#Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader

[smolvenger]

The Child Called Sharpe (Thomas Sharpe x fem! Reader Blurb)

Summary: You and Thomas Sharpe welcome your first baby and his second, as Thomas himself faces his own demons regarding his past.

Word Count: 1K (er...blurb or short oneshot, whatever)

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy and childbirth, but nothing graphic. In this version, though I try to have a more nuanced take on Lucille, In this fic I choose to portray the Lucille/Thomas relationship as nonconsensual, pedophilic, and abusive so if you don't like that don't read this, so mentions of sexual abuse, death, illness, blood with some of the canon events of Crimson Peak. But it becomes a lot of tooth-rotting fluff.

A/N: I can't please everyone with Crimson Peak on the is Lucille good or bad vrs. is Thomas good or bad discourse, so why bother trying anymore. I just wanna write my stuff. From @holdmytesseract's request!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

Love for him meant creation. It brought out Thomas’s gift of invention tenfold- for love itself was creation. For the first time in his life, an act of love brought out the child’s creation. So it was natural for Thomas to spend hours inventing more for this little child on their way.

That is, his second child. For he had a child, once, and lost that child, once. 

Yes, it was a child conceived from control rather than consent…but it was still a child in need of care. A hungry baby- a human life crying for milk, and burning with fever. A child “born wrong.” A child Enola swore to fight to keep alive. 

And a child that despite everything died anyway. As did Enola. 

Despite Lucille’s cruelty, he did pity her grief for that child- For it was his grief as well.

Lucille caught ill and died not long after. He at least made sure she died comfortably. Warm beneath blankets on a soft bed. Assured her she was loved and kissed her cheek as she took her last breath.

It was complicated, his feelings about his late sister. He never could decide one thing about her. For everything was true- there was both in her. Lucille, both cruel and misunderstood, powerful and pitiful, villain and victim.

Though he never once forced himself on anyone or took advantage of a child as she did to him…

And yet…

He was still guilty of scheming, of blood, of darkness as she was. Of the invention that he wanted to be funded, that he bought at the price of three women’s lives… 

But… assaulting him when he was little? Using his innocence until when he was grown he knew no other but her? You would tell him that even if the murders were understandable, she did cross a line in that regard.

He still didn’t know if the woman who at once was his partner, his equal, his sister as well as his jailer, his predator, his molester was deserving of it. 

Or not. 

Or both.

Yet, all of that darkness and blood was now in the past. Here you were his current wife. A wife who would never take advantage of him. A wife who listened and respected when he said “no.” A wife who wouldn’t push him. Wouldn’t manipulate him. Wouldn’t control him. A wife who forgave him and saw he was now trying to do right with his life, and his choices and would be there to support him.

 Your pregnancy was poignant.  A reminder that he had a new life now- and a life that was about to expand as your stomach did each month.  A new life was about to come forth literally and figuratively for him. 

In the corner of his workshop in a special box were toys he made once. Toys were made for the first child who died. 

He never prayed, but he did now to whoever listened. For once, those toys would know being loved, being played, and for a baby’s laughter and delight and adoration. They wouldn’t rust from age, but with use. To be worn not with dust, but with love.

He brought out the box one morning and set it in the nursery of his new house. A simpler house compared to Allerdale Hall’s Majesty. Smaller and brighter, made of cherrywood and over earth rather than clay. But cheerful, the warmth bursting in every room.

The toys were cleaned and set ready in that nursery corner. You squeezed his hand after he did so.

When making sure you were comfortable, or when you slept or napped, away he would be in his workshop. He had a special toy shop now next to the house. So in his downtime, he would be found creating little toys that a child of any sex would love. A little teddy bear that twirled on top of a drum. A little cat that lifted to lick its little paw next to a puppy that wagged its tail. 

But…what else would a baby need!? His mind was reeling. It had been too long…

Of course! A place to sleep! You had insisted the old wooden rocker would work…but he still had that itching, the gears in his mind whirring faster than any clay mine.

He took a few weeks to study the designs and then set right to work. He stayed up late, rolling up his sleeves. Working on one where if you pressed a small pedal, it would rock gently, oh so gently, as to not stir a baby to more wailing, but only to sleep.

So when he discovered that Lady Sharpe’s water broke, he insisted on staying by you.

“Thomas! But…husbands don’t..don’t usually stay!” you cried. You clutched his hand as he led you to the bed.

Lucille would urge him to leave when it was time to put a cleaver into one of the wives.

For once, he would look at the blood and the bodily innards spilling from his wife and not turn away.

He shook his head, though his hand was still in yours.

“No- My dear, all of my life, I closed my eyes and ran away. I didn’t look when things happened. Not this time- after I get the midwife, I am staying with you. I will not run away for once. I’m going to stay with my wife and keep my eyes open, no matter what I see. I love you- and for once, I am not leaving.” I will not leave you alone to deal with it now.

You grabbed him and kissed his cheek. Then he ran and fetched the midwife. He held to his word and stayed.

Labor is always long. Labor is always primal. But he waited there. Squeezing your hand, cooling your head for every painful cry and push. 

Then, after the long hours, though he was a man used to blood he turned pale… Then at last there was a cry.

The midwives smiled, bringing out a little baby in their blaket. Declaring, “It’s a girl!”

You let out a smile and then a laugh of relief. Thomas kissed your hand, then looked at her. His blue eyes brimmed with tears, but for once in his life they were happy ones.

The little girl was brought out in her blanket, needing her mother’s touch- being so new to this cold world and wanting the soft embrace of knowing she was loved now that she was here.

“Look at her…look at her- our baby! Our daughter! Oh!” you cried, a mess of crying, swear, and relief—the pain of the last several hours was forgotten for the tiny baby.

“I never could imagine it,” he agreed, he pecked her tiny forehead.

Once she had settled down, you handed her over to Thomas. The warm, living bundle in his arms. Yes, her cry was loud and bright…but it only signaled that she was alive.. He had never known such joy without confinement, without limits.

The midwives and nurses were paid and thanked. They left, but though it was a long day his Daedelian mind was eager to share his gift.

As you sat in the bed after a while, Thomas got up.

“I have a gift now. For her,” he announced.

Setting you in the wheelchair for rest, he led you to the nursery. The little girl in your arms. Inside the little pastel room there was something in the middle that was tall beneath a blanket.

Thomas walked forward and slipped the blanket off. You let out a gasp.

Beneath was the cradle Thomas made. It was stunningly beautiful- a little pedal that when he stepped on it, would make it rock. Over the bed was a music box on the side that trinkled a lullabye. Stars and a crescent moon dangled were placed to spin over the babies head where she would be placed.

You gasped, seeing how ornate it was. Every bit made with love. As you got up and placed her inside, she opened her little eyes and cooed. You made a little gasp as she took in the sight- her parents and her special gift. Music, rocking, and the stars and moon to dance above her.

To think, after all he had seen, experienced, and done…that he would come to know this moment. Here it was…and he didn’t feel worthy of it.

What when she was older? His own father was a monster. And for a while, fatherhood was linked to such things…

“I only hope I shall be a good father for that little girl…” Thomas wondered..

“You already are,” you assured him. You wrapped an arm around him and kissed him on the cheek.

That night, you were set to sleep after the exhaustion of delivery and elation of the baby. Thomas offered to be there in the nursery. For she was crying through that night, as any baby. Not that she was hungry, as he found out, she just needed warmth.

He got her out of the lovely cradle and went to the rocking chair. He wanted to hold her, feel her close. Her warmth and beating heart and life. 

His most precious creation of all…and the one that would survive. He knew she would.

“I promise you, my little love…” Thomas told the baby. “You will not know of attics. Of cold and punishments. Of plotting and murders. Of blood and cruelty…”

He kissed the top of her head.

“No- you will be Protected. Wanted…and loved.”

He would do everything so that his daughter would never have to suffer as he did.

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2024-03-05

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Sir Thomas Sharpe stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning

❆ Christmas at Allerdale Hall by sserpente • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Imagine spending Christmas with Thomas Sharpe at Allerdale Hall, while the Baronet is determined to make the holiday special for you, Lucille cannot be more cross with [you for celebrating the holidays]."

❆ Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by just-the-hiddles • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Your sister and children have come for the holidays to Allerdale Hall but all is not merry and bright."

❆ London Blizzard by sserpente • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Imagine getting stuck in [London due to] a blizzard with Thomas Sharpe over Christmas."

❆ A Special Present by ladyfluff • 〔C〕 • ♡ • 𑁍 •

❆ Chilly by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

❆ Darling, You Shouldn't Have by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

❆ Mistletoe Kiss by sserpente • 〔F〕 •

❆ Snow Day by ladyfluff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || Thomas Sharpe Master Index

Authors: @just-the-hiddles || @ladyfluff || @sserpente ||

[jokeringcutio]

I see you have Crimson Peak listed for fics 👀

Picture this: Sir Thomas Sharpe doesn't have a sister and was never abused, therefore never got into the black widower routine. He's just a struggling inventor in London to wrangle investors for his machine because he's the last of his crumbling family line.

Reader is an heiress who rarely gets out because she's anxious and prone to panic attacks. Quite a sweet and pretty girl, but her parents are ashamed of her and hide her away.

Anyway there's a Halloween masquerade being held in town and both reader and Thomas attend (whether they sneak in or not is up to you) and they meet. They both feel more at home with each other than anyone else in the city, and start seeing each other secretly and fall in love.

Up to you if he asks permission to marry her or they elope and the parents pay to cover it up, but they get married and use her money to fund his inventions and fix up crimson peak. And have kid(s) to continue the family line.

A happy romantic story for two sweet and ignored people 🥰 (smut scene if you wanna, but it should be romantic)

-🐀

AN: Follow me for more Halloween Reader Inserts. More stories will follow this month.

Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader – Halloween (Sweet AU) Fandom: Crimson Peak Pairing: Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader Rating: Teen Summary:  AU in which Sir Thomas Sharpe never had his sister corrupt him and meets Reader at a Halloween masquerade.

Warnings: None Really. Romance. Talk about marriage and kids. Drama. Tiny bit of Angst? Sorry it was written in a rush. Possible Cameo for Albert Shaw.

Charity

In the comfort of your tower chamber, you stood, gazing out of the circle-top window at the people who passed in the streets below. You didn’t feel the need to be among them, content to be up here by yourself in a room full of comfort and little knick-knacks. You had your peace and quiet and you were content with it.

The wealth you had been born in, and the hefty salary that your parents paid you each month, was enough to ensure you wouldn’t have to lift a finger for the entirety of your life. Rich, others would call you. But if they could see your bedroom they might doubt that you were.

You didn’t feel the need for all the lavishness that money could grant you. You hardly spent a dime other than the usual necessities. Material possessions had little interest for you. Instead, you found solace in spending your money on charity, giving away some of your income to charities on a steady base.

It was almost fitting, then, that your heart would be captured by a man who was once a charity case himself.

You met him during one of the few occasions where you were allowed to venture out of your tower where your parents usually kept you locked away… like a secret. They were ashamed because you were still a spinster in your twenties. And you could not blame them. People looked at you oddly and whispered behind your back in the streets. And so you didn’t want to go out and be among them any longer, hiding yourself much to your parents’ relief.

But there were such occasions where you would go out. Usually small balls or events with family and close friends. Sometimes, to bigger events where you knew that people would not be able to recognize you.

You feared their reactions if they saw you, feared what they would say or do.

The yearly Halloween Masquerade was an event you dreaded. The stuffy ballroom, the leering gazes, the suffocating press of bodies all around - it threatened to bring forth the panic attacks that plagued your life. Yet tonight, as you stood at the edge of the dance floor, your eyes took in the beautiful sight of the latest fashion dresses and suits. Beautiful women and men danced together, their masks hiding their faces, yet they grew intimate in their dance. You wondered how it felt, had done so for a while, but at the same time weren’t keen to experience it yourself.

You tried to hide away, to not be noticed, despite the dress you wore; the silken emerald fabric hugged your curves and cascaded down to the floor, shimmering with each movement. The intricate golden mask on your face only partially concealed your identity, but it was enough to give you a fleeting sense of anonymity. People still stopped to ask you for a dance. Men still stopped.

You disliked their leering gazes, the way their eyes seemed to undress you from behind the masks. And so you tried your best to avoid dancing with them. Their intentions were clear, and you were not interested in any of them. Your heart raced, anxiety clawing its way up your throat. If only this evening could come to an end.

And then, a familiar face appeared among the crowd. Your savior. Giselle, one of the few friends you had, came rushing towards you in a gown matching your own. Her wide smile a beacon of relief.

"Would you care to dance?" she asked, her eyes twinkling behind her mask. Finally, you were rescued.

Gratitude surged through you, and a genuine smile bloomed on your face. "I'd love to."

As you danced with Giselle, the familiar pressure in your chest began to dissipate. Her laughter, light and carefree, seemed to chase away the shadows that clung to your heart. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to enjoy the sensation of being alive. And you laughed; a pure, wholehearted smile.

Your joy was noted.

As you and Giselle danced, you felt the burning gaze of someone on your form. You carefully started to glance around.

“What are you doing?” Giselle asked, having noticed how your eyes traced the room.

“Someone’s watching me,” you mumbled, just loud enough for your voice to be carried over the tones of the music.

Giselle chuckled as she spun you around gracefully. “Of course, people are watching us,” she said, a sneer appeared on her face. “The Duke of Sparington has been trying to get my attention all evening. I’m so glad to get away. The guy’s in his forties and already has two kids and a tummy like a barrel. If I were to marry him he’d kill me in his sleep just by rolling over and ending on top of me.”

At this, you couldn’t help but laugh again, even though Giselle seemed to be grimacing at your reaction. It was obvious that she was repulsed by the man who had decided to chase her.

“Tell me, for the love of God,” you started, “That your parents won’t allow the match.”

But Giselle sighed deeply. “They’re much like yours,” she muttered, squeezing your hand a little too tightly as you continued the dance. “Eager to have me wed, even though they said to have given up on me already.”

Your eyes turned wide. “Well, you must convince them to hand you to another. If not younger, then at least thinner so you won’t be suffocated during your night’s rest.”

Giselle grinned at this, appreciating the joke. But you knew her situation was slightly different than yours. Albeit having been born in money pretty much like you had, Giselle’s dowry wasn’t nearly as large as yours. And her parents could not hide her away like yours had with you. The day for her to marry seemed to be closing in with each passing year.

You dreaded the thought.

If only we could marry for love, you thought solemnly. You held Giselle’s hand in your own as you spun around the room. And as the music swelled, your eyes drifted across the ballroom, settling on a figure who stood in stark contrast to the colorful array of masks and costumes. He was tall, slender yet muscular, clad in black as though he were an ethereal shadow amidst the sea of gaiety. His piercing blue eyes seemed to draw you in, ensnaring you with their intensity.

You couldn't look away. It was as if an invisible thread connected you both, pulling tighter with each passing second. Desire coursed through your veins, leaving you breathless. The world around you blurred, leaving only the two of you locked in this magnetic dance of longing.

This was the man who had been watching you. This was the gaze you had felt all along.

"Your turn," Giselle whispered, releasing your hand. It was then that the dark stranger approached, his movements fluid and graceful as he closed the distance between you.

"May I have this dance?" His voice was soft, yet carried an undertone of command.

"Of course," you breathed, entranced by the mysterious man before you. As he took your hand, electricity sparked between you, igniting a fire deep within your soul.

"Thomas Sharpe," he introduced himself as the two of you began to sway to the music. His low voice sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony as if you'd danced together countless times before. He was good, you noticed. Kept his rhythm well and moved fluently, despite his tall height and rather stiff appearance. This mysterious man took you by surprise completely.

You whispered your name and gazed up at the masked stranger. His blue eyes seemed warm as they lay upon you, peering through the holes of the black and blue mask. The silver lines only emphasized the blue of his eyes, making him seem more like a spirit than a man. Could he be real?

“I haven’t seen you here before,” you murmured, weakly, as you tried to focus on the steps you took with your feet. Focusing was hard, because Thomas’s scent and warmth distracted you, and brought your mind to places your mother would describe as the gutter.

How did this man manage to bring about such wicked thoughts, you wondered? Especially now that you could not even see his full face?

“Ah, yes. That is because I am not from around here,” Thomas replied, and that would explain it all. During your years living here, you’d become familiar with most faces of the high society. And many of them you wished you’d never seen. “I’m only visiting shortly in an attempt to raise sponsors willing to support my cause.”

“And what cause is that?” you asked, eyes meeting his as the two of you swayed gently from side to side.

Something in Thomas’s eyes lit up, like the subject you allowed him to talk about brought him real joy. Joy, and something else. Hope, you wondered?

"I'm working on a machine to mine red clay from the earth surrounding my family's estate," Thomas explained, his eyes burning with passion. "I believe it has the potential to bring great wealth, but I'm in desperate need of funding."

Red bells went off inside your mind. Another gold digger, you thought. You’d seen them before, met them before, although they never had such a great impact as Thomas had.

"Red clay?" You frowned, intrigued by the man and his ambitions. Was he not just another suitor seeking your fortune, but someone fueled by dreams and desires much like your own?

"Indeed, it's a valuable resource with numerous applications," he continued, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. "But my family's fortune has dwindled, and our estate is crumbling,” here he paused, giving you time to think. “I'm determined to restore it to its former glory."

