#abraham fanfic

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Yours and Mine

Pairing: Abraham (Grantchester) x f!reader Warnings: Mild angst. Mentions of infidelity. Smut. Words: ~6k

Summary: She is bored of her life as the vicar's daughter. Abraham feels trapped in an unhappy engagement that is more obligation than choice. Together they learn that life isn't what you allow to happen to you, but rather what you choose to make of it.

Author's note: Based on this request. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

“How many rounds of ham and cheese have you got there, love?” her father asked, wrapping triangles of egg and cress sandwiches in waxed paper, before he placed them in a wicker basket.

She stopped buttering the slice of bread in front of her, stilling her knife as she paused to count the slices of bread piled off to the side. “Eleven so far, twelve once I’ve finished this one,” she said, before continuing to spread margarine out towards the bread's edges.

“I think that’ll be enough then,” he told her, hefting the second, already full basket for emphasis, “ham and cheese, egg and cress, tuna and sweetcorn. That’ll do nicely.”

She simply nodded. Truthfully, it had been enough several sandwiches ago. There was enough food to serve an army, let alone a traveller’s camp. She wouldn’t mind if there was a genuinely charitable act of kindness behind the gesture, but there wasn’t. It was her father’s attempt to be nosy, thinly disguised as a good deed.

The arrival of the travellers in Grantchester a week ago had been the most exciting thing to happen in the sleepy, little village for ages. Ordinarily, it was the talk of the parish whenever someone took down their net curtains to wash them, so a small community setting down caravans in Mr. Ruskin’s field had set the place abuzz. As the village’s vicar, her father had taken it upon himself to take food up to the camp. On the surface, it was Christian kindness, a warm welcome to Grantchester. She saw her father’s actions for what they really were though; he wanted to size them up, to have information to pass back to his flock when they asked. She found the gesture patronising, it suggested they couldn’t look after themselves. She didn’t want to argue though, her father was not a man to change his mind easily, or be reasoned with, so she simply swallowed down her trepidation and continued layering slices of ham and cheese.

As she suspected, they were met with a frosty reception upon their arrival at the farm. Those that were not in their caravans, stopped what they were doing to stare coldly at her and her father as they approached with their heavy picnic baskets.

There were fires lit, and dogs barked and chased each other playfully. Piles of timber laid in neat stacks, having been chopped for firewood, and laundry hung on makeshift lines between fence posts. They appeared self sufficient, and she cringed, casting her gaze down at the mud that was splattered across her olive green wellington boots as her father’s voice rang out in the eerie silence, punctuated only by the distant clucking of chickens and faint crying of a baby from one of the caravans.

“Hello there,” her father called out loudly, “I’m Father Thomas, the vicar of the local church, and this is my daughter.”

Embarrassment blazed against the surface of her skin, making her feel too warm despite the gentle breeze in the air, as he said her name out loud, laying the blame of this obvious insult at her feet alongside his own.

“We wanted to offer you a warm welcome to Grantchester,” he continued, oblivious to the hostile atmosphere he was creating. “These are for you.”

She dared to glance up as he gestured forward with the picnic basket he was holding, and saw that not one of the people standing before them made a move towards them, or reached out to take it. After a moment that felt like it stretched on for an eternity, a tall, slender man with an axe slung over his shoulder, hinged forward at his hips, spitting heavily upon the ground. Her lips parted in shock, icy cold fingers of fear creeping up her spine as she watched him, an obvious answer to their offering - ‘we don’t want it.’ 

She set down her own picnic basket on the muddy ground, her aching shoulders grateful to be free of their burden, and looked at her father with wide, imploring eyes. “I think we should go,” she whispered, low enough for only him to hear, “this was a bad idea.”

He set down his own basket, with a slight nod, before grasping her shoulder and marching her away. She walked quickly, her heart pounding with fright as her father kept a firm hold of her, but it paled in comparison to the second hand embarrassment that made her want to curl in on herself. They had offended them, she knew they had, and she had done nothing to stop it.

“Perhaps once they try the sandwiches they’ll warm up to us a bit, we just need to give them time,” her father muttered nervously, more to himself than to her, as he kept his eyes fixed ahead as they walked back through the village.

“They don’t want our sandwiches, Dad,” she sighed exasperatedly, “I’m pretty sure we annoyed them.”

Her father huffed, finally releasing her shoulder as their house came into view, the tendrils of ivy that clung to its red brick front a more than welcome sight. His voice blustered with annoyance as he spoke. “Well, with that ungrateful attitude, they won’t last long around here. Good riddance to them.”

She pursed her lips, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. Of course it hadn’t occurred to her father that perhaps the group just wanted to be left alone. However, in a village that thrived on gossip and needing to know the business of absolutely everyone, they had chosen the worst possible place to settle if it was privacy they were after.

“I’ve made a call to Mr. Ruskin,” her father announced, two days later, stepping into the kitchen as she stood at the sink, washing the plates and cups from breakfast. “You’re to go and collect the picnic baskets from our…visitors this afternoon.”

The word ‘visitors’ came out of his mouth as though it were dripping with poison. She knew the word he longed to use in its place, it made her prickle with annoyance, and she squeezed the sponge unnecessarily tight, watching as soap suds expanded out of it, spreading through the murky depths of the warm water in the sink.

“Why did you need to call Mr. Ruskin to let him know that?” she asked, her voice tight as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

“I’m doing home visits this afternoon, so I can’t come with you,” he explained, adjusting the white clerical collar of his black shirt as he gazed absentmindedly out of the back door of the house. “Mr. Ruskin knowing you’ll be there will help keep you safe.”

‘Keep me safe from what?!’ she longed to shout at him, but instead she took her frustration out on a teaspoon, scrubbing the silver of it harder than she needed to as she frowned.

“They don’t mean us any harm,” she finally said, raising her head to look at her father as he continued to stare out into the back garden.

“You are kind, my girl” he told her, turning to look at her with a soft smile, “foolish, but kind.”

He turned and walked from the kitchen, his silent way of letting her know there was no further room for argument. It frustrated her endlessly, the way he would silence her, simply by removing himself from the conversation.

When she arrived at the camp later that afternoon, the picnic baskets were both overturned. She thought for a moment that the travellers may have grudgingly accepted the food, until she crouched down to lift them up. The waxed paper inside had been torn to shreds, what little food scraps remained were teeming with maggots. A sharp sound of repulsed shock escaped her throat before she could stop it and she stumbled back from the sight, falling firmly on her backside to the muddy ground.

“Think the dogs have probably been at ‘em,” a gruff voice came from somewhere above her.

She lifted her gaze, meeting a piercing pair of blue eyes that stared down at her. As she looked over the sharp lines of his face, she recognised him as the man that had spat in response to her father offering the sandwiches. He wasn’t carrying an axe this time. He loomed tall over her, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, revealing the tattoos that littered his forearms, his hands tucked into his pockets. 

She quickly looked away, busying herself with righting the wicker hampers. “I’m sorry,” she said hurriedly, her heart pounding hard against her ribs, “it was my dad’s idea.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, and for a moment she thought he would leave her to it, until he spoke again. “Your dad’s idea for you to sit on your arse in the mud too, or you want a hand up?”

Her head snapped back up to meet his icy stare once more, her jaw agape in shock at how he had spoken to her. When her eyes met his again, he had a hand extended out towards her. She hesitated a moment, then reached up. His hand dwarfed hers as he grasped it; his calloused palm was rough, yet warm against her own as he tugged her easily to her feet. She found she only reached his chest as she stood once more, and she hastily stepped back, tugging her hand free of his, to put some space between them.

“Thank…thank you,” she stammered, looking anywhere but him as she attempted fruitlessly to brush her skirt clean.

A lazy smirk spread across his face as he watched her, before nodding down at the picnic baskets. “You gonna be alright carrying those?”

“Well, they’re mostly empty now,” she sighed, stooping to grab one, “so I should be fine.”

He raised an eyebrow, eyeing her curiously. “You sure? Would hate for a spoiled little thing like you to fall over again.”

She straightened, her brow furrowing into a scowl as she stared defiantly up at him, clutching a picnic basket by its wicker handle. “I am not spoiled,” she argued, “but you’re rude!”

He grinned at her, the predatory flash of his teeth stirring something warm and uncomfortable within her, before he stooped to grab the other basket. “I might be,” he said with a shrug, as he stood upright once more, “but at least I can admit to my shortcomings.”

She found herself relaxing as he fell into step beside her, walking away from Mr. Ruskin’s field and back towards the village. He had an easy presence, and she felt vindicated that she had been right to insist to her father that she had nothing to fear.

“Well, at least your dogs enjoyed the sandwiches, even if you didn’t,” she offered with a small smile.

He didn’t return it, glancing quickly over at her before continuing to look in the direction they were walking. “It’s the first time anyone’s ever tried to tell us to sling our hook with sandwiches, I’ve gotta admit.”

“We don’t want you to leave,” she said quickly, turning her head to try and meet his gaze, “that’s not what it was.”

“You might not mind us being here,” he said, “but your old man certainly does. We’re not exactly the sort of people that have the welcome mat rolled out for them when we settle somewhere.”

“It’s not like that,” she insisted, but he cut her off, stopping and turning to face her.

“Isn’t it? What did your dear old dad tell you before you came here today? Did he tell you to be careful, warn you we might be dangerous?”

She opened her mouth, she wanted to deny it, but as she stared at him, she found herself unable to lie. She quickly pressed her lips together, feeling her skin grow warm at the memory of her father’s concern for her safety. If only he could see her now.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, almost triumphantly, as he turned and continued to walk. “I’m Abraham, by the way.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Abraham, I’m–”

“I remember your name, Miss. Thomas, don’t worry,” he said with a wink.

That uncomfortable warmth returned and she quickly looked away, blinking as though the action would clear the sight of his crude gesture from her mind.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re skittish?” he asked her, “sort of like a cat. Miss. Thomas the cat…a tom cat!”

He grinned then, and she laughed. “You’re ridiculous,” she told him with a slight shake of her head, “so what are your plans for while you’re in Grantchester?”

“Got a couple of horses we’ve paid to stable with the farmer whose field we’re staying in,” he told her, “once they’re in racing shape, I expect we’ll sell them and then move on.”

She had always loved animals, and her eyes lit up at the mention of horses. She so seldom ever saw any in the village. “You have horses?!”

His gaze softened at her palpable excitement. ��Well, yeah, they’re what pull our caravans. But these ones are special. They’re thoroughbreds, trained ‘em myself. You wanna meet ‘em?”

“Really?! I’d love to!” she smiled widely, stopping and turning to face him as her house came into view.

“This home then?” he asked, holding out the basket he held for her to take.

“Yeah, best not to go all the way to the front door, just in case…”

She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence, feeling ashamed.

“No troubles,” he came to her rescue, seemingly unbothered by the snub, “swing by tomorrow, and I’ll introduce you to the horses, if you want?”

“That’d be nice,” she said quietly, her eyes filled with silent apology as they met his.

“Tomorrow then,” he said with a slight nod “see you later, Tom Cat.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest at the nickname, and she watched him walk away until he was out of sight. Her father had been wrong – it wasn’t Abraham she found scary, just the way he made her feel.

“This is Fergus,” Abraham told her, his voice almost reverent as he ran his palm over the forehead of a large chestnut and white horse, before turning to stroke the crest of an equally impressive grey thoroughbred with a black mane, “and this is Paddy.”

She smiled softly, her wellington boots crunching against the gravel as she moved closer to the open stable door, and reached out a hand to run her palm over the soft, white muzzle of Fergus. It felt like peach skin, surprisingly soft to touch, making her giggle. “Hello, handsome,” she greeted the creature that loomed before her.

Abraham smirked that lazy smirk of his as watched her, his arm stretched over the bottom half of the stable door to rub absentmindedly at Paddy’s withers. “Careful, you’ll make me jealous.”

“Do these ones pull your caravans?” she asked, glancing over at him, an attempt to change the subject and draw the attention away from how his words made her stomach flutter.

Abraham shook his head. “These ones are just for racing, trained ‘em myself. We’ve got vanners that pull the caravans. They’re in the field with us, they don’t like to be stabled, they enjoy their freedom.”

“Bit like you then,” she quipped, turning back to Fergus who had begun to snuffle at her hands as they rested upon the stable door.

Abraham grinned, plucking sugar cubes from his trouser pocket and passing one to her. “Just like me, Tom Cat. You’re good with horses, y’know?”

“I’ve always loved animals,” she admitted softly, watching in fascination as Fergus took the sugar cube from her outstretched palm, devouring it in several loud crunches. “I used to take in injured birds from the garden and nurse them back to health when I was younger. I wanted to be a vet.”

“Don’t you want to be anymore?” he asked, glancing over at her as Paddy took a treat from his hand.

“I do,” she admitted sadly, pushing away from the stable door to lean against the brick wall beside it, “but my dad won’t allow it. Since my mum passed away, I’m all he has, he needs me around to look after the house while he runs the parish council.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Abraham said, frowning slightly, as he stepped towards her, brushing his hands off on his trouser legs.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was. She felt trapped in Grantchester, as caged as the birds she once tended to, before setting them free again. Her mother’s illness five years ago had been so sudden, her passing even more so. Since then, her father had clung tighter to her than ever, refusing to let her out of his sight for fear he’d lose her too. She understood, but it was a stifling existence, her dreams snuffed out alongside her freedom.

She gave a slight shrug, eager to be rid of the melancholy that had settled over her like a shroud. “It’s just how it is. But what about you? What are your big plans once you sell these horses?”

He sniffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I’m getting married,” he said. There was no joy or excitement in his voice as he said it though, it was a fact he relayed to her as though she had just asked him what the time was.

“Oh...well, that’s nice,” she smiled tightly, hating the way her heart sank at his admission “So, what’s her name?”

“Luella,” he replied, and again the response was flat, lacking in any enthusiasm. “Need to brush the horses down, you fancy lending a hand?”

Her brow furrowed at his sudden change of subject and she wondered why he was so cagey about sharing any details of his engagement. She decided against pressing the issue, not wanting to make an already uncomfortable situation worse, and accepted the brush that he held out to her.

She relaxed as she worked, enjoying the presence of the horses, but also the easy companionship and conversation that Abraham offered. He made her laugh in a way that meant that by the time the afternoon was over, her cheeks ached from the tug of smiling.

By the time she arrived home, her cigarette trousers were dusty with hay and horse hair. She left her wellington boots in the porch as she pried them off, not wanting to traipse mud and straw across the living room carpet.

Her father was settled into the high back armchair by the fireplace – the place he always sat when he was home, that had been his designated seat in the house her entire life. He looked up from the book he had been reading as she entered, giving her an appraising look from over the rims of his reading glasses as his brows raised slightly.

“And where have you been that’s brought you home in such a mucky state?” he asked.

“I was up at Mr. Ruskin’s, helping out with the horses,” she said, subtly backing away towards the stairs. It was a vague amswer, but honest enough that she hoped it wouldn’t prompt any further questions that he would be upset by the answer to. She was wrong.

Her father frowned slightly, tucking his bookmark between the pages he’d been reading, before he closed his book and placed it upon his lap. “Mr. Ruskin has no horses,” he prodded, sitting straighter in his chair.

“No, they’re Abraham’s,” she said quietly, placing a hand upon the bannister, as if the very action of touching the beginning of her escape upstairs could save her.

“There’s no one in the village by that name,” he studied her closely as he said it, making her squirm with discomfort.

Finally, she snapped, huffing exasperatedly as she threw her hands up in defeat. “He’s one of the travellers, but you knew that didn’t you? You just wanted to make me feel like I’ve done something wrong!”

Her father sighed, setting his book upon the arm of the chair, before he rose and came to stand before her. His features were soft, but there was something steely in his gaze, the look that meant whatever was about to leave his mouth was final. “Your naivety puts you in danger,” he explained, “I don’t wish to scold, I only mean to keep you out of harm’s way.”

