Xdncrkay

DOUBLE KNOT TEASER PICS: LEE KNOW, SEUNGMIN AND HYUNJIN

♡ NEED TO KNOW.

pretty boys without a shirt… that's it that's the post

✧ feat ; cyno, scaramouche, tighnari, xiao x gn!reader

✧ warning(s) ; suggestive, may be ooc

✧ a/n ; apologies for being a slut on main, it will happen again. hope you like this ! unrelated but i listened to the instrumental for baby by madison beer the entire time i was writing this so here's the link if you'd like to hear it while reading :>

please reblog + leave comments ! it helps a lot :)

✦ CYNO. [ judicator of secrets ]

general mahamatra is renowned for never slacking off, and his unexpected arrival at the doorsteps of scholars often bodes ill for the researchers in question. but that has never been the case for you, his lover, who has come to look forward to his surprise visits.

“i should get back to work, you know,” cyno murmurs against your lips, though the way his strong arms are holding your hips tightly in place on his lap seems to convey quite the opposite. “shouldn’t i be the one saying that?” you smile, threading your hands through his messy mane of white hair, “after all, you were the one who came here under the guise of a medical check-up.” he makes a noise of dissent, nuzzling into your neck where he proceeds to press a storm of kisses, “it wasn’t a disguise, it’s true!” “oh, is that so?” you can’t help but laugh, “what were your symptoms?” cyno pulls away from your skin, where you’re certain he’s left more thtan a few bruises, and gives you the stupidest grin ever, “i was lovesick!” you snort, and he beams, “that was a good one, wasn’t it?” “shut up and just kiss me, dumbass,” you flick his forehead, “your kisses are better than your jokes.” “low blow,” he whines, and you’re struck by his duality between the persona he displays to the world and how he behaves in private. “but it is a wish i’m willing to indulge,” he continues, tilting your chin up to him.

your hands travel up his torso, and you can feel him stiffen under your touch, reclining to give you more access to him. “imagine if someone walked in,” he laughs, though it’s a breathless laugh as you trace circles across his skin, “general mahamatra and the chief healer fooling around like teenagers.” “no, i’ll let them know this is just routine,” you wink, “like how i’m checking your pulse right now.” without warning, you lean down and press your ear against his chest as if to hear his heartbeat directly. cyno freezes and you smile, lifting one hand to caress his face, “i can feel your heart getting faster and faster.” he sighs, trying to regain his composure to the best of his ability, “guess you’re leading me to an early grave.” “oh dear, that’s a shame,” you pretend to be sad, “i think you'll have to extend your stay here so i can fix that.” “ah, a shame indeed,” cyno’s red eyes laser in on yours, and you find yourself amazed at the intensity of his stare, “i’ll be entirely in your care.” “perhaps i might even cure your lovesickness,” you tease, and he smirks before tugging you closer for another kiss, “we’ll see about that.”

✦ SCARAMOUCHE. [ kunikuzushi ]

scaramouche is electric. 

not just because of the electro delusion he wields so effortlessly, but more so because of the way the very air around him crackles with potential and power. perhaps it is because he was sculpted by divinity itself that his fingertips tingle with the electricity coursing through his veins, and gives him this voltaic aura which shines through even when he is doing the most mundane of tasks. 

right now is no exception as he gazes at his reflection - he still looks so pretty. “you really did a number on me,” scaramouche groans, though you can hear the tinge of pride in his voice as he looks at the messy constellation of lovebites strewn across his neck and collarbone. you stroll up behind him after clambering out of bed, stepping over the discarded clothes from last night and letting your arms snake around his waist, “aw, i’m sorry.” “you don’t sound apologetic in the slightest,” scaramouche scoffs, even as his hand envelops yours with warmth. “yeah, that was a lie,” you smirk, leaning closer to whisper in his ear, “i’m not sorry at all.” “that sounds more like you,” he chuckles, though his breath hitches when your palm splays across his abdomen.

scaramouche is always wound tight like a coiled spring, always on edge, always ready to attack at the first sign of danger. and with you around to push his buttons in more ways than one, he swears he’s learned to tense up the second you touch his skin - it sets him aflame. his indigo irises stray to the sight of the two of you in the mirror, and he swallows because he knows you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger. “you’re so cute, i love you,” you giggle, pressing featherlight kisses in a trail along his bare shoulder. “shut up,” his face feels far hotter than it should at your easy compliments which never seem to make sense; who else would have the audacity to call the balladeer ‘cute’? but maybe that’s precisely the reason why he adores you, and he mumbles, “i love you too.” “love me enough to skip your meeting today?” “nope.” “it was worth a shot.”