"Tell me more," you urged, your heart pounding as power and desire mingled within you. He was a man of ambition, and you felt drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

As the music played on and the dance floor spun around you, Thomas spoke of his dreams, his lips brushing against your ear with each whispered word. The world outside ceased to exist - it was just you and Thomas, bound together by shared passions and undeniable attraction.

"Thomas," you breathed, feeling as if you were on the brink of something dangerous, yet incredibly thrilling. Your fingers intertwined, creating a bond that seemed unbreakable.

"Time seems to stand still with you," he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

And in that moment, you knew that your life would never be the same.

Perhaps the decision you took was rash. But you had thought about it, had done so for years before this moment had come. You had refused every man who had come to your door simply because you hadn’t felt that spark. You even had started to think you were incapable of feeling such feelings at all. But then Thomas came onto the scene, and he rose feelings inside of you that you had never felt before.

Love. Lust.

Both feelings combined made you feel powerful and strong. If you could feel this for a man, then surely, you would have to chase the chance to be with him. If he wouldn’t want to have you, then so be it, but you at least had to try. You had always been honest about your feelings and had always listened to your heart when you made decisions.

Your heart raced as you pulled Thomas closer, your fingers entwined like tendrils of ivy. The music swelled around you, a wild torrent that threatened to drown out everything else.

"Thomas," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "I... I like you."

The words hung in the air between you, a fragile confession that could shatter at any moment. He looked both elated and afraid, his blue eyes wide and vulnerable. What an odd reaction, you thought, alarmed by the fear you saw in his eyes. Did he not want you? You knew it was only one meeting that you had, a few dances that you shared, but there was that spark. That moment when the two of you had gazed into each other’s eyes and had forgotten the world.

Surely, that must have meant something to him, right?

"Truly?" His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. But then his grip on you faltered and you whimpered sadly when his arms fell away. A rejection, you thought upset.

"Sweet girl of mine,” Thomas whispered, the affection making you flinch because it felt so right – but you feared that in a moment he would be gone.

“I can’t give you what you need,” Thomas continued, voice laced with pain. As if admitting this hurt him more than you could possibly imagine. His hand reached for yours again, gently holding it.

“I haven't much to offer. My family's fortune is nearly gone, our estate in ruins...You’d be cold and far away from your family, living with a man who is hardly more than a bagger, trying to scrape back his family’s fortune and bringing back some lost glory to the Sharpe’s name."

"None of that matters to me," you assured him, feeling a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration. It was as if you were free-falling, the ground rushing towards you at breakneck speed. “I would like to explore the possibilities of there being an us. Of you being with me.”

But before he could respond, the music screeched to a halt, leaving you breathless and off-balance. Thomas' grip on your hand loosened, and he looked away, his eyes flicking towards the shadows that lingered at the edge of the ballroom.

"Please excuse me," he muttered, slipping away from you like water through your fingers. You watched him go, feeling bereft and adrift in the suddenly too-large room.

"Who was that?" Giselle asked, appearing at your side with a concerned frown. "You look... shaken."

"Thomas Sharpe," you murmured, still searching for him among the swirling throng of dancers. "He just... left."

"Perhaps it's for the best," she suggested, her gaze following yours. "Forget about him, darling. Dance the night away with me instead."

2.

The next day, you found yourself holed up in your tower chamber, the memory of your dance with Thomas haunting your every waking moment. You had inquired after him, researched him, desperate for any scrap of information that might help you understand the man who had so thoroughly captivated you. Luckily, your parents and their servants could provide you with all the information you might need.

"Sir Thomas Sharpe," you whispered to yourself, tracing the letters on the page with your fingertips. "Baronet and engineer."

You learned that his family line was dwindling. He was the last alive, with no heir to carry on the name. His house, once grand and imposing, now lay in ruins - a testament to the passage of time and the ravages of decay. But despite it all, Thomas still dreamed of resurrecting his family's fortune with his ambitious red clay mining project.

And you thought he might be onto something.

With renewed vigor, you set about drawing up plans for his machine, inspired by the conversation you'd shared while dancing. The hours slipped away as you sketched and calculated, determined to lend your own talents to his cause.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you spread the blueprints across the table, studying them with a critical eye. This was something real, something tangible that could bring you closer to the man who had stolen your heart in one dizzying waltz.

"Thomas Sharpe," you murmured again, feeling the name curl around your tongue like a secret. "I'll find you... I promise."

3.

A new day dawned, and you found yourself summoned to the drawing room. The request, although not unusual, surprised you, because your mother demanded you’d be presentable. Fear gripped your heart at that because it could only mean one thing.

A suitor.

And how you dreaded to come face to face with a man whose visage or demeanor repulsed you. Especially now that your mind was set on only one man in the entire universe.

The door creaked open to reveal Thomas standing there in front of your parents, hat in hand, his black coat clinging to his slender frame. His gaze met yours, a piercing blue that sent a shiver down your spine and weakened your knees. This was the first time you properly saw his face and oh-my! He was handsome. More so than you had envisaged him to be in your dreams. It felt as if your heart stopped beating entirely and as if the world froze in a blizzard of roses and butterflies. This man.

But wait, had he come looking for you?

"Miss," he began, his voice soft as silk, "I must confess that ever since our encounter at the masquerade, I have been unable to forget you." There was something gritty about his voice that betrayed the truth of his words. As if he had tried his best to put you out of his mind and had failed.

You liked that, though. You liked the thought of him being unable to forget you. It meant he was as much on your mind as you were on his. Your heart raced at his admission, but you fought to maintain your composure.

Your parents, who had been watching the exchange with keen interest, seemed to light up at the whole display. Your father spoke with enthusiasm, "Sir Thomas Sharpe here asked for your hand in marriage,” he said to you. “I think it would be a wonderful match.”

Your heart skipped a beat as your mother turned to Thomas with a smile. “Sir Thomas, we would be honored to welcome you into our family."

Thomas stood rigidly, and you could have missed the relief that flooded his eyes entirely had you not been looking at them. There was a sudden warmth to his gaze that told you that this was what he had come for.

But at the same time, you felt doubt cling to your heart. You wanted him, but… he stood so rigid, so unmoving. Like a true gentleman, you thought. But were your parents aware of his misfortune, you wondered? Or had he tricked them into making a match? The rich spinster whose parents feel embarrassed, eager to marry her off to a man with a pretty title who seems to have captured their daughter’s heart. The first to have achieved this.

"Mother," you whispered, pulling her aside, and out of the drawing room where you would have a bit of privacy and the men couldn’t hear. "I don't understand. He is poor, why are you encouraging this?"

"Darling," she replied in a hushed tone, her breath warm against your ear, "you have the funds, he has the need. It's your duty to marry and secure our family's future.”

“His house is in shambles, you told me yourself,” you whispered. “Aren’t you afraid he will usurp all of my resources? Have you considered he might only want to marry me because of my wealth?”

But your mother shook her head and smiled. “Listen, dear, Thomas seems to behave like a true gentleman. You could do worse. Besides,” here she paused and you waited full of anticipation to hear what argument she was going to use next, “even if he is poor, he needs an heir. And it is your duty as a woman to continue the line of our family. And quite frankly, I haven’t seen you as interested in a man in all of my life. Just take this opportunity and don’t ruin it. You’re going to be a good mom, give birth to a son to ensure a safe future for yourself and our family, and I will finally have the grandchildren I so desire."

Anger bubbled within you, hot and fierce. You wanted to marry for love, not obligation. And you decided to tell your mother as much.

“I won’t marry just to be a breeding mare,” you hissed. “If I marry it’ll be out of love. Not out of obligation.”

The creaking of the floorboards made you look up in shock to meet deep blue eyes of Thomas as he rounded the corner. How much had he heard? There was a sadness in his eyes that quickly melted into a fierce determination. Oh no, your heart raced as your mind clouded with disastrous scenarios. His face was pale - paler than before - and his eyes widened in shock.

"Thomas," you tried to reach out to him, but he stepped back, the hurt in his eyes unmistakable.

"Forgive me, Miss. Coming here was a mistake. I must take my leave," he said, his voice barely a whisper. And without another word, he left the room, leaving you standing there, heart pounding and mind racing.

“Sir Thomas!” Your mother called out, running after him as fast as her skirts would allow. You knew you’d be in trouble now.

Don’t ruin it, your mother had said, only milliseconds before you’d done just that.  

You watched Thomas go, a flurry of black coat and wounded pride. The memory of his touch, his scent, and his voice haunted you, taunting you with the promise of what could have been. But as the door closed behind him, a cold, hard truth settled in your bones. You had lost him, and it was unlikely you would ever find him again.

4.

Days had passed since your last encounter with Thomas, and the ache in your chest grew stronger. The walls of your chamber felt suffocating, so you defied your parents' wishes and ventured outside into the bustling streets. Your reappearance caused whispers to spread like wildfire; some marveled at your beauty and kindness despite your reclusive nature, while others gossiped about your unmarried status.

Returning home, cheeks flushed from the cool air, your heart sank as you found a man you had known all of your life as Uncle Al - one of your neighbors – speaking to your father in hushed tones. It was apparent he was asking for your hand in marriage.

"Please, sir," the man said, desperation lacing his voice, "I can provide for her."

"Give me away?" You scoffed, anger boiling inside you. "To him?"

The man had known you from when you were a little child and was older than you by far.  You had been shocked by the amount of men at your parents’ door recently, but to see him. The neighbor who had always been so kind to you… It was unsettling.

“You can’t be serious,” you said, uncaring if it hurt the man’s feelings. “He’s nearly as old as you!”

Your father's eyes narrowed, clearly displeased by your outburst. “Nearly as old, perhaps,” he said, voice low like a warning. “But he is a good friend of our family and he deserves a bit of happiness.”

Your neighbor stood up a little straighter, a lustful gleam in his eye as his gaze fell upon you. You felt a shiver run down your spine. No, you thought. No way you’d give him the heirs your mother so wanted. Your heart already belonged to another and you had made up your mind a little while ago.

“And a bit more respect as well, don’t you agree?” The hiss made it clear that your father was not to be argued with, and so you directed your gaze down at the ground and muttered a brief apology.

Al seemed to accept it, for a smile took possession of his lips and he turned back to your father again. “Such an endearing creature,” you heard him say, voice like silk. “Whyever have you kept her away from us for so long?”

Because of this, you thought, sadly. Your parents might have feared this. And with a start, you realized how you had set your own demise into motion. That they hadn’t as much locked you away out of shame as well as to protect you from all the unwanted gazes and proposals of men twice your age or more. They knew you hadn’t wanted to marry and had given you the space. But now, society demands them to hand you over to someone. And who better than a family friend they had known all of their lives?

“It is settled then,” you heard Al say and lifted your gaze to see him shake your father’s hand. Your father forced a smile, though you recognized by now that it did not reach his eyes.

A measurement out of necessity. A must. You thought with a shock. Unable to look at the two men any longer, you turned on your heels and ran away. Your bedroom felt safe, for now, high up in your tower, as you threw yourself upon the bed and clutched your pillows tight.

“Not him,” you breathed through tears. “Not Al.” No matter how kind your neighbor had been when you were smaller, he was old and started to grey. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Thomas and didn’t have the same voice or scent.

And there he was again. Thomas never seemed to leave your mind.

After you calmed down enough, you pushed yourself off the bed. Your chest heaved with fury as you went to stare out the window, your breath fogging the cold glass.

You weren’t looking at anything in particular when your gaze fell upon the familiar figure of Thomas across the street. You’d been occupied with your own thoughts, and it took you a few seconds before you realized that your gazes had crossed. All this time you had been searching for him. You knew he was still in the area, knew he had made visits to unsuccessfully gain sponsors to fund his work. But you’d never been able to catch sight of him. And here he was, underneath your window, staring at you from across the street with silent admiration.

How long had he been there?

Your heart leaped. Not wasting another second, you rushed down the stairs and outside, the door slamming behind you.

"Thomas!" You called, seeing how he had turned and was walking away from you. Despite the street being busy this time of the day, you followed his tall shape, running past people and making your way zigzagging through the crowd. The top hat he wore indicated where he went. “Thomas, wait!”

But he kept walking. And just when you started to get out of breath, you saw him come to a standstill. Relieved, you caught your breath and ran towards him. It was as if he waited for you, standing tall and proud, his back still turned towards you. Then he slowly turned around to face you, a sad expression marred his features. His blue eyes were full of turmoil.

"Dear girl,” he murmured, his blue eyes shimmering with unspoken emotions. "I know you must think me a monster, standing underneath your window like I have…”

You shook your head fiercely. “No, not at all,” you breathed.

“I must confess, I have been watching you more frequently these days. I tried to forget, but… I felt drawn to your window more and more, just to catch a glimpse of you,” Thomas admitted, silently. He hung his head in shame. But his blue eyes were kept firmly upon you. “My heart still beats for you."

His admission sent shivers down your spine, your desire for him growing stronger like a moth drawn to a flame.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. Surprise was visible on his face, but only for a moment. Then, he carefully wrapped his arms around you, holding you in an embrace.

“When I said I would not marry out of obligation, I also said I wanted to marry out of love,” you whispered, aware that Thomas could hear. “It is you I have always been waiting for. I want no other.”

Thomas pulled away from the embrace and looked deep into your eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt. He found none.

He slowly leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, his hands gently caressing your face. The kiss was soft and tender but quickly intensified. As you pulled away, the hunger in your eyes was evident. Without saying a word, you grabbed Thomas's hand, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you.

You led Thomas back to your home. “You must talk to my father again,” you said, still holding his hand in your own. You could feel his eyes upon you, burning with desire. “He just gave me away to another.”

“Another?” Thomas sounded as if he hardly could believe his ears, and you felt how his grip on your hand inadvertently intensified. Once he noticed his bodily reaction, he looked ashamed at your joined hands and relieved some of the pressure, holding your hand gently again.

“I said I wouldn’t, but,” you hesitated, chewing your lip pensively as the both of you stood in front of your parents’ home, glancing up at the tower that you slept in. “Since I have been going out, people have started to notice me.”

You turned to Thomas, eyes locking, and found a look of wonder in his. “A spinster,” you clarified, gently squeezing his hand. “Society has been building up pressure until my father had to relent. I need to be married for the honor of the family name.”

“Then lead me inside,” Thomas said, voice hoarse, almost as if there was a hidden second layer to his words. Inside, it purred inside your mind. Yes, that was where you wanted him. In you, around you, part of you. And so, you led him inside, determined to make your parents see reason. As you entered the parlor, their disapproving eyes bore into you.

"Father, Mother, look who I have brought home," you said, their heads turning to look at the two of you in wonder. There you stood, hand in hand with the man of your dreams. Thomas’s eyes were glinting, a tremble to his smile. Hope, that was the right word. He radiated hope.

"Thomas?" Your father sounded surprised. "The struggling inventor?"

“Sir Thomas Sharpe,” Thomas said firmly, taking you and your parents by surprise. “I might lack the funds for the comfort your daughter deserves, but I have an abundance of love for her. I asked you before and I beg you to consider me again. Annul the agreement with the other suitor to her hand. Your daughter and I are in love. And I will pledge to keep her safe and care for your daughter and our children, if we are blessed to have any, until the end of my days.”

The speech was long, heart-warming, and rendered you speechless. As you watched Thomas he seemed to transform into something else, something ethereal. A glowing creature, full of power and passion. It only confirmed the choice you had made.

Your parents stood there, silently, But you could tell by their faces that they were deep in thought.

"His heart is true, and he loves me," you insisted, gripping Thomas's hand even tighter. "Do you not wish for my happiness?"

A tense silence filled the room until your mother finally spoke, her voice barely audible. "Very well, we shall accept his proposal."

Relief washed over Thomas's face, his eyes brimming with gratitude and love. The weight of your decision hung in the air, heavy but necessary. And that night you had your first meal together. The next morning was spent walking and chatting, getting to know each other a little better.

And as the days passed by, you had no regrets.

Months later, with your dowry spent on tools and materials, you watched as Thomas began to build his machines according to a combination of your designs and his own. His hands, once soft and delicate, grew calloused as he toiled away in his workshop. You watched from the shadows, pride swelling in your chest as his dreams slowly came to life.

Life in your new home wasn't easy; the roof leaked, the walls were damp, and the cold seeped through every crack. But together, you made it work. When you discovered you were pregnant, the hardships only intensified. You were sick quite often and with no servants to tend to your needs, you had to do everything around the house yourself. You fell ill during pregnancy, running a fever that made Thomas fear for both your life as well as that of your unborn child. But you survived and got better. And despite the challenges, love kept you warm. Your shared passion was like an inferno against the bitterness of the world.

By the time your child arrived, a fragile, wailing bundle, Thomas's business had begun to flourish. You supported him unwaveringly, standing by his side as he navigated the treacherous waters of entrepreneurship.

"Thank you, my love," he murmured one night as you lay entwined beneath threadbare blankets, your child nestled between you. "Without you, none of this would be possible."

"Thank you," you whispered back, tears glistening in the moonlight. "For giving me a life worth living."

Slowly but surely, Thomas's business continued to grow, allowing you to repair your home and provide for your growing family. Life was still tough, but it was a life filled with love, laughter, and the knowledge that you had chosen the right path.

And so, with your children surrounding you, you lived out your days as a happy family, bound together by the unyielding force of love, triumphing against all odds.