“They weren’t dangerous to you when you were forcing your charity on them,” she argued, before shrinking back as the steel in her father’s eyes became fiery fury.

“A kindness they met with hostility,” he said, his voice raising slightly in anger. “They are not like us, do you understand? You’re to keep away from this Abraham, I won’t tell you again!”

“He’s my friend,” she protested, her voice weak even to her own ears. A sense of helpless desperation clawed at her insides, making her feel hopeless.

Her father turned his back to her, moving back towards his chair – his retreat from the argument letting her know that it was over. Nothing she said would matter. “Get a bath,” he said softly, sitting back down again, “you stink like a farmyard.”

It had been three days since she had seen Abraham, three days since her father had told her to keep away from him. She hated how she had been cowed into submission by him. Her compliance to his demands wasn’t through blind obedience, however, more out of fear for what her disobedience would mean for the travellers currently settled in the farmer’s field. Her father held power in the village, he led the parish council, one word from him and Mr. Ruskin would have no choice but to move them on. Keeping away meant keeping them safe, keeping Abraham here.

Her father had been called away to central Cambridge for the day for a meeting with the bishop, leaving her alone in the house, and she had chosen to spend her morning in the front garden. The sunshine beamed gently down upon her hair, warming her from head to toe as she knelt by the flowerbed, her gardening gloves caked in soil as she gently uprooted weeds, careful not to disturb the colourful pansies that decorated the edging of the lawn. The lurid pinks, purples and yellows were a stark contrast to the bright white of the picket fence that enclosed the garden – a very pretty looking prison, as much to her as it was the flowers.

“You avoiding me, Tom Cat?”

Her head snapped up at the sound of Abraham’s voice, her heart pounding as her eyes widened at the sight of him, taking in the way he smirked down at her as he leaned casually against the fence. “You can’t be here,” she hissed.

“Why not?” he asked, eyes narrowing as he stood up straight, almost looking down his nose at her. “Pal says he saw your old man headed up the station road this morning, so I know he’s not home.”

She moved to stand, not enjoying how the imbalance in their positions made him talk down to her, and tugged off her gardening gloves, dropping them into the flower bed. “If anyone sees you…” she sighed, tugging a hand through her hair, hating the way the words felt in her mouth as she said them. “Look, my dad’s told me to keep away, so I am. I’m not doing it because I don’t want to be friends, I’m doing it because I am your friend. He’ll have you run out of the village if I keep seeing you.”

“Alright, so we stop seeing each other then,” he shrugged, but there was a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes that set her belly aflutter with nerves.

“What does that mean, exactly?” she asked, folding her arms around her middle as her eyes tightened in suspicion.

He grinned, his fingers absentmindedly tracing over the tattoo of a pin-up girl that adorned his forearm. “Maybe you’re doing something else you’d normally be doing when you’re…not seeing me.”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation as realisation dawned upon her. “So, you want me to lie?”

“Lie is such an ugly word, Tom Cat,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned forward slightly, grasping the pickets of the fence, meeting her eye line. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”

“I dunno,” she mused, pursing her lips, as she poked absentmindedly at the flowerbed soil with the toe of her shoe. “I enjoy going to the library.”

Abraham hummed in acknowledgement, nodding as he appeared to think for a moment. “Alright, so let’s say you go to the library, you check out a book, you happen to bump into me on your way out. You’ve not lied about where you’ve been, have you? We can spend some time together in secret, and if your old man happens to ask anyone if you were, in fact, at the library then the answer’s a yes, and you’ll have a book to prove it.”

She huffed a laugh, unable to stop the way her mouth spread into a grin as she bowed her head slightly, before lifting her eyes back to his. “You’re a bad influence.”

“And yet I’m not hearing you say no to the idea, Tom Cat,” he grinned back.

And she didn’t say no. Over the two weeks that followed, her and Abraham met up in secret twice a week. She would go to the library, check out a new book – and return the one from her previous visit – always something she had read before, just in case her visits prompted any questions, she could tell her father what the book was about. Then Abraham would meet her around the side of the library building and they’d slip away into the woods together. They had found a clearing, away from prying eyes, with an old tyre swing that they took it in turns to mess around on, while they chatted, joked and passed away idle, sunny afternoons together.

“What book is it today then?” Abraham asked.

He was gently moving the tyre so it spun in slow circles as she sat in it, her latest borrow from the library clutched in her hands. She watched as the woods panned slowly around her, a glacially paced kaleidoscope of browns and greens. An involuntary smile playing upon her lips every time he spun slowly back into view.

“Anne of Green Gables,” she told him, “it’s one of my favourites.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s it about then?” he asked, placing a hand atop the tyre to halt its movements as she swung to face him once more.

The intensity with which he looked at her was almost too much, and she found herself dropping her gaze back to the floral design of the book cover as she answered. “It’s about an orphaned girl who’s sent to live with a family, and she struggles to fit in,” she explained, running her fingers over the edges of the pages. “She keeps getting into trouble, and there’s this one boy, Gilbert, who she hates to begin with, but they fall in love. They get married in one of the sequels.”

“And is that why you like it?” he asked, dipping his head to catch her eye, making her feel too warm beneath his gaze. “Because of the romance?”

“I guess so,” she admitted, with a slight shrug, suddenly feeling shy, “it’s not something I know much about.”

“No?” he asked, drawing back and cocking his head. “Never had a special someone, Tom Cat?”

She laughed then, finding the very idea ridiculous as she shook her head. “I’ve never even been kissed.”

He stepped closer then, one hand still holding the tyre steady, while the other grasped her chin gently, tilting her face up to look at him. Suddenly, it wasn’t funny anymore, and her lips parted as she sucked in a sharp breath, the tips of their noses brushing as that piercing stare of his dipped down to her mouth and back up again.

He pressed at her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, tugging gently, and it made her insides boil, simultaneously wanting to pull away, to flee from him, while also longing to lean forward, to melt into him and stay there forever.

“Tom Cat…” he breathed his pet name for her, little more than a whisper, and that was all it took for her defences to crumble, for her to lean the rest of the way in and press her lips to his. It was clumsy on her part, she didn’t know quite what to do with her lips, but he gladly dominated, his mouth moving against her own in a way that had heat licking between her legs as it pooled in her lower belly.

His hand dipping down, moving to grasp the bare flesh of her thigh beneath her skirt was what broke the spell, fear and guilt washing over her like a bucket of ice water. She pushed him away, causing him to stagger backwards, as she leapt down from the tyre, her eyes wild and heart pounding, as she sought to put some distance between them.

“No!” she shouted, trying to sound angry instead of upset as she planted her feet shoulder width apart, gripping her book so hard that her knuckles blanched with the force of it. “No! You don’t get to do that to me. I won’t…I won’t be a part of your adultery, you’re engaged! How dare you?!”

Abraham blinked, brow furrowing in confusion, steadying himself as he stepped towards her. “You said you’d never been kissed before, I was just–”

“Oh, and you just thought you had the right to be my first?” she seethed, too angry to allow him to finish what he was saying. “I’m just the poor little village girl, trapped in her boring life, who you come along to have some fun with before you go off to be free again, and live happily ever after? Is that it?! Am I a joke to you?”

By the time she finished speaking, her eyes burned with unshed tears and her chest heaved with the force of the emotions that boiled inside of her. She had never been so angry, so indignant in all her life.

“I don’t want Luella!” Abraham shouted back, the words exploding out of him the moment she had said her piece. It made her jump, startling her out of her own upset as she watched his face contort into an angry scowl, his nostrils flaring as he continued. “I never asked for her, and she doesn’t want me either. She’s been knocking off that farmer ever since we arrived here. It’s an arranged marriage, neither of us want it. So I’m not making an adulterer of you…I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t do that to you…”

“Oh,” was all she managed to breathe out, so quiet it was barely audible over the chittering of the birds within the woods. The outrage she had felt had dissipated so quickly, she didn’t know what to do with herself, she felt silly, overwhelmed by the need to apologise, but she held her tongue. Sorry wouldn’t undo any of this.

He exhaled heavily, dragging a hand through his coiffed hair, flattening it slightly. “I might spend my life on the road, but I’m not any freer than you are,” he said, his voice quieter than before, almost sad. “Meeting you…it’s made me the happiest I’ve been in ages, and if me kissing you has buggered that up, then I’m sorry.”

Her heart twinged at his words, her expression softening as she stared at him with sympathy. “You haven’t ruined anything. It was perfect,” she admitted, “I wish…I wish there was a way for me to make this better for you…easier for us.”

“Run away with me, Tom Cat,” he said earnestly, taking another step towards her, twigs snapping beneath his feet as he narrowed the distance between them. “Just you and me, let’s do it.”

The sincerity in his wide, blue eyes was almost too much for her to take, it was a crazy idea, and she couldn’t help the bark of laughter that forced its way from her throat. “You can’t be serious? That’s a reckless idea.”

She hated herself for saying that the moment she opened her mouth, seeing the flicker of hurt that crumpled his features momentarily, before he straightened, clearing his throat. “Yeah, was only joking,” he said quietly, “it’s a stupid idea.”

Her mind raced as she laid in bed that night. She couldn’t shake the guilt at laughing at him when he suggested they run away together. The more she thought about it, the less silly it seemed. They were both unhappy, trapped in lives that neither of them wanted or had asked for, and truthfully, Abraham coming to Grantchester had been the happiest she’d been since her mum was alive. Surely it couldn’t hurt to explore what their lives might be like if they threw caution to the wind and allowed themselves to pursue what their hearts desired? She would be out from beneath her father’s thumb, and Abraham would be rid of an obligation to a woman he didn’t love.

By the time their next meeting at the library came a few days later, her mind was made up. She returned her copy of Anne of Green Gables, not bothering to borrow a new book, too filled with breathless excitement as she rounded the corner of the building to meet her secret friend.

“How would it work?” she blurted, coming to stand before him as he leaned against the red brick building.

“How would what work?” he asked, eyeing her curiously as he pushed away from the wall.

“Us,” she replied, as they began to walk in the direction of the woods, “if we ran away together.”

“Seriously?” he asked, glancing sideways at her. “I thought you said it was a stupid idea.”

“I didn’t say it was stupid,” she sighed exasperatedly, as he helped her over the turnstile into the patch of woodland that had become their rendezvous spot. “I said it was reckless, and it is, but the more I think about it, the more I want to.”

She gasped as he crowded into her space, walking her back through the scattered twigs and leaves of the woodland floor, until her back made impact with the solid trunk of a tree.

“D’you mean it?” he questioned, grasping her chin, his eyes searching hers for any trace of insincerity. 

She nodded, feeling as though she had forgotten how to breathe as a grin spread across his face, lighting up his sharp features with pure elation.

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, making her whine as he pulled away all too soon, just as she’d begun to kiss back.

“I’ll sell the horses,” he told her, before pecking his lips softly against each of her cheeks. “We’ll use the money to buy a little house somewhere. You can get a job at a veterinary office, just as a receptionist until you get more experience. I can get more horses, and earn my living training and selling them on. You could help me look after them, since you’ll be a vet. We could have chickens, and maybe a goat.”

Each statement was punctuated by a kiss, each promise delivered with a press of his lips to her cheeks, her nose, her eyes. It made her stomach flip as the idea of them running away together, building a future together, became more tangible.

“I want that more than anything,” she whispered, her hands balling into fists in the white cotton of his shirt.

“Then that’s what you’ll have,” he promised, nipping at her bottom lip.

This time, when his hand disappeared beneath her skirt, she didn’t stop him. Every nerve ending in her body cried out for his touch, and she clung to him, held up only by the front of his shirt, and the rough tree bark at her back.

“We’ll get married,” he murmured, as his fingertips danced along the inside of her thigh, the calloused skin a hardened juxtaposition to the softness of her own. “And we’ll have babies.”

She moaned, the sound foreign to her ears as he toyed with her knicker elastic, before dipping his fingers inside. She had never been touched like this before, and she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, her thighs trembling with the effort to keep her on her feet as Abraham swiped slowly through the wetness that had gathered between her legs. She focused on his voice, and all of the pretty promises he made, afraid that if she dwelled upon the physical sensation for too long then she would bolt like the frightened cat he claimed she was.

“I’ll make you feel like this every day, Tom Cat,” he uttered, his fingers swirling over her sensitive bud, causing her to keen and her hips to buck. “Because I’ll be yours and you’ll be mine.”

As his fingers dipped back towards her entrance, gathering more of her arousal to help aid in the circles he pressed against her, she mewled, the coil tightening in her belly, pushing her dangerously close to a sensation she had only ever experienced at her own touch.

“Would you like that?” he asked, speeding up his movements.

She nodded, her mind too foggy with the impending onslaught of sensation to form a proper answer, but that simply wasn’t enough for Abraham.

“Say it,” he insisted.

“Y–yours,” she keened, before white hot oblivion overtook her. Her body shuddered against the tree as she yelped in surprise, clinging tightly to him as she convulsed against his touch, a pleasant ache bursting forth and making her feel hot all over.

He worked her through it, only stilling his fingers when her hips began to move away from his touch instead of chasing it. “Mine,” he murmured back with a smile.

Read on AO3

More Abraham fics

[yoursweetheartsrevenge]

Masterlist

This blog is exclusively 18+. Minors do not interact.

You stumble across a woman as typical as any writer should be. She is steaming with stories to write and tales to tell. It's all smut, angst, darkness, and the occasion fluff piece.

Hello. I'm Cecilia. Mid 30s. Literate Bitch living on the East Coast of America. I am just getting back into writing again. Ewanverse characters are my main squeeze, but may dabble with more fandoms in the future. I also occasionally write Aegon II Targaryen fics.

My inbox is always open for chatting and now open for requests! See guidelines located here.

This is a side blog. My main blog is @thewhisperedone You get a follow from her it is but me in a former life.

Cross post all my stories here - My AO3

Aemond Targaryen - Canon - HOTD

When You Were Mine - 1/1 - aemond x madam sylvi's daughter - COMPLETE 🔥💝💘

On A Dark Stormy Night You Awaken - 1/1 - aegon II x reader x aemond - COMPLETE 🔥🔥🔥

Aemond Targaryen - Modern AU - HOTD

Blood of My Blood - 1/? - aemond x ofc - outlander inspired - WIP 💘🔥💀

How Bad Do You Want Me? - 1/1 - aemond x reader - COMPLETE - 🔥💝💘

Your Blood, My Love - 5/? - vampire!aemond x ofc - WIP 💀💘🔥

The Academic - 1/1 - modern aemond x librarian - COMPLETE 💀🔥

Ettore - High Life

Disease - 12/12 - ettore x ex gf - COMPLETE 🔥💀💘

Tom Bennett - World on Fire

Thick as Thieves - 3/? - tom bennett x ofc - WIP 💘💝🔥

Will - Salad Days

Never Again - 1/1 - will x fem!hostage - COMPLETE 💘💀🔥

Michael Gavey - Saltburn

Stressors -1/1 - michael gavey x gf - COMPLETE🔥💝💘

Billy Taylor - The Halycon

Sweet Little Flower - 1/1 - billy taylor x ofc - COMPLETE 💝💘

Abraham - Grantchester

Well Bred - 1/? - abraham x ofc - WIP 🔥💘

Osferth - The Last Kingdom

Billy Washington - Trigger Point

Genyen/Shaun - BBC Doctors

Aegon II Targaryen - Canon - HOTD

In Need of Comfort - 1/1 - aegon ii & reader COMPLETE 💘💝

[fan-goddess]

Girlish Daydreams

A/N: I am not a member of the Romani people, nor do I know anyone who is. This whole thing is based off limited research and other fics I’ve read about his character and his culture, which I have tried to keep as accurate as I possibly could. Google is known to be misleading in searches, so If I for instance get a name wrong or use a phrase incorrectly and I offend someone, tell me what it was so I can apologise and hopefully correct it as best as I can do. I want this to be a place where someone isn’t afraid of reaching out when I have made a mistake

Pairing: Abraham x reader

Summary: You’ve never seen Abraham as a husband, let alone a person worth thinking of. Yet his sudden new involvement in your life may have you thinking differently not just about him, but about everything you’ve ever thought about

The story Taglist: @omgbrcat @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity @anjelicawrites @lexwolfhale

Chapter One: A child’s dream

Chapter Two: A change of heart

Chapter Three: Before and now

Chapter Four: A new kind of promise

Chapter Five: Loving your husband

The Epilogue: Where’d all the time go…

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Daryl: If ya bite it an’ ya die, s’poisonous. If it bites ya an’ ya die, s’venomous.