✦ TIGHNARI. [ verdant strider ]

it is rare for tighnari to spend the night at home thanks to his duties as chief forest watcher, but tonight he has, and you’re planning to make the most of it.

your hands skate over your lover’s skin, pressing down in all the right areas to help massage the tension out of his aching muscles. he isn’t as broadly built as some of the other forest rangers, but he has his own strengths hidden underneath the many layers he wears daily. in fact, you can practically feel his muscles rippling under your touch right now.

“i think you’re overworking yourself, darling,” you say, continuing your work as the scent of harra fruit oil fills the air. it’s a late cloudy night, and the only light outside comes from the distant lamps illuminating avidya forest. he’s silent, quieter than usual, and you’re worried that you’ve overstepped his boundaries. but then his ears twitch and he looks at you, “what?” a teasing smile curves your lips as you realise what just happened - tighnari was so happy about you massaging him that he totally spaced out. he recognises your trademark smirk and sighs, “don’t even think about it.” “c’mon, you have to admit it’s funny when your ears are so big but you still didn’t hear!” you giggle, and he turns away without answering, jutting his lower lip out in a pout. 

“nooo, wait, i’m sorry,” you can’t help the note of amusement that slips into your tone, so you shuffle closer from how you’re sitting on your knees to wrap your arms around his bare torso. resting your chin on his shoulder, you blow on his ear, “tighnari~” his expression doesn’t change, but his ears and tail give him away this time, so you laugh, tilting his chin to face you before surprising him with a kiss, “that means i’m super duper sorry.” “hmph,” tighnari pretends to glare at you for a second before his eyes soften and he smiles, “you’re going to need to give me a lot more kisses before i leave again tomorrow for me to forgive you.” “you don’t need to ask me twice, and i’ll add in a bonus massage for your ears too!” “just admit you want to touch my ears.” “alright fine, that may have been my ulterior motive but i swear it’s also because i love you.” “i know, love, i know.”

✦ XIAO. [ vigilant yaksha ]

adepti do not require sleep to function normally, and right now xiao is so incredibly thankful for that fact because with how you’re acting, there’s no way either of you are getting any sleep tonight. 

your fingertips skirt across the plane of his back, etching every dip and curve of his body into your memory, doodling absent patterns and swirls on his skin and leaving a trail of heat in your wake. it’s been a few minutes of this, and xiao doesn’t think he can take it for much longer. “i know you’re awake, xiao,” you move closer, nuzzling into his back and making a shiver run down his spine. he hums in reply before turning around to face you, amber irises boring into yours with the affectionate gaze he reserves for you and you alone. your eyes widen slightly when you see his face, and he raises an eyebrow, “what is it?” “nothing… you’re just so pretty,” your voice drops to a whisper, treating this moment like something sacred as if it would be blasphemous to speak even a decibel louder.

“what?” xiao has never even imagined that anybody would call him, a celestial being who’s convinced himself he is worth nothing except as a weapon for bloodshed, ‘pretty’. but coming from you, it sounds just right, especially when you cup his cheek, thumb caressing his skin softly. your other hand tangles in the jade streaks of his hair before slipping down to his stomach, tracing a thin line up his torso. xiao is made of lean muscle that freezes under your touch, and you can feel the strength he possesses thumping like a heartbeat under his skin as you trace the emerald tattoo on his bicep.

“i’m serious!” you laugh, and the sound makes xiao so happy his heart threatens to burst out of his chest. weaving your arms around his neck, you tug him impossibly closer, pressing your lips to his before pulling away with a smile, “love you.” “love you too,” xiao manages to reply even though his head is spinning and his cheeks are on fire, but the only thing he can focus on is asking, “can i kiss you again?” “as many times as you want, pretty boy.”

stop wtf why are they so hot... i need them NOW. // general masterlist

© starglitterz 2022. do not repost or modify in any way.

i’ve gained so much respect for chan and the humbleness he has shown. he works so hard, and stray kids have gained so much popularity that it could’ve been very easy to get cocky. however, he and the rest of the guys are so humble. also, for anyone that might be going through a rough time and that stray kids is one of their emotional support, just know that the guys (and I even if we’re strangers) love you and appreciate you all very much.

