#john murphy fanfic

[faeome]

Lustful Promises

Pairing: John Murphy x reader Summary: When you publicly humiliate John Murphy, he plans to make you pay. However, things take different turn, when unresolved feelings awake. Warnings: 18+ only! Dom!Murphy, kissing, bit of degradation, pet names, knife play, biting, fingering, loss of virginity, P in V, creampie…

Word count: 1.9k

_____________________________________

It was a known fact that you and Murphy hated each other more than anything. It was like a tradition for you two to fight every day. Today was no exception. You were minding your business when Murphy felt the need to ruin your peaceful solitude. He started taunting you for no reason, and he even went as far as bringing your best friend Bellamy into the argument.

“Don’t you feel pathetic when you see him fucking Roma after he is done with you?”

That was uncalled for. You and Bellamy were strictly platonic. He was your best friend’s brother, nothing more. That is why you landed a punch on his face without thinking twice. He fell on his ass from the unexpected motion, making the newly gathered crowd laugh. Bellamy quickly de-escalated the situation, but not before Murphy spat a ridiculous amount of threats at you. ‘Insane individual’ you thought to yourself.

In the evening, you took a walk in the forest, completely forgetting the incident that had happened earlier, as fighting with Murphy was already a casualty for you.

You were about to turn back for Octavia when someone covered your mouth. A strong arm enveloped your waist, and you were unable to move or scream. You tried to kick the attacker, but to no avail. He was stronger than you.

“Stop fucking kicking me!" he shouted. Oh. You could recognize that voice anywhere. Of course, it was Murphy. Your destined enemy. He had followed you into the woods.

He pulled away his hand from your mouth, quickly pressing the cold knife on your throat before you could scream.

“Don’t even think about screaming,” he said coldly. You shuddered. Who knew how far this crazy son of a bitch would go to prove his point?! “Got it?” When all he got for an answer was your nod, he smirked. “Good girl.”

He manhandled you, pressing your backside against a nearby tree, the knife still to your throat. You were looking at him with so much hatred that you would not be surprised if he dropped dead.

“Not so brave now, are you?”

His voice was making you violent. You kicked him in the groin as hard as possible. The unexpected kick made him loosen his grip on the knife, but he quickly gained composure.

“Wrong move,” he said lowly, sending shivers down your spine. He quickly turned you around and painfully pressed your front against the rough surface of the tree. You were sandwiched between his hard chest and the tree. "Oww, that hurts," you groaned, but that only fueled him further as he pressed his hips against you even more. “Good. I want it to hurt.”

You were helpless. You could not overpower him, no matter how hard you tried. “When Bellamy hears about this, he’s gonna make you pay.” You tried to intimidate him. It was a pathetic attempt at regaining control, but what else could you do?!

Suddenly, you felt the cold tip of the knife pressing against your cheek. He teased you, moving it across your cheekbone and towards your lips. “IF Bellamy hears about this doll.” You moved your hips, trying to free yourself, but you stopped as soon as you felt his hardened penis pressing against you.

“Murphy I-“

He shushed you. Inching his face even closer to yours and biting your neck. You tried to compose yourself, but you could not stiffen a moan when he sucked particularly hard on your pulse point. “Just like that. Ohh, baby, you are so responsive.”

"Murphy, we really shouldn’t be doing this.” You tried to reason.

“Oh, but we are.” He responded, leaving no room for an argument. He continued kissing and biting your neck, no doubt leaving marks behind. He trailed kisses down your shoulder as he opened the zipper of your leather top, leaving you in just a bra. He unclasped it easily, roughly kissing your neck.

“Turn around,” he ordered. You hesitantly did so, your cheeks reddening.

“Shit,” he whistled lowly as he took in the sight of you. You instinctively tried to cover yourself from his gaze, but he caught your hands. “Don’t go shy on me now, baby. You were talking big just a minute ago.” He said with a sinister look in his eyes. He quickly took your nipple between his teeth, sucking on it.

“Fuckkk.” You moaned, feeling overly sensitive, as his hands and teeth twisted and bit your nipples. “Fuckk fuck fuck, John,” you were a whimpering mess. He hummed against your chest, planting a final kiss as he looked up at you. His blue eyes were darker than ever, filled with lust.