Carl: What if it bites me and it dies!?

Enid: Then you're poisonous. Jesus Christ, Carl, learn to listen.

Glenn: What if it bites itself and I die?

Michonne: That's Voodoo.

Abraham: What if it bites me and someone else dies?

Eugene: That's correlation, not causation.

Tara: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die?

Y/N: That's kinky.

Daryl, throwing his hands up and walking away: Oh my god.

[erinwantstowrite]

right now im thinking about Friendsgiving and how funny it's gonna be but mostly im thinking about how the justice league will react upon hearing about the avengers and stuff. specifically the fact that peter doesn't know shit about bucky besides that he's captain america's rude ass boyfriend that is the only person willing to throw him around for enrichment

someone, upon hearing peter mention bucky: oh so what does bucky do?

peter, not knowing they mean as a job or as a hero: uh i think he killed that jfk guy

[storywriter12]

How they cuddle you🥰

Rick⬆️

Daryl⬆️

Negan⬆️

Simon⬆️(just imagine hims coming home from a long day)

Glenn⬆️

Paul rovia "Jesus" ⬆️ he will always be away and you will miss him so everytime he comes back you will drop everything and jump into his arms and he will catch you

Abraham ⬆️he likes to hug you from behind he dies this in the mornings when you are making breakfast he woukd sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around you, you will jump "shh it's only me" he would say in your ear and kiss you on the cheek then your neck.

Dwight⬆️

King ezekiel⬆️

[aemondsbabygirl]

🤩 this was brilliant!! So much tension and details, it made it feel so real! Dying for a part 2 of their wedding! One of my favorite Abraham fic out there!

Abraham (Grantchester) x Reader

Inspired by Ewanmitchellcrumb's amazing Abraham fics, in particular this one.

Contents: smut. first kiss, making out, dry humping, handjob. Porn without plot (and porn without penetration).

Warnings: arranged marriage, oldfashioned gender roles and attitudes towards sex and marriage. Abraham being dickish (but he's trying to be nicer)

Words: 3600

Purity culture and dry humping, name a more iconic duo, i'll wait.

-

The rain is beating hard against the tin roof.

You are huddled up against the wall, your arms wrapped tightly around your legs to keep warm. You had gone out for an afternoon walk to find some peace and quiet, and maybe pick some of the first little spring flowers, when you were suddenly caught in a torrential downpour. Not too keen on the idea of sprinting all the way home, you scrambled to take shelter in the first place you could think of: a dilapidated shed at the edge of a muddy field. The old farmer used to store tools and machinery there, but now it stands abandoned and in disrepair, full of cobwebs and mouse droppings.

If one was alone it might be quite an unnerving place, located as it is right on the border of the woods.

But you are not alone.

Abraham is sitting right across from you, dressed in his usual plaid jacket and red neckerchief, his long legs stretched out on the floor. When you stumbled inside he was already there, having sought shelter from the rain himself.

You only narrowly managed to convince him to stay.

As a young, unmarried girl, you are not supposed to be alone with men. Not even with Abraham - especially not with Abraham. The two of you will be getting married in just over a month, but the rules of courtship are strict, and every minute you spend with him must be chaperoned. Something that he has, surprisingly, taken very seriously. Maybe because his first attempt at an engagement didn't exactly work out as planned.

Still, your parents are satisfied with the match, and for the most part, you are too. Abraham is quite handsome, you think, with those splendid blue eyes, and he's just a few years older than you. A little rough around the edges, but he doesn't mind hard work, and he is good with children and animals, and those are fine qualities in a man.

Sometimes, he lets you sit and watch while he cares for his horses; cleans their stalls and their hooves, brushes their coats, takes them out to the pasture for excercise. He speaks so calmly to them, firm voice when they disobey him and soft when they are skittish or scared, and there is something so endearing about it. You wonder if he will speak to you in the same way once you're married. Harsh when you disappoint him, but gentle when he lies on top of you at night. You'd like that, you think.

Right now, Abraham doesn't speak to you at all. It is not too out the ordinary, as he isn't particularly talkative in the first place, but you had hoped that being alone with you might loosen him up a little. Instead, it seems to have had the opposite effect, and for the past twenty minutes or so, he has occupied himself with throwing pebbles and broken bits of plaster at a glass jar on the floor.

Not the most riveting pastime - but it does give you an idea.

"How about we make a game of it" you suggest, when the silence has become so deafening you can hardly bear it. "Best of five. If you win, I'll bring you lunch tomorrow - anything you want."

"Yea?" Abraham hums, looking up and right at you, clearly intrigued.

"And If I win - " you pause, a deep scarlet blush creeping up your neck. "If I win, I want a kiss".

"No" he says, right away and with a stern expression, his mouth forming a thin line.

"Just one -"

"No" he repeats, but it's a little softer this time, and he gives you a cocky half-smile. "You'll get one soon enough, don't you worry about that".

"But I won't win" you try. "You know I won't. Or" - you eye him teasingly- "do you really think you might loose to a girl?"

It's the same argument you would use against your little brother, and when Abraham's face settles into something very offended, you can hardly believe it actually worked. But all boys are the same apparently, even when they're grown men. Always have something to prove to the world and themselves and each other.

"I win - " he grumbles, "you bring lunch every day, rest of the week. And your mum's cider."

It's Wednesday today. Four days isn't a lot, you can manage that. There's not much cider left, but Mum will understand, she'll be happy to know that you're taking good care of your soon-to-be husband.

"Alright then" you nod. "You go first."

The odds are against you, because Abraham has had plenty of time to practice already, something you forgot to consider when you issued the challenge. But you are determined put up a good fight, not only because you ache to know what kissing is like, but also because you want to know what Abraham is like. If he's rough or gentle. If he's a passionate lover, or someone who just wants you to lie still and be quiet when he performs his marital duties.

As expected, his first stone goes straight into the glass; yours unfortunately bounces off the side of it. But then Abraham narrowly misses his second one, while yours actually hits the intended target. It gives you at least a glimmer of hope.

And then, something happens. Something very strange.

Abraham picks a rather large stone, but he overshoots by just a little and it lands on the dusty floor.

And the next one does too. And the one after that.

It must be on purpose, it must be. But his face betrays nothing at all, only the same disgruntled expression he always wears, and soon there's only one pebble left. Your very last one, and it lands in the glass with a loud plink.

"I won" you state, in complete disbelief, and the corners of Abraham's mouth twitch up a little.

"Looks like it, yea"

You eye him with suspicion. "But you hit - you got four in a row just before we started -".

"Beginner's luck" he shrugs, rising to his feet and brushing his hands on his trousers. When you hesitate, he cocks his head. "C'mere".

You do not need to be told twice, instantly flitting to his side and tilting up your face like you've seen ladies do in the movies. Abraham breathes deeply, and he places his hands on your waist to pull you closer. He smells nice, like fresh rain and firewood and a little bit like damp wool. You close your eyes.

"You ever kissed a man before?" he murmurs, so close that you can feel his warm breath fanning over your face.

You shake your head - of course you haven't.

There's no response to that, only calloused hands touching your face, Abraham's nose brushing your temple. He bends his head, and when he presses his lips to yours, you are not prepared for how soft they are, and how warm, and how gentle. His mouth opens slightly, his tongue slipping just past your lips, and then he releases your face and pulls back.

"There" he mutters, but you are not ready to part from him yet. Your hands cling to his jacket and your eyes are heavy and hooded when they flutter open.

"Again" you breathe.

He shouldn't, he really shouldn't, you are absolutely not allowed to do such things before the wedding. But Abraham is a young man, and since your engagement was officially agreed upon, he has surprisingly managed to stay out of trouble - mostly, at least - and away from neglected young housewives and the reverend's shapely daughters. It has been... a while since he last touched a girl, and you are the prettiest little thing, with your wet, parted lips and your hair frizzed from the rain. How could he possibly resist when you're looking up at him like that, begging for more?

Your first kiss was sweet and demure, but this time, Abraham wraps both arms around your waist and runs his hands up your back. He nibbles at your lower lip before he slides his tongue into your mouth, deeper this time, so he can brush it against your own. When you mewl it goes straight to his crotch, and he deepens the kiss, tilting your head to the side with a finger under your chin.

You mustn't, you shouldn't, you can't, but your body is burning with want, and you think Abraham's must be too. He's holding you closer, letting his hands wander over your body, your hips, your waist, the small of your back. They move to squeeze your bottom, and when he pushes his hips forward, there's something hard poking at your stomach.

It sends a jolt of excitement down your spine.

In theory, you know what a man looks like under his clothes. The men work outside in the summer, and many take off their shirts and roll up the legs of their trousers in the heat. But you have never seen a man fully naked, and you have never felt a man's body pressed up against you like this. Abraham's chest is hard, and his shoulders are broad, and his arms feel so strong when they're wrapped around you. He moves to kiss just below your ear, and you take the opportunity to let your hands roam tentatively over his chest and his stomach, even reaching under his jacket to feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

It's nice, but it isn't enough to satisfy your curiosity. You want to touch him there.

Abraham breaks the kiss when he feels your hand inching towards his crotch, but he doesn't stop you. Just looks at you stunned, with darkened eyes and a slight flush across his handsome nose. His... his - cock is straining in his pants, and you brush your fingers over the bulge, feeling how he hardens even more at your touch. It is clumsy and inexperienced, but Abraham still closes his eyes, and his hand comes down to cover yours and press it harder against him.

It feels good for him, despite your lack of practice; you can tell. You cup his crotch, and he lets out a sharp breath and bucks right into your palm. You tilt your face up again to kiss along his jaw as you rub him through his trousers, feeling how he swells and throbs from your touch, until he suddenly swats your hand away.

You worry that you have overstepped, or done something that hurt him, but he leans over you, and tugs at your hips - to pull you down with him, you realise. Right down to the floor, although he is at least gallant enough to shrug of his jacket and lay you on that, rather than directly on the ground.

Immediately, he starts on the buttons of your coat, almost ripping the garment open to part it from your chest. His hands greedily palm your breasts, covered only by your dress and the brassiere underneath, and he squeezes your flesh; pinches your nipples through the fabric and rolls them under his thumbs. They stiffen from his touch and he leans over you and brushes his mouth against your chest, even latching onto one pert nipple, sucking and biting until your dress is wet from his spit.

It makes you whine with both pleasure and pain, and surprise too. You have never been touched like this before, never felt wanted like this before. Abraham's eyes are dark with lust, and it is almost frightening how determined he looks when he hooks a hand under each of your knees to push them apart.

You gasp when he lays over you. His body is warm, and heavy, and it feels so right to lie like this underneath him, caged in by his arms and with your thighs spread wide around his hips. His cock is big and hard and he presses the thick bulge between your legs, and grunts softly at the feeling. You can't help but wonder how many girls have been underneath him before, because he's so unabashed in the way he pushes his hips against yours, so eager when he starts rocking back and forth, clearly mimicking... other things.

Your hands cling to his shirt and you arch up to kiss him again, sighing when catches your lip between his teeth. They don't kiss like this in the movies. At least not in the ones you have seen. Your mouth is wide open, and Abraham is absolutely devouring it, licking your lips, shoving his tongue all the way to the back of your throat. It is rough and needy, and there's a trail of spit between you when he pulls back to catch his breath.

If someone found out, you'd be in so much trouble. Abraham is on you, and his cock is stiff, and he is moving so intimately against you, but you can't bring yourself to stop him. It feels wonderful, having his weight on top of you, having his hard cock pressed against your center. His bulge is big and hard and heavy between your thighs, and he's groaning as he rubs it against you, rolling his hips steadily, rhythmically. As though he was really inside you, and you are not sure if it's on purpose or pure instinct, or maybe a bit of both.

It has you swooning, just thinking about it. How badly he must want you, how needy he must feel, his cock all hard and swollen and his balls so full of his - his come. The thought of it makes you sigh, makes you feel soaking wet, makes that tingling warmth spread even faster in your loins. There are so many things are happening in your body; the kissing, the rubbing, the pressure between your legs - God you've never felt anything like it. You squirm underneath him and spread your thighs wider.

it makes Abraham groan, your hands on his chest and the way your hips are bucking and circling against his cock, and fuck he'll go crazy if you keep making those noises, those soft little whimpers. His cock is pulsing and his balls are pulled tight, and seeing your face all twisted with pleasure has him leaking already.

Truthfully, it was Pal's idea that he should pursue you, just like it was Pal who first spoke to your father on his behalf - but as you are a sweet and pretty girl, Abraham could see no reason why he shouldn't go along with it. He is a grown man, and a grown man needs a wife, and he likes looking at your legs when you help your mother with the laundry. Especially when you wear that grey dress that is a little too tight around your hips. Once you're married he will buy you a brand new one, and a nice pair of shoes with a little heel, and you'll be such a pretty little wife, cooking his meals and washing his clothes and giving him kisses when he comes home.

He moves faster, pressing his hard bulge even tighter against you, and you can feel something building in your body, though you are only barely aware of what it is. Your muscles are tightening and tensing up, desperate for a release that you instinctively know how to find, and you arch your hips up and rub frantically against Abraham's cock. You need more, more friction, more pressure just there, and you hook a leg over his back so you can push up better. Abraham lets you chase your peak, even helps you along by sliding his hand underneath your bottom to press you tighter against him. He is utterly mesmerised by the sight, your blissful expression as you shamelessly use his body for your own pleasure, sighing and whimpering and grinding your little cunt so desperately against him.

When he kisses you again, all the tension breaks.

You gasp, and Abraham watches you intently as a series of tiny little shivers run through your body. A very gentle climax - your first, by the looks of it. You writhe and moan beneath him, and when the waves of your orgasm settle, you are all blushed and looking up at him with glazed, love-struck eyes.

He could probably coax you into sleeping with him right now if he wanted to, but in a - frankly rare - moment of chivalry, he decides against it. You're a sweet girl, saving yourself for marriage and all. Your first time should be somewhere nicer than in this cold, filthy shed.

One way or another though, he will make you finish him off properly, and he sits back on his heels and quickly unbuckles his belt. Abraham's cock is impressive in size, and he is very proud of it; always enjoys the look of amazement on a girl's face when he frees it from his trousers.

You look equal parts intrigued and horrified. It is much bigger than you had anticipated, long, pink and bulbous at the tip, and he boldly gives it a few quick tugs as you watch. Even in his hand it looks massive, and you wonder how on earth it'll ever fit inside you, but that is an issue for another day, because Abraham mutters here and reaches for your hand. Your fingers wrap cautiously around his shaft, and it is hard, stiff, and yet so soft at the same time. You have no idea what to do, but Abraham's hand closes over yours, guiding the strength of your grip and the pace of your strokes.

It turns out that pleasing a man is not difficult at all. All you have to do is move your hand up and down, dragging the skin over the tip of his cock and back down again in a quick and firm rhythm. Abraham dips his head into the crook of your neck, and his hands come up to fondle your breasts, his teeth gritted and his eyes squeezed shut. You quickly grow more comfortable with the motion, and you slip your other hand between his legs to fondle his balls too - carefully, as you know that is a very delicate area for a man. They feel big, and hairy, and heavy in your hand, and he moans when you squeeze them lightly, trying your best to massage them in a way that gives him pleasure.