~ Fin ~

AN: Liked my work? :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all

[emily-the-fae]

reaching out to fanfiction tumblr people there was this fanfic on "Crimson Peak" about ghost!Thomas Sharpe x OC on ao3

called "Ghost in the Shadows" or smith like that

was one of my favorite fanfics ever and I recently saw the author deleted it

Does anyone know who the author is/how I could reach out to them to possibly get the story again? I really loved it and would love to re read

Thanks!

[five-miles-over]

This already looks so exciting, @muddyorbsblr!

I love the way Thomas is so affectionate towards the reader, and at the same time she can already sense so much behind the scenes. The way Thomas simply pauses to tell the reader how breathtaking she is...the way he expresses his eagerness to share a bath with her...the way he rushes to her side when he coughs. Your Thomas is so irresistible! On one hand I want to believe it's all just an act he's put up, but on the other hand, I want to believe he's truly in love with her.

the final Lady Sharpe part 1: across the threshold

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @ellooo0ooo

Summary: To say your first day in Allerdale Hall with your new husband Sir Thomas Sharpe was "eventful" would be a gross understatement. Downright absurd would be a better descriptor.

Pairing: Thomas Sharpe x Reader

Warnings: ghosts; Lucille; murder attempt via poisoning; mentions of the "relationship" between Lucille & Thomas; steamy moment between the newlyweds

Things to be aware of: Reader & Thomas are newlyweds

"Save yourself."

You stiffened in Thomas' arms as the soft spoken tone reached your ears, eyeing your new husband with rapidly increasing worry. "Did you hear that?" 

His eyes held a touch of concern, the smile he gave you -- while breathtaking as it always was -- not quite reaching his eyes as he gave you words of reassurance. "Must simply be the wind, darling. At times it blows so harshly through the piping of the house that it feels as if the halls themselves are whispering to you. It's ghastly, I know, but it's home." 

The words sounded perfectly crafted, as if practiced and corrected many times before, doing nothing to ease the tension that had spread throughout your body as he carried you across the threshold. You made a show of giving him a reassured smile, consciously widening your eyes in an attempt to convince him that you doubted no portion of his answer. "Just the wind," you said softly when he set you back down on your feet. 

"Just the wind," he echoed, placing his hat down on a nearby table before framing your face in large gloved hands and touching the tip of his cold nose to your own, the chill making you break out into a fit of giggles. "There's that sound I absolutely adore from you, my dear wife." Your giggles melded into a weakened sigh once he leaned in closer and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

"Ah. There you are," a stern voice spoke from the other side of the floor, the sound bouncing off the walls as footsteps struck against tile then hardwood, the figure of Lucille Sharpe, your new sister-in-law, striding towards you. "You're finally home." 

"Lucille," your husband breathed out, walking towards her and meeting his sister halfway and pulling her into a tight embrace. 

Something in the sight immediately put you off, as if you sensed an intimacy between them that crossed the lines of familial love. Namely the way that she wrapped long fingers around his upper arm and leaned against his shoulder with her eyes closed, as if she was pressing a kiss on the spot. 

"Welcome, Y/N," she finally spoke to you. "How have you been faring with the cold thus far?" 

"Quite different from what I'm accustomed to but I can get used to just about anything," you answered her with a warm smile, subtly tilting your head at how she'd shaped her fingers like claws and dug the tips into Thomas' arm before releasing him from her hold. 

"You're not imagining it. She abuses him. Makes him sleep with her," the same voice from earlier spoke. "Every night. He won't be laying with you later."

"Well you cannot possibly have adjusted so quickly. Why don't I fix us all some tea and, Thomas you can draw your bride a bath and start a fire? Give her a semblance of home to help her adjust a touch quicker?" The words seemed welcoming enough; her smile, however, made you wish to go back out into the biting winter cold instead. You might fare better against nature than against Lucille. 

"Truly, Lucille? Tea this early? We'd just gotten home, we've not had the chance to even begin to unpack our belongings." You began to eye your husband with the same suspicion now, narrowing your eyes at his question that seemed as if they were speaking of more than just 'tea'.

"It will help warm her up," she insisted. "All of us, really."

His sharp exhale filled the room, his arm reaching out towards you when you began to walk further into the house and wrapping around your shoulders. "Very well then." His tone towards her had grown more formal, dismissive even. "Shall I show you to our room, Lady Sharpe?" He gave you a warm smile, this time the kind that reached his eyes as you nodded your assent. 

A mixture of your giggles and his filled the house as he scooped you up into his arms once more and carried you up the stairs. 

You tried to suppress your blush as you were treated to the view of your husband busying himself in your bedroom, insisting you 'sit back and not worry a single hair on that pretty head' while he prepped the fireplace. Of course, who were you to refuse a comfortable room with a view, especially when said view came in the form of Thomas Sharpe, coats shrugged off and sleeves rolled up to his elbows starting a fire to keep you warm?

The orange light of the kindling fire began to wash over the room, already making you feel as if you could breathe easier as your husband gave you an adorably triumphant smile. "Oh my word," he breathed out, rising to his feet and slowly making his way to you. 

"What is it?" A warmth bloomed inside you, his fingertips lightly tracing your features with one hand while the other began to undo the bun in your hair. If only that warmth wasn't accompanied by the pit forming in your stomach as you remembered what that voice whispered in your ear downstairs. 

"You are breathtaking in this light, darling." He ran his fingers through your hair, touching your chin with his free hand and tilting your head upward as he leaned down to press his lips to yours. The feel of him groaning against your skin sent your heart into a frenzy and your stomach fluttering like a dozen butterflies had just taken residence inside.

Every touch of your lips seemed more frantic than the last, feeling yourself getting more and more lost in him. Almost to the point that you forgot where you were. In a gloomy creepy near-derelict mansion that was potentially filled with ghosts that were talking to you confirming your intuition about Lucille and your husband having a debauched relationship in a secret held within the decaying walls. And so far away from the city where if you were to meet an untimely demise it would take days, maybe even weeks, before anyone at home was informed of your passing.

All of that seemed to fade away while you stayed in his arms. 

"What if I drew us both a bath?" he murmured against your lips, giving you one more lingering kiss before pulling away, his expression darkened with such explicit lust that it had you struggling to breathe. 

"How scandalous," you teased, your breath  hitching in the back of your throat when you felt his fingers playing with the buttons securing the collar of your dress behind your neck. 

The corner of his mouth upturned in a smirk once he worked the buttons undone and his fingertips met the skin of your  neck, a whimper slipping from your lips as he slipped the piece of fabric off of you. "My darling, we are husband and wife." You bit your lips to muffle a moan when he leaned in to press a kiss to the newly exposed skin. "There is nothingscandalous about us sharing a bath, if you're willing." 

He continued to press kiss after kiss along the column of your neck, and you suddenly felt a heat spreading throughout your body that had nothing to do with the fire steadily crackling on a few feet away from you. "Well in that case, dear husband, I think that's a wonderful--"

The sharp sound of knuckles rapping on the door broke the heady spell you were under, both of you  suddenly standing upright, Thomas' arm now wrapped around you with his hand splayed on the side of your waist as he pulled you to his side. "Is everyone decent?" you heard Lucille's voice clear and piercing through the door.

"Decent enough," your husband called out, chuckling as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

"Thomas what on Earth could you possibly mean by--Oh…" The look on her face may as well have dropped to the ground when her eyes befell the sight before her. Your now exposed neck, hair flowing down your back, Thomas' own overcoat and waistcoat draped haphazardly over the tall armchair, shirt wrinkled from where your hands clutched at him from moments earlier, the first few buttons undone and exposing his defined chest. "Seems I interrupted a private moment." 

"Oh it's no trouble really--" you started just as Thomas said, "Yes, you did." 

You did what you could to stifle your smile, giving way to him continuing his sentiment instead. "I was just about to draw a bath for my wife. And myself." Once more you fought to keep your expression unchanged as her neck so visibly twitched at the lurid implications of his words. 

The voice from earlier was back. But she wasn't talking to you, rather she was talking to…another voice. You could barely make out names in the conversation. Edith. Enola. Talking about how Thomas was different with you, how he seemed to be protecting you almost. 

"I'm sure the bath can wait, dear husband," you said, plastering on a warm smile you strived to reach your eyes. 

"But I'm not quite sure that I can," he shot back with a chuckle, pulling you closer to him. 

"Come on, sweetheart, Lucille made us tea. It'd be a shame for it to go cold." You looked to him with wide eyes, seeing how his jaw clenched for a moment before he briefly narrowed his eyes at his sister. And she was looking to you with a conspiratorial smirk, as if she felt the satisfaction of finding in you some ally. But you knew that look for what it really was; you'd seen it enough times throughout your ventures in London.

It was the look of an assumed mastermind pleased to see that a pawn was carrying out a leg of a plan on their own volition. And thus playing into their own trap. Run, little mouse, run, her eyes seemed to say. Right into my snare. 

"You have your sensibilities about you, Y/N. I like you already." 

"I've been around London enough times to know how you get with your tea," you joked, your cheeks aching from the smile you were trying to keep up. It seemed worth the dull ache, though, with the single nod she gave you as she poured out the hot beverage in two of the cups on the tray. The third one, however, had already been filled. And that was the cup she held out to you.

"I wasn't sure how you preferred it, so I took a guess on somewhere between lukewarm and fresh off the kettle. I hope it is to your liking, my new sister." 

"You're very kind, Lucille. Thank you." You brought the cup up to your nose, taking in the aroma. "This…smells quite different from the teas I've had in London. What is it?" 

"Firethorn berries," your husband answered. "Lucille picks them out in the garden and crushes them herself." 

So cyanide, you thought to yourself, wondering if Thomas' omission of whether the crushed berries had been washed was intentional or simply an oversight on his part. They're trying to kill me. 

You could feel your heart sinking from the realization that you'd married in such a rush and now you were to face the consequences. Your rational mind screaming obscenities at you for being so foolish to fall for the words of an angelic face and a devilish voice, and another voice trying to scream louder that you had to think of something quick lest one of them shove the drink down your throat and start the poisonous process.

"Don't drink it! The poison is in the tea!" one of the voices screamed.

"She has to. Lucille will kill her if she doesn't," the first voice, the guiding voice, answered her. 

You took a breath, mustering all your confidence as you hoped that the wayward idea that flew through your mind in the last few moments would work convincingly enough. Raising the cup to your lips, the moderately hot liquid slipped past your lips, and you let it stay there a second before breaking out into a fit of coughs and spitting out majority of the drink, blindly looking for a place to set down the cup and doubling over and arching your back with each cough. 

"Y/N!" The cup was taken out of your hand, Thomas pulling you close to him, moving your hair out of your face and running his hand up and down your back, trying to calm the fit. "Darling what happened?"

"I'm not quite sure," you answered through heaving breaths, both of you having sunk to the floor on your knees in the midst of your show. You fought against your instinct to stiffen in his hold as he pulled you to him, cradling you against his chest. "I suppose it was foolish of me to think firethorn berries was an exception to my allergies."

"Allergies?!" Lucille snapped. "Thomas, you never mentioned anything about your new wife's allergies when you wrote to me about her."

"It's my fault," you answered her. "Honestly it was such a whirlwind romance and the wedding happened so fast there was so much we didn't get to know about each other." You gave a regretful look to your husband. "I'm sorry."

He gave you this sorrowful look, complete with teary eyes, furrowed upturned brows, and quivering lip, before pulling you closer again and resting your head on his shoulder. "This isn't your fault, darling. None of this is your fault. I'm just glad you're alright." You kept at it with your heaving breaths, gradually easing yourself back to a regular rhythm. "How about I fix us something to eat after we freshen up?" 

You gave him a weak nod, inwardly hissing that you'd rather starve than let them have another attempt at your life like that. Letting out a few more weak coughs and making sure to cover your mouth lest Lucille or Thomas know what an allergic reaction ideally looked like and realize that you'd been putting on a show, you turned your gaze to Lucille. "I'm so sorry you went through all this trouble--"

"It's no trouble at all, dear sister," she cut you off, the icy rage poorly veiled in her eyes despite the smile she was clearly straining to give you. "As Thomas said, what matters is that you're alright." Her eyes flickered to her brother one last time before she turned and left your bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

"Let me go get you some water, darling." Thomas held your hands as you both stood, holding you close to him again when you were both up on your feet. "I could have sworn I felt my heart drop to the ground when you seemed about to hack out your lung from those heaves." 

He'd led you to the ensuite and turned on the tap. Once the water began to run you straightened your stance and stepped out of his hold, your coughs suddenly -- suspiciously -- a thing of the past. "It's so sweet of you to be so concerned, Thomas." The furrow between his brows deepened, the water overflowing from the glass and onto his hand. "Now tell me. Whose idea was it to poison me, dear husband?" You sneered the words now, as if they themselves were poison to even utter. "Was it yours? Or your sister's?" 

A/N: Welcome to…the series that I didn't actually intend to be a series 😅 When I was planning out this request I only intended for it to be 3 parts, and then I started writing it 2 days ago I realized that I'd be cramming way too much into one part if I wrote it the way I first planned, so it became 4 parts…and then 5…and now it's 8.

But I honestly look forward to diving into this story and sharing it with you all, and I just hope y'all like it, too 💖💛

‘everything’ taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @dangertoozmanykids101 @elizabethmidnight2017 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina

[cleo-fox]

Close Quarters

Part 2 of 2

(Part 1)

Summary: The thrilling conclusion to Part 1.

Pairing: Loki x Fem Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (Minors DNI), dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, elevator sex, a hint of dom/sub, Dom Loki, Reader gets a little bratty, little bit of a sir kink, cunnilingus, blow jobs, filth.

A/N: I know I usually choose a Loki GIF but Thomas Sharpe seemed…more appropriate. I’ve got a couple more one shots with these idiots, so if you want to see more, lemme know.

Mercifully, the hallway is empty.

You imagine that your exit from the elevator looks as scandalous as what happened inside it. You are draped in Loki’s arms, still out of breath and a little glassy eyed from the two earth shattering orgasms that he’d given you only minutes prior. In contrast, Loki looks relatively put together and intently focused, like there’s nothing more important on this earth than getting you both back to your suite as quickly as possible. That thought gives you a bit of a thrill—the idea of you wanting him is not necessarily new or unusual, but the idea that he might want you just as much is utterly thrilling.

It occurs to you that you’re in rather close proximity to his neck and it seems like a shame to let that opportunity go to waste. You press your lips against the pulse point in his throat and lazily make your way along his jaw. His breath hitches when you catch his earlobe between your teeth.

“Are you trying to ensure that I take you in the hallway, Mrs. Pine?” he says, his voice dropping deep.

“I won’t be able to scream for you in the hallway,” you breathe into his ear, “and I kinda think you want that.”

“Minx,” he growls, picking up his pace just slightly as you resume kissing his neck.

“I take it that means I’m right,” you say. “Or that I’m in for it when we get back to the room.”

He chuckles. “Oh, it’s both, darling.”

You shiver and nip at his earlobe once more.

Loki drops the glamor as soon as the door to your room shuts behind you and while you like the cropped blond hair of Jonathan Pine, there is something about his natural long, dark locks that drives you wild.

“Let’s me make two things clear, Agent,” he says as he carries you into the bedroom. “First: there are no covers in here; I want you screaming my name when you come. Second—” he sets you down at the foot of the bed. “—I want to taste your pretty cunt.”

Heat and tension coil in your hips. “I can agree to both of those things.”

“Good. Undress.”

He watches as you slowly strip off your swimsuit, his eyes greedy and hungry. Once you’re completely naked, he gives himself a moment to look you over in full, unconsciously licking his lips when his gaze falls on your breasts and hips, his eyes devouring every inch of you. Finally, he nods at the foot of the bed. “Sit.”

You sit down on the bed and he begins unbuttoning his shirt. He takes his time and you watch, enraptured by the slow reveal of his well-muscled chest and taut, flat stomach. The shirt is discarded on the floor with your swimsuit. He undoes his belt, then the button and zip on his shorts.

He’s wearing black boxer briefs, which surprises you—you had assumed that his preference was likely to go commando. But honestly, the boxer briefs are so fitted that the effect is essentially the same: they cling to every dip and swell and leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. The material is taut across his thighs and his cock strains hard at the fabric. If pressed, you could probably create a reasonably accurate sketch based on this view alone.

You don’t have terribly long to contemplate this, though—he kneels in front of you, pulling you in for a slow kiss, his large hands cupping your breasts. His kiss is thorough and sensual, but the addition of his hands kneading your breasts and gently teasing and pinching the sensitive skin of your nipples may actually send you into the stratosphere.

And then he lowers his mouth to your breast and you lose the ability to form coherent thoughts. He strokes his tongue lazily on your nipple in slow circles, lightly teasing the hardened bud with his teeth and bringing another flood of slick arousal to your cunt. Your hips rock fruitlessly against nothing, seeking friction to ease the throbbing pulse of your clit.

You sigh, letting your eyes close and your head tip back, your fingers tangling in his hair. After a moment, you reach for his free hand and guide it between your legs. His fingers dip between your legs, collecting your slickness and gently rolling against your clit.

You moan and he draws back, eyes dark. “Lie back,” he says softly.

You recline on the bed and his focus shifts to you spread out before him. “Lovely,” he says. He is being sincere—and there’s a power in that that thrills you, that sends even more heat and slick to your aching cunt.

When he’s looked his fill, he brings both of your legs over his broad shoulders. He lowers his head to your cunt slowly, first dipping down to inhale your scent and then with one wicked grin, slipping the warm blade of his tongue between your folds.

