thought to yourself as you watched him tremble in pain.

" Get a doctor" Tommy croaked out grabbing your hand as if he could sense your apprehension. Nodding your head you walked out the bedroom making your way down the hallway until you suddenly stopped, your hand gripping tightly onto the top of the stair banister as the sound of the dials on the hallway clock turning ticked loudly in your ears. Taking a step back you turned around, tears welling in your eyes as you started to walk in the opposite direction. Was you really going to do this? Let your husband die? A sudden wave of guilt washed over you as you wrapped your arms around your body in a desperate attempt to comfort yourself.

" Y/N?" You heard Polly's voice say behind you as you let your arms drop to your sides. Turning around your eyes nervously darted to the bedroom then back to her. " What's going on?" She asked approaching you as she looked at the door.

" It's...it's Tommy he has a fever. I was going to call a doctor" you responded trying to avoid her stare.

" A doctor?" She questioned as she looked behind you, knowing the only telephone in the house was downstairs. Nodding you turned your head away as you frantically played with the sleeve of your dressing gown. " Ok Y/N, I want you to go downstairs and call doctor Taylor, ok?" Nodding you hurried past her as she watched you walk away. Did she know your true intentions?

With the doctor having been called and now tending to Tommy with Polly by his side, you waited downstairs aimlessly wandering around the house. You didn't want to see him, you didn't want to face him, guilt was consuming you. How could you have been so malicious in your disdain for your husband that you was ready to let him die a painful death? You thought to yourself looking out the front door as one of Tommy's men walked past. This wasn't like you, you wasn't him. As anxiety pumped though your body you ran over to the open door, desperate to feel the morning breeze on your face when one of Tommy's men stopped you.

"I just need some fresh air" you said trying to push past him.

" No one leaves the house, Tommy's orders" he replied as he looked past you.

" No one, or just me?" You said as he finally looked down at you. " I see" you said folding your arms turning around when your husband's sudden cry caught your attention.

" Y/N!" You heard Polly shout, calling your name as you hurried up the stairs to the bedroom.

Opening the door you immediately looked away at the sight of Tommy's infected wound as the doctor pulled out a small piece of cloth from the bullet hole. Grunting in pain Tommy's fingers came up to wrap around the doctors neck only for his hand to quickly fall back down onto the bed, his body too weak to fight.

" Did Mr Shelby take the medicine I prescribed?" He asked looking between you and Polly.

" Y/N?"

" Yes last night" you said trying to think back, did he take it? Why wouldn't he? Where was it? You questioned as your eyes darted around the room in search of the small bottle.

" Doctor" Polly said nodding to the door as he followed her out to talk in the corridor whilst you stood at the end of the bed looking anywhere but at your husband.

"Don't worry, I'll be dead soon" Tommy said swallowing back the swelling in his throat. He was deathly pale, his whole body trembling in pain as he tried to reach for the glass of water beside him whilst you watched on at his helplessness.

" Fuck sake" you mumbled under your breath as you walked to his side of the bed. Siting down next to him you gently lifted the back of his head as you poured small amounts of water into his mouth. After only a few sips Tommy pushed the glass away as his head fell back onto the pillow, looking at you through exhausted eyes.

" Everything's in your name" he said in lagged breaths as he tried to search for your hand.

" Why are you saying this?" you replied looking back at him scrunching you brow in confusion.

"Come on darling, don't lie to yourself. You've wanted me dead for a long time"

" Stop it Tommy, stop saying these things" you cried as you pulled your hand away. Was he playing the cruelest game of them all? Was he trying to make you feel pity for him after everything he had done to you?

" I've always loved you Y/N " he confessed as you looked away, tears streaming down your face quicker than you could brush them away.

"Y/N a word" Polly said as she entered the room pulling you to one side.

" Picked out my coffin yet?" Tommy coughed trying to let out a strangled laugh.

" Shut up" Polly said turning to face him. "The doctor said he needs to make it through the night if he's going to survive this infection. I have to go into the city before everything falls apart, you need to stay here and look after him, I'll be back in the morning, ok?"

" Polly no, you can't leave me here alone with him, I don't know what to do"

" You don't have a choice, he needs you Y/N" Polly said as she quickly left the room, not giving you a chance to argue any further with her.

Turning around you looked back at your husband as he lay in bed, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead as his body tried to rid itself of the infection taking over. Pacing back and forth, a feeling of frustration overwhelmed you at the cruel twist of fate. You was now the one who had to nurse him back to health when the only thing you wanted to do was watch the life slip away from him.

" Just leave Y/N " Tommy said as he tried to get up from the bed.

" What are you doing?" you said in annoyance as you walked over to him.

" Let me die" he replied as he laid back down. You wanted him to suffer, but seeing him like this, desperate and weak made your inner battle of anger and guilt fight eachother for dominance.

" Just shut up" you said giving in as you walked over to the bowl of water by his bed, angrily dipping the cloth into the cold water. Sitting down beside him you started to dab the sweat from his body as Tommy looked up at you.

"Y/N..."

" Stop talking Tommy, I don't want to hear it" you said as you threw the cloth back into the bowl your hands coming to your face in frustration. Reaching out Tommy's hand slowly moved up your arm, as he tried to move your fingers away from your face.

"Y/N, I'm sorry" he said as you looked back at him, tears streaming down your face.

" No Tommy, you don't get to say that after everything you've done, you don't get to do this!"

" I don't deserve you, I never did" as the last words left his mouth Tommy slowly closed his eyes as the final bits of strength faded within him.

For hours you stayed by his bedside, wiping the sweat from his body, bandaging and cleaning his wound, hushing him as strangled moans left his mouth as he called out your name, begging you to stop the pain. And when he did sleep your eyes stayed fixed on his stomach as you watched it move up and down with each breath. Was you waiting for it to stop, was you afraid it would stop? You couldn't tell anymore. Why did it have to come to this? You thought as you continued to torment yourself with the satisfaction you felt when you first saw him in pain. You loved him, and now you cruelly found yourself having to decide if you loved him enough to continue to comfort and tend to him. Desperate for fresh air you stood up walking over to the window as you knocked over a chair with Tommy's clothes laying on top of it. "Shit" you mouthed to yourself, worried the sudden noise would wake him as you bent down to pick up his suit jacket when a small photo folded in half caught your eye. Turning it over you opened it to see a picture of you and Tommy taken before the war. It was old and battered, the edges torn and frailing, it looked like it had been through a war itself.

"You kept me alive" Tommy said coughing as he slowly turned his head to you.

" You've had this in your pocket all these years?"

" I took it to France" he replied as you walked over to sit beside him. Reaching out Tommy took the picture from you, rubbing his thumb over it as if he had done it a thousand times already, the movement engraved into his memory, a ritual he had repeated countless times before. Handing it back to you Tommy began to cough uncontrollably as you quickly reached for the the glass of water beside him, tenderly holding his cheek as you poured small amounts into his mouth.

"When I was in France" he started to say as he cleared his throat the swelling engulfing his body making it hard for him to talk. " I'd stare at that picture every night and take myself back to watery lane, back to you. It was the only thing that stopped me from running over the line. I've always loved you Y/N, I never stopped"

" And yet you killed for me in the name of love Tommy, killings that never needed to happen. Is that true love to you?"

" Your horse was lame darling"

" And my friend...was that a mercy too?"

A silence fell upon the room, Tommy had nothing to say. A battle within himself to make things right fought with his own reasoning that what he had done was justified. Had he suddenly begun to feel guilt in everything he had done? Maybe the unexpected feeling of deaths eyes bearing down on him had finally made him face his own monstrous actions.

" There's no going back to the start is there?" Tommy said as he weakly looked up into your eyes. Shaking your head tears fell down your cheeks as Tommy brought his hand up to brush them away with his thumb. Holding onto your hand Tommy swallowed harshly as his emotions threatened to spill over.

" Please, don't let go " he said gripping your hand tighter, his eyes closing once again as he drifted back to sleep. With tears burning your cheeks you reached out your hand as you gently caressed his face. Months of torment had come to an end, and for the first time in a long time you finally saw a small glimpse of the boy you used to know, the sweet loving boy you fell head over heels for. You could only hope it wasn't the fever talking and Tommy's remorse was as genuine as he had made you believe it was. As the hours passed by exhaustion started to take over. Closing your eyes you rested your head on your husband's stomach as the gentle lull of his body moving up and down with each breath he took rocked you soundly to sleep.

"You're still here" Tommy said as he woke up to you holding onto his hand hours later, your head still resting on his stomach. Bringing the back of your hand to his forehead you checked to see if his fever had passed.

" It's slowing down" you sighed, surprised by the sense of relief washing over you.

" You saved my life again" he replied sitting up, grunting at the continued pain stabbing him in his chest.

" I didn't do anything Tommy"

" You did Y/N, you kept me alive" he said as he leaned forward cupping your cheek in his hand. " Give me one more chance? He's not dead, the boy you once knew is still in there, help me find him"

" Tommy, everything you've done I can't forgive you for it. You've broken my heart so many times"

" I don't expect you to forgive me Y/N. I've lost who I was. I've done unspeakable things, but you, you can make me a better man. Please, just one more chance" he replied. His body having given him another breath of life he was now desperate for one more with you. Looking away your eyes flickered down to the photo of you both on top of the bed side cabinet that Tommy had kept in his pocket for the past decade. Your heart ached endlessly for the man you had first fell in love with all those years ago, stronger than any feeling you had ever known. The need to feel his arms wrapped around you, his warm body comforting you never left. He had a hold on you as much as you did with him. Was you as addicted to him as he was with you? His acts were evil, and there was no taking back what he had done, but even the worst of men could change couldn't they? Reaching up you rested your hand over Tommy's as he looked lovingly back into your eyes.

" Ok" you said nodding your head as tears fell down your cheeks. " Ok Tommy" smiling, Tommy leaned forward wincing in pain as he rested his forehead against yours.

" I'll be the man you want me to be" he said pressing his lips to your own in a tender embrace as your tears cascaded down between your cheeks.

Pulling back you was met with his piercing blue eyes staring back at you, a small smile on his lips as his thumb stroked firmly across your cheek. An all too familiar feeling suddenly settled in your stomach in response to his forceful touch as paranoia quickly rose within you.

Had he fooled you again?

NEXT PART

Tag list: @litteltourtius @aesthetic0cherryblossom @swordofawriter @casa-boiardi @muhahaha303 @fmo166 @call-sign-shark @priyajoyy @gypsy-girl-08 @missbeeentertainment @cryptidscool (unable to tag) @warrior-of-justice @runnning-outof-time @camilleholland89 @amberpanda99 @scarwxrld @pleasant-meadow @fleurfatale89 (unable to tag)

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby #killing me softly #thomas shelby x imagine #peaky blinder imagine #dark!tommy #dark!tommy shelby

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morgansunflower · 2 months

Text

My Sweet Boy 2/2

Requested by @fanfiction-24824

Bruce Wayne X Wife! Kryptonian! Kent! Reader

Warnings:suggestive content, explicit language and angst

Words:1315

Arthur's notes! Part 2 of my sweet boy! Conner is a clone of Batman and Y/N. Early! Adopted Tim. Jason didn't die by Joker but was severely injured. Third P. O. V

Reader and Clark recover from Doomsday's attack.. During which Jason continues to struggle to feel he is not a burden and decides it's best he leaves the only family he's ever loved

Conner was now living on his own and married to M'gann. Dick was no longer in Gotham as he was in Bludhaven. A little boy boldly tried to steal Batman's tires which led to the Wayne's adopting him. Only a year after that did they adopt Tim after Jason befriended him and discovered the poor child was being neglected. Then soon thereafter Y/N was pregnant and had her first child Damian.

Jason had only recovered physically from the bombing and Joker's brutality.. He tried to be strong but felt fragile. He wants to fall apart and be held by his parents.. Though he buries his fears down once a threat arrives to hurt those whom he loves.