“Shit baby, you are a mess, and I haven’t even started with you yet.” He chuckled when he heard no response from you. “No sneaky responses? What did you do to the girl I knew and loved?”

“Loved?” You questioned without thinking.

“Just a saying. Don’t let that get to your head, babe.”

You scoffed, offended by his words, for whatever reason. Did you actually expect him to be gentle with you? This was John Murphy, your sworn enemy, and you were about to fuck him. Shit.

“Shit,“ but before you could finish your sentence, Murphy kissed you again. He was rougher this time, more passionate. You parted your lips, and he quickly slipped his tongue into your mouth. You broke the kiss, trying to catch your breath.

“Don’t think, baby. I know you want me, so stop fighting it. Just trust me." He placed his large palm on your lower belly, trailing his fingers further down.

“I’ve never had sex before.” You blurted out.

He stilled and looked you in the eyes.

“What?”

Damn. That was a reaction. You tried to avert your gaze, suddenly feeling too bare.

“Well, shit. That explains the attitude. Maybe you just need someone to dick you down so you can finally stop being a fucking bitch.” He spat.

“Fuck you, Murphy, you fucking asshole.”

He chuckled darkly.

"Oh, you will, baby; don’t be so eager.”

He opened the button on your shorts and helped you get out of them. You were just in your panties now, feeling the light breeze on your bare body. He pressed his palm on your pussy, stroking your clit with his thumb through the fabric of your lace panties. “John,” you moaned.

“Yeah, baby? Want me to stop?” He teased you, looking at you with innocent eyes.

“No.” You almost screamed, making him smirk. That egoistic asshole. Suddenly, he pulled your panties down, letting them pool at your ankles. His one hand was holding your waist, and his other was massaging your pussy lips.

You grabbed his shoulders roughly to help balance your already wobbly legs.

"God, baby, you are so wet. If you wanted to be fucked this badly, all you had to do was ask.” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath making goosebumps awake on your skin. His middle finger slowly pushed inside you, making you gasp. He bit down on the meeting point of your neck and shoulder as his finger slowly filled your cunt.

“Oh my god, John.” You moaned. He quickly pushed his ring finger inside you, the sudden sensation making you jolt. He held down your hips with his other hand so that you could not move.

"Fuckk, I feel so full,” you continued blubbering without a coherent thought in your mind.

“Yeah?” He questioned, as he scissored you. “Think you can take another?”

You moaned at his words. “Don’t know,” you answered truthfully.

"Sure, you can. You wanna be a good girl for me, don’t you?”

You nodded eagerly, unsure where the urge to please him was coming from. He added his index finger, stretching you out further. You felt so unbelievably stretched that you weren’t sure if you would be able to take his dick. He fastened the pace, fingering you hard. You screamed when he curved his fingers, hitting your sweet spot. His thumb was circling your clit.

“I think I’m close,” you told him.

“Good,” he whispered against your ear, biting your already bruised neck. “Go on, cum on my fingers. I wanna feel your walls pulse.” His words, along with his brutal pace, put you on the edge. You came hard, not being able to control your moans. When you came down from your high, you could see John staring at you.

“You are so sexy.” He said with a smirk.

He started unbuttoning his pants, and you were about to get on your knees when he stopped you.

“Shit princess, I’d love to see you choke on my cock, but I promised to fuck that attitude out of you.”

You shivered at his words. He finally freed his cock, letting it spring free. It hit his navel. He was bigger than you imagined. You opened your mouth in surprise, almost drooling at the sight.

“Like what you see?”

You looked at him with lustful eyes. “Just fuck me already.”

"Mmm, alright,” he sensually kissed your lips as he entered you. You bit his lip hard as the stretch from his dick hurt you.

"Fuuckkk, you are so big.” He moaned at your words. You screamed as he bottomed out. He pulled out quickly, leaving just the tip, only to push inside again with brutal strength.

“Oh my god, I can't,“ but he shushed you. He was kissing you everywhere, and his hands were gripping your waist so hard that you were sure it would bruise. You felt so overwhelmed. He was everywhere. His dick was so deep inside you that you were worried about your internal organs. His scent was intoxicating, making your brain fuzzy.