Keep reading

is it me or is jungwoo having none of it?

dear, chapter one ♡

— series masterlist ♡ art

what have you done to me? cyno wonders, tearing his eyes away from your figure. it's tough, he thinks. it's tough looking at his worksheet when you're right there.

ah, wait—there he goes again, thinking of you in ways that friends shouldn't. you've always been right there, next to him, so how is it different now?

your arm brushes with his and cyno's heart nearly hurls from his throat.

wait, what?

blinking furiously, the boy begins to rub his temples out of spite. no way, he broods, no way. no way the brush of your arm got his heart soaring and no way—no way you...

nevermind.

"cyno," you say, and the boy nearly chokes on his own spit as his hands fly from his temples to the table, attention owed fully to you, because archons, you've always had it.

damn you, [name], is all cyno thinks.

"what?" in an attempt to mask his emotions, the boy's voice comes out harsher than anticipated, but oh, you can hear it in the silence: the soft edge to his words and the way his tone quiets a little as he speaks to you. look at him, look at him, dammit—look at him and see the way his vermilion eyes melt into pools of roses, dripping petals trickling with affection but archons, it can't be.

cyno doesn't have time to love, much less love you. you, who have been in his world but now own it. you, who have been his friend from elementary to high school, who have been his friend.

cyno doesn't love you; he never will.

"i need help." pouting, you point bluntly at the easiest math equation cyno has ever seen in his life, but still, he gives in.

he gives in because you're his friend, and not because the way your eyes droop a little makes his heart weep; not because he relishes in your attention and the way your eyes (oh, those lovely eyes) meet his fully because no one, no one, would dare to look at the cyno in the eyes.

no one but you.

"well," cyno pauses to examine your work, "some things just aren't adding up."

the boy resists a smirk once you glare at him, because archon, the way your lips curl into a feigned frown and your eyebrows narrow a little is simply so...

he shakes his head.

"you need to stop making jokes like that," you say, and his heart nearly stops. "i'm a fragile flower, you're treating me so rudely!"

he snorts, heart regaining its tempo from the false alarm because oh, oh, cyno would never dare to anger you—not when the possibility of the feigned pout on your face becoming real hurts him more than he'd like to admit.

"you're more like a weed," he comments dryly.

"i'm able to withstand even the harshest of conditions."

"and are a pain to remove." shrugging, cyno has to turn away from your prying gaze in order to calm the fervency of his heart because oh, there you go again, giving him that glare and all your attention—it's all his, dammit.

"here's my notebook, i have the examples written down," he says before handing you the papers. he can't take it anymore—he can't take the rage of his heart and the way it cries, it cries a pitiful tune, it cries your favorite tune and weeps whenever you don't notice.

you've hexed him, you've cast a spell on him and cyno—the top of the entire graduating class—has been reduced to a fool. but this isn't normal, he thinks, because we're friends. best friends, even.

do best friends click their tongue when your gaze leaves him? do best friends bite their inner cheek in envy as your attention now belongs to his notes instead of him?

cyno looks at you—the you whose attention belongs to something else, as per usual. cyno knows the direction of your gaze and knows when it's on him, he knows when you stare at someone or something else, he knows and knows, and archon, does it hurt.

oh, is it too presumptuous of him to wish for your attention solely to himself? is it too ambitious, to outlandish for him to hope that maybe, just maybe, he could be the subject of your gaze, too?

"[name]," he says. he says your name, he says it just to say it. he says your name as practice for the future because even if the world were ending tomorrow, it would be the first thing he'd think of. cyno says your name, albeit quietly, because he would never dare to soil its owner.

"what?" you respond, not looking up. cyno taps your elbow.

then, you glance up at him.

and then, his thumb swipes against his chest. archon, he thinks, it's crazy. his heart is threatening to spill from his mouth and decorate you in the adorations he's kept to himself—his ribs are threatening to implode because oh, he's yours, he's yours, dammit, so do what you want.

"nothing."

you roll your eyes, and cyno sheds a barely noticeable smile.

you've ruined him—you've broken him down and built a palace of you. cyno doesn't know when or how, but the way you return to his notes only makes him wonder: when will i capture their attention fully?

when will you realize the muse you've created? when will you realize that you've painted the "canvas of cyno" a myriad of your favorite colors, your favorite shows, your favorite things?

and then, his heart stops.

oh, archon. he flicks his forearm. what am i thinking?

you're his friend; nothing more.