Your exhale is shaky and turns into a soft whine in the back of your throat as he licks a long, broad stripe from your entrance up to your clit.

“Fuck, Loki.” His name falls from your lips unbidden. You prop yourself up on your elbows and drink in the sight of him between your legs, head bowed like he is worshiping at the most sacred and solemn altar.

In the elevator, he was determined to make you come as quickly as possible; now, though, in the privacy of your room, he seems intent on taking his time and building you up achingly slowly. His tongue laves over your clit at a leisurely pace, teasing and tasting and sucking until he finds the rhythm and movement that makes you try to press your quaking thighs together because it feels so incredible. He gently presses your legs back open, keeping you spread and fully at the mercy of the rolling waves of pleasure that his mouth is creating. One of his long and elegant fingers slides inside of you and curls, pressing against that sweet, soft spot that makes your hips buck and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

When a second finger joins the first a few minutes later, you know that it won’t be much longer. Loki looks up at you, lust-glazed eyes glittering like he knows that too.

You approach the edge slowly, your breath coming in rolling gasps, your hands gripping his hair. He watches you, his gaze both hungry and mischievous. You bite your lip, breath stuttering as you furrow your brow against that final ascent.

And then the tension finally snaps and your head tips back as you tumble off the edge and into your climax, your free fall as decadent and shiver-inducing as the beautifully slow buildup.

You don’t manage to gasp his name because the concept of words has fled you entirely and the only sound that escapes your lips is a sharp cry. From the glint in his eye and the low groan of approval offered against your clit, Loki doesn’t seem to mind at all.

The aftershocks roll through you in rippling waves that make your toes curl and it takes you a moment to catch your breath.

“I confess, I’m quite tempted to stay here all night,” says Loki, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. “You have the sweetest cunt.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” you say, your words slurred with pleasure.

“Hardly.” He licks you very slowly from your entrance to your clit and you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. He repeats the same circuit twice more.

“In fact,” he murmurs, placing another kiss on your clit, “I think I may need another taste.” Another lingering kiss, his tongue teasing your entrance. You suck in a shuddering breath.

“One more.” Another long stroke of his tongue and you shiver again.

“Darling, I’m so sorry—” a quick kiss to your clit, “—but I think I’m going to have to make you come again. I'm simply famished.”

Your back arches and you moan as his mouth once again envelopes your clit and his fingers slide back inside you, curling into that soft, sweet spot. You’re a little sensitive, but he’s moving with such achingly perfect precision that you can already feel another orgasm starting to build in your hips.

The ascent is much quicker this time, and you soon find yourself whimpering and panting, your hands tangling again in his hair. He groans against you and you swear you feel the vibrations shimmer all along your aching core.

“Please,” you moan. “Please. I’m so close. Please.”

He lets you ride the edge for a little bit longer, despite your pleas and your iron grip on his hair. But after a minute or so, he seems to take pity on you and he increases his pace just slightly. Your orgasm blossoms in your hips, your cunt clamping down on his fingers as you moan his name to the ceiling.

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs a moment later, as his fingers coax you through the aftershocks. He looks you over, licking his lips. “You’re gorgeous like this, you know,” he says, eyes dragging greedily over your body. “Naked and utterly fucked out. Perfection.”

You shiver and slowly convince your loose muscles to allow you to sit up. “I don’t think you can say I’m fucked out if you haven’t actually fucked me.”

His eyebrow arches, “Is that so?”

You scoot to the edge of the bed so that you can run your hands over his firm chest. You press a kiss just above his belly button, tongue flicking out briefly against his skin. “Seems reasonable to me.”

“Do you want me to fuck you, Agent?” he says, his voice dropping low.

“I mean, that’s what I was hinting at, yes,” you say.

His eyes are hooded as he gives you a sly, calculating smile. “But do you deserve to be fucked, Agent?”

Feeling a little bold, you place your palm flat against the substantial bulge in his boxer briefs, running your hand along the hard, thick length of him. Fuck, he’s big. “Yes,” you say.

“I’m not so sure about that,” he says, his expression and voice deliciously stern despite your hand on his cock. “You’ve been quite pert. Disobedient. Mouthy.”

You think you have an idea where this is going. “So am I getting punished or begging for you to forgive me?” you ask with a coy smile.

The hunger and delight in his gaze makes you ache. “Let’s see what your smart mouth can do to my cock and maybe then I’ll consider fucking you.”

You lick your lips and trace your fingertips along the sharp lines of his Adonis belt, pausing at the waistband of his boxer briefs. You hook your fingertips under the elastic and pull them down.

His cock springs free as the fabric falls to the floor. Between sitting on his lap and the unsubtle nature of the boxer briefs, you knew he was long and thick, but you’re still not fully prepared to experience the full effect of seeing his cock be hard and ready for you.

“Fuck,” you breathe. You take a moment to admire him, despite the fact that you know it’s likely only inflating his ego. 

“Do you want me, Agent?” he drawls with a lazy smile. “Do you want my cock?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” you say. “In fact, I’m certain you do.”

“Perhaps I like hearing you say it,” he says, bringing one hand up to stroke your cheek. “Would that be such a terrible thing?”

Impulsively, you get to your feet and pull him into a kiss. You can still taste yourself on him—salty and a little sweet.

“You like hearing me talk about how I want you?” you say, pressing your hips against his.

“Very much.” His voice is a low purr and you shiver in his arms.

“I’m aching for you to fill me,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss him. “I’m dripping just thinking about it.” You nip at his lower lip and he groans against your mouth. “But first, I want to get on my knees and worship your perfect cock with my mouth.”

There's a low, pleased rumble deep in his chest and you shiver as you draw away. “Sit down.”

He sits down on the foot of the bed and you position yourself in front of him, standing between his spread thighs and lowering yourself to your knees. You run your hands up his thighs, lightly dragging your fingernails along his skin, enjoying the slight hitch in his breath. You kiss the inside of his left knee and slowly make your way up the inside of his left thigh, dragging your tongue along his skin every so often. You continue this all the way up to the crease where his thigh meets his hip, close enough that he can feel the heat of your breath on his beautiful cock.

And then you lean back and begin the same process again on his right leg.

“What,” he says, his voice going deep and dark, “did I say about playing games, Agent?”

You tilt your head to look up at him. He’s staring down at you with a stern look that makes your cunt clench.

“You know, I came so hard earlier, I can’t quite recall,” you say, making your eyes as wide and innocent as you can.

“And if you want to come again tonight, you’ll find a way to remember,” he says. He’s stern and authoritative, and it’s ridiculously hot. “Now put that smart mouth to work on my cock,” he growls.

“Yes, sir.” The phrase just sort of slips out, but the way it makes your cunt ache and his eyes glitter is absolutely delicious.

“Oh, I like those manners, pet,” he purrs. “I want to hear more of that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, pausing to lick your lips, “sir.”

“Good girl.”

His cock is flushed and so hard it presses up against his stomach. You wrap one hand around his shaft and you suck in a breath when your fingers don’t quite meet. He’s huge and the thought of having him inside of you makes you shiver and ache in anticipation.

You stroke him once and lower your mouth to the tip of his cock, placing gentle, closed mouth kisses on it.

He tolerates this for about thirty seconds.

“Agent.” His voice is laced with warning. “I won’t warn you again.”

Your lips curl into a slight smile and you flick your tongue against the tip of his cock, savoring the sharp tang of his pre-come. His eyes glitter down at you, still watching, waiting for you to disobey him.

“Am I not allowed to savor this experience?” you ask, intentionally licking your lips.

“I would urge you to consider that only good girls get to come on my cock, darling,” he says, his voice going dark and deliciously stern. “Choose your next moves wisely.”

The reality is that you desperately want to come on his cock and you wouldn’t put it past him to deny you. So, you offer him a sly smirk before you slowly begin to lick the tip of his cock, gradually opening your lips and bringing him into your mouth.

He groans softly. “You just need a firm hand, don’t you?” he says as you begin to move your head, stroking his shaft in a slow rhythm. His fingers card through your hair as he leans back on one hand, allowing himself to relax a little. “Or perhaps it’s that you want my cock more than you want to be a brat.”

You look up at him and raise an eyebrow. He’s not wrong.

He laughs low in his throat. “Oh, I think I’m going to  have you taking my orders by the time the week is up.” He reaches out to stroke your cheek with his thumb. “You have such a needy little cunt and I rather think that will prove to be an advantage for me.”

Your instinct is to let out a low whine, but you also don’t want to give him the satisfaction. You can’t fully stop yourself from reacting, though, and a soft whimper makes its way out of your lips.

He catches this and smirks. “You like being mouthy and talking back, but I think you also crave a little discipline. Being told what to do gets you off, doesn’t it?”

This time, you do whine and he smiles down at you, eyes hooded. “That works out rather nicely,” he says, his voice dropping deep, “because I quite enjoy giving orders.”

You shiver and he notices, running his fingers through your hair.

“Filthy girl,” he purrs. “We’re going to have so much fun together.” He watches you for a minute, eyes hooded, lips slightly parted. “You’re gorgeous like this, too, you know,” he says. “On your knees with my cock in your mouth like a good girl. I could watch this for hours.” You glance up at him and catch his lazy smile. “Though,” he continues, “I suspect you’ll also look gorgeous riding my cock. Or perhaps spread out and tied to the bed.”

This image is too much for you: a high pitched whine makes its way out of your throat before you can think better of it.

“Oh, you like that idea?” he says, not sounding very surprised at all. “You like the thought of being bound and completely at my mercy?”

Another embarrassing whine escapes you before you can stop it.

“We’ll have to explore that some time this week,” he says. “Though I am starting to develop a rather lengthy list of things I want to do to you.”

Fuck. You are caught between wanting him to keep talking and wanting him to shut up so you stop making such embarrassing noises.

Admittedly, the idea of making him feel so good that you render him speechless is also incredibly appealing.

You suck just a little harder, cheeks hollowing as you start running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, swirling it on the tip as you come up.

His eyebrows draw together, his lips parting slightly. “Fuck. That’s it.”

You pick up your pace just a little and he groans, his hand going to grip your hair.

“Yes—just like that.” His grip tightens on your hair. “If your cunt is even half as good as your mouth—fuck, yes, right there—I’m going to have a hard time leaving this room this week.”

You hum against his cock and he groans, his hips starting to rock toward your mouth. “Do you like this?” he asks, his voice husky. “Do you like being on your knees for me?”

You moan against his cock, sucking harder.

“You do, don’t you?” he says, his voice a little unsteady. “Barely an hour and you’re already such a slut for my cock.”

You moan again, bobbing your head up and down his length.

“Such a good girl,” he purrs. “A bit of a brat to start, but I think I’m going to have to reward you for this. Your mouth is too fucking good.”

Another moan slips past your lips. He groans and is quiet for a minute or two, his hips rocking toward you.

His breath is coming in shaky gasps now. “I’m close, love,” he says, his fingers flexing in your hair. “I’m going to spill myself in your pretty mouth and then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress.”

You can’t help but moan, which seems to spur him on. His lips part and you can almost feel how close he is.

He makes the most beautiful noise as he comes, a low groan that seems to reverberate in your cunt as he empties himself into your mouth. You swallow his release greedily as you continue stroking him, your head moving up and down his length.

You pull off of him slowly, licking your lips and you look up at him, your mouth curling into a smirk. “So, was that a proper enough apology for you?” you ask.

He growls low in his chest, eyes opening to look down at you. “You are still far too pert for your own good,” he says. “I suspect I’m going to have to put you over my knee at some point this week. You need discipline.”

You suck in a deep breath as your cunt clenches at the possibility.

“But right now, I need to fuck you.” He gestures to the bed. “Get up here. Now.”

You don’t need any encouragement to follow this command, but the way that he delivers the order and the way his green eyes get all steely is enough for more slickness to collect between your legs. You clamber to your feet, but before you can even try getting on the bed, he’s pulling you to him and flipping you onto your back. He rolls on top of you, caging you in with his body, his impossibly hard cock throbbing against your stomach.

He kisses you, tongue pressing into your mouth, hungry and claiming. “Do you want me inside you?” he purrs against your lips. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“I need you to fuck me,” you say, spreading your legs and tilting your pelvis up toward him. “I want you to claim me.”

His smile is sharp and he drags the tip of his cock along your cunt, coating himself in your slickness. “Still so fucking wet,” he growls.

“I told you I need you,” you murmur.

He lines himself up at your entrance and ever so slowly begins easing into you. He presses forward, inch by glorious inch, until his hips are flush against yours.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe. “You feel so good.”

He smiles and withdraws just an inch or two before pressing back in. You arch underneath him and let out a soft moan.

“How about that? Is that good?” he asks.

You moan and nod.

He repeats the action. “And this?”

You offer up another moan and he grins. He repeats the action again, clearly teasing you. “What about this one?”

“Loki, please—”

“What is it darling?”

You’re not quite sure if you want to kiss or slap that smirk right off his face.

“Please don’t stop, please—”

“Oh, you want me to keep doing this?” he says, his brow furrowing in mock confusion. “You should have said something.”

“Loki, please—”

He chuckles quietly and begins rocking his hips against yours in slow, shallow thrusts. You sigh and wrap your legs around his waist, meeting his mouth as he kisses you. You can tell he’s holding back, though.

“I’m not going to break,” you finally say, tilting your hips to rock with his. “I want more. I want you to fuck me.”

He kisses you hard and his thrusts lengthen and deepen, his pace increasing just a hair, and you cry out because he’s now hitting that soft, sweet spot and he feels even better.

“You’re taking me so well, darling,” he says. “This snug little cunt was made for my cock, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” you breathe, arching your back. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

He wraps those long fingers around your ankles and brings your legs up so that they are draped over his shoulders, your body folded in half. He thrusts again and his cock presses even deeper, rubbing against that tender spot inside you. His thumb finds your clit and you whimper. Pressure is starting to build in your hips again.

“You’re getting close already, aren’t you?” he rasps, grinning at you like a devil. “I can feel you starting to tremble.”

You keen, your cunt clenching around his steadily thrusting cock.

“Are you going to be a good girl and come on my cock?” he growls.

You nod, words somewhere beyond you.

“I want you to soak my cock,” he purrs. “Let it all out. Scream for me.”

You feel yourself poised on the edge. So close.

“Come for me, darling, that’s it, let go, come for me, let me feel that sweet cunt milk me dry…”

You arch your back as your orgasm blossoms and unfurls. The sound that falls from your lips is a high pitched keening that would be Loki’s name, except there’s no space for anything besides this incredible feeling, his cock inside you, and the weight of him on top of you.

“Oh there you go, that’s it,” he murmurs. “You have the tightest, most exquisite cunt. I could fuck you for days.”

You moan, shuddering in the final throes, your cunt spasming around his thick cock. He withdraws for a moment and you moan at the loss, but he quickly flips you onto your stomach and slides right back inside you.

From this angle, his cock thrusts even deeper, pressing more directly against your G-spot. A few strokes in and it becomes glaringly apparent to you that you’re going to come again.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” he pants, thrusting hard into you. “I can feel you starting to tremble already.”

You moan into the comforter, arching your back so he hits that spot again.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he scolds, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you up so your back is flush against his chest. “I want to hear every filthy little sound that you make. Every. Last. One.” He thrusts in time with those last three words and you moan.

“You love this, don’t you?” he growls, his hips thrusting hard. “You love me taking you from behind like a fucking animal.”

Your legs are shaking and you can feel your orgasm building. “Loki, I’m gonna come again,” you whimper.

“I know you are, sweet girl,” he growls. “I can feel your tight cunt trembling.” His free hand slides between your legs, fingers rolling over your clit in the same rhythm as his thrusting cock.

Your breath stutters and a low whine escapes your lips. You are deliciously close.

“Please.” Your voice is barely a gasp. You’re riding the very edge of that wave and it feels so good that you’re almost certain the oncoming climax couldn’t possibly feel better. Almost.

“Oh, you’re almost there, love, you can do it,” says Loki, his hand still moving with his hips. “You just need to let go.”

You whimper. You are almost there.

“Be my good girl and let go for me,” he rasps. “Come for me.”

It breaks quite suddenly, your whole body shuddering and your cunt clamping down hard on his cock as you come. The noise you make is animalistic, torn from somewhere deep in your chest.

“Fuck!” Loki is fucking you hard, hips pistoning against your ass. “So fucking tight, you’re like a vise when you come, fuck—” His speech gives way into either Asgardian or Old Norse—you’re not quite sure which, but the idea that you’ve made him feel good enough to abandon English is incredibly appealing.

You’re dreamily floating back down from your high when you hear him make that beautiful noise again, that low, deep groan that falls from his lips only when he comes. You feel his release flood your cunt, hot and thick, as his hips finally start to slow.

It’s another minute or two before he rolls off you, flopping down next to you on the bed. Before you even have a moment to miss him or the comforting weight of his body on yours, he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

You both lie there for a long moment, catching your breath.

You think back to your initial meeting with Fury, when you complained about being sent in with Loki. You’ve never been more pleased to be wrong in your entire life.

“So,” you say once you feel capable of speech, “you said you had some ideas for the rest of the week?”

If you thought his grin was devilish before, it’s nothing compared to what he looks like now as he pulls you on top of him.