“Come on, baby, cum on my dick,” he moaned into your ear. He put his forehead against yours, looking deep into your eyes. He fastened his pace, and you could feel his cock twitch inside you. You fell apart on his dick; the intensity of the second orgasm made tears fall from your eyes. He came after you, not bothering to pull out. You were shaking, barely able to stand. He put his head on your chest, breathing heavily.

“So I was your first?”

You nodded slightly.

“You liked it?” He questioned, and you hummed, too spent out to form a sentence. “Fucked you so hard you forgot to speak or what?”

You punched his shoulder lightly, not appreciating the joke. He kissed both your cheeks softly and gently pulled out. You could feel his cum leaking out of your hole, but you did not care.

“I liked it,” you said quietly.

“What? Could you say that louder?” He said, teasingly looking down at you as he stood tall, fully dressed. He helped you clean up with surprising softness.

“You cannot tell anyone about this, Murphy.” You voiced your concern.

“And why would I do that, baby?” He inched closer, fixing your messy hair.

“Promise me.” You whispered.

“I promise.” He answered you truthfully, zipping your leather top. “Sorry for what I said earlier about Bellamy.”

“I’m sorry that I kicked your ass.”

He laughed, shaking his head at your words.

Maybe he was not so bad after all.

[itsonlybaby]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 - 𝐣. 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐲﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

playlist !

John Murphy - Polis

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ When Titus died you set out in search of a new fleimkepa, only finding Murphy; a misunderstood roach. ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: porn w plot, smut, angst, cheating, nsfw

The day Titus died was a great tragedy for us all, questions had been shouted every time I passed through Polis, and Azgeda tried taking over my place. The people were scared of what the future may hold.

"Heda, what shall we do?" One of the ambassadors asked me, bowing down.

I thought for a second, "Search village to village for a fleimkepa, do not return to me till you've found one." I demanded, turning my head to the guards standing before the door. They nodded before taking their leave. Whispers were heard throughout the crowd.

"This meeting is done," I spoke loudly, tired of their questions.

Watching as they exited the castle my mind went back to Titus, he was a great flame keeper. He always knew what to do, having served 6 commanders before me. His death was unexpected, having passed in the dead of night, with no wounds. A peaceful death, something he deserved.

The only thing I could do was hope the next flame keeper was a good soul.

The sound of bells ringing and long distant chatter had awoken me, the sun beams hitting my face from the open curtains. A sight I had come to love while living in the tower.

Prying the blankets off my bed I shivered at the cold air, the fire at the end of my room doing nothing.

Placing my feet on the cold ground I rushed to the neatly placed pile of clothes sitting at the end of my bed, my shoulder gear and faded red sash included- it was important I'd wear the shoulder piece. It separated me from everyone else. I had been the second commander to rule over all 13 clans, Lexa being the first. She had united them into one coalition before her passing. Her spirit chose me wisely in the conclave.

Placing the small gear on my forehead I opened the doors to be met with guards.

"Heda, we've been waiting for you. We found a new fleimkepa,"

I had followed them down to the temple below the tower, a place Titus thought was sacred- only allowing specific people down there.

Walking down the steps I had grown nervous to meet this new flame keeper.

I stepped into the room, the only light coming from the torches lit around the room illuminating the drawings on the walls.

A pod stood on the back wall- which my new flame keeper was examining. He only turned around to face me when one of my guards coughed to get his attention.

Looking him up and down I took in his every feature, his middle part that's ever so slightly matted with blood and dirt, the stubble around his mouth, and his tall lean body covered by a dirty long robe. it all complimented him so well.

He looked quite handsome- this was supposed to be my flame keeper?

He hadn't even bowed to me when I entered the room, he stared at me awkwardly- as if he didn't even know I was the commander, I felt quite offended at his actions.

"So, you're the new fleimkepa?" I spoke as if the thought was absurd, and it was. To think this ragged man was a flame keeper, someone who was supposed to lead the commander's spirits, and keep them safe. He looked like he'd do everything but.

"So, you're the commander?" He returned my tone, offended by it.

How dare he speak to his superior like that?

"What is your name, fleimkepa,"

He looked at me completely unserious, "John Murphy, people call me Murphy, cockroach, you name it."

He spoke to me like he was having a conversation with any normal person like I couldn't end his life at any moment, like I don't have people willing to die for me just to take his.