→ next chapter, interlude: what you've done to me

tagging: @xdncrkay @valeriesteashop @rainygreyclouduwu @shrhnrqz @poggerschampion69 @sketcheeee @emmaemoseila @lynnforever @kuuremon @1eaf-me-alone @cryingpariah @monaypo1 @hamdehlesmis @suuichi875432

(bold means i cannot tag u!!)

45 OTP ANGST PROMPTS

“It’s all my fault.”

“I trusted you.”

“I never wanted this.”

“Get out of here! Just leave!”

“Please talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“You’re a horrible person.”

“I can’t do this again. I won’t.”

“What the hell do you want now?”

“Please, just let me go.”

“You deserve so much better than me.”

“Don’t put me in this position.”

“I can’t live without you. Don’t go. Please.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Hang on. You’re gonna be okay. Keep breathing.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Why can’t you forgive me?”

“I’m never coming back here.”

“I can’t believe you did this to me.” 

“You ruined my life.”

“I know you won’t forgive me, but I’m still sorry.”

“You crossed a line.”

“I never want to see you again.” 

“That was the only lie! I swear.”

“Our child is dead.”

“That was the worst day of my life.”

“I just want you to be happy. Even if it’s not with me.”

“Did it take you long to move on from me?”

“It was an accident!”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“We have to let go.”

“Burn in hell, for all I care.”

“You broke my heart.” 

“I can’t stop crying.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Another nightmare?”

“I regret ever loving you.”

“I needed you. And you weren’t there.”

“Just let me help you.”

“I’m still not over you.”

“This can’t be the end.”

“Doesn’t my love mean anything?”

“I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’ll always be there for you. Don’t you know that?”

“The worst part is, I loved you anyway.”

LOVE YOU WITH MY EYES CLOSED

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Part one Part two Part three

Summary: At a young age Y/N was given away for marriage, years later the dust began to settle and her life caught a rhythm she stopped fighting. Is Tommy, the man she once knew too well, ready to play along and let her go once again?

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: depression, heartache, mental and physical abuse

A/N: Slow introduction, next chapter will pick up on pace. Enjoy

Coming back to Birmingham ignited more mixed feelings than Y/N expected it ever would. Pushing through the difficult changes back in the day caused her to stomach so much pain and.. distress at the inability to make her own choices. She thought there was nothing in her to cause fear anymore.

A weird kind of fear it was, this time. Looking out the window as the train plummeted through the fields, shaking and groaning under the weight of people all heading to the city she couldn't shake off. Four years passed so quickly, in a pace she didn't understand when she looked back at the first months of constant struggle she endured. Leaving everything behind. Becoming nothing more than a tool to life of.. prosperity for her family.

She fought it for so long, back then. Much to her father's misunderstanding, her unbreakable spirit made everything so much more difficult.

Yet eventually everything must come to an end though, in a reality where her value was tightly connected with how pretty she was, and how aesthetically pleasing she looked, hanging on the arm of a man she barely knew.

It was much easier to ignore from the distance, but the closer she got to Birmingham, more wounds began reopening, hurting and itching despite her neutral expression and unmoving figure.

One of his hands rested on her thigh, the other one holding a newspaper. The lack of communication was nothing short of normal between them. After all, when nobody was around, they didn't have to pretend as much. Nickolas Winterbourne, a man coming from a life where nothing ever ran out, where pantries were never empty and clothes never dirty. He existed in a controlled environment snuggly clothed in money at every corner, shielding him from any difficulties life planned to throw his way - unaffected by the simple disdain of modern times they happened to live in.

For what it was worth, Y/N considered herself lucky. He was… polite, usually gentle which was way more than she could have ever asked for from people in his social class. His hands were smooth, untainted by physical labour that he never had to do. His disposition contradicted his father's, a man purely self-absorbed and cruel with one purpose – wealth.

Y/N was grateful for the person he was deep down, even though he was forcing her into situations they could avoid, yet rarely violating her physically or mentally.

Nickolas was… indifferent. His demeanour calm, collected and bordering on bored most of the time. His eyes looked at her with a never ending patience and neutrality she grew to appreciate, after watching the way many of his brothers treated their own wives. She was lucky.