When Dooms-day came to earth and the mad monster finally fell to the ground. Bruce along side his family search through in the debris from the brutal altercation. They were looking for both Kent siblings. Deep inside Bruce's heart was in agony with a similar fear he did when he searched for his son.

.....

"Clark" she cried seeing her brother laying there only a few feet away, just as battered as she was.

Both the Kryptonians suits were torn and they both had been deeply bruised. The broken bones of the two siblings nearly mirror each other. She cries in pain, crawling to him and then tried scooting closer to him. He turned his head to her.

"Y/N" he gasps overcome with relief

He began to crawl to her wincing as he breathes heavily. They finally made it to each other as the twins both softly smile to each other.. Tears fall down both of their faces. He holds her hand listening the first heartbeat he ever heard.

"MOM!! UNCLE CLARK!!" Conner cried "DAD THERE OVER HERE!!" he shouts to Bruce

"LOIS THEY'RE HERE!!" Bruce shouts to his sister-in-law

Bruce began running to the Kryptonians along with Lois who was running behind him

.....

Inside Wayne Manor upstairs in the bedroom of Mr and Mrs. Wayne. On the large bed, Bruce's eyes begin to slowly open. The sunlight shun through the windows to their bed, to his wife's sleeping face. He looked to his wife who laid sleeping by him.

Her knuckles were bandaged from the thin layer of skin that had been damaged from repeatedly punching the tough skin of Doomsday.

Had it not been for both Kryptonians one of the the Kent siblings would have not made it out alive.

Back at the Kent farm Clark was recovering just as his sister is, from their near death experience. Lois doted to him in any way she could.

After checking on his mom which of course led to his hair being pulled by his baby brother. Tim carried a cup of hot chocolate for Jason, while walking to his big brother's room. He knocks on Jason's door.

"hey Jay. I got you some hot chocolate.." Tim waits.. "Jason?!"

He knew Jason would be furious if he just opened the door and let himself in.. Though what if he's having another panic attack? What if he's not ok? What if he needs help?

Tim accepted that angering his brother was worth it, just to ensure he's OK. He opened the door. He's not in his bed, not in his chair and he's not in his bathroom. He's not out on the balcony. He takes a deep breath and puts the mug of chocolate on his brothers nightstand.

Tim calls Jason.. Repeatedly as it continues going to voice mail. OK he can panic now. Tim runs to his parents room

"mom! Dad! Alfred!" he yelled

The door opens as both Bruce, Y/N and Alfred whom was holding Damian. Hurry to their loved one.

"son what's wrong?" Bruce asked him directly

"J-Jason's gone and he won't answer my phone calls" Tim blurted out his throat shaking

Y/N gasps "Tim don't panic baby we will find him" Y/N promised "he probably went out to get some fresh air" she ensures Tim, unable to even believe her own words.

She began to try to listen for his heartbeat that wasn't near her. She listened more carefully but unfortunately it caused her mind to race and her head aching to a harsh throb. The pain caused the injured Kryptonian to wince. Bruce looks to her face, studying her clenched jaw and weakened breath.

"you're in pain"

"...no I'm not...." she lied

"you are going back to bed to rest. We will find Jason without you overexerting yourself"

"dammit!" she cursed furious that he was right "please find my baby" she begged now in tears

Bruce gives her a sweet kiss and then bolts to the Bat-cave. Bruce called both his oldest sons. Dick quickly went to Gotham but not quite as quickly as Conner.

Conner knew his brothers well enough that he knew their Heartbeats individually. So finding his brother wasn't too difficult. He touches his intercom telling the family, that he found him. He sits next to his little brother. He needs to get him back home, but first they need to talk.

"you don't have to be strong all the time Jason.. I don't know if you're going to fully ever be OK.. But you can't let the fear run you or trick you into believing running is the right thing to do. You gotta let people in. You have let your family in.."

"I know.. I just hate being scared all the fucking time" Jason cried "I feel so small Conner. Like I'm back in that--" he sighed heavily Conner gently rubbed his back to comfort him "I know there trying to be there for me and I want to be OK but--" he lightly shakes his head "but I don't want to burden them or mom and I just want it to be over... She almost died Conner... How can I tell them how damaged I feel, when she is in pain to"

He softly sighed "it's OK that you're not OK and they will understand. Just so you know.. I know how you feel"

"it's hard to sleep.." he admits and then stammered by his, statement. He used his hand to dry his runny nose from his emotions "what are you talking about?" he looks to his older brother seeing his past reflection of trauma.. He, truly understands.

Conner takes a deep breath in and out preparing to express his pain "well back in.. Cadmus.. When I messed up or didn't do well enough in their eyes. They weren't exactly kind or understanding with my results. I still struggle with feeling like I'm back in that pod sometimes.. It helps to think about things that calm you down and when that, doesn't work listening to music.. And if even that doesn't work you can lean on Mom or Dad" he shrugged "or anyone of us. We're family we gotta stick together especially when we've been through so much. You are never ever going to be a burden to any of us. We, love you Jason don't forget that"

"I know I just thought if I left.. It'd be easier on everyone.. I'm sorry you go through this to.. I knew you went through shit but I didn't.. I didn't really get it"

"it's not your fault you didn't know Buddy..." Conner rubs his forehead and stands, offering his hand to Jason "c'mon let's go home everyone is worried about you especially Mom"

"oh no!!!" Jason exclaimed in guilt, he was so worried about burdening them, he didn't think of how much he worried them "I'm in such deep shit"

Jason takes Conner's hand standing onto his feet with his brother.

"it's alright and cool it down with the cussing kid" Conner said ruffling his hair as Jason snickered.

"thanks Conner" Jason softly said

"what are big brothers for?" he smiled hugging his little brother.

#Bruce Wayne X Wife! Reader #Kryptonian! Reader #conner kent(young justice)#Conner Kent is Conner Wayne #Batfamily #Early adopted Tim Drake #baby damian wayne #Conner Kent #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd didn't die #Jason Todd #near death experience #Doomsday #Death Of Superman #clark kent x lois lane #protective batfamily #Batman #Batmom #Batmom! Reader

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yourimagines · 5 months

Note

Hey again! I loved your content on AngryGinge! I was wondering if you could do fluff content for ArthurTV? If not, it’s completely fine I understand! Thank you! 💕✨

Sorry that this took so long, I officially feel old because I didn’t know who he was 🙈 I’ve done some research on him. (Watching some videos.) I hope you like this one and I’m sorry it’s a shorter one

Podcast

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Gif is not mine

* Triggers: Swearing and fluff

- summary: you have a crush on Arthur

Y/N POV

Arthur asked me if I wanted to join him today on a podcast. A few others where there also like Chip and Calum. “Hey Y/N.” Chip greeted me as I arrived at the studio. “Hi Chip.” We both walked to the rest. Arthur was laughing with Calum. “Oh hey guys.” Arthur smiles at me, smiled shyly back. “You guys ready for today?” Calum asked us all. “Yes always.” Chip said while taking place on the set. “Okay then let’s get started.” Calum walks away to take a seat. Arthur smiles at me. “Let’s join them.” I nodded as we both took a seat. “I’ve never done a podcast.” “Don’t worry, Arthur will help you.” Chip laughs as Arthur pushed Calum. “Oh shut it.” I shyly looked at the microphone as the guys laughed about it.

“So we all seen the new movie talk to me right?” I shook my head. “No I haven’t.” “Why not?! It’s the best horror movie from this year.” Chip said to me. “Because I get scared easily, I don’t want to see a horror movie in the cinema, I wait till I can see it at home.” Calum laughs as Chip shook his head disappointed. “I can’t believe you….” I shrugged my shoulders. “Sorry I guess.” Arthur smiles at me. “We can watch it together then, I haven’t seen it either.” Calum gasped. “No way, come on guys..” “oh shut it Calum. Y/N and I will watch it together and then we come back to this topic again.” Chip starts to whistle, I blushed as Calum wiggled his eyebrows. “Yeah… watching the movie my ass.” Arthur laughs and shook his head. “Of course what else.” Chip made a kissing face. I was red as a tomato and hide my face. “Oh look at her!” Calum yells. “This is so not fair, you guys are making it weird.” I said into the microphone. “We?! Nahh you guys are so oblivious… just go on a date already.” I looked shyly over to Arthur who was smiling at me. “Only if you want” I nodded. “Yes, do you want it?” He nods. “Yeah for awhile to be honest.” I giggled at him. “Okay cool.” Chip and Calum high-fived each other. “Yess we did it again.” Arthur and I laughed at them. “Okay let’s move on…”

—— a few days later ——

“I heard you went on a date with Arthur.” Harry asked me as we were having lunch. “Yes, did you saw that video with chip and Calum.” “Yeah, you where embarrassed…” I nodded and sighed. “Yeah I’m still are.” “Why you like him and he likes you too.” “How do you know that maybe he’s just being nice and didn’t want me to be more embarrassed.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, he does talks a lot about you when you’re not around. He smiles a lot when he sees or mentions you.” “Really?” He nods and took a bite from his food. “Yeah its getting annoying.” I hummed and took a bite from my food.

I was making a video with Harry as he got a call. “It’s Arthur.” I looked surprised as he answers the call. He made a silent movement to me as he puts him on speaker. “Hey Harry.” “Hello mate how’s going.” He smiles at me. “Good, I actually calling you about Y/N.” We both looked at each other. “Oh yeah, what’s about it.” “Well I’ve been on a date with her, was super nice but I don’t know if she wants to go on another one.” I smiled as Harry winked at me. “Ask her out then.” “You think she would love that.” “Mate you both like each other so yeah why not.” He gave me a thumbs up. “Yeah you right. Thanks Harry.” “No problem.” Arthur hangs up as Harry and I laughed. “See he totally likes you.” Then I heard my phone going off. I looked at my phone and saw Arthur’s name. “Oh my god.” “Pick it up your idiot.” I quickly answered the phone, putting him on speaker. “Hi Arthur.” “Hey Y/N, how you’re doing?” “I’m good, how are you.” Harry wiggled his eyebrows. “Good.. I was wondering if you want to go out on a second date.” I smiled brightly to my phone. “Yes I would love too.” “Really?! Uhh okay is tomorrow night fine with you?” “Yes that would be lovely.” “Okay cool. I’ll text you for the actual time… I see ya tomorrow then.” “Yes I see you tomorrow.” “Okay bye..” “bye…” he hung up and I did a happy dance. Harry laughs and joins me. “Oh my good Harry, I’m so nervous.” “Why you heard him he likes you, don’t chicken out now.” “I’m not just nervous about this.” I signalled with my hands around us. “It will be alright, you guys are totally in love, it’s makes me almost sick tho.” I pushed his arm. “Don’t be mean now.” “Hey I’m just saying..” we both laughed about it and started the video again.

—— date night ——

We where at a mini golf arcade. Arthur was winning the game. “Ugh not fair.” He laughs as my ball missed the hole. “It’s okay, you did your best.” He patted on my shoulder as I throw the ball in. “I’m hungry let’s eat something.” He nods and grabbed the golf stick. “Let me carry these to the counter.” I smiled and gave it to him. He walks over and gives them to the young girl behind the counter. She smiles and checks him out. ‘The disrespect of her.’ He waves and walks over to me. “Okay done, let’s eat something now.” We both walked next to each other to the food court. Our hands brushing slightly against each other’s. I got a light blush on my cheeks as we walked in.