I wondered why they called him a cockroach.

"Well then, John, where are you from?" I saw him stiffen at my question.

"Skaikru,"

Before he finished his sentence I drew my sword, causing my guards to do the same.

"Wait, wait, wait,"

I began walking closer to him making him back up and trip on the carpet.

I knew he couldn't be a true flame keeper, Skaikru was the 13th clan but it didn't mean I had to like them, I knew how they were, knew of their lies, knew their ways. They may have been a part of the coalition but they'd never know our ways.

"I knew Titus!" He yelled, making me stop in my tracks.

"Don't you say his name, Skaikru!" My sword lept to his throat, keeping it still there. The cold metal nearly cut into his skin, causing a shiver to run down his entire body.

"It's true! He taught me some stuff, that's how they found me okay! I have his journal in my bag!" Murphy's breath became erratic, suddenly realizing what was at stake.

I looked back towards my guards, "Is it true?"

"Yes, heda, he was lying on the road, trying to rob us when we found the journal in his bag,"

I looked back towards Murphy, who looked scared for his life. After a few seconds, I huffed and sheathed my sword. Murphy released a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"Why were you trying to rob my people, John Murphy," I questioned, reaching my hand out to help him up.

"It's how I get by, alright?" He spoke, dusting himself off a bit before staring at me.

His answer brought worry to me, "Skaikru is low on resources? Do I need to send hunters to help?"

Murphy sighed softly, "They banished me for a bit," His face becoming one of solemn.

Before I could continue my guards spoke up making both me and Murphy look towards him, "Heda, the meeting to announce the new fleimkepa is starting soon, I don't want you to be late."

I nodded in his direction, "Let's go, John,"

The guards led the way to the top of the tower, and every person I passed nodded their head in my direction, something Murphy needed to take note of.

Whispers had quieted down when I strode along the carpet to my throne, Murphy following behind, taking his position next to me.

"This is your new fleimkepa," I spoke loudly for everyone to hear, questioning whispers rang throughout the room, looks of judgment and disapproval shaking of heads.

"If you have any disagreements about your new fleimkepa," I looked to Murphy, "They will be met with death," Looking back to the crowd the commotion died down.

"He's Skaikru!" I heard a person yell from the corner of the room.

"He could never be a fleimkepa!" Another joined

"Enough!" I yelled, standing up, "An attack against John Murphy, is an attack against the coalition!" My voice boomed off the walls, the room now becoming silent.

"Meeting is over,"

My guards had ushered everyone out, well, everyone but Clarke kom Skaikru.

"Can we speak," She glanced towards Murphy and back to me, "Alone?"

Looking at Murphy I nodded him off, "I'll send for you,"

"Sure thing," He rolled his eyes and made his way out the door.

"Why is Murphy the flame keeper?" Clarke asked, and I wasn't sure why she was questioning my motives. I had vowed to keep Skaikru part of the coalition after Lexa's death, and now she's questioning my motives? My motives?

"Are you saying you disagree with my choices, Clarke?" I question.

"Not at all, it's just I've spent years with Murphy, I know how he is," She paused, "He might not be who he says he is,"

I stared at her for a few moments, "Then who exactly is he?"

"A liar, a thief, and selfish,"

Her words were hypocritical, that's what everyone said about all of Skaikru.

"Thank you for the warning but I don't need it, he is the fleimkepa. If Titus trusted him, I trust him too. You may go now."

She scoffed and turned away, my guards leading her out.

I stood and headed to Murphy's room, it was one over to mine.

I didn't bother knocking, what could my flame keeper have to hide from me? But I soon regretted that decision, I saw a girl bearing the marks of a nomad.

She wore a dusty clothing piece atop her head, and many layers dressing her small body. I noticed she had a large glove covering one hand.

Murphy instinctively stood in front of her, shielding the view I had of her. Almost like he was scared I'd hurt her.

"Visitor?" I ask, looking up at his flushed face.

"My girlfriend." He replied, his girlfriend soon stepping forward.

"I'm Emori," She gave me a small smile, she was cute.

I felt my body stiffen at the use of girlfriend, though I couldn't stop their relationship, I could hate it. I wasn't sure why I had hated it, why I was so torn when she introduced herself, he had deserved someone like her, carefree from responsibilities. I was happy for Murphy.