The mindset she worked so hard to build, throwing away the values she dreamed of as a little girl, the warm dreams of having a loving marriage with several kids, conversations that would seem to go on forever sprinkled with tender kisses on the forehead and warm touches that would warm her up on cold nights. She exchanged those hopes for expensive dresses and a mansion much too big for any amount of wood to warm. There were continual expensive dinners and meaningless conversations with people she wouldn't care to see ever again with fake seemingly polite smiles. These people never stopped beckoning for their service, acting like the simple action of pouring themselves tea was too much to burden their minds with.

So she was grateful, playing along with the quick pace of life they had. Dressing up quickly, perfecting the empty smile she got used to wearing on a daily basis.

“Be grateful, because you could have had it much worse” she mentally repeated to herself.

A soft squeeze of his hand tore her out of her thoughts, his brown eyes watching her patiently. He witnessed the difficulties she struggled with back then. So her silence rang louder than ever.

”We will spend two days in Birmingham and be back on our way. Tomorrow is the day of the gala, and the day after you will spend on your own matters.” He spoke quietly, reading the troubling emotions in her eyes. He always saw through the mask of neutrality he taught her how to wear like her second skin: a mutual understanding.

Her eyes slowly followed along the lines of his face, finally settling on holding eye contact. Slowly nodding, she covered his hand with her own before forcing out a small smile.

”Thank you” She responded, straightening her back before the train started slowing down before coming to a full stop.

Patting her thigh for the last time, he pulled away.

”Come on. It's time to go”

~~

After getting out of the train, Y/N watched how after stepping out her boots immediately covered in mud.

Some things never changed, she thought with a smile as the scent of smoke filled her nostrils.

”Christ” Nickolas muttered, his face twisting in disgust. Birmingham was nothing like the London they were used to, first expression of the city obnoxiously underwhelming for Winterbourne.

Standing by the road sign they waited for a moment before the designated car pulled up, halting by their feet as the driver opened the door, offering to help in packing the luggage.

Y/N seemed distraught, looking around as she immediately recognized the streets despite small differences and the fact she didn't leave even remotely close back then. A city centre it was, fair distance from Small Heath. A place she used to call home.

”Come on, get in the car” Nickolas whispered, noticing her distracted gaze, grabbing her arm lightly and nudging her towards the vehicle, bringing her out of memories thick like smoke. Looking at him she nodded, obediently getting inside before the car took them to the hotel.

One she had never been in before. This whole situation felt suffocating in ways so weird, she was barely able to look him in the eyes. Even as they moved to the building, getting all the formalities done she couldn't help but let her mind wander towards the ghosts of her past.

Loud, obnoxious laugh filled her head bringing a little smile on her red lips. One that definitely belonged to John, his eyes glimmering with mischief like most of the time. Through the eyes of imagination she saw Ada's long, dark hair she constantly complained about, sighing dramatically in a way that never ceased to make Y/N roll her eyes. Suffering from success, she used to call it, teasing her friend with whom she grew up so close.

A sound came to her ears as lift brought them to the right level, she moved seemingly on an autopilot when her husband fumbled with keys, looking for the right one.

As the door swung open she let out a silent sigh as she remembered. The memory she worked on suppressing so long caught up randomly, big, blue eyes surrounded by thick, dark eyelashes. Colour so dynamic, swiftly changing with the feeling simmering beneath his tough exterior, yet always so bright and clear when he looked at her. She felt like she saw him for the first time, despite it being nothing but her exterior shell shattering at the unwanted memories flooding back in.

Suddenly, she felt out of breath and barely an hour after checking into the hotel, she was in bed facing away from Nickolas. The wall she put up between them nearing the height of one he tried to shatter after getting to know the girl. She seemed so small as she lay on her side, every inch of her body hidden under covers. Hair scattered on the pillow, keeping his gaze away from her features.

They just got here, and he was already losing, Nickolas thought, before remembering the small detail that could shatter his reality if ease if looked into.

”Goodnight” He whispered, pressing a kiss onto her shoulder before turning away and giving her space as the lights went out.

It was only so long he could bend reality to his will, he thought, before closing his eyes and allowing Morpheus' embrace to swallow him up.

In contrast to him, Y/N didn't fall asleep once. The unknown anticipation swirled around in her stomach, pushing her even further away from the man sleeping by her side. Something was coming, and she knew it.