“So favourite game.” I started to think. “Favourite game, I think at the moment party animals..” he nods. “Yeah that’s a fun one.” “What about you?” “Uhh I don’t know, I like a lot to be honest.” I nodded and took a sip from my drink. “I hope we can do this more often..” he looked at me with his beautiful smile on his face. I started to get shy and smiled. “I hope so too.” He carefully grabs my hand. “I like you for a while now, I hope you feel the same about me.” “Yes I do..” he squeezed my hand slightly. “I hate it that they were right about us, imagine all the bullying.” I groaned. “Oh yes especially from Chip and Calum.” We both laughed. “I hate them already.” “Yes me too, I can see the looks on their faces already.” He laughs and nods. “We need to protect each other from them, I have your back if your have mine.” “Don’t worry Arthur I have your back 100%.” He pulls my hand to his face and slightly kissed it. “Thank you..” I blushed at him. “No problem.” We both sat there for a few more minutes. Smiling at each other as two crazy love birds who just confessed their feelings.

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anonymooseforever007 · 1 year

Text

The Proposal

(Technically Pre!Luca Changretta x female Shelby reader)

Summery: Despite the assumption of many others Thomas Shelby didn't like unnecessary bloodshed and neither did Luca Changretta. So before a full out gang war could begin, they came up with a plan to make peace between the families.....And obviously the best plan they could come up with was an arranged marriage. And even more obviously not everyone one was pleased....namely the bride.

A/N: Hi Y'all! No trigger warnings other than usually Peaky Language and discussion of arranged marriage. Y/N is furious. Luca isn't in this one but he's technically the groom so....I wrote this purely to prequel another part I'm still writing! Also this is technically S4ish but it breaks away from cannon and is my idea of how a Shelby sister may react if Tommy tried to marry her off to prevent the vendetta! Enjoy❤️!

WC- 1.5k

Main Masterlist Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You walked into the Shelby Company Limited, waving and exchanging happy greetings with those who offered them. Lizzie looked at you as you approached her desk.

"Hi Lizzie! How have you been today? I absolutely love your dress today, the color is brilliant! You wouldn't happen to know if my brothers are in would you?"

Lizzie smiled, "Hello Y/N. Thanks, I got it at this new shop. I can give you the address of the store later if you'd like. I've been alright, your brothers are planning something though. Been in since this morning I've got no clue what it is though."

"Ohh that would be perfect! Thanks. It was, as always, nice seeing you," you nodded pleasantly to your friend as you started to move to the private office. "Oh and Lizzie? I'm sorry about the noise,"

"Wha..."

"THOMAS MICHAEL SHELBY!!! I WILL STRIP YOUR FUCKING BALLS AND USE THEM AS SKIPPING STONES!!"

The entire betting shop went deathly silent as the you stormed in, heading straight into your brother's office. Slamming the door behind, you ignored everyone else in the room and went directly for your target, grabbing him by his collar to bring his face closer to your attacking fist.

Unfortunately you, and luckily for him, Arthur and John had just barely managed to grab you by the waist and drag you back a few steps before your fist could make contact. Unluckily for them, you turned your wrath another way, practically jumping in the air to land a foot of yours on each of theirs, before dragging them both forward so their heads collided with a hard thud. Both men groaned while you made another break for your older brother. This time he was expecting it and grabbed you in a hold that would be harder to escape. Your hands were trapped between your two bodies and Tommy had one arm around your back, preventing you from pulling back. He'd even managed to wrap one on his legs tightly around the back of yours to prevent any attacks aimed in "softer areas". If someone hadn't heard your words previously, it may have even looked like he was hugging you. And not just that, but hugging the way Charlie liked to do whenever you saw him, wrapped as tightly around you as possibly, keeping you from moving away. And while you absolutely adored such cuddles with your young nephew, this was most certainly not like those times.

The entire company seemed to be frozen in silence waiting for what would happen next. Those outside the office listened for the sounds of more yelling of even the possible shot of a gun. And those in the office looked on at the brother and sister locked tensely together, seeming to have a ferocious conversation without a single word. The furious glare you were giving Tommy would make any man question himself, but your brother only met your glare with an equally strong stare of his own.

Then with an annoyed sigh you finally relaxed in your brother's arms. You looked at your captor with a raised eyebrow signalling to him that this is the part where he lets you go. Tightening his grip slightly, Tommy raised an eyebrow of his own.

"Are you done?"

".....Yes."

"Really?"

".....Yes."

"You're not gonna shout anymore?"

"....Yes."

"You won't punch me?"

".....Yes."

"You gonna apologize to John and Arthur?"

"No."

"Alright," he concluded, finally relaxing enough to let you step back from his grip.

...

You lied...

It was mere seconds later when Tommy's head was turned to the side with an echoing smack. His glasses cracked when they hit the other side of the room. You started to bat your hands at any brother trying to approach you.

"How fucking dare you!!! FIRST of all: sending Finn, FUCKING FINN, OUR BABY BROTHER, MY FINN to tell me because you don't have the balls to do it yourself! I was so worried when he came looking like he was going to throw up, you fucking bastards!! I thought he was hurt or someone died because he was so FUCKING anxious. But NO! He thought that I was going to STOP LOVING HIM because he was the one who had to tell me about your little WEDDING PLAN! DING DONG RING THE FUCKING WEDDING BELLS," you spat venomously, thinking of the absolutely miserable look on your youngest brother's face as he came to see you only an hour ago. Apparently, your other brothers thought if he was the only to break the news of your impending engagement you'd take it willingly, maybe even happily if it came from your favorite sibling. And to be fair, from him you had. You knew it wasn't his idea and given the fact he honesty looked like he was going to cry possibly, thinking you'd hate him forever because of his message. Like it was him who signed your death warrant. No, for Finn and only him you'd taken the news calmly, telling him it was alright and you'd didn't hate him. Reassuring him once again you loved him, and that he could come to you for anything at all anytime and that you also wanted him home by midnight; you'd left him with a tight hug, quick kiss on the side of his head, and some money to take the sweet girl he'd been talking with to the movies....

Then you set out for your older brothers....

Now here you were, giving them your real opinions which they hoped Finn would soften the brute of.

"AND on that note! Who THE FUCK are you? THINKING YOU THINK YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING RIGHT TO MARRY ME OFF FOR YOUR LITTLE PISSING PARTY," your volume increasing as you raged, while dodging around your brothers to climb on Tommy's' desk so you could yell at them without being cut off as easily. "JUST BECAUSE YOUR LITTLE BIRD BRAINS ONLY UNDERSTANDS PLANS INVOLVING FIGHTING AND FUCKING DOESN'T MEAN THEY'RE WHAT YOU SHOULD USE!!," John yelped as you stomped on his hand trying to grab your ankle to pull you off the desk. "I!! I WILL NOT BE USED IN ONE OF YOUR SHITTY LITTLE SCHEMES TO MAKE PEACE BECAUSE YOU MEN FUCKED SOMETHING UP AGAIN!! DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME! I AM NOT SOME BARGAINING CHIP TO BE BET IN YOUR GAMBLING GAME," you kicked Tommy's stapler backwards towards Arthur's head as he tried to grab you from behind. "I WILL WORK WHERE I WANT. I WILL LIVE WHERE I WANT. MEET WHO I WANT. FIGHT WHO I WANT. AND FUCK WHO I WANT!! DO YOU YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND?!"

Again the room was silent as you and Tommy stared at each other. You from on top of his desk holding his empty whiskey glass, ready to throw, and him right in front, a bright red handprint blooming in his pale skin. Tommy opened his mouth to speak and you opened yours, still angry and ready to refute whatever he said. But then Tommy raised his arms in peace and took a few steps back slowly, keeping his eyes on yours in a show of surrender.

"Alright. Alright Y/N we've heard what you have to say..."

"Don't fucking patronize me Tommy. I'm not a fucking horse you can calm or sell on a whim," you refuted, sighing as the fight finally left you. You were still furious yes, but you were tired of yelling. It wasn't something you did often and even now you were really only doing it to keep yourself from hitting your brother again. He couldn't listen to you if he was unconscious. Still moving forward with his arms slightly raised Tommy tried again.

"Alright," Tommy repeated raising one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose like he did when he was stressed. Sure he expected you to be mad, you had even been pissed when he arranged John's marriage with Esme, and you adored the women as much if not more than John himself did. He knew your feelings on marrying for Love and not business and to be fair he didn't disagree. And even if it made him slightly sick to think of having to do this, a pact bound with marriage was the only was Luca would agree to reconsider the black hands.

'A bond thorough blood bound or blood spilled' those were his words.

"I get you're angry Y/N. And I'm sorry it had to be this way," Tommy spoke firmly but vaguely, and there was almost a slight pleading there, ask if he was asking you to let it go just this once. As if he was asking you to grab his jacket instead of tie yourself to a man you'd never met. "But you don't understand the situation we're in." Tommy moved to grab one of the papers you'd knocked off the desk in your ranting. He reached up to hand it to and you grabbed it before staring at it for a moment processing what was before you. And for some reason you couldn't explain but that paper was all it took for your anger to return full force. Who at kind of death threat even was this?

"YOU EXPECT ME TO GET MARRIED TO A STRANGER BECAUSE OF A FUCKING FINGER PAINTING?!"

....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2

Main Masterlist

#Peaky Blinders #Peaky blinders imagine #luca changretta #luca changretta x reader #luca changretta imagine #peaky blinders x reader #shelby!reader #shelby!sister

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margowritesthings · 1 year

Text

The Greatest Gift A Cowgirl Could Ask For

a @rdrevents Valentines gift exchange for @cowboydisaster

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader word count: 4,400 words warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit language, sexual themes, vaginal sex, mentions of death, unprotected sex, throwing up (TW EMETOPHOBIA), very brief mention of SA in the past, unexpected pregnancy, mentions of Micah Bell a/n: am I britney spears in her 2000 grammy award winning song??? because oops, i did it again. i don't know how I managed to get Bea as my recipient for a SECOND time, but it only felt right to carry on building this universe I've made for her and lying to her about it all week. Whoops.

Bea, my beloved, Happy Valentines Day. You deserve the world and Im so glad I could dedicate this fic to you. Honestly I probably couldn't have gotten the motivation to get back on my feet and write again if it wasn't for you. Thanks for everything you do bby and I hope this lives up to your 'if by some miracle you get me for your gift exchange disregard my prompts and write a TGG prequel' (yes she actually said that) idea. Love you lots xxx

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @luvliewriting @mrsarthurmorgan7 @photo1030 @snobbybastard

My Darling Wife,

I’m writing to you from up near Tempest Rim. I’ve tracked this bounty all over the goddamn Grizzlies and I’m ready to come home to you. I miss you so much and I’m real sorry I can’t be home in time for St. Valentines. Hopefully I can catch this bastard soon and make it up to ya. We’ll go to the theatre and sit right at the back, how’s that sound? I’ll move heaven and Earth to be beside you soon, you know I will.

I can’t wait to see you, sweetheart. I’ll be there as fast as I can be with enough money to take you out on the town. Won’t be long, I promise.

All my love, Arthur

Your finger runs over his looped script, over and over as if it will somehow will your husband out of the crumpled paper and into your bed. It’s been 2 months since the letter arrived, 2 months of the agony of not knowing if he’s dead or alive robbing you of sleep each and every night. You miss him, more than you could ever imagine one person could miss another and you honestly don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t come home.

It’s a 600 dollar bounty, it’s sure to be a tough job you constantly reassure yourself, unable to focus on anything but the absence of half of your very soul in every waking moment.

The day he comes home starts like any other. Time's arrow marches on, the sun rises and sets over your makeshift family as they work and plan and rob and hunt. You busy yourself planning a job with Karen, cushioned into your schedule between menial tasks so that it’s just that bit easier to not think about him. As usual, your efforts are in vain, but at least the chores are done, your steed Diesel is happy, and, all being well, you and Karen will have about 30 dollars to split between you when the week is out.

An hour before he comes home, everyone retires to bed, save for John (who’s on watch tonight) and you’re left alone by the campfire. It crackles and pops, embers swirling the air around you. It feels like you stare at the twisting flames until your eyes blur and burn and you can’t tell which are tears of irritation to your senses and which are your heart breaking once more.