It would seem that you succeed, because it isn't long before Abraham's body tenses and his balls tighten right in your grip.

" - gonna come" he grunts, and you can't help but hold your breath in anticipation.

Abraham groans, and his cock pulses in your hand, and then his semen starts spurting from the tip. There's so much of it, spilling all over your fingers in thick, sticky ropes, and you keep stroking him through his peak, taking in his ragged breaths, the shallow jerks of his hips, the deep furrow of his brow. It is the loveliest thing you've ever laid eyes on, and when he stills your hand and collapses next to you on the floor, your chest swells with pride. You made him do that.

"Fuck" he pants. There's a lock of hair sticking to his forehead, and you are dying to reach over and gently brush it back, but you are too shy to be so familiar.

"Was it good?" you ask instead, hoping for praise or maybe a nice compliment, but Abraham just gives a hoarse laugh as he tucks his cock back into his trousers. You look away. Despite what you did just a moment ago, looking at it now feels terribly indecent.

Outside, the rain has stopped, the wind has died down, and it is high time for you to return home. You wipe your hand clean with a handkerchief - you can rinse it in the stream on the way back - and turn away from him as you smooth out your skirt and button your coat.

"What do you want" Abraham asks suddenly. "For your wedding gift. What do you want?"

Immediately, you start going through all the lists in your head - there are a hundred things to consider when setting up a new household, clothes and dishware and furnishing, and the little hope chest under your bed is already filled to the brim.

"Well-" you begin, "I'll get linens from my mother, and you already have the stove sorted, and Cora said we could have her old cast iron skillet, but we should probably start saving for a -"

"No" he interrupts, impatiently. "Forget all that, what do you want from me"

He looks sheepish and uncomfortable and it takes you a moment to realise that he is trying to be attentive - maybe even romantic.

It makes you want to throw your arms around his neck.

"I don't know" you mutter, blushing all over again. "I haven't thought about it - you don't have to give me anything"

"I'll get you something. Something pretty, yea?" he grins, wide enough that his cheeks crease and dimple - God, he's awfully charming sometimes, when he wants to be.

You blush even deeper, picking at your nails and responding with an awkward yes, yeah alright.

Abraham doesn't say anything after that, already back to his usual sullen demeanor - but right before the door closes behind you, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you back to kiss you right on the mouth.

You make your way back home, warm all over from the kiss and the excitement and the lingering heat in your core. And maybe a little bit just from the very thought of Abraham himself.

I have never posted fics to tumblr before, please let me know if there's anything wrong with it!

[misguidedasgardian]

Wildcats (Part XIX)

XIX. Keep an eye on the horizon

MASTERLIST

Summary: Thesis, Antithesis, Synthesis, that’s how it worked. 

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injures, angst, fluff, cuddling, inaccuracy in describing places iI have never been in, MIGHT MISS SOME IMPORTANT WARNINGS, but you know what this is about. 

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: Alrighttttt I noticed you weren’t thrilled about our decision to go to DC, but it’s gonna be fine… and Daryl won’t be in the dark for long… ANYWAYS I read a nice comment form the early chapters that said “I love reader she is so funny and badass” AND YES WE ARE, WE JUST NEED TO REMEMBER THAT, ALRIGHT? We are badasses, and she needs to “assert dominance”, and we will!. 

You grabbed your bag, with your essentials for a couple of days. 

It had been hectic, a couple of days of planning, a big map of DC, thorough planning of entrances and exits, of a plan A, B, C, you believed you managed to get to a plan M. Rick, Abraham and Rosita had given total control of the mission, letting you choose even which car to take out there, and the provisions, and of course, you consulted in them too, in all of the decisions.

Soon the night before the trip came, and you were nervous, but in a good way, in an excited way, you checked the map one more time while you were in bed, preparing mentally for everything to be disastrous, to be empty, to be destroyed, ravaged and pillaged, to not finding anything but walkers… but at the same time, you were hopeful.

Deanna had told you that she had sent a couple of people into DC, but they never got too close to the city center. 

You got startled when you felt a knock on the door, you hid the map as if you were a little kid with something you shouldn’t be, as you indicated quickly that the person who knocked could come in.

You were surprised to see Daryl there, after a week of stalking him at night time, tonight you decided to let him be, especially since tomorrow you were going to leave, and also, you didn’t want to pressure him.

“Hey”, he greeted

“Hey”, you whispered back, with a soft smile, “you went out there again?”, you asked, honestly since yesterday, when you encountered him outside the pantry, you haven't seen him much.

“Nah, I was fixing my bike”. he said, “Rick told us to stop looking fo people for a while”

“Oh”, that was news to you, ever since the dispute on the morning before his trial you had been distant with the leader of your group. Even though he seemed like his good old self the moment you asked him about going to Washington. You needed to get close with Rick again.

“What were you up to?”, he asked, seeming uncomfortable, you’d ask him to come in, but you didn’t want to scare him

“Readin”, you answered simply.

“Didn’t see you today”, he leaned against the doorframe, looking at you

“Sorry, my head was elsewhere”, you mumbled. “Did you manage to fix your bike?”, it was a  strained conversation, you could feel it. Weird too.

“Yeah”, he whispered. “Is everythin’ alright?”, he asked, and it killed you to see that glint of hope in his eyes

“Yeah”, you assured him, “it is”

“Don’t seem like it”, he mumbled

“Well, my boyfriend, or at least, who I consider my boyfriend won’t sleep with me… so I wanted to give him some space”, you explained calmly. Then you thought better of it, maybe it was too early to call him that, you felt like an idiot doing so… but something got lost in translation. What were you two anyways? is not like you were friends with benefits or crap like that…

“I am your boyfriend now?”, he mocked, lightheartedly 

“Yes you are right, it sounds childish, from now on, I’ll refer to you as my man-friend”, you said with a cheeky smile. He chuckled darkly, scratching his neck. He looked around your room, finally stepping inside. 

“Can I… stay here?”, he asked, you smiled and nodded enthusiastically

“Of course”, you said, opening his bed more for him to join you. You had become excited. He got into the bed, clothes and all. Did he even have pajamas? you had found some in the clothes the Alexandrians had given you, soft cotton, with long sleeves and legs, nothing too fancy. You made a mental note to get him some comfortable ones, he could use when he stayed in your room, or wherever.

A thing you found odd, but quite endearing when you started joining Daryl at nights… was that you seemed to fit well together all the time. Back then you barely knew each other and yet, you seemed to be made to cuddle each other. You felt your cheeks heated at the thought, and your hands a bit sweaty. 

“What were you readin?”, he asked

“Deanna gave some of Reg’s books, I found a book of poems by an artist I loved”, you said with a soft smile. He cuddled into you, and you left the poems of William Morris aside.

“Keep readin”, he begged

“It’s in my mother tongue”, you warned

“Mmmm read woman, so I can learn”, he said simply, “can’t have my girlfriend cussing me out without me knowin”, you chuckled

“You called me your girlfriend”, you giggled. He chuckled, passing an arm over your torso, hugging you, and squeezed at your teasing. You laughed harder.

“Wanna talk about it?”, you asked softly, you didn’t know how to approach him, you wanted him to tell you things, what was on his mind, you found yourself wishing you could go inside his head sometimes.. 

“Read”’, he requested softly, his head on the crook of your neck. 

Now you certainly felt guilty… For not telling him anything about the trip, but now you didn’t want to spoil the mood, so… you always had till the last minute tomorrow…

. . .

You woke up alone, which saddened you, but perhaps it was for the best… So you got up, took a long shower and got dressed. 

So now the day had finally come and you were… extremely excited. more so than being nervous, you took it as a great sign. The plans were laid down, everything was looking good, the sun was shining. You took a deep breath into the day and started walking towards the truck you had picked.  You heard behind you some hurried steps, so you turned around to meet Daryl, who looked absolutely annoyed. 

“Why did ya’ tell me?”, he asked angrily when he saw you, you sighed, “Rick told me, ya’ going to DC, he thought I knew”

“It’s nothing personal”, you said, you resume your walk, as he started walking by your side

“Feel like it is”, he said

“It’s not”, you assured him, he grabbed you by the arm softly

“Why didn’t ya tell me?”, he insisted

“I thought you were busy… with Aaron, you are the new recruiter and all”

“Don't gimme that shit”, he said, you stopped to look at him

“I want to get out there again, I’m growing roots already”, you said, “and DC is right there, we might find something good”, but you weren’t answering his question, “for some reason, every time I want to go out there, you find reasons to keep me here”, you accused, “you are out there with Aaron, he needs you, and I’m… here”, you finished 

“I wanna keep ya safe!”, he said

“Don’t you think I want to keep YOU safe?”, you asked, “but I know… I can’t just chain you to the inside of the walls here, you go out there, every damn day, and I just have to sit and pray…”

“You pray?”, he asked, you shook your head

“Now you will have to do the same, have faith…”, you finished softly. 

“You don’t want me to come”, he said, “that’s what you are saying”, he said childishly. 

“No…”, you said softly. 

“Then I’ll go”

“There is no need”, you insisted

“Aaron can keep ‘mself from goin’ out ‘ere for a couple of days”

You didn’t even know why you were being this childish. You wanted to get out there, and DC was right there, the part that confused you, is why you didn’t want Daryl to come with you, you purposefully didn’t tell him, and now you were keeping him from going

You liked him, you liked having him around, you liked kissing him, but… you felt like you needed to do this, and if he was there… you were going to be nervous, you were going to be more worried about him, -not that he needed to be cared for though-, more than doing what you wanted to do, more than finding what you were looking for

And more than that… you wanted to test it, to spend a few days away, what will happen to him, to you, to what this was between you. You needed a few days to think, to gain perspective

But he was not going to let you go without him, looks like it.

“Why do you want to go?”, you asked, “it's a huge city, we might be going into a huge trap”

“Why do you wanna go?”, he asked then

“I want to make a big supply run, and not only supplies, but… maybe… intel run, maybe we find someone out there”

“Wha’ like the president?”, he mocked

“Or like a fucking army”, you said then, “scientists…”

“I’ll go with you”, you shook your head

“You need to be here, with our people”

“Why?”

“They might need you”, you said, “Rick… I’m taking Abraham and Rosita… a lot of firepower…”

“M’sure Glenn will stay”, he said

“I need you to stay”, you said more firmly, “I think if we both go and don’t make it, the group will fall apart”

“I dun’ want ya’ to get killed out ‘ere!”, he said, exasperated

“I won’t!”, you assured him

“I dun give a damn what happens here if you ain’t here!”, he said, exasperated, he actually surprised you with that, “M’goin”

“Daryl”

“(y/n)”, he called back. You shared looks, “I’m goin”, he said, and you barely nodded

“Fine”, you snapped

“Fine”, he echoed 

“But don’t you ever try to stop me from doing something, alright?”, you warned, “And I’m leading this mission!”,

“Fine”, he repeated

“Fine!”, you said, and you walked away from here. “Get your things!”, you said, you turned to see Rick and Tyresse watching the scene, with smiles on their faces, “traitor!”, you accused Rick, pointing at him with your finger

“If he goes, I’ll be calmer”, he said, his hands on his belt. 

You then met Abraham and Rosita

“Daryl is joining us”, you said with a forced smile. It was supposed to be Glenn, but now you realized they all had been plotting against you.

He joined you soon after, only carrying his crossbow and a crossed bag. 

“I’m the leader of this mission”, you said to the group, but specially to Daryl, “as such you’ll have to do as I say”

“Yes Ma’am”, he drawled, with an amused look on his face. 

“As Rosita and Abraham will know by now, I will hear opinions and ask for advice”, you said, you didn’t want to come out bossy, BUT… you needed to lead, that is what this was all about, sort of. A weak leader was one of the most dangerous things, especially in missions like this.

You stood in front of the truck and you opened the map you had procured.

“We go in one car, hoping to bring in more”, you said, “as we discussed, we take the 95 that will merge into the 1, in the first step in our mission… the pentagon”

“WHAT?”, asked Daryl, you looked at him with a warning in your eyes, and he raised his hands in surrender. It did sounded like a movie, but… that was the center of intelligence, there must be something there. 

“Then we cross the Potomac right to the center, if the war against the dead developed similarly as the other cities we have seen… we will find rest of the military there we can scavenge”, you said, “then into the CDC”, you said drawing into the map, “for the second item of this mission, intel…”, you said, “and for the third and fourth items… supplies and medicine, amongst the ten block radio around the monuments we will find three shopping malls and others, of course, I expect them to be completely scavenged by this point, so for that… in comes the plan B, we cross Anacosita river, into the Joint Base Andrews, see what we can find there, around, are some good neighborhoods we can scavenge in case we don’t have anything by then… ”

“Fine”, mumbled Daryl, seemingly impressed.

“Then from there we take the 495 back home”, you said triumphantly. “Let’s go”, you announced, Rick had sneaked in, hearing the entire conversation.

He hugged you, surprising you

“Come back”, he whispered in your ear, you nodded

“I will”, you assured him.

“You have 96 hours”, said Rick, “if you’re not back by then, we will go looking for you”

“Fine”, you said, smiling softly.

You said your goodbyes, all of your group was there, and even Deanna. Oh you really hoped you were right with this hunch. That you were not leading them into your untimely deaths. 

That’s why it needed to go well.

You checked your gun for the tenth time, and the magazine was full, you sharpened your ax, you had a first aid kit on you, in your backpack, all the things you could need…

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine”, said Rosita, “we trust you”, she said and you smiled nervously at her

You were dying to drive, but you let Abraham do it instead, you were delegating, that’s what leaders do, Rosita rode shotgun, and you and Daryl in the back.

You felt his gaze on you, so you preferred to watch the map obsessively, and then the outside. It was a nice day, sunny, but not hot, comfortable. You took a long breath.

Were you leading your family to their deaths?

“I was actually in Washington in the 90’s”, said Abraham, “I remember it as it was yesterday”

“Did you?”, you asked.

“Yes, I have a good layout of the city right up here in my coconut”, you all laughed 

“Good to know”, you laughed. And you knew he was trying to relax you.

Yes, uncharted territory. Washington was a big city, furthest from the top ten of most populated cities in the US, but still. And it was evacuated… this could be a “gold mine”, as it where….the answer to many of your problems. 

You felt Daryl’s gaze on you, so you returned the stare. You knew you had hurt him, by keeping this from him, you had to make it right.

“I’m sorry for not telling you”, you whispered, he only hummed, “I knew you were going to try and keep me there”

“S’fine”, he mumbled

“No it’s not, I lied to you”, you said, “and I’m sorry”. you meant it, he looked at you right in the eyes and nodded

“S’ok”, he said with a nod, you grabbed his hand, he interlocked his finger with yours and he squeezed gently. 

You were glad you had him with you right now, you didn't know what you were thinking, not telling him about this, not wanting him to come. 

. . .

It was like in the movies.

As you got out of the truck and looked over the government building. The center of intelligence of the US. The pentagon. It was huge, but empty, even though, it looked in perfect condition. not a single window was broken. 

Everything was like they just left the day before, as you entered slowly. It had been evacuated… promptly. A lot of offices… you didn't know what you expected of the building. 

“Its the second largest office building in the world”, said Abraham proudly, as you sneaked inside.

Again, you didn't know what you expected, if moats and secret passages, but it looked like a normal building, an office building, like five buildings one inside of another. this kind of intel, what was the government doing in certain years, was not going to help you know… 

This thing was like a maze, and it was dangerously quiet, not a walker on sight, and -if that made any sense-, made it even scarier. As you went into offices, you noticed all the file cabinets were empty, nor a paper on sight…

You made the call of not splitting, yes you were going to take four times as longer, but that was the call you had made, you weren’t splitting, so you went trough the offices more thoroughly and faster too.