“Darling,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[tinybrooms]

Our Last Day, or maybe the first?.. - Thomas Hewitt x fem. Reader

Summary: Is Thomas last day on the slaughterhouse and a pretty girl is going to help him today...or forever

Warning: Murders, Workplace Harassmen, hard vocabulary

NOTE: This is my second one shot and it's pretty long, maybe i am thinking about a second part so let me know if you want that, hope you like it, comments and feed back is always welcome.

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

A few months had passed since your work at the slaughterhouse had started, you were one of the few people who had been able to access education and that had given you the opportunity to work as the supervisor's secretary.

Your days were longer than normal dealing with the male staff who looked at your body with desire and said rude comments every time you passed beside them, as did your boss who took the opportunity a couple of times to touch your ass "by accident'' and called you to his office for useless tasks that ended with indecent comments.

They were all idiots, all except Thomas, he just dedicated himself to his work and every time you said "good morning" he responded with a slight grunt while bowing his head a little, always a gentleman like his mama taught him.

-I see you're already packing - your supervisor looked at you from the door frame while you put your things in a cardboard box.

-Yes, I'm almost done - you looked at him smiling kindly trying to ignore the uncomfortable look he had on your butt that was visible in your pencil skirt.

-Leave that there for a moment, I need you to go down and tell Thomas that he has to go, the animal is still cutting meat and doesn't want to go home - the old man took off his glasses, wiping them on his shirt regardless of the worried expression on your face.

-Do I… should I go? sir, I think the best thing would be…

-It's an order, you still work here, that's why I didn't want to hire women, they're always so useless- the disgusting man laughed mockingly as he walked to his office - get off your ass and get down right now

Your gaze quickly fixed on the large window of what was your place from where you could clearly see Thomas hitting the pieces of meat with his sharp knife making a sound against the wooden table, it took you a few seconds to take a breath and pass saliva to get down, the aroma of raw meat disgusted you too much, just like the blood spread all over the place, that was what bothered you more than anything else.

-Hello..Hello Thomas - you smiled behind his back while your hands played nervously in front of you - well, I think they had already informed you that the slaughterhouse is going to close today and..- you sighed, adjusting your cat-eye glasses on your nose sighing holding on not to get dizzy with the intense aroma of meat - and well you must go home

Thomas paused a little but after a few seconds he hit the flesh again with such force that he made you jump on your heels.

-Thomas…please don't make this more difficult, I don't want them to come down and scold you like they always do- Your voice lowered a little, almost in a whisper, trying not to let your supervisor hear you and get you both in trouble, but Thomas just continued ignoring your advice

-Don't you listen to what she said you damn animal? You won't work here anymore, go home with your stupid family - your supervisor came down the stairs, standing halfway screaming in the distance, making the huge man turn around with his knife in his hand, squeezing it so hard that his knuckles seemed like they would break the skin from his hand

Your eyes looked with at the man with glasses and then at Thomas with fear that something would happen, after all you were in the middle and the tension of both collided with your small and fragile body, that was when your poor gaze weakened between you in the dark and humid environment, you could notice how Thomas's hand was shaking and his breathing was agitated making his chest rise and fall.

-Thomas..please - with fear your hand extended making the giant barely look at you through his long locks of hair - no…it's not worth it - with fear you took his hand, it was the first time Thomas felt the skin of a woman against his and despite the anger he felt, his breathing was not still agitated because of it, but because of the delicate way your skin felt against his - give me that, I'll put it here okay? -You looked at him slowly taking the knife, placing it on the table and you smiled shyly walking away a few steps slowly so that he wouldn't feel threatened.

-That's it damn idiot, I bet you've never felt that before, huh?, You'll get so hard with this bitch that you'll forget why you came here- The disgusting old man laughed as he returned to his office, leaving the two of you alone, tense and nervous.

Thomas just looked at the floor shyly, he knew he was right, no one had ever touched him even by accident and that made him feel vulnerable.

-It's okay Thomas, don't worry about what he says go home, I hope you and your family are okay - you smiled at him again, turning around in a hurry, almost running to the bathroom, you could feel a knot in your stomach because of all the vices and meat that were scattered on the tables, crossing the long corridor in a hurry until you reached the bathroom where as soon as you opened the door you vomited.

Your knees on the cold floor and your hands holding your own hair made it impossible for you to hear what was happening outside, retching made your eyes water and after a few minutes with shaky legs you stood up wiping your lips with the front of your hand.

You took a little longer looking at yourself in the mirror, fixing the lipstick that had been ruined with your fingers and carefully washing your hands, always taking care of your image as mom had taught you since you were a girl.

After that you went to your desk putting away the few things that were left, a couple of photographs and your notebooks with notes that maybe would no longer work at all but you still wanted to keep them, after all they were from your first job so with the box of cardboard full of your belongings under your arm you prepared to go say goodbye to your boss.

-I'm done sir, is there anything I can do… -your feet stopped dead looking at the completely destroyed office, the desk was broken in half and there we re objects thrown all over the place- sir? - You walked in fear towards what looked like a pair of destroyed legs under the wood of the table and as soon as you got closer you could notice the old man lying in a pool of blood with his head shattered.

The box under your arm slid hard, making it sound on the floor as it fell while your hands covered your face and a loud scream came from your throat and you took steps backwards trying to get out of the traumatic scene until your back collided with a firm figure making you spin fast.

There was Thomas, looking at you with his strong breathing and his dark eyes like you had never seen before while he held a chainsaw in his hand.

-Thom..Thomas-you looked at him scared, walking back again in fear looking at his hand-leave…leave that, leave it on the floor

Only a growl came out of his throat, answering you firmly and confusedly, but it was definitely a refusal to your request.

-Please…don't hurt me, I won't say anything, I promise -your wet eyes and your heavy breathing made him doubt, of course you were going to say something, but in the same way he didn't want to hurt you, you were always kind to him, you were the only person who noticed him when he arrived and who received him every morning wishing him a good day.

Your eyes and his were staring at each other, as if either of you were waiting for a movement from the other to attack or to scream, whoever acted first was going to react to the other, but the sound of a car interrupted making both of you look towards the front door which after a few seconds opened and they both could notice Officer Hoyt entering with the gun in his hand.

-It's the police…- you looked at him again, curious as to how they could find out about the crime - Thomas, they are going to arrest you, if they find you they will take you with them.

The big man looked at the floor confused, realizing what he had done and a fear began to grow in him, not knowing what to do to remedy the mistake he had made.

-Come with me - you approached with fear, careful not to make any movement that would make him believe that you were going to attack him or that you were going to run away and again your hand held his so delicately that once again Thomas felt special - I will get you out of here

You hurriedly pulled his hand, his huge body almost following you, looking behind you in fear of being discovered, but at the same time in his mind he kept having that curiosity about how you had decided to help him after what he did, he was a murderer and what he had done was wrong

-Come, here there is a door through which we entered, it is far from the main door, no one will notice - you looked at him to make sure that he remained calm and after a few minutes walking you let go of his hand to push the door with both hands and help him escape - no one will find you if you get home quickly

Thomas shook his head, approaching you again but this time extending his hand, offering it to you while his head remained down and his eyes avoided looking at yours.

-Do you…do you want me to go with you? -You looked at him curiously with a little fear and he just slowly shook his hand indicating that he wanted you to take it so you carefully approached taking his hand, following his step when he began to walk without bothering his chainsaw in the other hand

The road was silent at first, just the two of you both walking along the side of the road under the strong Texas sun, at no time letting go of the other's hand, which in the same way if you wanted to you couldn't do it, his hand was huge and strong making Yours will be hidden between his thick fingers.

-And…is anyone from your family at home right now? -You looked at him curiously, feeling stupid knowing that he wouldn't answer you but he just nodded with his head without taking his eyes off the front-Oh really?…is…your mother?

He denied and you continued asking trying to guess who was home, feeling stupid and insistent.

-Well, your uncle? -You looked at him, sighing in relief when he nodded, looking at you with a touch of innocence that was difficult for you to believe after knowing that he had ended your boss's life - oh really? That's good…I'm alone you know, my mom moved to Austin a week ago and I told her I would go with her as soon as I finished my work.

Thomas looked at you stopping his pace, his gaze was the same as always but his eyebrows furrowed with some sadness making you also look at him without knowing what was happening.

-Something happens? I said something wrong? Thomas, sorry, I didn't want to…- your free hand barely moved on your chest, trying to make him understand that you were sorry from the bottom of your heart, but he barely grunted denied and leaving your hand, his finger carefully touched the center of your chest and then touched himself pointing at him - you?…I don't understand

He again pointed at you and then at him almost desperately as if he wanted to let you know what he wanted to say but his words did not come out and your little understanding of him was almost impossible.

-You…do you want…me?…Do you want me to stay…with you? - Thomas nodded, taking your hand again walking without waiting for you to take a step, making you stumble - but, I can't…

His hand gave a strong squeeze to yours making you moan a little in surprise, an action that made him feel something strange, that was also something new that he had heard from a girl,

-I really would like to stay but I have to go with my mother- your eyes kept looking at the road trying not to trip again but then you fixed them on him when you didn't hear any grunt from him, at this point you had already understood that this was his way of communicating.

But the road became even quieter, only your footsteps could be heard on the asphalt and from time to time a sigh came out of your mouth due to the suffocating heat you felt on your forehead.

It was a couple of meters ahead when again the sound of a car behind you made you turn your head, feeling relief but worried when you noticed the police car stopping in the middle of the road.

-Hands up son, stay away from that poor girl - Officer Hoyt pointed at Thomas, cutting the cartridge from his gun.

Thomas knew what that sound meant, he had heard it many times when he saw Charlie and Monty hunting, so with his hand he pushed you a little away from him worried that something bad could happen to you.

It was your time to run away, you could run and get away until you lost sight of them but something made you stay there, watching as the policeman pointed his gun at Thomas and honestly inside you just felt scared that something could happen to him.

-Sir, he didn't do anything wrong to me, we were just walking…- you looked at him trying to fix the situation, believing that that would be enough for him to leave.

-I saw what he did in the slaughterhouse sweetheart, you should not protect this damn animal- Hoyt looked at you for a second to return his attention to the big man in front of him. -You murdered a man ya’know, you will go to prison for what ya’did

You could feel your breathing really hard, nervous and afraid that a bullet could come out and hurt Thomas, after all yes, he murdered a man but he did it to defend himself after all the bad things that they had been done to him and in the same way , it was not such an exemplary man who died, so it had not been a great loss

-We have a problem, sheriff - your attention quickly focused on an elderly man who was holding a shotgun and shot without thinking killing the officer, again your hands covered your face while you screamed in fear.

-Calm down your little girlfriend, Thomas - the man laughed, approaching the body and a pair of hands held your shoulders delicately, making your hands lower in fear, looking at the giant in front of you.

-I want this to stop, I don't want to see any more people die - you looked at him crying with fear - I don't want to be next, I've only been good to you, please don't hurt me.

-No one will hurt you darling- the old man laughed as he placed the sheriff's hat over his cap - This is the girl who's been making you hard for months uh Tommy? She is very pretty, of course we won't do anything bad to her right?

The fear inside you grew more and more, this man was even more disgusting than your boss was and it seemed that like Thomas, he had the idea that from today you would be part of the family and you would stay with them forever

Thomas looked at the man next to him, giving him a growl and standing in front of you looking at him threateningly.

-What? you're in love? - his laugh was louder this time - okay, I won't say anything to your little doll, now come here and put the sheriff in the trunk before he stink.

Thomas took a couple of steps and effortlessly took the officer's lifeless body and placed it in the trunk without difficulty, all in front of your disbelieving eyes.

-Come on honey get in the car, we have to go home with mama after all she has to meet her new girl

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

Thanks for reading

Part 2 here!

[queenshelby]

The Slave (Part 3)

PAIRING: TOMMY SHELBY X VIRGIN READER

WARNING: NON-CON, CAPTURED READER, SLAVE READER, TOMMY GETTING OFF ON PAIN

NOTE: AGAIN THIS WAS A REQUEST AND I FELT A LITTLE UNCOMFORTABLE PUBLISHING IT...VERY DARK!

In the end though, after a torturous week, you did escape. During one of Thomas' business trips, you snuck out of the opulent mansion and ran as fast and far as you could, without looking back, without knowing where you were going. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, fueling your weary limbs with strength and determination.

You couldn't believe it when you finally found refuge but the peace and quiet in your life was short lived when, after as little a five days, he found you.

Thomas Shelby, with his piercing blue eyes and sharp features, was relentless and refused to let go of his property.

"Get into the fucking car," he roared, his voice booming like thunder through the quiet streets of London as one of his paid police officers had given up your location, 

Fear gripped your heart like a vice, your legs turning to jelly as you took off running once again. You wanted to scream, to plead with him to leave you alone, but the words got stuck in your throat.

Your lungs burned and your chest ached as you desperately tried to put some distance between you and your pursuer.

But it was no use. Thomas Shelby was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted, and he wasn't about to let you slip through his fingers.

As he tackled you to the ground, you could feel the breath being knocked out of your lungs. He pinned your arms behind your back, his breath hot and heavy against your neck as he whispered filthy, degrading things in your ear.

"You belong to me whether you like it or not," he growled. "You think you can escape from me? I own you." Thomas' grip tightened around your wrists, causing you to yelp in pain as he dragged you into his car.

You struggled in vain, your kicks and punches proving futile against his strength and determination and within hours, you found yourself locked up in an even less favorable place than before.

Like an animal, he had chained you to a wall inside the confides of Arrow House. Only a mattress on the floor, accompanied by a bucket of water were available to you now until you had learned your place.

As time passed, you slowly realized that you were stuck and with the tight ropes wrapped around your wrists you could no longer resist as the seasoned gangster made every effort to break down your inhibitions.

"Now look at you, eh," Tommy said as, a few hours after he had captured you again, he entered the room where you were curled up, naked, on the dirty mattress on the floor.

You were still handcuffed, your wrists raw and sore from struggling against your bindings. You looked up at him with terrified eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks.

He strode across the room and knelt down in front of you, his smoky scent engulfing you as he placed a hand on your thigh. 

"You think you can escape me?" Tommy sneered, tracing a finger up your inner thigh. You whimpered, trying to pull away from his touch, but he only gripped you tighter, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. "You belong to me now, Love. There's no going back."

With those words, he forced himself upon you, his rough hands grasping at your delicate body as he pulled you on to your knees.

"And I think that, perhaps, you still need to learn your place, eh?" Thomas smirked, as the cruel glint in his eyes sharpened as he pushed your head down.

"Now tell me, who is your master Love? Tell me, who do you serve?" he asked again, tightening his grip on your hair. "Say it, Love. Tell me who your master is."

"You, sir," you replied softly, on the brink of tears.

"What was that? I can't hear you. Speak up," he demanded, his voice brutal and commanding.

"You sir," you choked out, your voice trembling as tears streamed down your cheeks. "You are my master."

He gave a twisted kind of smile. "Good girl," he murmured, releasing his hold on your hair.

"Now lick my shoes and beg for forgiveness for your disobedience," he commanded, his voice dripping with malice.

Your heart sank as you realized just how low he would make you stoop. 

"No," you protested, shaking your head as you tried to pull back.

"No, don't touch me," you cried, your voice pleading and desperate, but he paid no heed. Instead, he grabbed your hair, pulling your head back so you had to look at him.

"Do it," he growled lowly, his eyes burning with a dangerous fire that made you flinch.

"No!" you protested, struggling against him. "Get off me!"

But Thomas was too strong. He pushed you down onto the bed before spinning you around, flipping you over on to your stomach.

"Fine, have it your fucking way then," he snarled before attaching your bound wrists to one of the anker points in the wall. "You'll understand soon enough, Love, that this is how things work in my world."

With that, he abruptly pulled you onto your hands and knees, the cold hardwood floor biting into the skin of your kneecaps. You winced in pain but didn't dare make a sound. After all, you knew exactly what kind of person you now belonged to.

"Keep still," Thomas commanded in a hushed tone before running his hands roughly over your hips, squeezing and bruising your delicate flesh.

He then unbuckled his belt and removed it from his pants, folding it in half and taking a step back from you. You flinched instinctively, anticipating the pain that was about to be inflicted upon you.

Thomas brought the belt down with a loud crack, its impact sending a sharp pain shooting through your buttocks. You cried out, tears springing unbidden to your eyes, but he didn't stop there. He continued to lay into your flesh, the sound of leather against skin echoing around the room, punctuated by your cries of pain.

Each strike left another welt on your ass and thighs, your skin rapidly becoming a canvas of crimson marks.

When he finally stopped, your whole body shaking and sobbing, you felt him kneel down behind you. His hands gently stroked your heated skin, tracing the lines of pain he had inflicted.

"Ssssh, there now," he murmured softly, his voice almost soothing in its intensity. "Are you going to obey me now or am I going to have to belt that sweet little cunt of yours as well?"  Thomas' voice was a husky whisper, his fingers brushing against your sensitive folds.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, but you knew better than to argue with him, especially when he was in this kind of mood.

"Y-yes, sir," you squeaked out, your voice shaking with fear and anticipation.

Thomas gave you a cruel smile as he stood up and took a step back. His eyes were glued to your exposed body, his gaze searing a path from your battered ass to the pink petals between your thighs.

"Good girl," he said before taking position in front of you. "Now, you will lick my shoes and beg me for forgiveness and then I will give you a good hard fucking, just as you deserve." Thomas sneered, that familiar glint in his eyes.