Moments before you’re reunited with the second half of your heart, you hear John yelling. It’s instinct that drives your hand into your holster, still resting against your hip despite the late hour, and you perk up like a startled deer, straining to decipher Marston’s words.

“Who is it?!” “Arthur, you dumbass!”

Arthur.

Arthur?

“Arthur?!” It’s a breathless shout, barely heard over the rushing blood in your ears as your feet take you to your husband before your mind can even fathom that he’s here.

But sure enough, when you reach the edge of camp, heart racing, you see Arthur Morgan riding his chestnut mare straight towards you, spurring her into a gallop as soon as he lays his eye on his waiting wife. Marston probably makes some remark about who ‘decided to show up’, but to you, there is nothing but you and Arthur, two magnets parted by an unnatural force finally reaching each other again with a deafening crash.

And it is. A crash, that is, when Arthur all but throws himself off his saddle and your bodies collide, great big arms wrapping around your frame. It is then that the tears fall down your cheek, soaking into Arthur’s coat that smells so much like him it truly feels like a dream.

You thought he was dead.

Only when you’re safely in his arms, when he’s pressing frantic kisses to your head, whispering your name over and over into your hair do you allow yourself to admit that fact. You thought he was never coming back, and yet here he is. Words fail you, the overwhelming emotion settling right in your throat.

“Oh, god… oh, darlin’ I-I missed you so much…”

You feel two large hands cup your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss that holds everything and anything the past 3 months could have been had you not spent it apart. But everything fits back into place, the world starts spinning again and you’re whole the second Arthur Morgan’s lips meet yours. It lasts a lifetime, it lasts a fraction of a second. You want to stop time, keep Arthur in your arms forever and never again have to go through the torture of being away from each other. The two of you only part to throw near identical scowls at John, who is amusing himself by telling you to get a room.

Unfortunately, as Ms. Grimshaw so often reminds you all, the Van der Linde Camp is not a hotel, so tonight you will not be afforded the luxury of a private suite as John so kindly suggested. There is only your tent, hitched against the gang’s weapons wagon, the old canvas pulled around to offer a little privacy when you and Arthur first started… well, needing the seclusion.

Calloused fingers intertwine with your own digits, Arthur’s other hand flipping John off before his weight pulls you towards your little corner of camp. There's so much purpose in his stride, the need to have you all to himself, not even share you with the lord above or wildlife below, driving him forward. Driving him home.

When you’re finally, truly alone, the tears welling in your eyes glistening in the candlelight, no words are needed. Soon enough, you’ll talk for hours on end, catching each other up on every little detail of the last few months. But for now, all that there is and all that could matter is right this very second, when Arthur reaches for you, brushing a thumb over the tear tracks on your left cheek. His eyes, looking almost emerald in the dark of night, roam over each and every detail of you with such an intensity in him that you think he’s trying to remember this moment for the rest of time. You’re sure it’s one you could never possibly forget.

Arthur snakes both arms around your waist, guiding you backwards until the backs of your knees gently hit the cot and you lay back onto it. He covers the full length of you and then some, making you feel so fragile and small. It’s nice to feel breakable for once, to let go of the need to be the strongest in the room, lest you be ridiculed for being too sensitive or too weak or too womanly. Arthur knows just how strong you are, you need to prove nothing to him, so you can submit to his embrace, allow yourself to just breathe for once knowing you can break and there’s re will always be somebody to put you back together.

He lowers himself to your lips, pressing a kiss to them that doesn’t last nearly long enough. Arthur then kisses your nose, then your cheeks and chin, before trailing down to the crook of your neck. Your skin feels as though it’s on fire, so starved for the man you cannot live without that now he’s finally here everything feels that much more intense. The tiniest scrape of Arthur’s teeth against your flesh shoots through every single nerve in your body and you moan right into his ear. You can actually feel him harden against your thigh at the sweet melody of your pleasure.

Pushing Arthur’s hat off to the side, your fingers rake through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp encouragingly as he nibbles at your skin.

“Oh, Arthur… Oh, I missed you so much…” You breathlessly whisper, feeling your heart skip a beat when he pauses his movements to glance at you from under impossibly long eyelashes, jade green eyes glistening up at you.

“I missed you too, sweetheart. So so much.” His voice is soft, as if he’s handling the peacefulness around you so delicately and it causes the overwhelming emotion to well in your chest and choke up your throat. Arthur sees this, trying not to be too taken with his own surprising amount of emotion himself, and relieves you of your job of a response by directing his attention to the buttons of your shirt. You don’t remember him pushing your jacket off your shoulders, but there it lies on the floor beside the entrance to your tent, so he must have.

Despite the juxtaposition of such dainty buttonholes and such large fingers, Arthur expertly undresses your top half until you’re bare to him. He takes no time at all to take one of your nipples into his mouth, kissing and sucking at it with a hunger you feel right in your toes. You moan loudly, unable to stop yourself after yearning for this very feeling for so long.

Arthur coos and shushes you and it vibrates across your skin, not helping you stay quiet in the slightest. The hand not tugging on his dirty blonde locks reaches between your two longing bodies to begin to unbuckle his belt. You can feel your own heartbeat throbbing between your legs, your coil growing tighter and tighter by the second. It’s been almost 3 months since your bodies have joined like this, and yet you’re not sure you can wait another minute.

You’re purring for Arthur, twitching and grinding as your hand fumbles desperately at the belt. His absence from your skin is agony the second he pulls his hips back to sit up straight. Spotting your downright bratty expression, bottom lip protruding in a pout, Arthur chuckles lowly, “Patience, baby… I gotta get these damn clothes off us.” He gestures to his belt, still very much buckled around his waist. Definitely not your fault. He was being far too distracting.

He’s quick, you’ll give him that, shedding his clothes without taking his eyes off you. You burn under his stare, even more so when he crawls back on top of you to slide your boots off one by one and peel your pants and undergarments down your legs.

The heat radiates off his huge body, his cock pulsing with need. The way he’s putting his weight into his arms to stop from crushing you with his weight adds a definition to his already beautifully sculpted body. Reaching down, you brush the tip of your finger oh so gently over his rosy head, finding a bead of cum already leaking, and you snap. You can’t wait a second longer, scratching and gripping at him like he’s the air you need to breathe.

“Please, Arthur, please I need you. S-So long, it’s been so long-” “Shh, I know, princess, I know. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Gonna take care of your pretty little cunt, I promise.” He soothes you, though his own voice is shaky from the very effort of restraining himself, maintaining his control to not drive into you and ruin you. While he whispers to you, he lines himself up at your entrance and you quiver in anticipation.

In all your years before you met Arthur, you never really saw sex as anything but something to give, or worse, something to be taken from you. You never truly understood, not until you met Arthur, who taught you it’s something to share, to experience. With Arthur, it’s different. It is connection and pleasure and it’s wonderful and god damn it, it’s addictive. So when Arthur slides into you, letting out a visceral, guttural groan as he does, everything is right in the world.

You feel so full, especially when Arthur pushes all the way to the hilt, connecting you completely at the pelvis. The moan that escapes your lips is downright obscene and Arthur crashes down into your mouth to swallow it.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s been so long, or the emotion of it all, but you swear you can feel everything. Every vein and ridge, every twitch and movement of his perfect cock as Arthur slowly starts to move in and out of you.

“Fuck… s-so good, darlin. So tight- y’feel so fucking good, princess…”

You’ve never hurtled so close towards a climax so quickly in your life. His torturously slow, deep thrusts drag into your sweet spot every fucking time and trying to hold back brings a blur into your vision. Your own hips grind against his, Arthur gripping into your flesh to guide you perfectly in time with him.

“I-I’m so close already, Arthur… fuck…” You breathe out, your breath tickling Arthur’s ear and sending a visible shudder down his spine. He looks proud at your admission.

“You missed me that much, huh? Gonna cum for me already, darlin’?”

He gives you no time to respond, pressing a thumb to your clit and rubbing in time with everything else. You implode, pulling Arthur down to catch the scream you’re about to wake everybody up with. It has never felt so intense, and with every thrust Arthur fucks into you it only grows and grows, shattering you to pieces for Arthur to fix back together again.

When you return, a rhythmic thudding in your ears, the first thing you see is Arthur, of course. His jaw is fluttering madly, a bead of sweat clinging to his forehead but the candlelight makes him look ethereal. You still can’t believe he’s here, alive.

Tears start to glisten in your eyes. You’ve never cried during sex before, not for anything positive, at least, but somehow this doesn’t feel wrong. Arthur slows again, watching you, and you spot an extra shine to his own jade orbs. He knows. He feels it too.

He’s right there with you. As he always is.

He brushes a piece of hair stuck to your forehead away, and the gesture is enough to send the tears falling down the same worn path on your cheeks as before.

“I love you, Mr. Morgan…” “I love you, Mrs. Morgan…”

It seems to become too much for Arthur to stay still, and you’re glad for it. You’re desperate for the friction, already flying towards another orgasm. He’s really fucking into you this time, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. He’s groaning and growling and you decide in that moment that it’s your favourite sound in all the world.

“I… I ain’t gonna last much longer, baby…”

“C-Cum in me…” “Huh?” He slows, shuddering at the exertion required to control his movements, “I-”

But you’re not listening to his protests, your nails digging into the skin of his back and ass and anywhere else you can reach to urge him forwards again.

“Please Arthur, I-I need you… I need you to cum with me, I need you with me…” you plead with him, not truly understanding your need but honouring it. You’ve been without him for so long, you deserve him with you now.

He appears to consider you for just a moment, before diving down to lock your lips with his. His tongue delves into your mouth, tasting every bit of you and he starts to pump into you unreservedly. His body grinds against yours and the friction is perfect and you’re so fucking full and before you can even try to hold back, you’re cumming again, stars scattering your vision, heart pounding out of your chest to find release from it’s mortal, physical cage. Your inner walls twitch around Arthur’s length and this time, he doesn’t hold back either.

His eyes fly open and lock onto yours as you both climax together. It’s vulnerable and strange, but perhaps more connected than you ever thought possible for two people to be.

Arthur’s cock twitches inside you, pumping out his spend as he groans viscerally, completely losing control of his rhythm as he thrusts into you one last time, harsh and deep. You’ve never experienced this before, with Arthur or any other man, normally erring on the side of caution when it came to such matters, but even as you come down you can’t bring yourself to regret it. Whatever you and Arthur just experienced together felt spiritual, and worth much more than a little risk.

Arthur collapses, even as depleted as he is still considerate enough to collapse onto his elbows and not crush you. He slides out of you, earning a little wince, and rolls to the side so you can rest your head on his chest. It’s like a locket that’s been ripped apart, finally fixed together with the most satisfying click.

═══════☆═══════

Two months later, life has returned to its equilibrium. You and Arthur are perhaps clingier, still in a sort of second honeymoon phase where you just can’t seem to keep your hands off each other, more so than usual. It’s a side effect of prolonged solitude, you’re sure.

The first time it happens, you blame Pearson and think nothing of it. It’s pretty early in the morning and you’re sitting with Tilly and Abigail, peeling potatoes for the stew tonight. Abigail is venting her frustrations about when John did this and John said that, and everything feels so normal. Pearson arrives, throwing a rather large, rather dead fish onto the table you’re leaning against and you feel the thud from the weight of it vibrate against your back.

It isn’t until the smell invades your senses that everything starts to feel off. It smells exactly like all the other fish Pearson has ever slammed onto that poor table, which doesn’t explain why you immediately lurch forwards, grabbing an empty bucket and throwing up your breakfast. The fish stench is suffocating and all you can do is get the hell away from it, not noticing when Abigail’s brows knit together almost… knowingly?

You skip the stew that night.

―

The second time it happens, you try not to think about it. You’re riding Diesel and almost don’t make it off him in time. There is nothing to set you off, no horse shit or rotting animal at the side of the road, and yet in an instant your stomach feels like it has been flipped upside down.