You remembered every action movie you had seen, so, only looking under desks you had gathered a good number of loaded handguns. 

So far, so good. You went into the same side of the building, through six different buildings towards the center, and you managed to gaze upon the main courtyard, you saw it.

“So that’s what they did with all the intel”, muttered Abraham. it was all burnt to the very ground, was used to be a nice yard, you’d imagine, it was all burnt. as were the millions of documents that used to be in the offices.

“I guess even after all that, after the dead rose from their graves, they had priorities”, you mumbled. 

“Let’s find the defense secretary offices”, mumbled Abraham. 

You found a shit ton of handguns, but nothing more of interest, except for a bending machine with pretty much untouched candy, your favorite. You bagged those pretty quickly. 

You felt Daryl’s presence always behind you or on your side, but he didn't question any decision you made and you were grateful, you were becoming more excited as you advanced through the building. 

“So… what's the move, boss?”, asked Abraham, as you started to wander through the huntingly similar hallways.

“We have more handguns than people in Alexandria”, you said with your heavy bag on your back. “Let’s move on to the city center”, you said softly, “before it gets dark, I don’t want to be trapped inside here with no power and no light”. You said quickly. Then you looked at their determined faces, “is that alright?”, you asked then, doubting your own decision. 

“Yes”, said Rosita, and you got into a defensive position, walking back towards the entrance of the building, having scouted two sides of it, although you had come across places you couldn’t access due to lack of power and access cards. 

You couldn’t deny you were excited to be in the capital, you had sneaked into one of the coolest buildings in the US, but you were so on survival mode that you forgot to be hyped about it. 

“Don’t be afraid to boss us around”, said Abraham, placing one of his hands on your shoulder as you were walking out, he was as entertained as you, “we signed up for this”, you nodded, convinced. 

“Than you”

“You are making good calls”, he said with a nod

“Don’t say that yet”, you mumbled. 

You took a couple of walkers that were coming for you from the parking lot, and you got into the truck again.

Abraham tossed you the keys

“Your turn boss”, he said, chuckling, and Rosita got up in the back seats, and you and Daryl on the front. You took a long breath. It's been a while since you hadn't driven. But it was like riding a bike, you never forget it. 

You were invigorated by the success so far, so you started the truck.

“It’s a stick”, mumbled Daryl by your side, doubting your skills

“So it is”, it ran without trouble. as you put the truck in motion in 1st, and then 2nd. Daryl seemed impressed. “What?”, you teased, “I know how to drive stick”, he just smiled at you. “Lead me please”

“Yes Ma’am”, he said, opening the map. 

The roads were mostly intact, so far, as were the big bridges that went over the Potomac river. This city hasn't been bombed like Atlanta had, and it was mostly intact from what you could see, just inhabited.

The Washington monument stood tall, you were embarrassed to admit you got distracted watching it and almost ran over a walker and you got out of the way.

“Ups”, you mumbled. As Daryl chuckled. You had not trouble running over a dead one, BUT, it could jeopardize the truck, it could break it, so you did not intend on doing that if you had the road space to fo around it, “Sorry about that”.

“Can’t believe we’re here after all this time”, said Rosita with a big smile.

“It’s surreal”, you whispered. You felt something strange, in the truck you meant. “Does this thing have 4-wheel drive?”, you asked Abraha,, who just chuckled

“Don’t think so”, it was an old truck. But you felt it heavy… You looked through the rearview mirror to the back of the truck where your bags where, but you knew for a fact, that even with the guns, you didn’t bring anything heavy-er… and when you saw something move back there, you hit the brakes so hard you learned like three new curse words in spanish

“WHAT THE HELL?”, asked Daryl, who might as well have crashed into the console.

“You got ourselves a stowaway”, you grunted. 

You took your gun and your ax and jumped out of the truck after opening the door and that is what got them all in alert, jumping out too. You were still over the bridge. the coast was clear,

You grabbed the thick tarp made of cloth you had to cover your things, and there he was, trembling in fear

“Eugene!?”, asked Rosita.

“Hey”, he muttered

“Damn”, muttered Abraham, then he looked at you, “how did you know?”, he asked, you just smiled

“Eugene why didn’t you tell us?”, asked Daryl, helping him out of the back of the truck

“It was a last minute call and I didn’t want you to change plans, and I thought if I did this… and you wouldn’t notice… it would be safer”

“That makes no sense”, you said, “you should have told us”

“He has a point”, muttered Rosita, and she did, this was planned for four, not five, you should have taken another car.

“I want it to see it”, he said, pointing at the monument, “but I also wanted Daryl to come and protect us”, he said, you frowned, “so he could protect you while Rosita and Abraham protect me”, he said straight to you

“I am really in the “I need protection” team?”, you asked, that insulted you a bit. You thought you were holding your ground, and not in the ”weaker” part of the team.

“No you are not!”, said Rosita, who had been giving you lessons in hand to hand combat.

“Fine, I’m sorry”, as a leader you needed to learn to make decisions when situations like this presented themselves.

“Abraham?”, you called, “Ride in the back, with our biggest gun, that view will alert us if something is strange, watch out for snipers”, you told him, in a very professional manner

“Yes Ma’am”, he said, climbing into the back

“Remember our code in the RV?”, you asked him, “two taps for slowing down, three taps for stopping, one long one to watch out”

“Indeed”, he said. You then turned to Eugene

“Well, like I said, too many times already, you are under my command”, you said Eugene and he nodded quickly, “and under my protection”, he opened his eyes widely, “let’s go, before it gets dark we need to find a safe place to spend the night”, you said surely. 

And, with a slight change of plans, you entered the very center of Washington DC.

With no idea what waited for you there. 

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[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Kissin' in the Blue Dark

Pairing: Abraham (Grantchester) x f!reader Warnings: Choking, smut. Word count: ~2k

Summary: Less than enthusiastic about the game of Cluedo he's been forced to play, Abraham finds his own form of entertainment.

Author's note: Day seven of Smuffmas - board games and breath play. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

“Look at what I got in town earlier!” Cora said excitedly, holding up the white box and shaking it for emphasis, causing the contents to rattle.

“What is it?” she asked, reading the word ‘Cluedo’ across the front.

“It’s a board game,” she explained excitedly, turning over the box to study the back of it. “A murder mystery. You have to guess who the murderer is, what weapon they used and in what room they murdered the person. I’ve been wanting to play it for ages.”

“Oh, right,” she replied, attempting to feign enthusiasm she didn’t really feel. Truthfully, the concept sounded boring to her, she had never enjoyed forced fun. “I’m sure you and Ronnie will have loads of fun playing that.”

“You need six people to play it,” Cora told her, lifting her gaze back to her, “maybe you and Abraham could come over for a game?”

“Oh yeah…maybe…that’d be nice,” she said, nodding and giving a tight smile. There was absolutely no way Abraham would ever agree to sit around and play a board game, it just wasn’t his idea of fun at all, but she didn’t want to be rude to Cora and tell her that. “Anyway, I’d better get off, got a hot date with a pile of ironing!”

“See ya, love,” Cora called to her, before closing the caravan door as she walked away.

Unfortunately, the game of Cluedo happened a lot sooner than she had anticipated – that same night.

Abraham came back from tending the horses, his clothes thick with the scent of the stables, and wrapped his arms around her waist as she stood ironing one of his shirts. She smiled as his warmth enveloped her, his back pressed tight to her chest, and turned her face to his, her lips meeting his in a soft kiss.

“Good day?” she murmured against his lips as he pulled back slightly to look at her.

“Yeah, was alright,” he replied, giving her a gentle squeeze, then flopping down on the settee. He sat with his legs spread wide, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he watched her working behind the ironing board. “Pal and Ronnie have a fresh batch of homebrew ready. Ronnie said we should go over tonight for a few drinks.”

“Sounds good,” she replied, placing the iron down and beginning to button the shirt closed. She shot him a playful smile. “You should have a bath first though, you stink of horses.”

“Bloody cheek,” he grinned, standing and giving her a playful swat on the bottom.

Later that evening, they sat in Cora and Ronnie’s caravan, with Pal and Freda. It was a tight squeeze for the six of them, all crowded around the fold out dining room table. She had Abraham’s thigh pressed tightly against her to the left and Freda’s on the right, with barely enough elbow room to lift her glass to her lips. Several brown, glass bottles of strong home brewed beer were scattered across the tabletop, and a half empty bottle of gin was slowly making its way around them too.

The small space was warm, her cheeks felt flushed, and everyone’s voices grew progressively louder the more they drank, all attempting to be heard over each other. A look of realisation passed across Cora’s face, her eyes went wide, and she clapped her hands, causing a hush to settle over the circle they were sitting in.

“I know what we can do, we’ve got enough of us for it,” she exclaimed, before standing and reaching up to grab the Cluedo box from the shelf behind her.

She felt her heart sink knowing what was to come, it would sour the mood around the entire table.

“What you got there then, Cor?” Pal asked, eyeing the box with curiosity as he rolled a cigarette.

“Cluedo!” she replied happily, placing the box heavily in the centre of the table. “It’s a murder mystery board game.”

“How d’you play it?” Freda asked, sliding the gin bottle across the table to Ronnie.

“So, there are cards for the murder suspects, weapons and rooms, and one of each is chosen at random and placed into an envelope – that’s the answer. The rest of the cards are split out between us, and we each get to play a character and move around the board, between the rooms and guess, based on our cards, who we think the murderer is, what weapon they used and which room they did it in. You all get stuff to take notes with so you can keep track of what’s been guessed wrong. If you guess correctly you win, if you guess wrong then you’re not allowed to guess again. If any of the cards guessed are ones you’re holding, you’ve got to show them privately to the guesser so they know what they guessed wrong. They’re also then allowed to look in the envelope to see the correct answer, but can’t tell anyone what it is.”

Pal and Abraham groaned in unison as Cora lifted the lid and spread the board out. “Christ, that sounds so shit,” Abraham complained, “can’t we just play cards or something instead?”

Ronnie elbowed him gently, leaning in conspiratorially to whisper to him, “just humour her this once. The novelty will wear off or she’ll lose one of the pieces eventually. No point in upsetting her.”

Abraham scowled, leaning back against his seat and folding his arms across his chest as he watched Cora set the game up.

It was slow going, given that none of them really knew what they were doing and Abraham was less than impressed with being given the character of Professor Plum. “Sounds like a twat,” he grumbled, holding the game piece between his forefingers as he examined it.

She had been given the character of Miss Scarlett, and as she moved her red game piece into the library portion of the board, she decided she’d take her chances and make a guess. “Was it…Colonel Mustard with a revolver in the library?”

Freda shook her head, leaning across to show her that she had the card for the revolver.

“Ah, bugger,” she sighed, placing her own cards face down on the table, “guess that’s me out then. I don’t wanna see the answer, I’d rather it stay a surprise.” She tapped Abraham lightly on his thigh, “shift over, love, I’m off to spend a penny.”

She squeezed out of the tight space with difficulty, as Abraham maneuvered his long legs to allow her to pass. The crisp coolness of the night air was a welcome sensation against her skin, as she pushed open the door, allowing it to swing closed behind her as she descended the rickety wooden steps. She felt warm from the combination of the wood burning stove in the caravan and how crowded it was in the small space, as well as the effects of the gin and homebrew she’d been swigging all evening. The fresh air made her light headed and unsteady on her feet as she made her way towards the outhouse.

Having done what she needed to do, she was about to head back when she felt large hands grab her waist, making her gasp as she was backed up against the hard, wooden exterior of the barn. She looked up into the smirking face of Abraham, the pale moonlight just barely illuminating his sharp features.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, grasping the front of his plaid shirt to steady herself.

“Told ‘em I was coming out for a piss,” he said, a predatory glint in his eye as he stared down at her, his grip on her waist unrelenting. “We could just go home though, now we’re both out here.”

“We can’t just leave and not say anything, it’s rude,” she chided, giving his chest a light tap.

“Oh, come on, it’s fucking boring and you know it is,” he argued, keeping her pressed against the wall.

“It is,” she agreed, winding her arms around his neck, “but it’s just this once. Cora was really excited when she told me about it earlier.”

Abraham raised an eyebrow. “You knew she was gonna make us play this?”

She bit her lip, a guilty look passing across her face. “Sort of, yeah…but I didn’t think she’d make us play it tonight.”

“Mmm,” he leaned in, the tip of his nose brushing against hers, “so, this is your fault then.”

She leaned up, pressing her lips to his, smiling into the kiss as she felt how eagerly he responded, his body pressed flush against hers as his hands slid to her lower back.

“We should get back,” she whispered breathlessly, when they finally parted for air, “or they’ll come out looking for us.”

“No rush,” he murmured, eyeing her hungrily, “I already know who the murderer is.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“Yeah, me, with my hand up your skirt against the barn,” he uttered, pushing her back against the wall, as the roughness of his calloused fingers slid up the soft flesh of her inner thigh, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake.

She whimpered softly, trying to ignore the dull throbbing sensation of her core. “Not here!” she hissed, though she made no attempt to push his hand away.

“I think here will do just fine,” he grinned wolfishly, the pads of his fingers toying with the gusset of her underwear.

“Abe—”

“Shhh,” he soothed. His free hand rose to her throat, wrapping around it and applying just enough pressure to silence her protests, as he slipped two fingers past her knicker elastic and swiped them through her slick folds. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

She had felt light headed when she had stepped outside to pee, but it was nothing compared to this – Abraham’s thumb and forefinger pushed against the sides of her throat, the dizzying lack of oxygen serving to heighten the sensation of his digits working rhythmically against her sensitive flesh.

He squeezed experimentally at her neck, tightening his grip ever so slightly, as his index finger sought out her pearl and began rubbing tight circles upon it. She bucked her hips, her lips parted as her eyes fluttered closed and she lost herself in blissful surrender, completely at his mercy. Abraham was so dominant like this – restricting her airway with one hand, while the other was beneath her skirt – it was all too easy to forget that anyone could catch them, but it felt too good to care.

Little spots swam in her vision, obscuring her view of him as she opened her eyes. He was staring intently at her, loosening and tightening his grip on her delicate neck in tandem with the insistent rubbing at her swollen bundle of nerves. She could feel the coil tightening in her lower belly, as her thighs started to shake. Unable to breathe properly, her pleasured pants were shallow and laboured.

He chuckled darkly, clearly able to sense she was close, and sped up the movement of his fingers as he increased the pressure on her throat. “That’s it, good girl, just let go for me.”

His words were enough to send her tumbling over the edge and she let out a quiet, broken cry of pleasure as her body shuddered against his and white, hot pulsations of ecstasy rippled through her, causing her inner walls to spasm around nothing, as he continued to rub at her, until it became too much and she had to jerk her hips away.

Slowly, he released the hold he had on her throat, moving his arm around her waist to hold her limp form steady. He pulled his hand out from beneath his skirt and wiped it unceremoniously on his trousers, as she clung desperately to his shoulders to keep herself upright.

“You ready to go back in then?” he asked, once she’d had a moment to catch her breath.

“Not after that,” she grinned up at him, “take me home.”

“With pleasure,” he winked, ignoring her squeal as he lifted her effortlessly over his shoulder, and brought his palm heavily down upon her bottom, the sound ringing out loudly in the still night air, as he strode back through the farmyard. They never did find out who the murderer was, and neither one of them cared.

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More Abraham fics

[yoursweetheartsrevenge]

Well Bred

Summary: The daughter of an affluent horse breeder, Charla “Charlie” Denvers, approaches the Romani’s own resident horse expert looking to make a match between their fine breeding stock. However when strong personalities collide will the match simply remain between the stud and mare or bleed into their owners’ passions?  