~~

”Do you really trust what you're saying?” Her voice came to his ears, quieter, less confident than usually she'd speak to him.

Leaning forward on his arms, he let his head drop in defeat for a moment before lifting him up. Strong, unyielding gaze meeting her worried, slightly anxious eyes.

Her position in the family and in company made her learn how to deal with emotions on her own for years.. which was never an issue. Woman could only be so vulnerable after raising that many kids and protecting them from the disgusting reality with her fragile hands and soul on her shoulder. But she managed.

So the rare vulnerability she displayed that evening, looking in her nephew's eyes was nothing short of special. The string of responsibility connecting them in ways none of his siblings would understand.

Staring blankly for a moment, he ended up nodding.

”I know, Polly.” He spoke up, his voice heavy with exhaustion and the fear he tried to bury somewhere between his ribs, to never be seen again. But it was there, alive as ever, making his heart thump in an unnatural rhythm. Reminding him of one of survival. Desperate attempts to stick to life even when the dirty earth in the tunnels tried to swallow him alive.

”You need to trust me when I say things will go back to normal. I waited for long enough.” His voice came out sharper than he'd like it to. Blue eyes soothing the damage his voice has done and Polly understood.

Being a witness to the struggles he faced on daily, responsibilities piling on him like layers of clothing, giving no space to grieve the loss of someone who was never supposed to be gone.

…and so he didn't. Instead building an empire on his bitterness and pain, trusting that… whatever was up there would provide if it was meant to be.

That day for once in his life Thomas wanted to pray.

~~

“You need to pick up your pace, Y/N. We can't afford to be late to such an event.” Nickolas snapped, his usually calm and collected demeanour dishevelled with stress as he watched time ticking away on his watch.

She didn't sleep, almost at all. Putting on the mask was more difficult than usual, having to layer the makeup on her tired face, exhausted eyes. The years of struggles managed to catch up in the nine hours she spent on trying to fall asleep. Dreamless nights and loveless days connected with the anticipation in her stomach making it impossible to close her eyes.

”What will they think of us if we show up late, Y/N?” He shot once again watching her movements with his chin higher than he usually carried.

In moments of distress Y/N saw his father in him, usually perfectly hidden away lack of spine showing through the wounds of what the perfect life did to him. Minor inconvenience making him furious.

”Put on your jacket and smoke a cigarette, Nickolas. By the time you're done I will be waiting.” She responded in a neutral way, already taught to not feed into his bitterness in such situations. Not because he was right, but rather to avoid making him cranky as he would surely ruin her already difficult evening.

Watching her with contempt for a moment, he let out a heavy breath before stepping away.

”Five minutes or you will walk there. I'm not going to be late because of your irresponsibility.” His voice faded with the distance growing between them.

Y/N sighed looking at her reflection.

A man that was never supposed to be a husband.

All eyes were on them as soon as they arrived. Y/N smiled, nodding along to the people she saw for the first time as they spoke to Nickolas. She was to not speak unless spoken to, Mr. Winterbourne taught her four years ago. Smile, look pretty and watch your husband. Be attentive and elegant at all times.

Entering the event took them about fifteen minutes with all the pleasantries Nick kept giving away to his associates. Deep down she hated it. The constant need to pretend, not a single movement one of her own.

”Mr. Winterbourne!” A voice came from behind their back as they walked into the main room. An older man with jet-black hair approached quickly, his arm wrapped around the waist of his wife. Glancing at her, they exchanged a joyful look before standing right by Y/N. “Long time no see” His voice was low, but not threatening. Something about the tall and broad man was inviting, friendly.

”Indeed, it's been a long while.” Nick responded, straightening his back before greeting the older woman, getting a hold of her hand gently and kissing the temple. ”How is life treating you, Sir?” His tone mannered and calm, just like always whenever he was in a public eye. After getting a response, he began talking about the details of the gala before the woman suddenly interrupted him.

”...and who is this beautiful woman?” She spoke completely relaxed to which Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. If she interrupted her husband or any man he was currently talking to in such a manner, she'd get severely punished if not slapped at the spot. Nicholas raised his eyebrow but quickly put on a collected exterior again.

”This is my wife, Y/N” He introduced her, slightly embarrassed that he forgot to do so in the first place. What would they think of him? The older man reflected, kissing her temple with a smile and his wife took her hand in her own.