The sheer volume of your retching catches Arthur’s attention and he tugs on the leather reins in his hands to steady his mare.

“Darlin’? Y’alright?”

His concern is evident in his tone and in the tight line between his brows, which deepens when he finds you unable to respond in anything but a frantic nod. He dismounts, spurs clicking against the dusty ground when he approaches you.

“Oh, sweetheart… that’s it, easy, easy… you’re okay…”

You feel gentle circles rubbed into the tense muscles of your back as you try to get through this again. It’s not lost on you that Arthur is speaking to you like a spooked horse, but it actually really does help. (You decide to prioritise peace of mind and not psychoanalyse why that is). Eventually, it relents and you regain your composure, albeit somewhat less gracefully than you’d have liked.

“Sorry… I don’t know what’s gotten into me, maybe I ate somethin’.”

Your apology for something you can’t help earns you a sad smile from your husband, who places a loving kiss on the top of your head before reaching for your discarded hat and putting it back on for you.

“Y’don’t gotta apologise. I gotcha, darlin’.”

You know he does.

He always does.

―

The third time it happens, the luxury of denial is stolen from you. It’s early enough that your view while you sit with Abigail drinking coffee involves glorious hues of orange and pink scattered around the rising sun. It’s peaceful, tranquil. The warmth of the little metal mug in your hands and Arthur’s jacket around your shoulders is enough to ward off the fresh morning chill in the air.

There is absolutely no warning when it hits, when it happens again. You’re so goddamn sick (no pun intended) of hurling. Your eyes water and your throat hurts a little and you curse under your breath when it’s over. Abi is beside you, rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you. She waits until it’s over before speaking hesitantly.

“Uh, can I ask you somethin’?”

You nod, eyes still red and glistening as you swirl coffee around your mouth to take away from the awful, acidic taste lingering.

“When did you last bleed?”

“What, like an injury? Uh, I cut my hand couple days back, but I don’t see what-“

… Oh fuck.

═══════☆═══════

The anxiety bounces around your body and you decide that you’ve become far too acquainted with the concept of nausea. You can actually tell the difference between nerves twisting your stomach and… well, let’s say it as it is: morning sickness. This is the former, you deduce, spinning both your engagement and wedding ring around your finger to give your hands something better to do than carve fingernail-shaped moons into your palm. He should be home any minute now. Any minute now and it will all change forever.

It’s quite late, but the poker game Arthur was scoping out for potential jobs is known to last a while. You’re the only one still awake, poking the embers of the campfire to keep yourself as comfortable as possible.

You hear hooves hitting dry dirt first, and it seems to trigger your fight or flight response. God, you’d love to run away from this, but that is pretty much impossible, so fight it is. It’ll be the greatest fight of your life, you’ll soon learn, one you’re privileged to be a part of. But right now, it feels like an all-consuming unknown.

Arthur can tell something is wrong the second he sees you. You’re terrible at hiding things, especially from him. He always reads you as though you have a poster advertising your feelings printed on your forehead. Arthur dismounts, kissing you tenderly on the temple and wrapping his arms around you.

“What’re you still doin’ up, darlin’? Is everything alright?” You can feel his worry vibrating in his chest as you nuzzle into his embrace.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just… Can we talk? I kept the fire goin’.” You say it into his shirt, reluctant to move from this hold.

“Of course…” there’s something in his voice, a tense apprehension that really doesn’t help the knot contorting itself in your gut.

While you’re more than capable of keeping a fire going, Arthur is an expert, and has it healthily burning within seconds of you sitting down on the overturned log the gang has fashioned into a bench. You’re back to spinning your beautiful gold bands around your finger, trying to remember to breathe in and out every so often.

“What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?” His voice is so soft, so kind that it makes you want to cry. But you promised yourself you wouldn’t until you’d told him, because this might just be the most important conversation you’ve ever had, and you definitely won’t get through it if you’re a blubbering mess.

“I, uh… I… somethin’s happened.”

You hear his breath hitch in his throat and Arthur leans towards you, completely enveloping your hands in his. They’re sandwiched in now and you can’t fiddle with your rings anymore.

“What? What happened? Was it Micah? If he’s said somethin’ to you, I’ll kill him, the rat bastard-”

“No, no, it’s… as much as I’d love to see that, it’s not him.”

The tension releases. Just a little bit.

“I’m pregnant.”

Oh wait, there it is.

The silence is deafening, even though you’re almost certain it isn’t actually silent out here right now. There's a fire going and crickets are just metres away, you’re just shutting down with nerves.

The normally so often tense, fluttering jaw of Arthur Morgan is slack, his eyes wide and gaping at you, occasionally flicking down to your so far bump-less belly. (You should know- you’ve been obsessively looking in a mirror any chance you get for some sort of sign that this is really happening).

Say something. Please say something. Please don’t be angry. Oh, God please don’t hate me.

“I-I… You’re pregnant?” He repeats, reassuring you that you haven’t actually gone deaf, though his tone holds no indication of anything but shock. That’s probably fair…

You nod, hands instinctively reaching over your belly. It feels… weird. Holding your hands over your baby. Yours and Arthur’s baby.

“It happened a couple months back, when you got back from The Grizzlies, I think… I-I’m sorry, Arthur. I shoulda’ been more careful and-and…” You’re rambling, filling a silence that probably should just be allowed to be a silence.

“There… There’s gonna be a baby?”

There. Right there, adorning Arthur’s beautiful features, is the pull of a smile. It chokes you up instantly, so far deep in nightmares of arguments and unhappiness that you hadn’t even considered the good. You start to nod, a little bit of your fringe falling in your face.

“Yeah… There’s gonna be a baby. Our baby…”

“Our baby…” He repeats, his arm raising to brush the hair away from your eyes in such a natural manner it feels like it’s just his instinct to care for you. It is his instinct to care for you, Arthur has shown you that in every minute of every day of your marriage, and suddenly you’re not sure why you’ve been so scared.

“I’m gonna be a dad?” He still seems in disbelief, but that’s normal. It’s taken you a few days to come to terms with it, and even then the fingernail marks in your palms are still red raw.

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

It hits him. Really hits him and he all but throws himself into you, scooping you up and spinning you around as he laughs unreservedly.

“Well goddamn, I’m gonna be a Daddy!”

You laugh with him, worries and anxiety a distant memory as your feet swing around in the air. You’re probably waking the camp up, but you don’t care all that much. Right now, you’re the happiest girl in the world.

A baby. There’s gonna be a baby. Arthur’s baby.

Really, it’s the greatest gift a cowgirl could ask for.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x y/n #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redepmtion 2 #arthur morgan rdr #rdr2 arthur #rdr valentines change

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zablife · 9 months

Text

Birthday Gift

John Shelby x Y/N Solomons

Summary: John celebrates his birthday with his bestie, but things don't go to plan.

Author's Note: Part of my Partners in Crime series about John and his problematic bestie Y/N Solomons. Ty to @dreamlandcreations for this idea!

Warnings: language, drinking

“Where have you been? Party started at eight. It’s gone ten,” John stated as he saw the top of your head weaving through the crowd gathered at the Garrison to celebrate his birthday.

“Take a butchers at this, you ungrateful arse!” you shouted above the din of the crowd. As the people standing in front of you parted to make way for the enormous tray you carried, John was finally able to see you head on, noticing something that vaguely resembled a triple layer chocolate cake. However, it was so unstable, it teetered precariously in your small hands and John’s eyes widened as it swayed before him.

“Would you Adam and Eve it?” you said with a wide grin, your pride swelling as you offered your gift.

“I can, it looks bloody awful!” he said with a boisterous laugh, fueled by the drinks he’d consumed in the hours before your arrival.

Arthur turned from the bar and poked his head over John’s shoulder, knitting his brows together and squinting his eyes which swam in their sockets from his own indulgement as he asked, “What’s this, eh?”

“You having a bubble? What the bloody hell do you think it is?” you asked, incredulously.

“Looks like a pile of dog shit,” Arthur mumbled into John’s ear, making them both erupt into drunken laughter, whisky splashing onto the floor as John gripped his brother’s arm to keep from falling over.

You stamped your foot and pursed your lips together, unamused by their buffoonery. “I spent five fucking hours on this!” you huffed, blowing hair out of your face from the corner of your mouth as both hands were occupied. Looking down at the increasingly heavy monstrosity you held and back up at your friend you wondered why you had bothered when this was the thanks you received. “Bloody shame is what it is,” you whined.

“That you dropped it?” John asked, voice dipping into a low and serious register all of a sudden. He scratched his ear, considering how the pathetic looking confection seemed to have fallen from a great height and been crammed back together hastily with fistfuls of icing. He waited anxiously for you to explain as your face grew ten shades of red.

“Dr-dropped it?” you stuttered, temper rising in your throat as you thought of all the time you’d spent in Alfie’s kitchen, covered in flour, pressed up against his disgusting, foul smelling workmen. Your hands were still cramped from holding the icing bag used to decorate it in tiny rosettes the way you’d been shown. It might not be the most beautiful creation you’d ever seen, but you were still quite proud of it.

“Yea…cos it’s leanin’, see?” John pointed as he cocked his head to to the side, attempting to view the cake as it might appear right side up. “And this whole side is pretty much….well, it’s gone, love,” he commented, gesturing toward the left top tier which was missing a large chunk. Your mouth hung open in speechless horror as you realized it had fallen off somewhere along the way, probably food for the rats in the streets by now.

At that moment, Finn walked up, studying you and the unfortunate mess you held in your hands. “Y/n! Is that food? I’m starving!” he drunkenly yelled, lunging for the cake.

Before he made it to you, Isaiah pulled him back by the elbow warning, “Careful, mate. Probably came out Alfie’s bins by the look of it.” Then turning to you with a cheeky grin, he asked “Is that why they call you alley cat, darlin’? That lovely little tail of yours been digging through the rubbish for scraps? Hope it’s not poisoned!” he chuckled.

“Alright, that’s enough!” John intervened, straightening himself. It was alright for him to make jokes, but he wouldn’t allow anyone else to wound your pride. “It might look a bit dodgy, but I’m sure it tastes…well, better than it looks,” he gulped, eyeing you and the cake wearily, knowing he’d have to try it now.

You felt the tips of your ears burning as your rage boiled over, vocal chords thrumming as you screamed, “Would you stop rabbiting on about the bloody give and take!” Tears formed in the corners of your eyes, mostly due to exhaustion.

Finn stood motionless, glancing at John in panic. He shuffled forward, placing a hand on your shoulder as he assured you in a meek voice, “I can’t wait to try it.” He gave you a weak smile before stepping away, deathly afraid of the murderous glint in your eye.

“What are you drinking, alley cat?” John asked, attempting to appease you.

“Drop of needle and pin,” you answered, allowing the distraction as you looked around for a place to rest the cake.

As he rejoined the conversation, Arthur asked in confusion, “She gonna sew the fucking thing back together?”, a hiss escaping from between his teeth as he found amusement in his own joke.

“You’re brown bread, you hear me?” you threatened, gritting your teeth together tightly. You’d had nearly all you could take of relentless taunts for one night.

“So long as you ain’t the one bakin' it, sweetheart,” he replied with a wicked grin, raising his glass in a sarcastic toast.

That was all it took for you to snap, fingers raising the edges of the hefty tray as you grunted under the weight.

“Oh, fuck!” Finn called out, but you were already launching the cake through the air toward Arthur. Even in his state of inebriation, the tall, lanky man managed to duck the flying pastry, his boxing reflexes serving him well.

However, the cake found an unanticipated target as John turned from the bar at that moment with your gin in one hand and a fresh pint of beer in the other. Unable to defend himself, the confection hit him squarely in the face, the weight of it nearly bowling him over in the process. The drinks sloshed out toward you, soaking your new dress in alcohol and you gasped at the feeling of cool liquid running down your cleavage. The room seemed to quiet for a few seconds afterward as John turned to place the empty glasses on the bar and wiped his face with a handkerchief.