Warnings: sexual tension, flirting, classism (Charlie's dad does not care nor understand the plights of the common people), MINORS DNI, 18+ 

Word Count: 1.8K

Author’s Note: For @blind-dates-fest. Starting off by saying I know absolutely nothing about horse breeding. The knowledge in this story was gained through research and not personal experience. Shout to my cousin who does have horse experience and assisted me in this story. If anything is incorrect within this story I apologize. Sometimes you just have an idea that involves a subject you don't know about then you spend several hours watching horses trout. Abraham is from one single episode of Grantchester so stretching out his personality was a bit fun.

Standing in front of her was a beautiful horse, a grey lipizzan with a soft freshly groomed mane. 

Charlie had never been more put off in her whole life. 

Her horse.

Her stud. 

She should have a say in who he was to breed with. 

The woman, as she had so often told her father she was now, had raised the sweet stallion since he was fresh out of his mother’s womb. Charlie had even helped pull away the afterbirth herself. He was her forever companion, a responsibility she took seriously despite what her parents thought would happen. 

Everyone always thought of Charla Denvers as another spoiled rich girl. 

She got everything she wanted being an only child of the most well off family in the area. All the dresses and pretty things were hers for the taking. Anything she demanded as a child was always within reach. Nothing had ever been off limits for Charla. 

Except this. 

The only thing she had ever wanted she could not even have. 

The horse seemed to sense her tension rocking his head up and down. Charlie placed her hand gently on his nose. 

“Shh, love. It’s alright.” It wasn’t. She could feel him snort at her lie, hot air teasing her palm. 

She reached with her other hand into her side bag for a treat for her pal. Charlie wasn’t sure what angry munching looked like, but Hades was certainly exhibiting such behavior. 

“Easy, boy. Let’s not lose our temper before we even meet the mare.” His lips quivered at her words chewing and sucking on the sugar cube. 

Charla stepped away brushing her hands together. 

Her father had found the mare after Charlie had proposed one evening at dinner that she would indeed like to get into the family business.

“Papa, I should like to breed Hades. He’s a fine stallion coming from an excellent line and the -” Her father had merely waved her off saying she was fine to do as she pleased. 

He hadn’t really been listening. 

Her father had never listened when she spoke most days. Same as her mother. He huffed and puffed stating it was better to agree to begin with, face consequences later. At least that was how he felt with the two women in his life. 

He had agreed to let her take on a foal from his prized mare, a white beauty fresh off the boat from Denmark when she was a teen. She was a fine mare, belly full of baby ready to give birth to a new friend for his daughter. Charlie had loved the mare, Crystalline as well. She still tended to her, but Hades was her boy. 

Her father had a large array of horses that did all sorts of things. He wasn’t an expert on breeds. Her father paid a nice young fellow to do that for him just like he paid others to manage other things in the house hold. 

This fine young fellow had betrayed her!

“Hades is a rare breed.” She knew that even as he spoke to her father. 

His breed was dwindling, yes, but Charla had already had it set in her head that breeding him to one of her childhood friend’s mares would be quite lovely. 

Charla didn’t care for things like money or preserving a notable line as her father had noted they would be doing breeding one lipizzan to another.

She wanted to have things her way. 

For the first time Charla Denvers would have to NOT get her way. 

She sighed loading up the stallion with more of her overnight equipment. At least she had convinced her father to let her go on this venture alone. He had found that a mare of this breed was close. Two villages over from the Denvers’ sprawling estate was a visiting Romani group spread out across the small community. They had intermingled according to her father enough that his “man on the inside” had found that one amongst them was nursing a sweet dark colored lipizzaner who happened to be female. 

What luck! 

What dread . . . Charlie thought, mounting her horse. 

She didn’t know the first thing about the Romani people, only that they were nomads, quick to wander. It was why her father had told her to make the offer to the young man in charge of tending horses quickly. Normally it was the mare owner that would pay the stud’s owner however in this case, her father was ready to make an offer. 

The thoroughbred foals would be worth more then what a silly breeding price the mare owner couldn’t afford. Her father assumed as he always did. For Charla, she would much rather have her horse breed with a mare she was familiar with, owned by a person she was friendly with. 

What did she know about this man who owned this lipizzaner? 

Absolutely nothing. 

Charlie kept her face void of any emotion. This was a business transaction, plain and simple. She pressed her heels to Hades motioning him forward. The stables were a distant memory as the pair marched forward to what she suspected would be doom for the pair of them. 

***

The village was very . . . quaint. 

She felt eyes lock on her as she entered. Her light eyes shifted, knowing what they were seeing. Charla wasn’t the type of girl to hide herself. She hadn’t spent hours choosing her outfit or fussing with her hair. She had tied a white bow in her long chestnut brown hair. Charlie’s waist length black coat was pressed as she trouted past the dirt road through the village. She knew she was out of place here, as did everyone else.

The encampments were fixed about the edges of the village. Women hung up laundry. Droves of children played tag with one another, grabbing and laughing in the carefree afternoon. Charla felt her stomach rumble. Hades scoffed prancing forward. 

“Come on now. Almost there.” The two seemed to have a symbiotic relationship. She could tell her sweet boy was hungry as well. 

Charlie managed to ask where the Romani kept their horses. 

“You’re looking for Abraham.” She hadn’t gotten a name, but she supposed that could be the name of a wandering horse tender. The older man with a heavy pipe pointed to an open mock stable area where a few horses were kept. 

She maneuvered her way past a wagon or two to get to the area. There was a young man, a blonde quiff and sleeves of black inked tattoos on arms that were tense with hard muscles. She saw his blue eyes worked her over as she approached. He was feeding a gorgeous brown mare. 

Charla hated the fact that Hades seemed to pick up his trout upon sensing the female. 

“Alright, calm yourself.” She told her boy. Charlie swallowed, seeing his eyes lock on her. 

“You are?” He wondered.

“Charlie Denvers.” 

“Really? Was expecting a man.” His eyes lingered too long on her chest. Her eyes merely rolled. “You're posh.” 

“Thank you for noticing.” Hades shifted impatiently back and forth. 

“You can tie him up on the other post.” The young man poked his chin to another mock spot. “I got some feed here if he’s hungry. Travelled a bit. Don’t want the poor boy starving.” 

She nodded. At least he was considerate of the horses even if he seemed to have an issue with her. 

Charla did as she was instructed, tying him off on the post. She brushed her hands off. When she turned he was waiting there with a bucket of feed. He didn’t hand it to her instead eyeing her again, in a slow nearly menacing way before moving past her. Hades huffed at him. The young man smiled. 

“Feisty fellow, ain’t he?” He put the bucket down as an offering. The horse moved his hooves forward then back as if contemplating. “Don’t worry. I won’t mess with your girl. Much.” She rolled her eyes again to see him smirk. 

She held her own stomach as it rumbled. 

“Would you like some dinner then?” He looked at her. “Suppose we will need to get acquainted to make this deal. Go on then, say hello to my Heidi.” 

Charla turned to the beautiful mare. Her face was deep within a trough of water now spilling over the sides. She was flabbergasted how shiny her coat was complimenting it out loud to Abraham. Slowly her hand worked over the horse’s mid section petting her with hard strokes. The horse’s tail twitched. 

“She’s usually timid. Gave her a talking to. Said she’d be meeting her beau today.” Abraham patted Heidi's shoulder roughly. The mare seemed to be used to the touches. 

“She’s stunning.” 

“Not always the case. She was in real bad shape over a year ago. Nursed her back to health. Took a lot of time and effort. Poor girl was abused, frightened of everyone, especially men.” She was surprised when Abraham nuzzled his nose against her neck. “Nipped at me a few times, but I didn’t give up on my Heidi. She’s my best girl.” He gave the horse a little peck. 

Charla didn’t like that he was sweet. 

Not one bit. 

“But I suppose we should get this business over with.” He nearly sighed. “Wouldn’t want to keep you from your fancy mansion.”

“That depends on how you would like to -”

He was sweet to the horses. 

“I ain’t stupid, missus.” Abraham immediately piped in. “I know what I got. Your man that approached me, he thought I was . . . stupid that is . . . probably think you can one up me cause I’m Romi don’t you? Well you can’t because I know what I got.” He pat the horse again. “She’s pure money here.” 

Maybe she was starting to dislike Abraham a bit. 

“I’m not here because I want to be . . . Abraham . . . is it?” He looked at her nodding as she spoke. “I would rather take my horse and breed him elsewhere, but my father seems to want this deal to go through. For our two lipizzaners to breed and secure a line meant for greatness. So yes, whatever you want is yours.” 

He watched her setting his jaw and swallowing. 

“Whatever I want?” He said it so suggestively it nearly made her blush.

Nearly. 

“Money, wise . . . that is.” Her voice was breathy in the stale air that smelt like manure, dry feed, and the dampness of their horses. 

“A shame.” He teased. Yes, he was only teasing. “I can name my price?”

“Mmmhm.” She clarified. 

“Right.” He swallowed, wiping his hands on his pant legs. “Da always said the best deals are made over a meal and a pint. Care to join me, missus?” He offered her his hand.  She did not take it. 

“It’s Charla.” She told him. He simply nodded. 

“Right, well, I’m Abrabram. Pleasure to meet you, Charla. I’m eager to make beautiful babies with you.” He gave her a soft wink as her face flushed a bit at his suggestion, breaking her stern demeanor. “Ponies that is.” 

Yes. 

She was starting to dislike Abraham very much.

[fan-goddess]

The Epilogue: Where’d all the time go…

Catch up on the fic here!

Authors Note: Thank you everybody for sticking with me through this while I tried to write this going through a writing blockage it means so much to me to know that people were looking forward to this! I hope you enjoy the final chapter of these twos love story 🩷

Summary: Some time has passed since your wedding day, and it appears all you’ve wanted has come true.

Taglist: @omgbrcat @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity @anjelicawrites @lexwolfhale @helaenaluvr @scarletbedlam @tssf-imagines @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @arcielee @ilikechocolatemilkh @tumblin-theworldaway @skintoskinsstuff @darylandbethfanforever9 (italics cannot tag)

Warnings: P in v sex, pregnancy, kids, dick jokes, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, lactation kink, domestic kink, p in v sex, indirect breastfeeding, domestic fluff, she/her pronouns used, reader is referred to as being a woman (if I miss any let me know!)

Like most mornings in the last few years of being a married woman, you’re not allowed to lay peacefully in your bed anymore.

“Mumma…” you hear a small voice say drawing you from your sleep with a small start. Though when you look to your over to the source of the noise, you cannot help but smile softly as you meet eyes with your daughter Penelope, who in turn stares up at you from the doorway with that small irresistible pout of hers that she knows will make it so she gets her way.

You cannot help yourself from reaching out a hand to her to let her know she can come up to the bed, which she does so eagerly with her arms held up to let you know she wants to be lifted up to be close with you and her father. Usually he’s the one lifting them as he’s forbidden you from doing anything that could harm the baby, but you’d damn him before he gets in the way of you spending time with your babies.

“What’s wrong flower?” You whisper to her after lifting her onto the covers and looking to your right to see Abraham still somehow deeply asleep against the pillow. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No! I’m a big girl! I just missed sissy!” She stumbles, leaning forward to place her hands against your swollen belly through your old t-shirt. She also much to your amusement put her face as close to your belly as possible so she can murmur some illegible words to it before looking back up at you.

“Is daddy still sleeping?” She asks though, pointing to your husband who much to yours and her amusement, at that very moment begins to snore deep into his pillow like some comical pig seen on one of her tv shows.

“Yes he is, So we can’t wake him up! Do you understand flower?”

“Yes mummy!” She quickly nods, flopping herself down between you and Abraham and burrowing her head into a pillow, before closing her eyes and putting her thumb in her mouth.

You yourself try to move back to how you were so you try and get comfy and get back to sleep, but it appears the baby has other plans as it begins to immediately kick you in a way that makes you wince hard in pain.

You get the urge to go to the kitchen and make yourself a relaxing cup of tea, but as soon as you begin to move you hear two very familiar sets of footsteps. With a smile you turn your head back to the doorframe and see your boys Joseph and Elliot, who sleepily stand there with their blankets in hand.

“Hey babies…” You whisper, reaching a hand out to them both so they know it’s okay to come up to the bed. “Any nightmares?”

“No mama!” They both say, eagerly moving to get up and be held by you as you try and balance them both in front of you. Making sure to shush them so they don’t wake up their sister or daddy. Yet it appears to be father like daughter as they both appear to be too deep asleep to hear anything and instead just breath louder into the pillow.

“Do you wanna sleep here?” You say, smiling softly as they both eagerly nod their heads before moving themselves to snuggle next to their sister and daddy. They quickly beginning to snore peacefully away while you simply just stare at your family in awe. Rubbing a hand on your swollen belly as you’re reminded of the other life inside you.

You have no idea on whether you’re having a boy or a girl, but Cora has already made the prediction that it’ll be another little girl. Which you know Penelope would definitely be pleased with given her sureness that you carry her little sissy inside your belly the entire time you told her you were having a baby.

Though after a while of trying to comfortably position yourself just right, the itch in your throat becomes too prominent to ignore. So even if it takes you an embarrassing long time to actually get out of bed and make it all the way to the kitchen, it’s rewarded deliciously with a hot cup of tea and a half eaten packet of digestive biscuits that are hidden at the back of the cupboard where the kids can’t find them.

Soon, even though it’s still relatively dark outside, you find yourself immersed with looking at the dim lights hanging from the place opposite. Watching it slowly swing against the slow wind and the flames flicker in a hypnotic fashion.

“What are you doing up Mrs Lee?” You hear the familiar rough morning voice of your husband ask. A happy smile on your face appearing as before you can turn around to see him, Abraham sneaks up behind you and pulls you against his body gently so he can softly kiss on the top of your head.

Yet when you give him a little pout while looking him in the eyes, Abraham makes it all the better when with an exaggerated sigh, he pulls you in again only this time for a kiss firmly on the lips.

“Happy now Mrs?” He jokes, sitting next to you and placing a hand on your swollen belly almost instinctively. As if he’s terrified someone’s gonna suddenly burst in and hurt you and the baby.

“Very.” You simply say. Placing a small kiss of your own on the skin of his shoulder. It’s the only place you can really kiss him right now without straining yourself too hard and getting a stern lecture from your husband. And not even the fun kind, as you found out sadly enough a few weeks ago when you tried to dust the hanging light in the living with him present.

“How’s my little one doing though?” He smiles, dipping his head close to your belly to speak to it. Apparently Abraham is insisting that the baby can hear him, and that supposedly it’s good practice for the baby to learn who their daddy is. Yet all you hear coming from his lips is while adorable, complete utter bullshit. But why stop him when it’s entertainment for you and is honestly an adorable thing to witness? He did it for all your pregnancies, and it always makes your heart warm when you look at the man you married being so gentle and loving with the child of his not yet even born in this world.

“You been good for your mum eh?” He continues though, directing this particular question at both the baby and yourself.

“Not been kicking much this week. Cora said it were a good sign apparently, but don’t ask me why cause ain’t got a clue at all…” You say, taking advantage of Abraham still leaning over to kiss him quickly and lightly on the edge of his lips.

It’s been the closest you’ve ever been to being physical with your husband in weeks, as according to him, having sex would hurt the baby. Yet with how desperate you’ve been feeling for him be inside you and make love to you like how he did the day after your wedding, you’re actually heavily debating on testing that theory out.

“Why haven’t you let me kiss you?” You find yourself asking though. A small pout on your lips as you find yourself reminiscing on a life before being pregnant. A life where Abraham had kissed you when he wanted, and how he wanted. Which usually, much to your happiness, was always hard and heated, leading to both his and yours clothes being discarded to do certain activities wherever you or him wanted.