"y/n." I returned her warm smile.

Murphy smiled as well, something that had looked good on him.

"First time I heard your name, and here I thought I was special." He teased playfully, keeping eye contact even when Emori looked back towards him.

"Well, John, you never asked." I returned his tone, for once being playful, "I'll leave you to it, and do remember I am next door."

I took one last glance at them both before exiting and heading to my room, but before entering I heard Emori speak up, her voice echoing through the hall.

"She calls you John, too?"

I couldn't stop my smile from forming at the thought of making Emori jealous over something so personal. Though sadness swept in, thinking of what they might do alone in the room.

"I want a guard in John's room tonight." I told one of the guards outside my room, one of them springing into action and entering Murphy's room. I heard complaints from the couple, Emori blaming me for this.

The night came and went and the familiar golden trails landed on my face again, the sound of birds outside as my own personal alarm clock.

I stood up with a stretch and a yawn, going for the clothes placed on the table by one of my guards.

I did my usual routine and exited my room, my guards greeting me with smiles which I returned- having a good feeling about this day.

I didn't bother knocking on Murphy's door once again, this time seeing Emori had left.

Murphy's body was sprawled out on the bed, still in a deep slumber. It must've been the best sleep he'd gotten in a week.

I smiled at the sight, his eyelashes were illuminated by the sunbeams hitting his face, making him look so at peace. I only now noticed the rest of his body. He was shirtless, and his muscles were defined despite his lean body. I snapped out of my daze when his body shuffled, moving his face away from the bright beams pouring into the room.

"John." I spoke, walking closer to his resting body.

"Hmm." His voice was muffled into the pillow.

"It's time to wake up."

He lifted his head up a bit, still into the pillow, "Why?"

"We need to make appearances," I giggled at his need to stay in bed, "People need to think you're a pleasing person today."

I walked to the edge of his bed and took a seat, eyes still on his back.

Murphy rolled over, looking at me still lying down, his hair now more disheveled, "You don't think I'm a natural charmer?" He gave me a smile after I snickered at his question.

"I think you're quite the charmer, but the people need to see that too."

I stood up and walked to his pile of now clean clothes, picking them up and tossing them on the bed.

"You have five minutes."

Murphy only sighed, getting out of bed once I left.

I was watching over Polis from the balcony in my room when I heard the door open, looking behind I saw Murphy, his hair now a neat and clean swept-back middle part.

"You're ten minutes late, John." I say, averting my gaze back down.

He came to my side, resting his elbows on the balcony walls while overlooking the view, "Your guards made me wash my hair," He snickered, "Said head can't be seen with a man like me."

I laughed at this, though it was true, he desperately needed to wash his hair.

Moments of silence passed before he spoke up again, "Must be nice being in control of everyone."

My smile faded at this, it wasn't like what everyone made it out to be. It was tough, watching over 13 clans, the responsibility of them all fell on my shoulders alone.

"It gets lonely." I muttered, turning to look at him only to find he was staring first.

Our eyes made contact, he had never looked more perfect in this moment, the yellow haze lighting up one side of his face, making the blue in his dark eyes lighten, his brown hair hanging just above his ears, strands falling on his forehead.

I hadn't even noticed I was leaning in till he pulled back awkwardly, "Emori." He spoke softly, reminding me he still had a girlfriend.

I shook my head as my face flushed a deep red, my body now full of embarrassment.

"Right, right, appearances, elevator," I muttered.

Turning towards the doors I headed to the elevator shaft; Murphy following after muttering a series of curse words.

Making it to the bottom of the tower my mind was still flooded of previous events, the way he slept, the way he looked on my balcony, the way he rejected me. I hadn't ever been rejected before, I hadn't ever felt romantically towards someone. If this is what it's like, I don't ever wanna experience it again. Is that what this was? Was I feeling romantic feelings towards John Murphy?

"So, what are we doing again?" He broke the awkward tension.

"We are here to show people you aren't as bad as they think, you're from Skaikru." I didn't need to elaborate fuller, Murphy already catching the drift of what people thought about Skaikru.