You knew better than to argue so, with tears streaming down your face, you began to lick and kiss his shoes. Each swipe of your tongue was filled with resentment and hatred for the man standing above you. Soon, your saliva coated the leather as you pleaded for his mercy.

He watched you with a sadistic grin, seemingly enjoying every moment of your degradation.

Thomas leaned back against the bureau and undid the button of his trousers. His erection sprung free, long and hard, as he began to stroke it once you had finished licking his shoes.

"You are mine now. Mine to do as I please whenever I want. You will learn to love this life, or at the very least, you'll learn to play your part."

He stepped closer, his manhood brushing against your cheek.

"Open up and let me in, little one," he commanded. "I know you're hungry for it."

You hesitated for a moment, but the fear and disgust warring within you were easily swept away by the desire to please him. To survive.

You parted your lips, allowing him to guide his cock between them. The taste was foreign and slightly repulsive, but you swallowed hard and began to suck.

Thomas sighed in pleasure, his fingers weaving through your hair as he held you in place. He controlled the pace, sometimes slow and gentle, other times hard and fast.

His free hand fondled your breasts, tugging and pinching at your nipples until they were aching and sensitive. You whimpered and moaned softly around him, your own hands clenching into fists at your sides as you fought to maintain control.

"That's it, Love," Thomas groaned, thrusting shallowly into your throat. "Just like that... take it all in."

His fingers tightened in your hair, tugging harshly as his hips began to shift back and forth, setting a hot, punishing rhythm in which your mouth was expected to follow.

Your eyes watered at the force, but you dared not pull away or try to stop him; you'd learned quickly enough that your obedience was non-negotiable.

He pushed further into your throat, the tip of his shaft hitting the back of it as he began to moan, his fingers tugging harder on your sensitive scalp.

Saliva dripped from your chin as you struggled to breathe around him, coughing and spluttering slightly as he relentlessly thrust into your mouth.

Thomas' thrusts became more erratic, the head of his cock sliding against your tongue repeatedly. His free hand gripped your shoulder, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pushed himself as deep as he could.

You gagged, tears streaming down your face, but he didn't seem to care. He continued to thrust into your mouth, his hips jerking violently as he reached his climax.

"Right down the hatch, eh," he groaned as his warm and sticky cum shot into the back of your throat, causing you to swallow convulsively, trying to keep back the bile that rose in your throat.

Thomas eventually pulled out, his cock softening in front of your swollen and bruised lips.

You sighed in relief, your body shuddering as you fought to catch your breath. It tasted foul, but you knew better than to protest; the consequences would surely be far worse.

Thomas stroked himself a few more times, admiring his own erection before shifting back into position behind you.

"Wider," he grunted, forcing your legs apart with his knees. You bit back a whimper as he settled himself between your thighs, the tip of his shaft pressing against your entrance.

"That's a good girl." Thomas patted your bottom approvingly. "Such a good little whore."

He pushed inside you, and you cried out at the intense pain, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Look at this swollen red cunt of yours," Thomas muttered, pleased with what he saw. "You're mine now. I'm going to make you scream until you can't scream anymore."

You tried to move away, but his grip on your hips was too tight. He thrust deeper, causing you to howl in pain. Thomas savored the feeling, savoring the control he had over you.

"Please stop," you pleaded, but Thomas was relentless, merciless in his pursuit.

He kept thrusting deeper, harder, his fingers digging into your hips as he claimed you. Each move sent a sharp pain shooting through your body, one that you couldn't ignore.

"What's the matter, Love?" Thomas taunted, his voice thick with lust. "Can't take it?" He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. "You're going to take it, you're going to take all of me."

You whimpered as he continued to plunge into you, his movements becoming more urgent, more primal.

"Please pull out," you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks as his cock scraped against the abused walls of your pussy.

"You want me to pull out?” Thomas sneered, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "Alright then, I will pull out and stick it up your arse instead, eh?" Thomas grunted, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled out of your pussy and teased the entrance of your backside.

"There, does that feel better, Love?" he taunted, pressing against your tight hole.

"No, please! Don't do this!" you begged, your voice shaking as you started sobbing uncontrollably. 

"Ssh, don't fight it, Love." Thomas whispered as he forcefully pushed past the tight ring of muscle that guarded your backside. You screamed in agony, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to pull away.

"Ah fuck yes," Thomas hissed, his voice thick with lust as he forced himself deeper inside of you. "I knew you'd like it rough."

"No, stop," you cried, your voice hoarse from screaming. But Thomas only laughed in response.

"Come on, Love. You know you like it," he sneered, grinding himself deeper into you.

The pain was unbearable, but you knew that fighting him would only make things worse. So you lay there, limp and sobbing, as Thomas took his pleasure from you.

"Your arse is so fucking tight," he groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic.

"My cock barely fits inside," he bit out, gripping your hips tightly before lifting you up a little in order to fuck you harder.

"This ass was made for me, for taking my cock," Tommy told you, his voice almost guttural as he dug his fingers into your soft flesh, bruising you as he fucked you relentlessly with nothing stopping him, certainly not your tearful sobs and pleas.

"And I am going to fill it up with my cum now, eh?"

Tommy grunted, reaching around to fist your hair with one hand while the other continued to molest your breast.

"Shall I paint your insides with my seed, Love?" he asked, thrusting mercilessly into you, causing you to whimper in pain.

You felt your body being pushed to its limits as Tommy rammed his cock deep inside of you, again and again, totally ignoring the tears streaming down your face and the sobs you struggled to suppress.

The excruciating pain in your anus threatened to consume your entire being, and the sensation of him ripping through you was unbearable.

However, you knew that you had no choice but to endure it - Tommy had made it clear that your life as his sex slave would be filled with this kind of suffering.

"Goddammit Love," Thomas muttered, his thrusts faltering as he felt his orgasm building deep within him. "You're so fucking tight."

Then without warning, his grip on your hips tightened viciously and he buried himself deep inside of you, crying out loudly as he came, filling you up with his hot and sticky semen.

You gasped as he jerked inside of you, the feeling of his release overwhelming you. But even as he emptied himself into your body, Thomas showed no signs of tenderness or consideration.

As soon as he caught his breath, he withdrew from you with a grunt, leaving you feeling sore and violated.

Despite the pain, not a single word of protest escaped your lips. Instead, you bit back a whimper, trembling uncontrollably as you tried to hold yourself together. But as his semen dripped down your thighs, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of despair wash over you.

Tommy had bought you as a sex slave, but the reality of your situation was far more brutal than you could have ever imagined. You were his now and you had no way of escaping again.

[limehaspassed]

To Give a Man His Name

(Thomas Hewitt x M!Reader)

▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬▭▬

In which you run across four teens along the side of the road.

Part Two

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Prologue

He was born to the world in a crude and grotesque way, one that can only be described as a living nightmare. His birth was a fatality, an innocent brutality for he was just a babe merely being born. To take someone’s life so young, at such an age, was an image unseen in the world, despite its sordid nature.

From the very start of his life, from the time he was born, he was a murderer, someone who took the lives of those around him. As he grew into a man, once fit for killing, he came to terms with his conditions, realizing that there was only one path he could take within this cruel world.

However, when your hands caressed his face and your lips graced his own, his life felt limitless. All restrictions left and for the first time, he felt as if his strength could be used for something else.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chapter One

Texas, 1969 …

Texan heat bore down on your body as you swung the knife down repeatedly, a motion you’ve been repeating over and over since the morning’s first light. The smell of salty iron hit your nose, a rough and overwhelming smell, one that encircled your brain in a hazy and intoxicated field of buzzing cicadas.

You were a slave to your practice, a slave to your job. Everyday, you would wake up at the crack of dawn to make your expedition to that slaughterhouse and everyday you would slave away in front of that slab of wood, constantly slamming your knife into its surface over and over, consecutively using muscles most do not know exist. Your body would burn and your shoulders would cry but still, you would attend your job for you had a family to care for.

Your daughter, a young girl within her early teenage years, depended on your job for a life. Of course, your daughter wasn’t really yours, you had merely found her when she was around ten, abandoned on the streets. You had taken her in that day, whether out of pity or quickly growing love, you cared for her and you still cared for her to this day. She was your world now, your reason for continuing the path of slavery, your everything.

You were one in three workers at the meat factory for a while but that changed the day someone new showed up, someone intrusive and observant, someone so excluded yet centered it baffled you. He was a brute of a man, a massive guy who took up a good portion of the doorway. He held strong, sharp eyes, intelligent in a way you haven’t seen within others, not even yourself. He had a strong grip and quiet mouth. He was the ideal worker too, accepting of anything as long as he could work.

He was Thomas Hewitt, a man you would grow to know as the freak of the town, yet, you could never see why. From the day you met him, you’ve never considered him a freak, no matter what the people of that small, sullen town told you. They could express their own misguided hatred to the man all they wanted, but you would never back their statements. After all, on that day, the day you met him, your life was changed forever.

It all started a day before you actually met him, a day before he ever stepped foot into that meat factory. It all started one fateful afternoon when you stumbled upon a group of teenagers who had come from out of state, their car had broken down and they were in need of some help. Being the nice person you were, you aided them the best you could.

“Please, sir, can you help us? Our car has broken down and we don’t know where we are.” They had asked for your help first, reaching out to you like hungry children to a diligent mother.

“Sure, pop the hood why don’t yah.” You spoke casually, having experienced many broken down cars. People didn’t stay in this town but they often passed through and being the curse place it was, problems always occurred.

One of the teenage boys, his name was Carlos, did the honor of popping the hood. You thanked him and walked up to the car, taking a look at the motor. You couldn’t tell what was wrong at first but you eventually found the problem, one of the head gaskets was leaking, a problem that had overheated the engine of the car.

“Ah, I see the problem, your gasket needs replacing. You’re lucky it's an easy fix, all I need are the parts and I can fix it right here.” You explained to which the kids practically cheered. They thanked you and celebrated. You cut them short in their celebratory dances “I hate to be that person but the nearest place that sells gaskets is about three miles up the road.” You explained a guilt slowly trickling into your stomach. You felt bad that you had to ruin their celebrations.

“That’s okay, Carlos and I can go up there and retrieve it and bring it back.” Another kid named Dante spoke up.

You smiled and agreed to watch the girls, Lina and Grace, as they traveled to the nearest store. It didn’t take long for them to leave, waving goodbye to their girlfriends and you.

Once they walked far enough to where you couldn’t see them, you turned to the girls and talked with them. The three of you guys had spoken about a plethora of topics ranging from break up stories, societal morals, and more. They all seemed to be like interesting and nice people on the outside but the more they talked, the more you had begun to realize how different they were from you. You didn’t let this predicament affect you for too long though, always keeping a smile on your face, even when you felt like a complete outsider.

“I just think that the whole Vietnam war is bullshit.” They would say to which you tried your best to control your response. There was a part of you that formed hatred for their laid back words, their carefree attitudes, the way they talked about a war as if it was nothing else but a high school breakup, gossip to go around and around. You hated them and you still do, but you also feel bad for them. After all, they were only kids and they were stuck in the middle of a war.

Hours began to tick by and the boys had yet to return with the gasket. “Where are they? They should be back by now.” Lina had complained, a statement that only added to that trickling guilt. You worried something might have happened to them. A lot of things happened within this small town that no one ever talked about, that everyone was afraid to talk about.

“Do you think we should go find them?” Grace asked, her voice borderline frantic. “What if something happened to them? What if they are hurt or some weirdo snatched them up?” She asked repetitive questions, her mind looping in circles over the boy's case.

You walked over to Grace and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, she immediately jerked away and looked at you with scared eyes. The fear turned to anger and she lashed out at you. “I swear if this weird town of yours hurt my boyfriend, I will behead you. Now, show us where that gas station was, we’re going to find them.” She stated with an authoritative tone that sent shivers down your spine. Her three-sixty in character took you by surprise, She was more than fine merely a minute ago, she was even joking with you, now she’s practically screaming down your throat. Insane.

You backed away from her and pointed down the road. “Fine, but I’ll tell you this. Ain’t no one in this town wants anything to do with you or your little boyfriends. Now stop acting like you own the place and start walking, they ain’t gonna find themselves now are they?” You replied with an annoyed and bitter tone, pissed off that she would even take such a voice with you.

Grace rolled her eyes and mumbled, “whatever” before starting her walk down the road. Lina followed after her with you leading the back.

The three of your walked down the road under the blazing sun, the Texas heat boating down on you like a laser, burning your skin and stinging our eyes. It felt as if the earth was molten lava each time a foot was placed upon that heated asphalt. The heat seeped into the soles of the shoes, reaching up and attacking the foot with a fiery blaze.

It wasn’t until the sun began to set behind the horizon that the three of you made it to the gas station. Grace was the first one to make it inside, barging through the door with haste, not even stopping to say hello to the shop owner. She rampaged through the aisles, calling out the name of the boy’s. When you and Lina made it inside, Grace was already halfway through the store.

“You ain’t gonna find any of them here. Haven’t seen a soul all afternoon I’m afraid.” The lady behind the counter spoke in a calm tone.

Grace turned to face her with an angered look. “What do you mean no one has come in? They were supposed to be here. Are you telling me that they never made it to this shitty gas station?” She asked in a raised voice.

You stepped in front of Grace and held out an apologetic hand to the older lady. “I’m so sorry about that Mrs. Hewitt, her boyfriend is just missing and we’re trying to find him. I’m sorry about her tone, we’ll take her outside, won’t we, Lina.” You shot a pointed look over to the girl who immediately jumped into action and pulled Grace outside.

You didn’t follow them, you stayed behind to talk to Mrs. Hewitt, wanting to further apologize for the attitude Grace had taken up with her. “I apologize about her outburst, Mrs. Hewitt” You started, to which she simply nodded with her eyes closed. “Is there anything I can do to make this up to you, I’m sure it’s given you quite the fright?” You asked with a guilty tone. It was your fault that Grace had come in here, that the boys were now missing, you are the one that sent them down here in the first place.

Mrs. Hewitt opened her eyes and gave a soft smile. “It ain’t your fault, dear. And please, call me Luda Mae. All the formalities make me feel old.”

You nodded and smiled back at her. “Alright. Well, I’ll be back around as always, Luda Mae. See you tomorrow morning.” You took your exit after that.

The second you opened the door of the gas station to exit the building, you instantly noticed that both Grace and Lina were missing. You call out for them and walk around the building multiple times but still, there was no hint of them anywhere. You cursed yourself and kicked a rock on the ground. You had officially lost four teenagers in the span of four hours.

With a defeated sigh, you started walking up the road, heading back to the teenagers car, wondering if they had headed that way, simply leaving you behind. You didn’t get far when the sheriff pulled up, Winston Hoyt, the only officer in his unit here. He had pulled up beside you, driving slow in order to keep pace with you. He rolled down the passenger side window and called out to you.

“Do you need a lift?” He asked, partially yelling to beat the sound of his motor.

You kept walking for a moment before stopping, deciding that it was best that you just get home. Plus, you could hand the case of the missing children off to the sheriff and be free of them for the day.

The car halted to a stop and opened the passenger door, taking a seat inside before closing it. You gave the directions to your house and the Sheriff began driving, heading in the general direction of your house.

“You work at the that butcher place back there, right?” He asks, making small talk.

You nodded and gave a small hum, not in a talkative mood.

“So what are yah doing out here so late? Meeting a boyfriend?” He asked with a tease.

You looked over and visibly rolled your eyes, wanting him to see your expression. He laughed and playfully hit your shoulder.”I’m teasing but seriously, what are you doing out here so late?” He asked again, to which you went in and explained all the details.

You explained everything from the time you got off work to now. You explained how nice they were at first, how willing the boys had been to go get the part, how they never came back, how one of the girls flipped out, how you all went to find the boys, how you lost the girls, and how you ended up walking alongside the road, heading towards the site once more.

“I see. After I drop you off, I’ll go out looking for them. No need to worry about them no more, okay, sweetheart?” He asked, adding on an unnecessary pet name at the end.

You simply nodded and refrained from throwing up at the name he had called you. You always hated being called pet names, they never went well with you. For the rest of the ride, you were silent, not speaking a word, not responding to ending further questions. The only time you talked was to thank the Sheriff when you got out.

You were quick to head inside, your mind spinning and stomach flipped inside out. You felt like you were going to throw up, the guilt of losing those kids eating up at you. You hated leaving the case with the officer but it was the only thing you could do, there isn’t much else you can do, you don’t even have a car.

You went to bed that night with an empty stomach, the contents long since spewed out into the toilet. Your dreams were plagued by their faces and what might have happened to them. You hated it, you hated them, you hated guilt.

The next morning, before heading to work you ran by the site where the car had originally been parked. It was a normal, humid morning, the sky was clear and the earth was dry, despite the wet conditions of the air.

When you arrived at the scene, you were quick to realize that the car was no longer there, not a trace of the kids were left, not even skid marks of them pulling out. It was as if they had passed through the town like ghosts or had come through at all. You could only hope that they were headed out of town safely, that the officer had done his job correctly and handled the case with practiced ease. You could only hope.

After you left the site, you quickly headed over to the factory, not wanting to be late to your shift. Luckily, you arrived a minute before your shift started, just on time. You were quick to throw on an apron and gloves, quickly heading over to your station and preparing for the day.