“Y/n?” he called out to you through a mouthful of icing. You didn’t reply, frozen in place with your hands to your face in genuine shock over your outburst. Then the laughter began, a silent shudder against your ribs at first as you attempted to hold it in and then an undignified snort as your amusement grew for the entire pub to hear.

“You fucking laughing at my brother?” Arthur asked, picking up a handful of sponge and tossing it at your dress, ruining it further.

“You prick!” you yelled and grabbed a handful yourself, attempting to hit Arthur in the face. However, you missed and pummeled his chest, smearing his new tie with hideous brown streaks. As his face contorted in anger, Finn attempted to pull you away, but Arthur was already charging at you with the ferocity of a bull. Although John tried to hold him back, he only succeeded in slipping and sliding in the chocolate icing with his brother, landing on the hard wood floor with a thud.

Soon everyone was covered in unappetizing shades of brown, a sickeningly sweet smell permeating your nostrils as you threw chunks of cake at one another. You took pleasure smooshing a large portion into Isaiah’s face as you asked, “Enjoying the rubbish, darling?” And you couldn’t stop giggling as you noticed an overly intoxicated Finn licking his fingers greedily behind a chair. At least someone is enjoying my efforts, you thought.

The shouting had long since turned to peels of laughter as the fight devolved into happy chaos. Even Arthur began to smile, until a distant voice began yelling over the crowd in sharp authority.

“Oi! What the fuck is going on?” Your head snapped up to see Tommy standing over all you. He watched you rolling in what looked to be mud as he picked at the bottom of one of his pristine leather shoes with disgust.

“Tommy, I thought you were in London tonight,” John coughed out, attempting to shake crumbs from his hands. His face looked like that of a naughty child and he quickly averted his eyes, ashamed of his untidy appearance in contrast to his brother’s spotless three piece suit.

“We was celebrating John boy’s birthday,” Arthur added, attempting to stand, shoes skittering to one side as he clutched for the edge of the bar to remain upright. As he tried to smooth his hair back, you hiccuped out a little laugh.

“Y/n Solomons, might have known you’d be here,” Tommy mumbled through clenched jaw, disapproval evident, before announcing, “Everyone out of my fucking pub!” Chairs squealed and feet shuffled as partygoers who had been cheering and laughing moments earlier turned silent, no one wishing to incur the wrath of Tommy Shelby as they exited with haste.

“Sorry, Tommy,” Isaiah mumbled, his ever present grin permanently faded as he fetched a mop and bucket. As the junior peaky boys began to clean, shooting daggers at you through their eyes, you realized the night had officially ended.

John leaned against the wall outside the Garrison, blowing smoke rings up toward the heavens in the peaceful silence of the evening. Cigar finished and stamped out on the cobblestones, he shoved his hands in his pockets, bouncing on the heels of his feet to keep warm. As he looked over at your disheveled figure, he laughed, “That was some birthday, alley cat. Haven’t had that much fun since I was kid.”

“Is that a thank you, I hear, Barney?” you asked, stamping out your cigarette with the heel of your boot.

“Yeah, spose it is,” he chuckled. “Tommy’s face was a picture though,” he said, shoulders shaking as he laughed.

“Think he’ll tell Alfie?” you asked.

“No!” he snorted, indignantly. “Who cares about a mess in Tommy's pub?” John asked with a wave of his hand.

“Not the cake, you stupid git, THAT!” you said with a flourish, pointing to the brand new Triumph parked at the corner.

“Alley cat, what have you done?” John asked, noticing the motorcycle for the first time that night.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, eyes as big as saucers.

“All yours, my love,” you said with a nod.

“No!” John gasped, running toward it and jumping on the seat with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning.

“Yes!” you squealed, following him. “Just don’t drive it round London,” you said, biting your lip nervously.

John looked over his shoulder at you with furrowed brow, “Alley cat…” he began in a warning tone, knowing full well how you'd come into possession of the bike.

“Don’t ask,” you cut him off, holding up your hand.

He burst into laughter as you asked, “Does this make up for the birthday cake?”

“Yea, I’d say so!” he replied, stroking the handlebars lovingly.

“Good, then I never want to hear another word about my baking as long as I live!” you replied with a satisfied smirk.

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

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@anonymooseforever007

@peakyltd

@mystcldydrms

@thegreatdragonfruta

@mythos-writes

@emotionalcadaver

#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #John Shelby fanfic #John Shelby imagine #John Shelby x Y/n #John Shelby x you #John Shelby x reader #John Shelby x Solomons sister

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themultifandomgal · 10 months

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Hey I got a request for Tommy Shelby

So basically you are are Tommy Shelby daughter age 16 and you was at a family meeting and you was having this pains and turns out you was pregnant and you didn’t know and you give birth and it was the next day Tommy came round and was yelling at you for getting pregnant then you put your daughter in his arms and was like looking at you beautiful granddaughter hope that make sense

Tommy Shelby- Granddaughter

Trigger Warning- teen pregnancy

Pt2

I've been sat in my dad meeting now for the last hour, feeling sick and having stomach pains. As the meeting goes on the cramps get worse and worse. Im not even sure why I'm even sat in here listening to the family business since I'm only 16.

I'm no longer paying attention to what anyone is saying. I've never had cramps like these before

"YN what's wrong?"

"Sorry dad. Just don't feel to good"

"We're nearly done" I nod my head replying to my dad.

Another 20 minutes later and dad says I can leave and head up to bed

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit"

"Language"

"You, Uncle John, Uncle Arthur and Uncle Finn swear all the time"

"Yes but your a lady and"

"Aunt Polly swears" dad sighs

"YN"

"Sorry"

"I'm heading to London now. I'll be back tomorrow evening. Will you be ok here with Aunt Poll?"

"Yeah. I'm sure I'll be fine by tomorrow"

"Ok" dad leans down and kisses my forehead before leaving me alone to sleep off whatever is going on.

That evening I barley eat anything and now Aunt Polly is getting worried

"I'm ringing your dad"

"No it's fine. I'm sure it's just my monthly finally starting"

"Finally?" Polly questions

"Yeah I've missed the last 3 months. That's why it's super painful" I give Polly a shrug

"I swear that mother of yours hasn't taught you anything. Honey that's not how periods work. Yes they can might not be regular but 3 months is a long time. These pains what are they like?"

"Erm it's like somethings squeezing my inside then releasing it. Like bad cramps"

"Sweetheart have you had sex?"

"What?" I frown looking at my Aunt

"It's ok if you have, hell only knows what I was doing at your age"

"Polly what's happening?" Worry starts to set in

"You need to answer my question first"

"He said that I wouldn't get pregnant the first time. Said that it was ok"

"Who?" I shake my head not wanting to tell her "YN who told you that?"

"James, he was my boyfriend"

"Was?"

"After we... he broke up with me"

"Fuck"

"Polly I'm not pregnant am I?"

"I think your going into labour" panic sets in. I can't have a baby now! Dads going to go mad "it's still early on. Try to get some sleep and I'll check in with you later"

Try to sleep she said. Easier said than done. Now it's the following afternoon, my waters broke 2 hours ago and now Aunt Ada has arrived with Aunt Esme and dads wife Grace is now here

"Ok YN looks like your ready to push" not really thinking about it, my body takes over and I have to push. Grace places a cool wet rag on my forehead while Esme and Ada are gathering warm water and towels

"Grace. You gotta make sure dad doesn't kill me"

"He won't. He's not going to be impressed that he's a grandfather, but he will fall in love with them where they're here"

"Im scared"

"I know. I was scared when I had Charles, but your going to be ok. Your in the best hands. Promise" with that she takes my hand and I push again.

After being in labour for over 24 hours I finally give birth to a baby girl who I've named Eloise

"She's beautiful" Grace coos stroking the babies cheek. Before I can respond the door opens and dad walks in. He stands shocked staring at me

"Grace please tell that baby is ours" he finally says "or Esmes"

"Tommy you might need to sit down"

"Grace, who's baby is that because I know that's definitely not my daughters" I wince hearing his harsh tone. I look at Esme for help but she looks at me with sympathy

"YN how can you be so stupid!" He yells waking the baby up who starts screaming

"Let me have her" Ada says taking the newborn out of my arms and into hers. She leaves the room hushing the little one

"Out! All of you out!"

"Tom..." Grace tries

"Out!" everyone leaves the room leaving me and dad alone

"Why didn't you tell me. I could have helped you get rid of it"

"Her names Eloise"

"I don't care. My 16 year old daughter just had a fucking baby"

"Dad I didn't know"

"Of course sex leads to pregnancy did you not learn from me and Grace?"

"I'm sorry" I quietly say. Ada comes back into the room with a now quiet baby. She hands her back to me while dad paces back and forth

"How stupid could you be?"

"Maybe if she had a mother she'd have known all of this?" Ada mumbles

"Don't you dare blame me for her mother leaving"

"I'm not I'm blaming her. Either way you now have a choice, either except that you have a granddaughter or loose both you daughter and granddaughter it's your choice" Ada leaves the room again. Dad walks over and sits on the sofa next to me. Without giving him a choice I place the baby in his arms. Immediately I can see how my dad is in love and I know will protect like he has me. Just got to stop him from going on a warpath finding the dad.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x daughter!reader #tommy shelby

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clxja16 · 1 year

Text

masterlist

here is all my work under one post :)

The Little Sister

Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!Reader Genre: max verstappen’s sister au! Warnings: family death, smut, angst, lots of arguing, drama, orphan child synopsis: when you're the younger sibling of a famous formula 1 driver, and you work for your sibling, life comes with many many luxuries. One luxury just so happens to be the off chance of celebrating in Australia with other formula 1 drivers, drivers that aren't your brother. and after celebrating, you can say you went to the after-party, let's just hope your brother can manage with this new person in your life. Part 1, Part 2

Since Day One

Arthur Leclerc X Reader Genre: childhood friends to lovers Warnings: angst, threatening, slight cheating, language Synopsis: the internet only needs one moment to decide what type of person they'll allow you to be. However the internet doesn't know you, or what happens after that one moment. One moment, one mistake, isn't enough to dictate a person, but it's enough to change everything. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Does He Know?

Charles Leclerc x Reader Genre: forbidden relationship Warnings: smut, swearing, angst Synopsis: Sometimes the right person for you isn't the person you want. Sometimes the person you want, you can't have. Sometimes what shouldn't happen, does happen. Sometimes the mistake, feels so right. Sometimes you don't need to tell the full truth. Sometimes you just need to live with your decisions. And all these sometimes, seem to happen with him. Part I, Part II, Part III

Our Life

Pierre Gasly x Reader Genre: established relationship, parents au!, dad Pierre Warnings: angst, yelling, arguing Synopsis: You had given up all that you had for Pierre, for a family with Pierre. Now, you lived in a house that wasn't yours, you drove cars that you didn't own, you spent money that you didn't earn. And you wonder, if it's only a matter of time before he takes the last of what is yours, your son with him.

To Hell and Back

Max Verstappen x Reader Genre: childhood trauma, established relationship Warnings: swearing, angst Synopsis: If you win, people will love you; the more you win, the more people will love you. That's all Max knows about love, that to guarantee someones love, you have to continue to win. He doesn't understand why you're still here when he screws it up. He doesn't understand unconditional love. Part I, Part II

Plus

Charles Leclerc X Reader Genre: unexpected pregnancy Warnings: miscarriage, emotional rollercoaster Synopsis: Everything was going according to plan. You were where you need to be in your life. This were perfect. Except for the little plus on the stick, saying its time, and you weren't ready. But that little plus was his dream. Part I, Part II

Love Talk

Lando Norris X Reader Genre: established relationship Warnings: none :) Synopsis: There's more than one way to tell someone you love them. Lando knows that just because the words aren't said, doesn't mean the feeling isn't there. The first 'I love you's exchanged.