Walking through the shops of Polis we got many stares from people, the smells of cooked meat filled my nose, my stomach growled and Murphy took notice. He looked around before grabbing my hand and leading me through the streets to a deer meat vendor. The feeling of his rough hands in mine sent a shock to my body. The guards struggled to keep up.

"Heda! Beja!" The vendor spoke, handing me a piece of meat, and asking me to try.

I gratefully took the piece and ate it, my eyes sparkled when the flavors hit my tongue, looking at Murphy excitedly. The vendor had a huge grin on her face.

"Mochof!" I thanked her, glancing back at the vendor and back to Murphy.

"You have to try this." I exclaimed as the vendor handed another piece to Murphy.

Murphy placed the piece in his mouth after repeating my phrase, and his face instantly lit up. I giggled at his expression. We thanked the vendor once again before walking off.

We had passed by many shops before one caught my eye, they had an assortment of necklaces made of thread with silver pendants.

I was going to grab his hand to lead him there but I realized he never let go since the first time he grabbed it. My heart could've pumped out of my chest.

I began leading him toward the necklace vendor, my eyes practically glowing while examining the finds.

"Heda," The vendor spoke, his voice rough. He bowed to me before standing up a second later, looking towards Murphy he just nodded.

Looking through all the hanging jewelry my eyes landed on two specific ones, a sun and a moon, both in a matching set. Murphy's eyes must've seen it too as he felt the object. He took it off the rack and examined it further.

"For you and your girlfriend?" I asked. If someone listed close enough they could hear annoyance.

Once I said the word girlfriend I felt Murphy's hand slowly fall back to his side, my palm now feeling cold, missing the touch of his; a shield from the cold.

Murphy didn't answer my question, instead, he dug through his pocket and handed the vendor a silver pendant of a heart. We didn't use currency, instead we ran the shops through trade.

Once the vendor nodded Murphy tucked the necklaces into his pocket.

The awkward tension had crept onto us once again like the summer heat melting away snow.

"I'm going back to the tower, I'll leave a guard here with you." I spoke, needing time away from him, needing to catch up with my thoughts and get rid of this sickening feeling deep in my stomach.

Before he could reply I was already heading up towards the tower, tears threatening to pour down my cheeks. My people couldn't see me crying, my people couldn't know I was weak, weak for a boy.

My mind had gone back to a saying Lexa would tell me when she met Clarke, 'love isn't weakness', love may not be weak but crying sure was.

The moment I stepped into my room and shut the doors the tears came out on their own.

I didn't attempt to stop them, knowing any try would be futile. Instead, I let them drop, I let them hit the floor, it was as if they held enough emotion to crumble the entire tower. I shrugged off my shoulder gear and it hit the fur carpet with a soft thud. I walked over to the balcony- my favorite place in this tower- and watched over Polis once again; getting deja vu from previous events.

My forearms were resting on the balcony wall. I opened my palm and stared at it, the feeling of his against mine still evident; like it was just a second ago mine was intertwined with his- all the creases, lines, and spaces were engraved into my memory.

Clenching my fist I heard the door open, I was thankful the tears were long gone.

I didn't have to check to know if It was Murphy, the way his shoes hit the ground had a familiar ring to it.

"Deja vu," He spoke, I could hear a smile in his voice.

"You said it was lonely," He said, much softer this time, "How can it be when you get everything you want?"

His question was genuine. He wasn't trying to insult me or make me the butt of the joke. I could feel his eyes watching my every move before I looked into his deep blue eyes, eyes you could get lost in and never come out.

"Not everything," My eyes trailed down to his lips, they were wet but chapped; he probably licked them before entering.

We were now inches apart, I could feel the heat radiating off his body, the only thing keeping us apart was morals.

It took such little effort on his part; just the dizzy, relieved decision to give in, just an infinitesimal push toward me as his morals seemed to fade. I placed my arms around his neck, keeping him as close as possible while my eyes fluttered close. Everything at this moment just felt right, the way my arms felt around him, the way he kissed me with such passion and devotion.

I felt his hands snake down to my waist, leading me to the bed while not breaking apart, laying down below me his hands fell up and down my body. Exploring every nook and cranny; like untouched land. Tattooing the way his hands felt on my skin, goosebumps appeared on my arms, his hands were warm- he was always warm, it was a cooling contrast to my cold exterior.