It was here that you met Thomas, it was here that he walked through the doors with the boss leading him on through, giving him a tour of the place. It was here that he was assigned to share a station with you, and it was here that you would start an odd relationship with the town’s “freak”, as some would like to say.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Thanks for reading loves 🖤

Part 1/9

[lilacsandamethysts]

No marriages of convenience please

Pairing: Kamisato Ayato x fem!Reader (she/her pronouns)

Summary: Kamisato Ayto is the most wanted bachelor in Inazuma; every elder in every clan wants him for their relatives. He, however, has his eyes set.

Warnings: some sexism but its only implied not straightforward, arranged marriages

A/N: Hi! The name of the clan was totally made up and I also guessed Ayato age.

“Please consider my daughter.” This was getting old. Old and tiring, oh so tiring. Kamisato Ayato had been receiving marriage proposals since the ripe age of one minute old and had declined every single one of them.  Now, at 26, the proposals had multiplied and become more bold and demanding. He was reaching his limit as of late especially since the elders of several clans and powerful families from Inazuma and beyond had started crowding the entrance to the estate making it difficult for anyone to get inside and out without being bombarded by pleas of “Send for Sir Kamisato we have an urgent matter to discuss” or “Tell mister Kamisato my daughter has been in love with him and is a perfect fit for the Commissioner” and his favorite by far “Our clan is known for their strong warriors, my niece will give him capable sons”. Truly, if he ever found himself at such a pitiful position in the future he would give Thoma the green light to put him out of his misery. It was ridiculous how far people were willing to go just to get a small taste of power and wealth. Kamisato Ayato was formidable and feared and awed; all the clans in Inazuma would give away their female relatives freely without a second thought if it meant they would become somehow tied to the almighty Yashiro Commissioner. Ayato stared at the old couple in front of him with nothing but pity, eyes traveling to the mortified young girl to their right who seemed to be afraid of her own shadow at this point. He sighed, rubbing at his temples and pinching the bridge of his nose before motioning for the parents to stand up; oh how he hated it when they bowed.   

“Once again, as I told you before, I would have to decline your offer.” He smiled softly at them, managing one last glance at the girl who seemed to gain back some of her color at the sound of his rejection. “I am not looking to marry.” 

It was a routine that, despite his better judgment, he had gotten used to. Everyday there would be a small pile of engagement offers sitting on his desk -courtesy of Thoma who would always blush profusely if he were caught placing the letters- followed by two or three sets of parents or elders who didn’t take his rejection via letter kindly. They would talk for thirty minutes about the benefits of this marriage, their female relatives attributes (“she has wide hips, milord, fit to bear you strong sons”, “our family has been blessed with visions, she shall bear you a vision user.”, “we have a massive expanse of land for you to expand and grow.”) and how reliable they are as a family, how powerful both families would become with this union before waiting patiently for a nod in agreement that would never come. Always during these affairs, the woman in question would be with them, head bowed low, figure trembling and sometimes with tear tracks marking her skin. He felt horrible for them every single time. Later he would send them a goodies basket as an apology for the hassle and traumatic event they had to witness, making sure their families caught no wind of the interaction lest they interpret it as an action of love, attraction or agreement. Today was no exception as this was the second family he had shooed off and it was currently only noon. Another one was bound to come knocking on his door in an hours’ time. He sighed once again, allowing his head to rest in his hands while he rubbed at his eyes with the balls of his palm. Being the Commissioner was tiring. Before he had any time to slack further, a sharp knock echoed through his office and as the frame slid open, Ayato was relieved to come face to face with someone far more amusing and pleasant than the wrinkly faces of a new pair of elders. 

She had a tray in her arms, the smell of his favorite tea invading his senses as she slowly trudged to him, eyes glued to his own with a soft smile decorating her plush lips. He wanted to kiss her so badly. Carefully she set the tray on the table and without a word began pouring him a cup, adding two cubes of sugar. Just like he wants it. He grazed his fingers over her own when taking the cup from her hands, a soft ‘thank you’ leaving his lips before he took a sip, eyes trained on her the whole time. She was irresistible. He truly didn’t know how he managed to get anything done when she stepped into a room. She was so mesmerizing, so enthralling, so addictive. The curve of her lips, the light in her eyes, the flow of her hair, even the scars on her body, the ones few had seen and even fewer had kissed -and by fewer he only means himself-. She was an angel come down straight from the heavens to bless his existence. An angel who looked oh so kissable. 

“The Hanamaki clan has requested an audience, sir.” Voice sweet as honey, a hint of mischief hiding behind her words and behind her eyes. A tease that’s what she was; a tease with no regard for the agony the man whose heart she had stolen had to go through daily when he couldn’t announce her as his. He huffed into his tea, eyes rolling at the thought of having to go through this ordeal once again, sooner than he was expecting as well. “Do not fret sir. An emergency seems to have been scheduled ten minutes into your meeting. I’m afraid your negotiations will unfortunately be cut short.” She had the audacity to wink at him and it took every ounce of self control in his body not to jump across his desk and make her breathless for him, make her forget her own name at the taste of his lips, make her lose herself in his arms. 

With a small nod she went to leave only to be stopped by her Commissioners’ hand wrapped around her wrist. They stared at each other for a few agonizing seconds, desire pooling in both their gazes before Ayato could simply not take it any longer. Pulling her towards him, she landed in his lap, legs wrapped snugly around his waist as her hands went straight to his cheeks, cupping them gently while he guided himself to her most desirable part. The moment their lips met, every frustration melted away and bled into the kiss, mouths molding to each other as he brought her flush to his chest, hands desperately trying to grab as much of her as he could. A gasp escaped her when he bit down on her lower lip giving him the chance to slip his tongue in her mouth deepening the kiss. What would those greedy elders think if they caught him like this with her? A disowned member of an Inazuman clan turned mercenary, his subordinate, holding his heart in her palms; the heart that he freely gave away to her, an action that he never regretted and never would regret for as long as he lived. She scouted impossibly closer, arms going around his neck as whimpers dripped from her lips. They separated for air, lips swollen and puffy, eyes glazed over with what he could only describe as pure lust. He dove for her neck, peppering her delicate skin with feather light kisses before reaching the spot he was searching for and biting down making her moan at the filing of his teeth on her skin. He could feel her flush at the sensation, her fingers tangling in his hair and tugging lightly making him groan at the action and suck another hickey just behind her ear. With a hand under her, he leaned forward laying her flat on her back on his desk before separating from her to admire his work; the mess he had made of her without even touching her where he knew she needed him the most right now. Lithe fingers went to the buttons of her uniform while she started to push the jacket off his shoulders, minds hazy with their need for each other. Kiss her more, more, more. He trailed down her neck slowly to her chest, tugging the fabric just unde rhee breast to- 

"Commissioner sir, the Hanamaki elders have arrived. They are asking for your presence." Thoma's voice cut through the atmosphere like a knife, halting all movement from then both. Ayato frowned, letting his head fall onto the spot on her chest where her heart was. 

"I'll be right out. Thank you Thoma." His voice betrayed his displeasure and paired with the lethal frown he dawned on his face she knew that the emergency ten minutes into the meeting wouldn't be needed; he will have them out of the estate in five. He sighed again this time focusing his gaze on her eyes as she smiled at him knowingly. Her hands caressed his cheek, leaning in to pack his nose once, twice before fixing his shirt and jacket. 

"A marriage proposal is calling you milord." And right there he saw it. It was momentary and very easy to miss, if he had blinked in that moment he would've been none the wiser. But he did see it. A tinge of sadness, of desperation, of heartbreak. He has focused all this time on how unpleasant this chore was to him that he had failed to realize how much the situation might be hurting her. Seeing her lover being proposed at and fawned over whilst hiding behind closed doors for only a kiss must be unbearable. He wouldn't be able to take it for long and he hated himself for failing to see the hurt sooner, for failing her. It was certain that the announcement of their courting would rile up trouble both from the public and her estranged family; people would talk, gossip and hate whilst her family would have an epiphany, a need to reconcile and rekindle their relationship with the daughter they abandoned. But through all of it he would be there to protect and love her, to make everyone fall into silence, to make them see that she was more suitable for him than any other measly noble thrown his way. There was not a doubt in his mind that they could make it through it. 

"Marry me."

[smolvenger]

Hi guys- I am having a bit of Writer's Block with The Baronet Seeks a Wife and could use some help

Ok, we have our establishing chapter and I am really happy and excited y'all like it. We have Reader having to take her sister's place and be in an arranged marriage to Thomas...

And I think... "ok....now what?"

*this is me trying to write the second part*

So...I thought of a couple events that could happen- we gotta get these two to genuinely fall for each other. Perhaps we should have one of these ideas I've come up with so far-

Should we cut to Ascot Opening Day and see Reader and Thomas as a couple in public for the first time? Since it was a common big event for the upper crust of London at this time to show off how fancy they were, see each other, and pretend to care about sports?

The way I always think of My Fair Lady referencing it:

I :/ have :/ never :/ been :/ so:/ keyed :/ up:/

Or- we could have a tea party where they talk:

Or we could maybe even have Reader travel to Allerdale Hall and only learn a little about Thomas's past...though I planned that to be later, it could work. I do plan on Reader eventually knowing....well, everything that went down and that being a source of conflict.

Or we could go- SCREW IT TIMESKIP TO WEDDING!

Okay, you can vote or you can discuss what you wanna see happen if none of these things!

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites@villainousshakespeare@holdmytesseract@eleniblue@twhxhck@lokisgoodgirl@lovelysizzlingbluebird@raqnarokr@holymultiplefandomsbatman@michelleleewise@wolfsmom1@cheekyscamp@mochie85@fandxmslxt69@skittslackoffilter@mischief2sarawr @jijilaufeyson @steasstuff @anukulee @kimi01985 @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @giona45-5 @goddessgirl43 @heavyymetalchick @stainlessciel and anyone else who wants to!

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2024-01-10

Main

Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader

Seasonal

Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader: Winter Edition

See Also: Navigation || Private T.B.R.

[jokeringcutio]

(M) Reader & Thomas Sharpe- "The Ball" [1?] (Warnings:Smut)

Fandom: Crimson Peak | Rating: Explicit | Male Reader x Sir Thomas Sharpe Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Romanticness, Forbidden Romance. for: @cumrag4arockstar

The chandeliers dripped light, diamonds cascading from the ballroom ceiling. You leaned against a shadowed column, as you watched him dance. Sir Thomas Sharpe. A vision you had never seen before. Slender and pale, gracious features. He moved with an elegance that felt like it belonged to another world. His black suit hugged his frame, a stark contrast to the vibrant gowns swirling around him. No wonder he had caught your eye as soon as he had entered the room.

The dance ended, and as he excused himself from his partner, your breath hitched. Your heart beat a staccato rhythm against your ribs when you saw that the man of your desires walked directly your way, blue eyes upon you intently.

"Quite the spectacle this evening, is it not?" Thomas's voice, soft and measured, sounded as he approached. A wry smile played on his lips as he turned towards the refreshments.

"Y-yes," you stuttered. And why of all moments did you have to stutter right now? Just when you wanted to impress a man like him? Your words tumbled clumsily from your lips, it was embarrassing. "It's quite something."

The heat in your cheeks betrayed you, and you cursed yourself for sounding like a moonstruck simpleton.

Thomas poured himself a glass of brandy, his blue eyes holding a glimmer of amusement as he regarded you. "Do you not enjoy the dance?"

I enjoy watching you more, you thought, your pants getting uncomfortably tight now that you stood so near to the man.

Your throat tightened, words jumbled in your mind. "I-I find myself more at ease observing," you managed, the confession sounding like a plea.

"Ah, the quiet allure of the wallflower," he mused, taking a slow sip. His gaze lingered on you, unsettling yet thrilling all at once.

"Your grace is evident even without stepping onto the floor," you blurted, then immediately wished the ground would swallow you whole. He was a baronet, and you? A nobody, Just another young man without title or means.

"Flattery, sir?" His eyebrow arched, a playful edge to his tone. But there was something else there. A curiosity that danced behind his eyes.

"Merely an observation," you replied, the words coming out rougher than intended.

"Observations can be powerful things," Thomas said, setting his drink aside. His hand ghosted near yours, an almost touch that sent a jolt through your veins. "Especially when seen through keen eyes."

You swallowed hard, realizing that you’d fallen for this man. Hard. And talking to him only confirmed it.

You needed to get out, and swiftly, before you’d make a fool of yourself. This man was a forbidden desire. A man from the upper class that you should not get involved with.

The grandeur of the ballroom, with its opulent chandeliers and the swish of silken gowns, suddenly felt like a gilded cage. The air, heavy with perfume and heat, clung to your skin. You yearned for the crisp night beyond the tall French doors.

"I could use some fresh air," you murmured, an apology and an excuse all in one as you rushed to get away from the man of your desires.

If only things could be that easy. As if fate wanted to tart you, the man followed your steps.

"Ah," you heard Thomas say, his voice soft as velvet. "I find myself with a similar need."

Even if you had wanted to escape him, denying him to come along felt impolite and quite frankly impossible. And so you led the way, the two of you slipping through the throng of dancers and out onto the balcony where the cool breeze kissed your flushed cheeks. London's lights twinkled below, a starry mimicry that paled against the real constellations overhead.

"Thank you," Thomas said after a moment, his breath forming clouds in the chill. You watched as he placed his hands on the marble balustrade. Those long and slender fingers… fantasies arose within your mind. If only…

Thomas sounded hesitant when he spoke next, as if he was thinking of how to phrase things. "I must confess, I'm rather unhappy being here,” he said, words a sigh as he joined you leaning his elbows on the balustrade. “Parading around, dancing with all those beautiful girls."

You tensed. "I share your sentiment," you said cautiously, thinking of the ballroom and all the wonderous guests inside. You had danced with gorgeous women in the past, always being polite enough to compliment them and sometimes even make them blush.

It’s just… they weren’t for you.

Even if society expected you to eventually choose one as your wife. You supposed you were lucky not to have been born in one of the upper circles. The pressure of marriage was a little less in your circles, as you at least needed a good income to provide for a family And you weren’t quite there yet. Still young, your old man would say. You’d get there.

Perhaps, you thought, feeling the cold night air brush past your heated cheeks. "The festivities here are... suffocating."

Thomas chuckled softly, a sound that carried both weariness and relief. “Oh, the party is just fine,” he then said, surprising you at his honest admission. His blue eyes turned to you. “The music is wonderful and the company is excellent.”

You felt a slight shiver at his words, as if he somehow had included you in the company there and had given you a shielded compliment.

"It's my sister," Thomas finally admitted after a bit of hesitating, turning his gaze to the stars. "She forced me to attend. Insisted, really."

You remained silent and watched your hands so close to his on the cold marble balustrade. His skin was pale, like a translucent ghost compared to the pale stones his palms rested on. An ethereal beauty.

"Lucille is relentless," Thomas said, his voice low and tinged with a fatigue that seemed etched into his very bones. "She wants me secured in another marriage."

So Thomas wasn’t eager to get married? Again? If you caught it correctly there. Had he been married before?

“Isn’t marriage supposed to be a joyful affair?” You carefully asked, surprised by how bitter your own voice sounded. You had wanted to keep your calm, but once again you were losing your composure.

Thomas let out a short laugh. “It is supposed to be, my friend.” His blue eyes sought yours again, tiny crunkles adoring them as he smiled at you. “If it’s with the right one.”

Silence stretched between you, and when you didn’t speak, Thomas shifted on his feet and cleared his throat again.

“And you? I couldn’t help but notice you lack a ring,” that observation had you gaze at your own hand, surprised that Thomas had paid attention to such a detail.

His eyes flickered back to you, apologetic. "Forgive me. I seem to be gushing. It's just... I feel oddly at ease with you."

His hand found your shoulder, a gentle pressure that should have been alarming but instead anchored you. His touch was hesitant yet seeking, as if he were reaching not for your body, but for something intangible that you both shared.

"It's... it's fine," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The rebellion of enjoying this moment, this connection with someone so far removed from your own station, was a heady thing.

You felt the words catch in your throat, a confession rising unbidden. "I—I wouldn't know the joy in it either. Marriage... women..." Your voice faltered, choked by the admission. "They don't hold that sway over me."

The hand on your shoulder grew heavier, the fingers digging gently into your skin as his grip became firmer. Thomas’s blue eyes were searching yours, a storm of understanding brewing within their depths.

"I'm sorry," you added hastily, an apology for the truth you rarely dared speak aloud. “I probably should just leave.”

"No," he said, stepping closer, his breath a whisper against your lips. "Don't ever apologize for your truths."

To your surprise, his hand rose, fingertips reaching for your skin.

"The only real beauty I see isn't in there,” Thomas whispered, “It's here..."

His fingers brushed your cheek, a touch so light it might have been mistaken for the wind if not for the fire it ignited beneath your skin. "You're remarkable," he murmured, tracing the line of your jaw with a reverence that made your heart stutter.

Your breath hitched as his face loomed closer, the reality of this moment—a moment you'd longed for without knowing it was possible—threatening to overwhelm you.

"Thomas..." The name escaped as a sigh, a prayer, a curse all at once.

"Shhh," he coaxed, his lips grazing yours, a fleeting contact that promised more. And then, with a certainty that left no room for doubt, his mouth claimed yours in a kiss that was both gentle and insistent.

You tasted him—brandy and wistfulness—and it was like drinking from a forbidden spring.

His lips moved against yours with a slow, deliberate passion that spoke of things unsaid, desires unvoiced.