Enough

Charles Leclerc X Wolff!Reader Genre: Toto Wolff's daughter au!, established relationship Warnings: Angst Synopsis: Your parents always did what they thought was best for you. Charles isn't right for you, and they are adamant with that sentiment. They will do what they have to, to make you see it their way, and you will do what you have to stay with the man you love. Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV

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ego-meliorem-esse · 6 months

Note

Could you talk a bit about Matthew and Alfred relationship? Our boys need love too

The lads! The fellas! The absolute units!

Bear with me here I wanna give a little bit of a context and a personal explanation as to why I'm really fascinated with these two countries in general.

If there is one nationfolk relationship that comes as close to pure and friendly as it possibly can, it would be the Us-Can one. Of course, it has major problems and unavoidable disputes. But let me tell you, as a balkan, ex-yugoslav cretin, I cannot help but be intriqued with the way these two comunicate. They make fun of eachother sure, they have disputes and squables, sometimes outright clashes, but when there is crisis in the US for example, all I hear is Americans straight up saying "ok well time to move to Canada". It's fascinating to me! As a Croat who, after returning from Serbia from a 3 day trip, brought home souveniers (key chains mostly, with the Serbian flag) I was yelled at by my dad who afterwards didn't talk to me for a few days. All because I dared to bring this enemy countrys flag into our home. Now, I was born in 1999. I have no connection to the war 8 years prior. No excusable, personal vandetta. But still it' s very much acceptable to hate so strongly. And even if it wasn't 8 years that passed, but 80, there still would be a widely accepted resentment. But alas, I am not talking about people, cus frankly people are just people. Alliances and relations between countries are another thing. Imagine sharing a huge fucken border with another country and being friends. My euro brain is imploding. Uncomprehensible.

Now I do understand the US is often described as a bit of a phycho, and frankly Canada is an expert at dealing with the phycho. Kudos. Keep the yanks from whipping out their home protection assault rifles and unleashing hell fire is risky shit. Canada manages tho. What I'm really interested in is the USA's view of Canada. They aren't a threat. They aren't suspicious. They are a force to be reckoned with tho, but they are friends. If there is one ally the USA can rely on its the maple sucking french/anglo bastards up north. So much history in such a short time. Fascinating.

To relate this to the bros, I think these two understand eachother better than most. Matt is quiet, obsetvand and passive (mostly), while his unit of a brother is loud, idealistic and prone to thinking the world owes him time on the world stage. And it works. Matt is the one to talk to his brother in a way that gets Alfred to listen. H speaks Alfreds language and can communicate with him freely. I think that that is a skill and in the modern era, a privilage that not many have. Not many dare to tell Alfred to his face that he fucked up majorly, but Matt can. He knows he can. Alfred knows he can. So he does. Matt can pull his brother aside after an outburst, and for the lack of a better word, humble him.

Alfred respects his brothers oppinion more then other nations'. He went from seeing Matt as a weak, self-pitying and ambitionless dominion, to accepting his views, ideas and even asking his oppinion on certain matters. I like to draw a parallel here. Matt had to sacrifice everything and himself to have Arthur call him into the war room and ask Matthew for his oppinion. Alfred is not much different. It takes time for Matthews voice to be heard, but when the time comes, it's desperately needed.

Alfred tho, is and always will be Alfred. And if somthing else catches his attention, he will ignore the house on fire across the street. He is prone to isolation and ignoring his brother for extended periods of time, just sending him a tiktok every month or so. That being the only indication to Matt that his brother is alive. Alfred has so much shit going on and his 13 braincells have to spread evenly across to cover it all. His brother is a constant in his life, stable and therefore forgotten.

That being said, I don't think there is another person on Earth Alfred loves more than his brother. Showing it is not something he ever learned tho. He knows he cannot buy his way into showing his love for Matt, so with his lack skills of other forms of love expressions, he does nothing.

As for Matt, he checks up on Alfred as much as he can. His history and past have tought him to expect nothing form the people he loves. So he doesn't. He knows Alfred is his closest ally and best friend, but doesn't ask for anything Alfred himself isn't giving. He is a person who waits to be asked to hang out on Saturday instead of asking his friends himself.

So while almost all I talked about is sad and somewhat negative, I do think the bond and conversations these two share are one of the most honest and true expressions of brotherly love. And by god I usually don't use the world love when describing nation-folk relationships, but in this case there isn't a replacement.

sorry for the personal shit and Alfred slander, I love him.

#sorry for the long post #im hungover #eating doritos and smoking cigs #hetalia #hws america #hws canada #ask meli #meli speaks #my headcanons

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love-belle · 9 months

Text

all of the girls you loved before !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which pascale leclerc had good intentions — she genuinely did. but she just didn't like his new girlfriend and how was she supposed to know that the girl she was trying to set up her middle child with was there for her own wedding? it's not like they had banners or hoardings for that.

for when you meet at the most inconvenient time but fate never really worked accordingly for you. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

real life // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - cheating (not by the reader or by charles), arranged marriage, talks of eloping, language, both the reader and charles are bitches (affectionate), reader's fiancé being a stupid asshole, family problems, dysfunctional family.

author's note - hello!!! i'm so excited for this series like i randomly had this idea and i just knew that i had to write it so !!! also, i'll be using a random name for charles girlfriend bc using alex's would be just plain disrespectful and this is FICTION so no hate to alex !!! she seems so sweet <3 i'll try to update this soon but i'll be focusing on my shout out to my ex series first and then start with this so please be patient. thank you so much for reading, i love you <3

chapter i ·˚ ༘

❝oh, are you here for vacation too? nice place, yeah — did you just push my son off the boat? good job, he was talking too much.❞

chapter ii ·˚ ༘

❝what do you mean you're getting married?! ay, no. i wanted to have you as my daughter-in-law.❞

chapter iii ·˚ ༘

❝i don't really like her, to be honest. she's so annoying and irritating and thinks that the world revolves around her and is so pretty — oh.❞

chapter iv ·˚ ༘

❝look, the car is outside. you just have to run and get in. i swear arthur's a decent driver and besides, you only live once — stop yelling at me!❞

chapter v ·˚ ༘

❝oh my god, i should've pushed you off that boat when i had the chance.❞

...more !!!

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc angst

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multifandomwriter56 · 7 months

Text

Karissa's 31 Days of October Fun

Day: 1

Prompt: "I bet you can't catch a leaf." from this.

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Characters: Shelby family x Shelby!Reader, Sister!Reader

Warnings: language

It was a chilly day, the leaves falling for the first time for the autumn weather.

Y/n Shelby was awoken by an overly excited Finn who kept rambling about a road trip.

"Shut up, Finn! I'm sleeping!" She snapped as she covered her face with her quilt.

"Come on, Y/n." The eleven year old whines at his sister. "Tommy said we have to be downstairs in five minutes or else he's not going to take us."

The youngest Shelby frowns at her brother even though her face is hidden by the quilt. "Fuck off, Finn. Tommy doesn't take us anywhere." Not anymore, at least.

Finn pulls the quilt until it falls to the floor, ignoring his sister's threats. "Y/n, come on! I don't want to go by meself. It'll be more fun if you go."

She smiles at his confession. The two youngest Shelby's do almost everything together. Their Aunt Polly has always had a love/hate relationship with the fact that they stick together constantly.

"Oi! Finn! Is she coming or what?" John yells from the bottom of the stairs.

"She won't get up!" Finn yells back.

"Oi! Stop fucking yelling inside!" Polly scolds from somewhere in the kitchen.

Y/n groans. She's about to yell for everyone to fuck off when ten digits jab into her ribs. She turns to punch John, but freezes when she realizes it's not John.

No... it's the last brother she would've ever guessed.

"Tommy, stop!"

"Then get the fuck up and let's go." Tommy orders with no heat in his voice. He's too pleased with himself with catching his sister off guard.

When Tommy removes his fingers from her sides, Y/n moves as far as she can without having to get up. "Where are we going?"

"We're going for a drive."

Immediately, Y/n is on edge, her eyes narrowing. "Tommy Shelby never does anything without a reason. What gives?"

Tommy's eyebrows disappear underneath his hair. "I'm your big brother. I ask the questions around here."

"Then how am I to learn if I don't ask questions, eh?"

"Oi! I say we leave her." John pipes in.

Sensing that Tommy might agree with their brother, she pulls herself out of bed. "I'll go."

Eyebrows still raised high, Tommy questions his sister's change of attitude. "Why?"

Y/n shrugs her shoulders. "If you're wanting to drive your siblings around, either you've gone mad or something crazy's going to happen." She pauses, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. "And I want to be there for either one."

Tommy chuckles. Y/n has been the only person to ever give him so much cheek without retribution.

***

The ride itself would have only taken thirty minutes, but with the Shelby clan, it was closer to an hour.

When Tommy parks the car on the side of the road that cuts through the middle of a field of grass with a few trees nearby, Y/n for sure thinks her brother has gone mad. "Where are we?"

Her question is ignored by everyone as they all start piling out. Seeing she has no other choice, she follows them.

She watches as Polly and Ada lay down three different blankets side by side while her brothers unload the car.

"Picnic? We're having a picnic?"

"Aw, John. Our little girl is growing up. She knows what a picnic is." Arthur teases before taking a sip of what Y/n assumes is a bottle of whiskey.

"Come help us with the food, love." Polly calls.

"I'm must be dreaming." Y/n mutters as she obeys her aunt.

The Shelby family enjoys the food, the quiet, and each other's presence. The youngest Shelby doesn't remember the last time she was this happy.

Just when she thought she couldn't be happier, the wind picks up, forcing the dead leaves to fall from the trees.

Finn jumps up and starts trying to grab the leaves before they touch the ground.

Wanting to join in on the fun, Y/n stands to her feet and runs to her brother's side. A few minutes later, John joins them. Then Arthur. And then Ada.

Y/n laughs as John tries to climb up Arthur's back to grab a big, beautiful yellow leaf; which causes them both to fall to the ground. She looks over at the only brother not participating, sitting by their aunt.

She runs over to them, a mischievous smirk in place. "I bet you can't catch a leaf." She taunts him.

Tommy's smile reflects her own. "I can't, eh?" He glances at their aunt who shakes her head no. "Well, I must prove you two women wrong." He stands to his feet, grabbing Y/n and throwing her over his shoulder.

Y/n giggles in delight. Tommy's been too busy with his new woman to be around his siblings.

Just when Y/n thought she could die from happiness, a cold feeling runs through her body. She blinks, hoping the feeling will go away.

"Get up, Y/n! I need your help in the betting shop!"

Y/n frowns when she realizes she's not outside any more; but back in her room. She looks at Ada, who is holding an empty bucket. She looks down and sees that she is soaking wet.

"What? But- We were-" She looks to her sister for help. "Tommy was just-"

Ada's anger melts away. Y/n had another dream. "Tommy's not here, Y/n." She reminds her softly. "The boys are still at war."

The cold feeling runs through her body again.

Right. Her three older brothers are fighting in the war. The rest of them are trying to keep the family business going.

Any hope she has left dies. Life will never be the same.

Peaky Blinders: @raincoffeeandfandoms @runnning-outof-time @zablife @lovemissyhoneybee

#karissa's 31 days of october fun #day 1 #shelby!reader #shelby family #peaky blinders

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moeitsu · 22 days

Text

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: Kate is not immune to the dangers of the land. No matter how much she loved it, the land will never love her back.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Trigger Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and disturbing imagery. If you do not like depictions of war and torture please proceed with caution. I did heavy research for this chapter, but please know it is entirely FICTIONAL. The characters are not real, but the events are based on real American history. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 7 - The Sun Can Never Dip So Low

1890

I knew I was going to die.

If the arrow in my side does not take me, then the man who rides the horse I lay across surely will.