Before I knew it he withdrew completely- the warm feeling of his palms roaming my body stopped, his lips devouring mine faded and it left me lost.

"Did I do something?" I said between breaths, looking down at him cluelessly.

"I can't do this, not to her." I had felt anger bubbling inside me, I quickly stood up off him as he sat up.

"Your mood swings are giving me whiplash, John," My voice sounded like I was going to break at any given moment, "Get out."

He didn't try to defend himself, or argue with me, he accepted my wishes and left. Left while the familiar tears found their way out again. I undressed and lay in bed, the comfort of the pillows taking me in; my fur blanket acting as an anchor while I drifted off to sleep as the stars illuminated the room.

Days had passed since then, and Murphy had been avoiding me.

The only times I'd see him were during meetings and occasionally passing by him in the hall.

The only time I'd hear him was late in the night, their headboard banging against the wall- a constant reminder of the rejection I had faced.

A reminder of the night when his lips were on mine, his hands exploring my soft skin.

I spent the nights wishing it was me below Murphy, I knew I shouldn't, but how could I not? I knew she had been moaning louder on purpose every night, taunting me, telling me it was her who got to be with him.

Sometimes I'd feel shivers in the places he touched me, ghosts of his fingers, places I craved for him, places only he could touch.

I jumped slightly when I heard yelling beyond the wall, I tried to listen in but the wall was too thick.

I knew I shouldn't but I grabbed a robe and placed it around my uncovered body, opening the doors and gushing the guards before getting close to the door.

The yelling became much clearer now, but too bad I missed out on half the conversation.

Emori burst through the doors, staring at me with eyes full of anger, she glanced between me and the guards before leaving with heavy footsteps.

I entered Murphy's room, he was sitting on his bed with his elbows on his knees, hands resting on his head, and the sight of him upset made me angry.

I grabbed his attention when I shut the doors behind me.

"Never did know how to knock, huh?" He asked, still very annoyed.

I giggled at this, taking a seat next to him, my robe glided up my thighs which he noticed.

"What happened?" I asked, placing a hand on his comfortingly. He stared down at our hands, processing what had just happened.

Murphy sighed, rubbing his thumb along your fingers, feeling your cold skin. "She found the necklaces, and wanted to wear one, I wouldn't let her."

I was shocked at the new information, "Werent they for you and her?"

His eyes turned to look into mine, "They were for us."

My mind went blank, "I don't understand, John."

"That heart pendant I traded? She gave it to me." He paused, finding the words, "Ever since I've met you, things have felt real. I'm not surviving with you, I'm living."

I smiled at his words, heat rising to my cheeks.

It took me one second to realize we were leaning in.

It took me two seconds to realize we were kissing.

It took me three seconds to realize his hand was snaking up my thigh.

The feeling of his hand warmed my body- a feeling I've come to love, to crave. His hand made its way to my chest, pushing me down on my back while he stood in between my legs.

Murphy separated from the kiss to take his shirt off, revealing his toned, lean body. I took this time to undo the robe and slip out of my bra.

Murphy just watched in 'awe' at my body, his hands instantly feeling the new unexplored areas. His palms instantly groped my breasts, earning a sweet, sensual moan from me.

"So beautiful." He whispered under his breath. My face couldn't possibly get any redder, but I was growing more needy by the second.

As if knowing what I needed most, one of his hands trailed down to where I needed him most. He slipped my now-soaked panties to the side, revealing my wet pussy. Murphy bit his lip at the full view of me.

"Why didn't I do this sooner," He teased, lightly rubbing up and down my pussy, lubing his fingers up before pushing one in.

The feeling was sudden, making my body tense at the newfound warmth. I stared into his eyes as he pumped his finger in and out, lewd sounds slowly filling the room along with my moans.

His thumb circled my clit while he entered another finger, only enhancing the pleasure, causing me to throw my head back and buck into his hand, starting to need more than just his fingers.

"So needy," He snickered, curling his soaked fingers, and using his other hand to keep my thighs open.

"Shut up," I said between moans. My hands found their way to my breasts, kneading them myself. The lewd scene made Murphy's bulge even bigger, he bit his lip to hold back a moan caused by the friction of his jeans.