His kiss was a quiet revolution, upending everything you thought you knew about longing, about yourself. You kissed him back with a hunger that surprised you, raw and honest in its intensity.

"Thomas," you breathed again into the kiss, and this time it was an anchor, holding you fast in a world tilting dangerously underfoot.

The stars above were witness to the crescendo of your surrender as Thomas deepened the kiss, his hands exploring territories of flesh and fabric with a conqueror's boldness. The world narrowed to the balcony, the night air an accomplice to your shared sin.

As darkness crept around you, shielded you like a cloak, Thomas’s hand ran up your thigh, gently tugging at the buttons of your clothes. You let him, didn’t even try to stop him because this was what you wanted.

"Thomas," you gasped, a hand clutching at his vest as if to anchor yourself amidst the storm he was awakening in you.

"Let me," he breathed against your throat, his words hot and heady as the kisses he planted along your collarbone.

You could only nod, every nerve ending alight, anticipation coiling tight within your belly. His fingers deftly worked the buttons of your shirt, exposing skin to the cool kiss of the night. You shivered, not from cold but from the sheer intensity of his gaze drinking in the sight of you.

"Beautiful," he said, the word a caress as his hands roamed with purposeful intent.

Your back hit the stone balustrade, his body a solid line of warmth against yours. Every touch was a spark, every movement stoked the flames higher. When he sank into you, it wasn't just a meeting of bodies; it was the union of souls adrift, finding harbor in each other's arms.

"Thomas," you cried out, the name a talisman against the overwhelming tide of bliss. Your world constricted to the rhythm he set, the slow grind that escalated into urgency, the push and pull as old as time yet as new as the dawn.

"My friend,” he whispered, his lips at your ear, each thrust punctuating the claim. “Mine.”

"Yours," you echoed, the word torn from the depths of your being as you clung to him.

Your friend, perhaps even more, you wanted to say. But pleasure rippled through you as his cock moved supply inside of you. You’d never had someone of his size and girth before, but you’d been more than ready. And so had he been. The head of his cock was slick enough to make the slide in less painful, the thrusts now deep enough that they hit your prostrate at such an angle that you couldn’t help but feel bliss.

You couldn’t tell how long time lasted as you lost yourself in pure pleasure. Your muscles contracted around his shaft, milking him, begging him to come inside. Your lips parted in a silent ‘o’ while he buried his face in your neck, gritted teeth scraping along your sensitive skin as he groaned your name.

His arms were clutched around your shoulders, pulling you tight against him, two lovers caught in an embrace.

The stuttering of his hips announced that he was close. And as if on cue, your body started to spasm, walls fluttering around him as you came. A few irregular thrusts later, Thomas followed you, tumbling over the brink and painting your inside with hot, liquid white.

You groaned, coming down from your high with Thomas’s arms still around you, as both of you caught your breath.

The aftermath was a quiet so profound it felt sacred, your breaths mingling, a silent testament to what had passed between you. It was over too soon. Reality beckoned with the distant sound of music and laughter filtering through from the ballroom.

“Good,” your voice nearly skipped a notch, emotions still running wild inside of you as your chest heaved rapidly up and down. “S-So good.”

Thomas slipped from your core and started to readjust his clothes. You figured you should do the same, making yourself look presentable, even though your heart was still racing rapidly at what had just occurred.

“Thank the stars for such a miracle,” you thought you heard Thomas whisper. But surely, you must be mistaken, right? You turned to face him, but before you could ask, Thomas had grabbed your hand.

"Come," he murmured, straightening his clothes with swift, practiced movements. "We must return."

You followed Thomas inside, the thrum of the ballroom a stark contrast to the intimacy you'd just shared. The revelry was a blur, the faces nothing more than masks devoid of meaning. Lucille approached, her eyes sharp as shards of glass, slicing through the facade.

Thomas instantly let go of your hand.

"Really, Thomas?" Her voice dripped with disdain, taking in his disheveled appearance. "I would have never taken you for such... tastes."

You flinched and looked aside. Indeed, Thomas’s hair was disheveled, despite his best attempts, and a bruising hickey was peeking out from underneath his collar. Had you done that?

You stepped away from him, ready to retreat into the shadows, feeling ashamed and suddenly very little and meaningless. But Thomas’s blue eyes turned towards you, dark and determined.

“This wasn’t meaningless,” was all he said. But you felt the words deep inside your heart, reigniting the pleasure he had given you before. It had been real. It still felt like it had meant so much more than a fleeting moment of passion.

"Wait for me," he promised, low and fierce. "This isn't the end."

Then Sir Thomas Sharpe disappeared into the crowd, following his stoic-looking sister. Her features portrayed displeasure, perhaps even disgust, and it would have made you feel uncomfortable if not for Thomas’s soothing words.

You weren’t done here. Neither of you were.

You would see him again.

~

AN: For more, follow me (:

~~ Support me on Ko-Fi - Masterlist  - Request Box ~~

[darklcy]

𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 : 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 | 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐤

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : armin arlert x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2k words 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: slow burn, takes place in season 1, parental issues, grief, insinuations of anxiety, bad language, reader has a bit of a struggle being social. 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: enlistment ceremony begins. new environment, new lessons, new people. the questions remains of who you'll get along with. 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

The sun rained nicely.

 Though summer was ending, the heat was as radiant as ever, breaking sweat on the pores of foreheads and underarms. Tension so stiff you could snap with too large of a breath...the vast field of dirt did nothing to console the panic levels rising within the many bodies here.

Fresh cotton firm and pressed to your body, a lightly tanned jacket embellished with two swords crossed on the chest pocket and amongst your shoulder blades. In rows of thirteen, you stood at row three, and in plain eyesight the exact amount of recruits couldn’t be exactly placed. Just over two hundred was where you safely guessed. 

Heavy, steel footsteps cracking the earth beneath him interrupted the stillness.

It began with a speech.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

“We now begin the enlistment ceremony for the 104th Trainee Corps!”

Broad, six foot four stature. Rows of crows feet beside the temples. A bald scalp.

“I am Keith Shadis, and I had the misfortune to be assigned to train you bastards, and I’m not here to welcome you at all.”

Quite the face to be greeted with. 

“Right now, you’re mere cattle, fit for nothing but Titan food! No, less than cattle!

In three years time, we’ll take you worthless pieces of crap and train you till you break. Give you what it means to go out and fight.”

His voice could shatter glass, and the vessels in your ear drums. Marching up and down the rough soil, his golden eyes were what terrified you the most. The shadows of his displeasure almost hid his stare completely, but just when contact was made, he honed you down like a hawk.

“In three years, when you stand before a Titan, will you still be food? Or will you be a noble wall, shielding the King? Or perhaps, one of humanity’s glorious soldiers that slays Titans?

You will decide.”

The opportunity to take in your fellow peers spread out in peripheral glances, not wanting to suggest any hint of movement. The soldiers on both sides were the only ones taken in full detail. 

In the midst of observation, a shadow blocks the glaring sunlight. You swallow down a gasp.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR NAME?!"

The boy on your left was the target. A flash of blonde hair moves as a salute births from his left arm. 

“A-Armin Arlert from Shiganshina, sir!”

A sharp inhale gets stuck in your nose. Whether the hometown mentioned stirred Keith Shadis or not, it was impossible to tell. 

..His face pops up again.

“Is that so? That name sounds fit for a pathetic bastard. Your parents name you that, punk?!”

Droplets of saliva shot out from the man’s hoarse yells and onto the boy’s face. 

"My grandfather, sir!"

Shadis dares in closer. 

“Why the fuck are you here, Arlert?!”

His response barrels out without a breath of pause.

“To contribute to humanity’s victory, sir!”

Armin Arlert shielded himself with eyelids tightly clenched, the power of his proclamation bringing his knees to tremble. Shadis is unmoving, but then he nods.

“How admirable. You will make first class Titan fodder. Row three: about face!”

The jolt of relief makes you breathe again. One more step and it would’ve been your turn. 

The boy’s blown out eyes whirl your way for a second as Shadis forcibly turns him around. The air stiffened when the instructor moved past. 

Now facing the opposite direction, you were able to examine the rows of fresh faces. Shadis's rite of passage from hell continued with a boy named Thomas Wagner, who became the chosen victim of the new column. Armin Arlert stirred beside you. Through the corner of your eye you noticed a sort of relaxation fall over his face, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple. He seemed as fragile on the inside as he appeared on the outside.

His hometown rings a bell. 

For an event so tragic, he appeared delicately. No physical stress signs, or tiresome eye circles. His form was clean cut and professional, despite the obvious fear in his posture. His motive was strong, too. A heroic service to honor at such an age.

He must've noticed you peeking at him for he suddenly glanced over to meet your gaze. His large, blue irises caught yours for a brief moment before you quickly faced front. You could feel his stare linger on your form until he too returned his focus to the front.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

It seems everyone else was on edge, too. The intense aura radiating off Keith Shadis’s skin drove a boy to salute incorrectly, a headbutt to the forehead of an uptight cadet, and a girl breaking position to eat a simple potato. 

Such strange behavior from so many future soldiers. The question of friendship pondered in your brain; which faces you’d get along with, and the ones you wouldn’t. Three years is a long time to spend with so many individuals.

“Hello there! I’m Marco Bodt, nice to meet you!”

A sudden voice interrupts the thought. 

Raising your chin, you meet the eyes of a towering, dark haired boy with freckles dotting his cheeks. He smiles. 

Marco Bodt… 

“I’m Marco Bodt from Jinae in Wall Rose’s Southern District, sir! I plan to join the Military Police Brigade and offer myself to the King!”

He was the one standing beside the cadet who suffered a brutal headbutt. Jean Kirschtein, if you recall.

“Oh, hi.”

Marco’s grin stretched at the response. The mess hall was a quaint cabin with plenty of tables to support the amount of recruits, and yet the bench you found home at didn’t accompany anyone else. Laying atop the wood was a plate of stale bread and unfinished vegetable stew, spoon in hand with a bite. 

Following induction was the hours of dinnertime and unpacking, selecting bunks in the dormitories and changing into comfortable wear. The bunk chosen for you was the bed closest to the ladder, but what confused you was the empty mattress on your left. No sign of anyone’s belongings or note of claim. Not that it was a problem...Extra space is easy to make due with.

“What’s your name?”

You glance from his outstretched hand up to his awaiting expression. 

“..[Y/N].”

The size difference of both your hands is comical, his much larger palm encasing yours. His mouth parts to speak again-

“How big was the Colossal Titan?”

“I heard it could step over the walls!”

“That’s what my family said!”

A blazing uproar from the center of the room drowns out the other conversations. Both you and Marco peer over to spectate the growing crowd circling a particular table, a boy named Eren Jaeger seated at the head. Another survivor from the Shiganshina District, remarkably noted. 

The crouching boy beside him spouted questions left and right involving the invasion. The topic of discussion must’ve spiked curiosity all around, including Marco, who made a noise of surprise before trotting over to join the crowd. 

The skin between your eyebrows pulled together. A familiar itch in your hands drove your fingers to pick at the cuticles of your nails. Any mention of Shingashina, and the noise drowns out in a blur…

CLANG

The room abruptly hushed when Eren’s spoon dropped from his fingers. He cupped his mouth as he gulped, chin dropping to face the table. The boy crouching beside him tensed, exchanging looks with equally uncomfortable cadets. A sigh came from Marco.

“..We should knock it off. I’m sure we’re bringing up memories he doesn’t want to remember.”

The same crouching boy leaned forward.

“I’m so sorry, we didn’t mean to-,”

“You’re wrong.”

Eren broke out of his trance with a yell. The loaf of bread in his hand smashed inwards from his tight grip.

“Titans aren’t actually as bad as they say. We’ll be equipped and trained with the 3D Maneuvering Gear soon, and when that happens, Titans will be absolutely nothing.”

It was unclear if Eren had hit his skull too hard before dinner or if it was ignorance. “I’m finally able to train as a soldier…I just got caught up earlier. I’m going to join the Survey Corps, and kill every last fucking Titan there is in this world. I’ll slaughter them!”

Your eyelids squint. Ignorance.

Though his determination was inspiring. A roundabout reaction to such a traumatic experience, you thought. Whenever Jean Kirschtein counters his statement with a cocky remark, however, is ultimately the time you resume your meal, drowning out the chaos in your soup.

Marco doesn’t join you again, but he leaves you with something pleasant to dwell on. 

He was…nice.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

“Hey, do you think Sasha will be back soon?”

The bunkmate above peeked over the edge to peer at you from underneath, black hair dangling. Lifting your head, you arched a brow.

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Sasha. You know, the potato girl?”

Ohh.

It’d almost completely slipped your mind, her treacherous punishment. It’d been about eight hours since introductions, surely Shadis spared her legs by now.

“It is a little late…”

“Right? That’s what I’m thinking, too. Should we go check on her?”

Just as you were about to answer the door to the cabin flung open. Stumbling inside was a short blonde and a taller brunette, carrying a passed out girl on her back. The blonde clutched onto a canteen of water as she searched the room.

“Does anyone know where Sasha’s bunk is?”

Her sweet voice silenced idle chatter. The dangling bunkmate sat up to point at the vacant space beside you, spurring a tilt of confusion.

“Right here, Christa!”

..It’s not an extra? 

Like a mother tucking in a child, Christa dotingly fluffed up Sasha’s pillow and covered every square inch of her body with the blanket. Her boots and jacket were removed and folded off at the foot of the mattress, and beside her head slept the water canteen.

“I’ll leave this water here for her… She must be so tired.”

With that she politely excused herself before heading off to her own bunk, the taller brunette trailing behind. 

A groan and whine hummed from her throat. She twitched in her slumber similar to how a dog dreams, legs barely kicking and small noises like yelps coming with it. The girl above dangled over the side once more.

“Seems like she really outdid herself, huh.”

Not looking away, you nodded.

“..I guess she won’t be eating any more potatoes.”

The girl laughed.

“You’re funny. What’s your name?”

Her upside down stare met yours. 

“[Y/N]. Yours..?”

“I’m Mina. Mina Karolina, to be exact.”

Her wide, toothy grin rounded the corners of your mouth up. 

“..You know, leaning over like that is dangerous. You could fall.”

A blanket of black hair swished as she shook her head. 

“If I can’t handle this, then how could I ever handle the 3D-Whoa!”

A yelp whooshed from her as her body tipped over and fell hard on the wooden floor below. The weight of gravity stunned her for a few agonizing seconds, groans of pain the only indication she survived. Your head poked over the edge. 

Her pale cheeks flush fuschia. 

“I didn’t think I would actually fall…”

You scoff through your nose. Descending down the ladder, you carry her back on her feet with the pull of your hand. 

“Are you okay?”

She cradled the crown with a shaky hand, blinking a couple times to knock off the dizziness.

“..Great.”

You allowed her the pass to go up first, making sure she didn’t lose to gravity again. Curfew set in stone pretty quickly afterwards, any candlelight keeping the room alive blowing off into smoke, welcoming the moon’s seductive glow. 

You find yourself turning towards Sasha again, watching her dream in bliss. It was a bit strange to share a bed like this, almost intimate in a way. Something especially reserved only for family and friendships. Was it unusual to long for a relationship like that..?

When sleep finds you, the question is open ended.

[muddyorbsblr]

the final Lady Sharpe – masterlist

Summary: The moment your new husband Sir Thomas Sharpe carried you across the threshold, your life took a turn for the exceedingly dangerous. You have to rely on your wits and some unlikely partners along the way to get out of Allerdale Hall alive.

Pairing: Thomas Sharpe x Reader

Warnings: Lucille; murder attempt via poisoning; marital angst over murder attempt; eventual smut (minors & pearl clutchers begone); mentions of the relationship between Lucille & Thomas; mentions of blood; ghosts (mainly Edith Cushing & Enola Sciotti)

Things to be aware of: Reader & Thomas are newlyweds; eventual mutual pining

Main Story

part 1: across the threshold part 2: a risky endeavor part 3: unorthodox signals part 4: something to look forward to part 5: sent away part 6: dire consequences part 7: the air of finality part 8: a new beginning

[smolvenger]

@softforloki Wait a minute-wait! Wait! Wait a minute-Wait-wait-wait a minute!!!! *reads and rereads to make sure*

THAT'S MEEEEE! I WROTE THE FICSS! I WROTE BOTH OF THEM!

The First One with Reader having a crappy time at a ball and meeting Thomas is "Handsome Enough to Tempt Me" and you can read it here!

The second one, where they get engaged and he confided in Reader about his past is "Half Agony, Half Hope!"

They can also both be read on my Archive of Our Own account: VasaliaTheWise!

I am actually extremely honored and glad you loved them and asked out! Now you know where to find me!

Someone plz help me find this Thomas Sharpe fic

I read a two-parter once about Thomas Sharpe, and I cannot for the life of me remember the titles or author.

They're set after the events of Crimson Peak, and Lucille is dead. In the first one the reader attend a ball but no one asked her to dance, and she hears some of the guests talking shit about her and she goes and hides in the library, where she meets Thomas. They chat, and then he asks to dance the next two dances with her.

The second one is when they're engaged, and Thomas is meeting Reader's family, and he's overwhelmed with the love her family has for each other. He tells her about his past with Lucille, and how she groomed him.

Plz plz plz someone either claim this or point me in the direction of the blog I can find it because they were some of my favorite Thomas Sharpe fics and I'm so sad I can't find them