”Oh, I see” She said, looking at the ring on her finger. ”Absolutely beautiful, how about we get something to drink while men talk about the important matters?” She suggested light-heartedly, winking at her husband who chuckled, shaking his head before giving a simple nod.

”Great idea. I will find you in just a few moments, Precious.”

The way their interactions took place made Y/N truly shocked, she's never seen such behaviour among people in their class before. Were people of Birmingham different than them?

Waiting for his approval obediently Y/N only moved when he gave her a stern nod, clearly not pleased with his own performance, yet he would never admit it.

His behaviour was different this time, she could clearly see it. He was more emotional in the wrong way, every little detail making him visibly angry.

”I’m Meredith” The seemingly fourty year old woman stated, glancing at Y/N sideways. ”You seem to love these kind of events, don't you?” She joked, seeing the way Y/N’s smile dropped as soon as they turned away from their husbands. Internally she panicked hearing the elegant woman's remark, her eyes widening with fear. ”Oh, no worries. We're on the same page… besides. They serve really good drinks, so soon enough it will be bearable.” The tone of her voice was light and amusing as she gave Y/N a little shove. Her demeanor was relaxed and open, matching her husband's which was… refreshing.

”Better get to it then” She mustered a smile in response.

To be fair, time did start passing faster as they settled by the table, slowly sipping on tasteful drinks and talking in a way that allowed Y/N feel much less comfortable than she was at first. A breath of fresh air.

”We’re local. My husband, Christopher, is the owner of several businesses passed down through the family. That's how he knows Winterbournes.” She explained eventually before leaning in closer. ”He doesn't get along well with your father in law. Tradition and peace are the only things keeping them tied together.”

Y/N listened carefully, appreciating that after a couple drinks Meredith's tongue got a bit loose. Usually she'd never hear a single detail about her husband's business or family. She wasn't family by blood, so her access to information was very restricted.

Getting lost in her thoughts again she zoned out for a second before Nickolas’ voice came to her ear from close proximity.

”This is my wife, Y/N Winterbourne.” He introduced her and it took a second to stand up, smooth out her dress before her eyes met the guests.

…and just for a second, her heart stopped, mouth slightly parting as she met the blue gaze she dreamed of for so many years.

”May we dance, Mrs. Winterbourne?” Thomas Shelby asked, standing side to side with her husband. Slightly shorter yet visibly towering over him.

For once she forgot her manners, not able to tear her eyes away from him as she gave a quick nod and without another word, he grabbed her hand pulling her towards the dance floor among other couples. Completely stiff and frozen, her vocal chords were not cooperating as she was on the verge of a panic attack.

His hands grabbed her own, setting them on his shoulders as he pulled her closer.

”Breathe” He said quietly in a husky tone as his scent almost made her faint.

oh god i remember this 😂

i’m not even sure what’s happening anymore

Warning: Death, blood, wounds/injuries, unhappy ending.

"I think I'm... I'm dying."

"No, you're not," Caretaker insisted, panting loudly as they frantically ripped their shirt off and pressed it against the gaping wound in Whumpee's side. "You're not dying. No. The- the paramedics will- they'll be here any minute now and they're gonna help you. They're gonna make sure you come home to me again. You're not- you're not leaving me."

Whumpee didn't have the energy to convince them otherwise. They could feel their eyes already beginning to get heavier, and their bloodied hands trembled violently as they reached up to cup Caretaker's face in it.

"You're not dying," Caretaker repeated, their voice cracking. "You're not... you're not dying. Not yet."

Whumpee found themselves with a small, saddened smile. "I love you. You were always so kind to me..."

Caretaker gritted their teeth. "I am always kind to you. Present tense. You're not going anywhere."

"You and I both know that's a lie."

Instead of responding, Caretaker buried their head against Whumpee's chest and began to cry; long, heart-shattering wails leaving the back of their throat as they listened to Whumpee's breathing declining right in front of them.

"You're not leaving me, you're not leaving me..." they whispered repeatedly, feeling Whumpee's fingers gently trailing through their hair.

They continued to repeat that line well after Whumpee was gone, refusing to let go of their lifeless body when the medics tried to convince them to. Trembling fingers desperately attempted to get Whumpee to card their fingers through their hair one last time.

They refused to accept that their Whumpee was gone.