“I’ve told you,” Abraham grunted, making it a point to kiss you on the side of your head while he makes himself comfortable sitting next to you. “I don’t want to harm the baby-“

“For gods sake Abraham as much as I compliment it your dick is not so big that it’ll harm the baby!”

“Mummy?” A familiar voice speaks, both yours and Abraham’s heads turning fast at the sound of your daughters voice. Her bunny low in one hand, the other’s thumb in her mouth. “Why are you and daddy fighting?”

“Oh no we aren’t fighting flower!” You smile, motioning her forward and ticking her as soon as she came close enough. It was addictive the way your daughter made you feel so carefree without even trying. When she smiled, even if you were at your lowest, she still manage to find a way to bring a smile on your face. “We just didn’t agree on something and were talking about it! Did we wake you up?”

“Nope! Josie kept kicking me so I woke up!” She continues smiling, yet it soon turns to insesent giggling as soon as Abe scoops her in his own arms and like you did moments earlier, begins to tickle her with little mercy.

The sight of it makes you all the more excited for when the baby eventually comes, as unlike your worries from before you got married, you now know Abraham is an amazing father and husband.

Unlike most women’s husbands, whose wives typically clean and do the chores all before the husband came back home even while heavily pregnant, Abraham actually insists on helping out round the house especially when you’re pregnant. So while you do the polishing and the dusting, he’s the one helping out by cutting up that nights vegetables for dinner or picking up the kids never ending hurricanes of toys. It was messy, and sometimes downright disgusting when you’d find mysterious splurges hidden on the sofa cushions, but by God was it home.

“How about you go wake your brothers up huh little flower? Yuh gonna hang out with auntie Cora today!” You hear Abraham say, knocking you out of your thoughts as you raise a brow at the sudden predicament. As far as you were aware, today was just a relaxing day between the 5 and a half of you, with the occasional dispute over a toy. When was this sudden auntie Cora visit gonna be mentioned to you?

Your daughter though doesn’t appear to really care about the news and simply runs off with her thumb back in her mouth, presumably to ruthlessly wake up her brothers to tell them what daddies told her. So you take advantage the kidless room while you can.

“When were you gonna tell me they were heading to Cora’s?” You ask, turning to him with a single raised brow.

“I didn’t even know myself till a couple minutes ago…” He shrugs, moving to make some toast for you,the kids and himself even though you swear it’s only 6 in the morning. “Sides… with the kids gone then I can prove to you just how dangerous my dick can really be…”

And like that, it was quickly agreed that Cora would be coming in an hour as arranged over the phone. Not that the kids had the same enthusiasm of the idea though…

“But I wanna stay with mama!” Joseph says, eyes watering so much you almost get the urge to call it all off so you can hold him in your arms for the whole day and never let him go. But it’s a good thing your husband knows how weak you are when the kids pull out the puppy eyes, so he makes sure to quickly pull both the boys in his arms so you don’t need to feel anymore guilty about having a day with just you and your husband.

“Well little ones, mama deserves a day to relax what with the baby and all. Don’t you think mama deserves a break?” Abe asks, practically forcing them to agree as they know they’ll get a small clip round the ear from him if they dare mouth you off especially in front of their father.

“Of course daddy…” Your boys say practically say in unison while your daughter just nods refusing to let go of her thumb, before all three of them quickly get distracted by the sound of the front door opening and Cora opening her arms to welcome the three little hurricanes in a warm hug.

You quickly chat with Cora for a bit while Abraham plays with the kids to get them ready and simultaneously distract them, yet somehow she seems to know the real meaning for this early morning conversation and quick to arrange visit. As just shes about to leave, turning to let you know the kids’ll be dropped off around dinner time tonight, she gives you a noticeable cheeky wink before shutting the door behind her. The almost unrecognisable sound of silence ringing out through the room.

A blush forming on your cheeks though as you feel your husband’s strong arms move to envelope you in his warmth not even five seconds after the kids leave. His breath tickles your ear as he moves to whisper in your ear, “I suppose we should make the most of this and head to the bedroom, shouldn’t we Mrs Lee?”

“I suppose so husband…” You murmur back, sighing against his lips as Abraham kisses you deeply and his hands roam along the length of your body. He hasn’t had a real opportunity to feel out the newest changes your pregnancy has given you, and he’s all too eager to get familiar with them.

“So fucking beautiful.” He says, kissing and marking slightly the length of your neck in such a way it leaves you sighing out in pure pleasure. “And all fucking mine too… luckiest man in the world…”

“I thought you wanted to go to the bedroom Abe?” You giggle, yet quickly stop as you gasp and realise the sudden slight sting on your backside was from your husband’s palm coming down on your quick and fast.

“Don’t talk back to me now love…” He groans directly against your ear. “You may be pregnant with my baby, but I can still treat you like the dirty little thing I know you to be…”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You purr, your heart pounding hard in your chest. Yet that sudden surge of confidence quickly disappears as Abraham takes you in his arms and drags you to your bedroom, slamming the door behind him with his foot alone as he continues to stare you down.

“It would be a promise little one…” Abraham this time purrs, a single rough hand of his trailing down your shivering form and leaving goosebumps in its wake. “But I wouldn’t dare think about accidentally harming you in this state. So I’m going to make it a threat this time. But I swear as soon as this baby is out of you and into this world, I’m gonna fuck another in you.”

Your breath hitches as he speaks and yet you can’t deny the way his words make your legs desperately clench together in a way to get rid of that now aching sensation only Abraham can provide you with.

“I can see your legs clenching little one,” Abraham says, gently moving you to the edge of the bed so you slightly fall against the covers in an admittedly not so graceful fashion. Still, you’re so grateful when Abraham chooses to ignore you at your clumsiest and focus solely instead on your quivering form laid out in front of him. “You’re not very good at hiding it from me.”

“I can never hide anything from you.” You admit, smiling as you look up at your husband who himself begins to smile bashfully at your words. “You look so pretty when you blush…” You continue, smiling even more when you see his face manage to darken even more.

“Shut up…” Abraham murmurs, distracting you from his bashful face by leaning over you and kissing you deeply. Very much effectively making you forget everything except your husband’s touch. His lips trail down your neck down to the skin between your breasts, where for the first time in months he leaves harsh no doubt bruising marks in his wake.

“Fucking love this body…. love it even better when swollen with my child…”

“Fuck Abraham…” You whine, closing your eyes as you bask in the feeling of pleasure that for the first time in months is running through your whole body faster than anything you’ve felt before. “I want more!”

“You’ll take what I give you wife,” Abraham grunts, lightly pinching your upper thigh as he begins undoing the buttons of your nightgown, only to stop suddenly as he when his hands trail up the length of your thigh he realises you have no underwear on and are currently almost already fully bare to him to see. “Now what do we have here…”

“They got too annoying,” You admit, finding amusement in the way Abraham can’t stop staring at the naked skin that’s been revealed to him already, apparently too distracted with the idea of you naked and dripping beneath your clothing to think about anything else.

He’s so distracted in fact, that he doesn’t seem to even care about continuing with what he’d previously been doing. Too distracted staring at your barely covered skin to notice your shy bashful face. Yet too distracted to miss how your legs try to subtly move together in an embarrassed attempt to stop Abrahams staring.

“Don’t try and hide from me.” He practically growls, finally looking away to stare instead into your eyes so intensely he reminds you of a predator looking into the eyes of its prey. “Never hide from me, you hear?”

“Yes Abe!” You practically whine, falling apart at the smallest of indecent touches as Abraham pinches the inside of your thighs with his fingers just like he did earlier. Not hard to enough to hurt, as Abraham would never, but hard enough so you know who it is who holds the power right now.

“Good girl,” He grins, tilting his head down again once more as he quite practically tears the dress from your body which shakes in pure anticipation. Eager to be ravished by the man in front of you.

As soon as your body is revealed to the cold air and the hungry eyes before you, your husbands hands make eager work of touching every inch of you. He eagerly takes the flesh of your backside that he can get too in his hands and squeezes it just to make you gasp, yet when his hands make it to the bulging curve of your stomach that same rough unforgiving touch turns soft and gentle.

You can barely even feel him as he traces your curves, his lips kissing just above where your belly button sticks out as a reminder to you that he is still the man who loves and adores the very ground you walk on.

Though when his hands make it past the curve of your swollen stomach to the swollen curves of your breasts, that once soft touch turns greedy once more as he takes one in each hand and grips them just enough for you to need to bite your lip to stifle the pleasurable gasp that’s dying to be let out and heard by him.

Yet if you hadn’t have stifled your gasp, you wouldn’t have been able to have heard your husband’s own gasp. His eyes wide and focused as he realises with a thrill running down the full length of his spine, that your milk trickles slightly down the back of his hands from the rough treatment he showed you moments before.

Before you or even he knows it, your husband is putting the back of one of his hands by his mouth and licking the trail of your milk that begins to dribble down his arm. Abraham hums in delight at the sweet taste exploding on his tongue, and he can’t help but lick at the other hand too. Even sucking at the skin on the back of his thumb to truly savour the unique taste.

“How is it you’re so delicious everywhere?” He groans, leaning forward to kiss you again before swiping his tongue on your swollen bottom lip. It teases the edge of your teeth before caressing your tongue and slipping out back to his own mouth like nothing happened. He leans back and grins as he mimics licking his lips with joy. “Like I said. Fucking delicious…”

You can’t help but blush at his words, yet you can’t help but want more from him. Want his hands to touch your inner parts. Want his lips to leave marks that’ll make the other wives envious of what you have with your husband. Want his cock too-

You gasp when his cock teases your entrance, and you can’t help but whine especially hard as he pushes himself deep inside of you. His hips connecting with yours as he leans forward and in a sort of sweet way bangs his forehead against your own.

“Beg me for my cock…” Abraham groans, his breath slightly fanning your lips. “Do it for me…”

“What’s the magic word sweet husband?” You can’t help but tease, relishing in the shiver you can feel run down his spine as your breath tickles his own lips.

“You know I hate it when you tease me…”

“Well then it’s not good for you that I oh so adore it…”

“Little minx… you never fail to surprise me.” He admits, kissing the side of your head that faces him.

“And you always seem to love it no matter how much you say you despise it.” You laugh back, leaning into his warm touch.

The two of you in that moment feel as close as you can be. His cock which still lays inside of you is actively pulsing against your warm walls, and yet he makes no move to begin fucking you. Instead his head merely moves to sit in the crook of your neck, where his lips begin to leave small marks in his wake, and his hand leaves delighted butterfly’s in your belly as he caresses your swollen stomach with utter care and devotion.

“I love you…” He whispers against your skin.

“I love you too…” You immediately whisper back, tilting your head to kiss his damp salty forehead. Giggling as he begins to adjust himself yet moaning as his hips finally begin what they’d earlier started to do.

His lips find yours while his cock slowly moves inside you, muffling the sounds of yours and his pleasure. Though soon its admittedly too slow for both of you, as Abrahams hips begin to smack against your own. The sound of yours and his wet skin making contact both loudly and sinfully.

"Fucking beautiful..." Abraham groans, looking down at you with dark hooded eyes. "Fucking perfect wife..."

"Perfect fucking husband..." You groan back, pushing your heavy breasts further against his chest. Reminding him of the treasures he has yet to fully ravish while he takes you.

Your massive belly doesn't exactly give your husband much room to work with, yet that doesn't at all mean he won't still try. As while he continues to thrust his cock deep inside of you, his earlier worries about supposedly hurting the baby long forgotten in the wind, his lips move from your lips onto the part of your breast he can actually bend his neck far down enough to mark. He nips at it slightly with his teeth, and its not long before that small area is marked and bitten much to Abrahams content. The skin already blooming a deep purple that leaves Abraham glowing in pure pride.

"They'll all know who you belong too," He grunts, giving you a break from the roughness as he possessively kisses the side of your forehead. It’s a reminder of what started this whole thing off.

"As if the four kids you've already given me isn't enough..." You can't help but sigh, kissing his bare shoulder. You make a strange sort of giggle when Abraham playfully pinches your side, yet as soon as he begins to pick up the pace you quickly begin gasping and whining right up against his ear.

The knot in your stomach twists and turns as you’re hurdled closer to your impending orgasm, and by the why your husband pants against your own ear and groans so deliciously you can make a clear guess and say his own orgasm is approaching too.

“Fucking love you,” He gasps, interlocking one of his hands in your own and clutching you tight as if he was afraid you’d suddenly get up and leave him. “So much…”

“I love you too!” You say back, whining loudly as his cock manages to hit the special place inside you that always makes you act loud and shameless.

Abraham grins as his only free hand comes down to caress your bump, making sure it’s safe as his hips somehow manage to move even faster just so he can try and hit that spot inside you again that made you react like that. Which he does. Multiple times…

“Oh fuck!” You yell, mouth hanging wide open as your orgasm washes over you. Your grip on your husbands hand tight as you attempt to ground yourself from being swept away by it all. With this being your first orgasm in a while, it'd make sense for you to practically go insane at the moment.

Your heart is all aflutter as you feel Abrahams hips jerk and bump against your own as he orgasms. The feeling of your walls clenching hard around his cock forcing him to cum deep inside you. If you hadn't already been pregnant at that moment, Abraham can't help but think with a smug smirk how you definitely would've been after that.

Abraham leans his body against yours as he manages to move both himself and you in a spot against the bed where somehow the two of you are comfortable.

Or at least you're comfortable, as most of the pillows and the spare decorative cushions are being used to make sure your belly isn't in an awkward position.

Abraham however makes sure he is left with the very flat and used pillow with the stiff uncomfortable cushion that is placed under it so Abraham can sleep with his head at a tilt. You can see that him wince slightly as a feather manages to pierce his cheek through the weak pillow fabric and offer to get him a cushion from the sofa, or even a pillow from the kids room given that they'll be away pretty much the whole evening. But if there's one thing for sure you know about your husband it's that he's stubborn as a mule in his ways. So he emphasises he's fine as he makes sure to prioritise your comfort over his own.

It doesn't matter how long the two of you spend in each others arms, but as soon as you make one small complaint about the uncomfortable feeling around your lower area, Abraham is immediately up on his feed still naked in order to fetch you a dampened cloth. He is careful and loving as he makes the cloth make contact with your sensitive body. Whispering small words of sweet affirmation against your skin. Even kissing slightly the area of your inner thigh, which leaves you glaring down at him from where you lay as you admittedly manage to find yourself aroused by the whole scenario in front of you.

When first thinking about having a husband, you never would've thought you would have a husband who prioritises your pleasure over his own. And yet here you are with a man practically on his knees for you, making sure you are okay as he carefully wipes away his remaining climax from your inner thighs.

"How are you feeling Mrs Lee?" You hear Abraham say, no doubt with a smirk on his face as he kisses your inner thigh.

"Oh I am feeling very well Mr Lee..." You can't help but giggle back, smiling as Abraham comes up from between your legs and positions himself next to you so he can be near you as much as possible.

His lips softly kiss the length of your neck, not leaving marks in a possessive manner, but doing it instead to be comforting. He moves you so your head is tucked near to his chin and your stomach is pretty much propped up by his own torso. His left arm is wrapped around your body to bring you in, which you eagerly accept in order to embrace your husband, while his right arm moves so he can place it on your stomach.

You feel so at peace, that you can't help but close your eyes and allow yourself to relax in your husbands arms. You feel safe, and oh so happy that you said yes to Abrahams proposal all those years ago. So safe that within minutes you actually find yourself falling asleep to the sound of Abrahams heartbeat.

Abraham watches you while you sleep, his eyes unable to look away from the beautiful woman before him. He has no idea how he managed to achieve this. How he managed to get a wife who loves him as much as he adores her. How he managed to have three, about to be four wonderful children with this woman, he will never really know. But all he does know, is that he's so grateful for being able to be gifted this gift. Abraham grabs the bed cover and covers the two of you under it so the three of you, but mainly so you and the baby are warm, and closes his eyes allowing himself time to indulge in your loving embrace.