I felt no pain. Perhaps it was the fever of the fight. But it didn’t hurt. I thought of screaming and thrashing, but I thought better of it. As my father would say, ‘The one good thing about problems, is they’ll still be problems later. Don’t need to deal with them right away.’

Either way, I was still going to die.

If only my father had taught me how to survive the frontier. I know now that you must learn to recognize those who won’t survive, and be wary of their doomed decisions. They are to be avoided at all costs. Because their fear is tragedy’s closest cousin. And tragedy is contagious in this place.

My mind was snuffed by a white blanket of fear, but somehow I prayed, and prayed, and prayed. But God had already abandoned me, perhaps he never loved me at all. My life had been an endless cycle of taking, why would it stop taking now.

I had no idea where the man was taking me. I did not speak his language. I had heard stories about the wars between the Indians and Englishman. But I did not have a way to tell them I’m not a part of it, but I knew somehow if I could it would not matter. War will turn men into predators, and women into prey.

Only days ago I felt like I was drowning under a waterfall, but now I see this is the real river of death.

The adrenaline had begun to leak out of my body along with the blood from the arrow. I watched in a blurred haze as the droplets disappeared into the ground as the horse took us swiftly through the dark forests. The pain began creeping in along with the darkness as I blacked out.

When I woke I found myself laying on the dirt of a fort, the sound of Englishmen talking with the Indians brought me out of my haze. I thought I had been saved, I wanted to yell and scream for help. But the conversation did not sound pleasant, I could barely make out the figure of a man who must be a general and another who must have been the chief. To my surprise, I saw a young Indian woman standing behind the general, her wrists bound. She looked my age, but deathly beaten and ill. My throat closed in.

The chief's voice rose in anger and I watched him point at me, then at the woman. After a moment the general waved his hands, and the girl was unbound and brought to the chief, he swiftly lifted and cradled her. I knew then it was his daughter. At the same time one of the general's men came walking in my direction and I realized I wasn’t being rescued, but traded. One woman for another, and eye for an eye.

I thought death was better than being a prisoner, as my mind raced with panic. I almost begged the Indians to turn back and kill me.

There must be a heaven, because that night I knew I had entered the gates of hell. Crawling on my hands and knees into the belly of the beast as he took me in his bed. Night after endless night.

My days had turned into nights, and I no longer saw the point in living. Like my eyes had become devoid of color, and the world turned black and gray. Instead of praying to be rescued, I prayed my injury would kill me.

There were other prisoners in the fort, mostly Lakota men. I bore no hatred for their people, but entirely my own. Their greed so suffocating they took the daughter of the chief, an innocent girl who had no part in their war. And turned her into a shell of herself. All in the name of greed. It was always greed.

I thought my life couldn’t have any more surprises for me, that it must end here. But my life was about to change yet again.

I noticed one of the other prisoners began watching me, then leaving behind extra food and water for me. After a few days, he approached me.

“What is your name?” he asked, his accent thick. Like my language did not fit right in his mouth. Unlike his own.

“Kate,” I answered. Surprised to hear my own voice after days of torture, “what’s yours?”

“Egwani,” he said, “or in your language little river. That wound in your belly is going to get infected.” River nodded at the small purple wound on my stomach . The general's men had cauterized it, but my body had been rising with a fever for the past two days.

“It’s already infected.” And I hoped it would kill me quickly.

River shook his head, “I can help you.”

“Why would you help me?” Not that there was any hope for me anyways. Even if he stopped the infection, I was still stuck in this hell.

“That woman the white man traded you for, she is my wife.”

A chill ran down my spine. I did not want to think about what they did to her infront of him.

“You gave your life to save hers. So I will save yours.” He said sincerely. Not that I had a choice in the matter, but still. If one woman came out of this alive, then I guess my death would have some meaning to it.

“Even if you stop the infection, these men will kill me. There’s nothing you can do, I’m going to die here.” My voice betrays my thoughts. Desperation creeping its way into the cracks. Inside I wanted the pain to end, I wanted my suffering to cease. But I was still terrified, beneath it all I longed to return home. Pretend none of it happened. Return to my old life with my family. But that version of me no longer exists.

River chuckled softly.

“Is something funny?” The last thing I needed was to be shown kindness and then mocked. Like the general’s men had not degraded me enough.

“You are stubborn like the Amicalola,” he smiled. Why was he smiling? Had he not suffered just as much as I had? He must have seen his wife beaten nearly within an inch of her life, and he could do nothing, yet he was smiling at me now.

The pain in my body made my words come out bitter and sharp, “I don’t know what that means.”

“My people’s word for waterfall. You are strong like one too. It is a good name.”

I scoffed, how incredibly wrong he was.

“I’m not,” I stated with a groan. My head throbbed from the fever and my body was cold from the chills as the infection raged through my insides.

“I can give you medicine. And when my people return in a few weeks, I will escape and take you with me.” He explained.

“I think I’d rather you just kill me now,” I said, closing my eyes. The world around me was spinning in a dark haze, gravity pulling my body down with my thoughts.

“You could have killed yourself days ago,” River began, “you could have taken a rope to your throat, or a knife to your heart. But you did not,” I opened my eyes again and looked at him, “that is how I know you are strong. Your will to live is burning through you right now with a fever.”

My eyes filled with tears, and my throat suddenly felt thick. For the first time in what felt like forever, my heart began to fill with hope. River closed the gap between us and placed a gentle palm on my forehead, feeling the heat of my skin.

“I have watched you turn towards the pain as it tears into you. I have seen the way you survive, these men think they have taken everything from you. But you have not let them devour your soul.”

“I could do nothing to stop them,” I croaked. Hot tears spilling down my cheeks like water through a dry creek bed.

“Sometimes, there is strength in surrendering. But you have surrendered nothing to the pain. I see your tears, but you do not weep,” he brushed a thumb over my wet face, “you are a warrior.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

True to his word, River’s men showed up exactly two weeks later. But before that, he had given me a salve mixed from honey and sage and rubbed it over my arrow wound, as well as the numerous others I had accumulated in my time here. He also gave me an herbal tea for the infection, and by some miracle it was working. Each day I felt my strength returning to me.

River took beatings for me, when I could not walk or do chores. Or simply when the men felt like taking their frustrations out on another human being. And I felt incredibly guilty for it. But he always assured me that I needed to save my strength for the real fight, when his people came. Yet nothing could have prepared me for what was about to unfold.

They came under the cover of night, and used the forest and mountains to their advantage. They brought the fire, as the fort was made entirely out of wood and before long it became a fiery prison from hell. I knew our escape would not be easy, even with the help of Rivers' men. I had my strength back, but no knowledge of how to actually fight. I was lucky enough to escape with just a burn on my calf.

It had been a bloody massacre, and the men fought savagely. The Lakota people came with arrows and tomahawks and spears, and I watched as they made the men of the fort suffer. It brought a sickening joy to my heart, to see the men who had raped me have their skulls crushed and insides ripped apart. It felt like justice.

We lost people on our side, too many. None of the other prisoners had made it out alive. And I grieved for the other girls of the camp who did not make it like I had, it felt unfair. But we managed to escape. After hours of blazing rage, River swiftly lifted me onto the back of a horse, and together we rode far away from the fort. Only a few of his people escaped alongside us, as we left behind their final resting place. The numbing shock of war is behind me now, and hope has taken its place.

His men had informed us that his tribe had moved to the bottom of the Tennessee river, to escape the constant attacks and find refuge further west. So that is where our journey took us. As if life had still granted me the irony of continuing west, despite all the horrors I had faced to get there.

It took us nearly three months. We traveled through the Appalachian trails and the journey was not easy. We lived rough, and we lived hard. I felt like a burden most days, as I knew I was slowing down their journey. I was still not entirely healed, and some days I felt I did not have the strength to travel at all. But River was patient, and never made me feel like it was my fault.

He taught me how to hunt, how to fish, and how to set traps and skin animals. He even taught me some of his language, but most importantly he taught me how to survive.

“When we kill an animal we must use all parts of it, to honor it. These creatures are innocent, and when we kill an innocent we become a little less of a man, and a little more of an animal.” He told me as he demonstrated how to properly skin a rabbit.

Death is something we share with all creatures; rabbits, birds, horses and trees. It's everywhere, and eventually it will take everyone. Just as it had taken everyone who had loved me. Even as the stars die, we cannot run from it.

Despite his people running from war, they could not escape death either. We arrived at River’s tribal camp, along the bank of the Tennessee river, and it had been reduced to ash. We were too late, or perhaps we were lucky, this could have been our fate too. River, and the men who came to rescue us, were the last of his people. I saw something dark enter him that day, as he held the charred bones of his wife and child. The woman whom I gave my life for, all for nought. As I stood there, living and breathing, and she did not. Their entire family history, wiped clean from the earth.

His rage became the oil to my flame, I felt his anger mix with my own deep in my soul. All this death we had endured. Intertwined our fates like loops on a chain that bound us like shackles. But it was our grief that kept us on a tight leash. River sought revenge and justice, while I yearned to take from the world what it had taken from me. Together, we would instill fear into the heart of every man who crossed the land.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate McCanon died the day I met River. What stood before him now was the Amicalola, the waterfall. I became a woman unrecognizable.

Like many rivers, their journeys start with quiet beginnings, but as they are nourished by the waters of experience, they gather strength, flowing swiftly and deeply towards their desired path. If you follow their course and witness where they converge — they become a creature of beauty as well as fury. I became the waterfall: untamed and unbridled, sweeping away all in my path with wild abandon.

River made me into a warrior, and with each life I took, the world felt my turmoil. Anger guided my blade, for the world had stolen my family—my husband, and my daughter. It robbed me of myself, leaving me with nothing to lose.

“Our purpose is to ensure our enemies' fear is greater than their greed,” he told me. We hunted poachers, bandits, and thieves. But his rage was never satisfied.

He taught me how to kill, how to torture. How to fight with weapons capable of horrific fatalities. And I welcomed it with open arms. We fought and killed together for several years before I would begin to lose myself to the bloodshed.

We were hunting a group of poachers, when we came upon what we believed to be their camp. River was the first to drag a man from his tent, a knife already in his side. He would ask questions, and then kill him slowly. His fate sealed the moment we found their tracks. The man claimed to know nothing, but we were not convinced. And it wouldn't matter anyways, we would kill everyone in the camp. Just for the sake of it.

“What you take from the land will be taken from you. Know that I am the land, and the land is killing you.” River spoke in his native tongue as he slit the man's throat. Sickeningly slow. He would choke to death in his own blood.

A sound came from the man's tent and a figure emerged, I drew my bow, ready to release it as they stepped out. The moment a child appeared, I wished then that I had the strength to kill myself back at the fort. I had turned into a monster.

My heart was in my stomach as a little girl cried for her father. What have I done? I had almost killed a child. And we just killed her father, I realized we had been at the wrong camp. And I had just doomed a mother to be a widow, and a childhood to be ruined. I might as well have handed my fate over to them.

River stood before me, his face shadowed and his eyes vacant. The man who once filled my heart with hope now dwelled in darkness himself. At that moment, I knew I had to leave. I could no longer fight alongside him; our path led to a place from which I could not return. Like Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, yet born under the light of Spring, I too would journey down the river Styx.

He did not resist my departure. River assured me I would always be welcomed among his people, and if I desired, he would take me as his wife. For years, River had been my strength, and I his, but now I was leaving him—to salvage what little I had left of myself.

After calming the child, I made a solemn vow to reunite her with her mother. This marked the beginning of my journey to break the cycle, and seek redemption for what I had done. It would also mark the end of my journey as a warrior. As we parted ways, he whispered a message into the wind. I could not tell if it was a goodbye, or a promise, or a warning. In his tongue he told me “follow the rivers, and they will take you to the waterfall.”

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AN: I seriously appreciate all the love you guys are showing for this story. It motivates me to write more, and I'm truly having so much fun with it. Thank you! <3

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