A FEW MONTHS LATER

When the baby came, you were surrounded by those who cared for you. The kids weren’t allowed in the room due to how scary you and Abraham knew it would’ve been for them to see you in such pain so young, so thankfully one of your friends from your old friendship group offered to look after them and keep them out of trouble for the few hours while you gave birth.

So with your husband holding your hand on one side and your mother on the other cheering you on, you managed to give birth to a beautiful baby girl. A daughter that without telling your husband, you had decided to name Lily. When you told Abraham what her name going to be, before that day you had never seen him cry like that. Yet now, he was allowing himself to be as vulnerable as he ever could be in front of you as everyone else had left seeing this was a private moment between your family.

He is unable to look away from you as you hold the baby in your arms, same as you find yourself unable to look away from him when he all of a sudden drops to his knees before you laying on the bed and places his arms by the baby to stroke her face.

"Thank you my love..." Abraham murmurs, leaning forward to place a kiss on your admittedly very sweaty forehead. "Thank you for this gift..."

"Thank you for marrying me..." You murmur back, moving forward so your forehead touches his. "Thank you for loving me, and for making me realise my girlish daydreams could become a living reality..."

[thought--bubble]

All the things you promised

Abraham X (Best Friend Reader)

Warnings after the cut

Word Count:2546

Abraham Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners and Dividers by @arcielee

Header by @zaldritzosrose

Based on THIS request

Warnings:: Cheating, Breeding Kink, unprotected PinV, virginity loss.

You stand proudly next to Andrei as your father announces your engagement in front of everyone at dinner.

You're elated. Andrei is sweet and charming, and you were hoping he would eventually ask your father for his blessing.

You had nearly given up hope when finally your father came to you to let you know of Andrei's intentions and ask your opinion on the matter to which you smiled and approved.

You realize now, though, as you stand before all of your family and friends that you missed one very important step in all of this. You did not tell your best friend before the announcement.

No, he had to find out here and now with everyone else. The look of shock on his face and the way he quickly turns and exits make it clear. That was an error.

You hop down from next to Andrei and scramble to find him.

"Abraham!?" You call out as soon as you get outside. Your head swings wildly from side to side, your eyes scanning each farmhouse, stable, and open space before you.

You huff in annoyance when you can't locate him. "Abraham?!" You yell out again. He just came out here. There is no way he can't hear you. Is he ignoring you? No he wouldn't do that.

You don't want to wander too far since it's dark, so you sigh once more before turning to go back inside where everyone is eating. Unaware of the pair of angry blue eyes that watch you from the darkness.

The blue eyes that avoid you from here on out.

The next day, you look high and low for Abraham. You go to all the spots you think he may be working at, you ask around, and no one seems to know where he is. He doesn't come around your wagon once, which is odd. He usually checks in on you at least once each day. Even on his busiest days.

This trend continues over the next few days, quickly becoming a week. You finally see him again, cutting wood and attempt to speak to him, but the moment you get close, he leaves.

Your heart sinks into your stomach as he continues walking away from you as you call his name. Even as you chase him. It's as if he is on auto pilot, and his only goal is to get as far away from you as possible.

With a bruised ego, you give up. You decide to give him some time. Obviously, he is mad that you didn't tell him about the engagement. Maybe he needs just a bit longer to cool off.

You try to be patient, but as the cooling off period stretches across another two weeks, you begin to lose hope.

You decide to search for him again. At this point, you are angry, too. Why wouldn't he just talk to you? Explain why he is so upset? Allow you to apologize? You know he isn't one to get all sensitive or in his feelings, but the least he could do is attempt to speak to you.

These thoughts swirl through your mind as you stomp angrily through the encampment, looking once again in each of the places you think he may be until you finally spot him, brushing a horse in the stables. His eyes staring off in the distance.

"There you are, you mangy mutt." You chuckle, attempting to sound light-hearted. "I've been looking for ya. As I know you are aware."

He stays silent, his eyes still trained toward the nothingness in the distance.

You sigh and pinch your nose in frustration. "Abraham. What is wrong? Is this about the engagement? I meant to tell you, really I did, but things moved quickly"

He grunts and puts the brush down, gently patting the horse on the back before turning to leave the stables.

"Do you plan to just ignore me then? Until the end of days?" Your annoyance and anger are evident in your tone

He lowers his head, his back still turned to you.

"No"

Finally, he speaks, weeks without hearing his voice have made you feel tender at the sound. The anger and annoyance start to fade, and you're left with your hurt and longing.

"Then talk to me. Look at me! Something." you take two small tentative steps toward him. Your heart beats in your chest loudly, adrenaline causing your hands to shake, yet you keep on.

"Abraham, please" You step even closer still, just about close enough to touch him.

"Stop" he near whispers, a painful edge to his voice.

You freeze in place. "I can't lose you. Not over this" Your voice is strained, your heartbreak woven into every syllable. You know he doesn't like Andrei, but you could never imagine the announcement of your engagement would push him this far away.

"Don't touch me. If... if you touch me...." He keeps his face angled away from you as his voice starts to crack.

You sigh softly, and you decide right then and there. He won't push you away anymore. You won't allow it.

You reach your hand out and touch his shoulder, and he bristles instantly before he turns around to face you. Those steely blue eyes meeting yours for the first time in weeks.

"Did you consider me?" He asks sharply. "Even once?"

You're slightly taken aback by his aggressive demeanor but swallow back your frustration so that you can answer him. "Of course I considered how you would feel about this" you start but are abruptly cut off as Abraham paces toward you.

"No. Did you ever consider ME? " he asks again. You can feel his breath on your cheek as he brings his face up to yours, whispering in your ear. "Was I ever your choice?"

Your face heats up, and your chest tightens at the question. You had always thought of Abraham as your friend. Someone you trusted and depended on.

"I....I ....." You stumble over your own tongue at a complete loss for words.

His eyes scan your face and start to darken with each passing second. "No. You didn't, " he turns from you again.

"You never gave any indication!" You desperately yell out to his back, and it's true. Never once had he let any intentions be known. You had assumed this was because he simply did not see you that way, and you had accepted that fact a very long time ago.

He again stops without turning back towards you, so you continue on.

"I heard you. Talk about Luella. Some of the others. You never did speak about me that way"

He growls, his back still turned. "I could never speak about you that way." He turns back toward you his lips pursed. "You don't speak about a wife like that."

You take in a sharp breath and avert your eyes.

"But now... you will not be my wife. " There is a mischievous glint in his eye, and he cracks a slight smile.

The presence of a smile on his face has you confused. As you arch a brow at him, he rushes toward you, pulling you tightly in his arms.

"Abe!" You push slightly against his chest, but he pays you no mind as he lifts you off of your feet and walks you further into the stables and away from prying eyes.

"He won't have what's mine," He grumbles as he places you back down on your feet in the furthest most part of the stables.

"Abraham...." You say your voice slightly trembling. From fear or anticipation, you weren't entirely sure.

His eyes lift and meet yours for just a moment before his lips crash down on yours, his large, rough hands tightly grasping at the sides of your head. He prods at your lips with his tongue begging for entry of which you against your better judgment grant him.

Abraham grunts into your mouth as he explores with his tongue all the while pushing your body further and further backwards until you feel the solid surface of the wooden wall against your back.

He starts to shuffle your dress up towards your hips, never breaking the kiss. You pull away slightly, meaning to protest. You know this is wrong, but Abraham quickly brings his mouth back down to yours and mumbles against your lips. "He won't have what's mine"

He begins to trail kisses along your jaw and down your neck, gently licking and nibbling at the skin as he moves.

The heat starts to pool in your belly at his rough touch, his calloused fingertips gripping at the soft flesh of your thigh under your skirts.

"Abe......" You say breathlessly between kisses.

He only grunts and brings his hand further up your thigh before cupping your ass and playing with the hem of your knickers.

"You were always meant to be mine." He whispers with a voice that is uncharacteristically soft.

He slides his hand between your legs, applying pressure to your pearl as you gasp.

"Already sopping," he chuckles into your ear, "and I've barely touched you"

He removes his hand quickly, spinning you around to face the wall and rucks your skirt up around your hips.

"He won't have what's mine," he growls again, pulling your underwear down your legs quickly and helping you step out of them.

Your mind is in overdrive and moving on instinct. You grip the post that runs through the middle of the wall before you, as Abraham reaches one hand between your legs and grips your hip harshly with the other.

You lean your head back and close your eyes, taking in all the sensations as his rough fingertips stroke your pearl.

"You're considerin' me now," He whispers breathlessly into your ear. You clench at the sound as you feel a tightening in your lower stomach.

"Oh my...... Abe!" Your fingernails dig into the wood of the beam you're holding when Abe pulls his fingers from your pearl and instead slowly slides one into your heat.

Your eyes open wide at the intrusion, while your body quickly responds, your hips bucking lightly. You try to ignore the embarrassment you feel at the sounds emanating from your lower body as he continues his ministrations when he suddenly slips a second finger in.

"Abe too much too much." You jolt slightly at the uncomfortable stretch.

"You'll get used to it. Gotta get you ready, " he says in between husky breaths, although he slightly slows his pace.

"Ready?" You huff, he chuckles again before removing his hand.

"Think you're about as ready as you're gonna get." You can hear him moving behind you, the soft clink of his belt ringing in your ears.

Your mind tells you to stop this now before it goes too far, but your body stands still. Legs spread, back bent and hands holding the post. Exposed and vulnerable before his eyes.

You take a sharp inhale as you feel the tip of his cock sliding against your slick folds and over your clit.

"Try not to be too loud" is the last thing he says before he brings his cock back up to your entrance and slowly starts to breech your walls, the stretch slightly painful yet satisfying.

You attempt to heed his warning and pant quietly, but as he continues to push farther you can't help but whimper.

He leans down, slightly pressing his chest to your back and pushing your hair over your shoulder.

"It will pass," he coos gently before kissing down the back of your neck, the feeling soothing.

He continues pushing, the stretch and the sting becoming less and less uncomfortable until his hips are pressed tightly against your ass.

He gives you a moment, not a long moment, but a moment to acclimate to his size before he starts to move, slowly at first but quickly gaining speed as the painful stretch is replaced with a comfortable fullness, that knot in your stomach beginning to tighten once again.

"He won't marry ya. Not when you're carrying my child. " He grunts his pace, still picking up speed.

You're unable to respond to his words. The pressure between your legs, growing nearly unbearable.

You reach down between your thighs to rub your pearl, the need so strong you can feel your heart beating in your nub.

Abraham quickly pushes your hand away, instead bringing his rough fingertips back over your clit and starts rubbing in small, determined circles over the nerve.

Your body grows tense as you feel your pleasure reach its ultimate high. Your entire body shuddering and clenching.

"Ahhh!" You screech out as your orgasm moves through you in waves.

Urged on by your climax, Abraham wraps his arms around you, standing you up nearly straight as he thrusts up into you harshly.

"He won't have what's mine," he snarls again, breathing heavily into your ear. "You'll leave here just as much mine as you ever were"

Abraham continues to thrust into you, one hand on your hip, the other around your throat.

"I'm gonna fill you, right now." his thrusts grow sloppier and more desperate as he nears his own climax. "Tell me you want it, tell me to do it," he demands, pistoning himself into your heat harshly, the muscles in his thighs growing tight from the exertion.

"Do it. Please, " You whimper "fill me"

He sighs in satisfaction and thrusts only twice more before you feel the warmth of his seed spread within your womb.

He stands there holding you tight to him as he rides out his high, his body slightly twitching with the aftershocks of his heightened pleasure.

After a few minutes, he pulls out and releases you. You stumble forward, nearly falling head first into the wooden post you had been gripping so tightly earlier.

Abraham catches you and stands you upright. He wordlessly fetches for knickers, helping you to slide them back on.

You stand bewildered before him not sure what to make of the moment.

"Go tell your father and Andrei you have to end the engagement," he says sternly while pulling his suspender straps back up over his shoulders.

"It.... it's not that simple. " You stutter out the words. You know, in good conscience, you couldn't marry Andrei now, and you didn't want to. Now that you know what it's like to be with Abraham.

"It is. Tell them you're pregnant by another man. Your father will give us his blessing. He'll have no choice" he states plainly, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

"But I'm not......." You trail off knowing that you could be after what just happened, yet you couldn't be sure for quite some time.

"Trust me." He leans in pressing his forehead to yours briefly before stepping away from you and moving to leave the stables.

"Where are you going?" You call out after him, not wanting your moment to be over.

"To do my work," he smiles back at you. "Now you go do yours!"

With that, he exits the stables, a large grin plastered across his face as he mutters one last thing under his breath.

"He won't have what's mine."

To be added to taglists see HERE

[starsfic]

"had you survived, you would've been the one saving this world"

So, you know that one post where Maria wondered if Shadow hated her because he had to be around her 24/7? There's a whole fic idea involved, with furious at the world (and especially at Tower) Maria.

Had you survived, you would've been the one saving the world.

The inner voice had Shadow's voice, but he would have never used improper grammar. Grandfather raised him to speak properly, just in case. Plus, it's false.

Maria survived. Except she wasn't saving the world.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Three collapsed, blood flowing from the bulletholes. Thumps and calls for help came from the other side of the doors, but Maria had been practicing for this for over a year now.

Bang. Bang.

Bang.

She never planned her massacre of GUN to be like this. But, it worked. Sonic and Ivo and the rest of the team needed time to get to the lab and bust the stasis chamber out. Maria had a grudge to get out before...before...

"M...Mar...Maria..."

She turned her gaze to the front of the room, where she had struck first. The room was now silent, littered with bodies.

Abraham Towers laid against the wall, gripping his shoulder. Blood leaked from his fingertips and his face was screwed up in pain. It made him look even older. If someone was still alive and Maria asked them if they believed she was older, she knew they wouldn't.

Being brought in and out of stasis slowed down aging. Who knew?

"...please..." he said, staring at her as she drew close, her black coat fluttering and her boots leaving sticky red footprints. A curtain of silence had enveloped them. "This...this isn't...you..." He reached out, a hopeful smile scrunching up his face. "Please. Maria, this isn't you. You're kind. You-"

She raised the gun to his forehead.

"Kind? No. I was angry," she said.

There had been anger burning in her ever since her diagnosis. She had to keep it down on the ARK, though, keep it quiet and plaster on a smile. They were trying to help her. They didn't deserve her anger, even when she heard them doubt how sick she was. They couldn't see how much it hurt, how much it took some days to even think, to even try to be the beacon of hope and love that her grandfather wanted.

"There was one reason I was kind."

He, out of everyone, didn't deserve it. He was made for her, to heal her, and now that she was a bit older and wiser she realized how fucked up that really was. She had been his everything. He was her everything back then and even more now.

Shadow wouldn't want this. This act would make him terrified of her when she met with the others, she knew that deep down in her gut, and would prove to Sonic and Amy and the rest that she was just another chip off the Robotnik block.

Her finger curled around the trigger.

"And you took him away from me."

[versegallery]

Seus icons são lindos dms!! Faz alguns do anime "Magi" pfvv?💗

Tem dois animes, Magi: Adventure of Sinbad & Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic

(dica de personagens: sinbad, jafar, alibaba saluja, aladdin, ren hakuryuu, morgiana, judal, sharrkan)

oww obrigada você é um amor, faço sim

☆ ⌇ magi icons

⌗ like ou reblogue se usar | créditos não são obrigatórios | psd por @colour-source

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Maggie: I put the pun in punishment.

Abraham: I put the top in unstoppable.

Glenn: I put the cute in execute.

Rosita: I put the ass in class.

Y/N: Daryl put the D in me.

Daryl, swiftly walking away: I put the go in gone.