A feeling I knew all too well slithered its way down my body, and Murphy's pace on my clit quickened.

"John," I moaned out, feeling the climax come closer and closer until everything stopped.

Murphy pulled his fingers out with a sly smirk, bringing his fingers to his mouth and cleaning them off.

"You jerk!" I yelled out, practically whining at the loss of contact.

"You're not gonna cum until I do," He said, sliding off his jeans and boxers to reveal his protruding cock.

I stared at his dick, craving it more than anything already, not caring how he will fit it in.

He brought his tip to my clit, rubbing it in circles and groaning at the contact. Murphy couldn't wait any longer, without warning he trusted me, leaning down to kiss and suck on my neck.

I let out a lust-filled moan, "John!" I shrieked in surprise at the sudden filling. My hands roamed over his back, nails digging in with every thrust of his cock.

The feeling was overbearing, the way his tip hit all the right places so roughly.

"Needed you so bad," I moan out into his ear, only causing him to pull out slowly and slam back in roughly.

Murphy was marking my neck, wanting to let everyone know I was his, only he could touch me, only he could make me feel this good.

The same feeling was coming back with every thrust that hit my sweet spot, "I'm so close," My hands held the back of his neck while my thighs tightened around his hips, bringing him closer to me.

"Not yet, baby, wait for me, you can do it," He praised between kisses.

He couldn't have been far off his own climax, as his thrusts got sloppy and erratic, dick twitching in me, begging to release his cum.

Murphy leaned back, grabbing my thighs and spreading them wider, having my control of his thrusts. They became deeper and faster. I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold on for.

My moans became louder, I was sure the guards were worried but I was too focused on how good Murphy's cock felt to care.

Murphy's jaw tightened before speaking, "Cum on my cock, baby,"

He didn't even need to finish his sentence and I was already cumming, arching my back in pleasure and letting the moans slip out freely. My legs shook in his grasp and my pussy clenched as I painted his dick white, the sight alone had him cumming in me, unable to control himself for much longer.

He kept thrusting, fucking me through both our highs. Our bodies were now sweaty and humid. Pulling out of me he watched the cum drip onto the floor, fighting the urge to go another round he picked up one of Emoris shirts to clean me up. He tossed the now dirty shirt aside and just stared at my exhausted body with a smile.

He looked to the dresser and picked up one of the necklaces, it was the sun. He motioned for me to sit up and I did. Moving my hair out of the way he tied the necklace neatly around my neck, admiring me afterward before placing his own on with a goofy smile.

I smiled at him, the exhaustion becoming too much I crawled under the bed, making enough room for him to crawl under with me which he gladly did, taking hold of my body and causing me to grow warm.

"I love you," He whispered sweetly, rubbing my shoulder with his thumb.

"I love you too,"

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[twirlywhirlywriting]

What Would I Do Without You?

I finally did it!!! This was definitely a challenge for me as a writer. I am mostly used to female submissives so this was a huge change! I hope you all like it, I worked really hard on it! Here you go, my loves, submissive John Murphy!

Title: What Would I Do Without You?

TAGS/WARNINGS: 18+ Minors DNI, Smut, Sub!Murphy x Dom!/Reader, Reader’s POV, Fem Reader, Use of Y/N, Cussing, Soft Dom, Mistress Kink, Obedience, Reassurance, Strip Tease, Kissing, Praise, Fingering, Oral (f receiving), P in V (unprotected), Orgasms, Soft Edging (literally one time), Handjob, Slight Mess, Aftercare, Mentions of Love

The first thing that I need to point out before telling you anything, is that John Murphy is mine. He is the love of my life, he is my best friend, he is my baby. He’s my submissive, my fuck toy, my good boy, just mine. I know that when you look at us, we seem like any other “power couple” who are really just giant assholes who don’t care about anyone else but each other. But really, he’s just trying to give the people what they want, and well, I can’t help myself from being protective of him and his feelings. 

The only reason he is being so forceful in making everyone take off those stupid wristbands is because no one wants the fuckers who put us down here to follow us. We don’t deserve to be prisoners. We are lucky none of us are 18, otherwise we’d all be dead anyways. But they put us on this dropship without our permission. They are the ones who didn’t know if they were killing us or not. And now we have the entire Earth to ourselves. The last thing that any of us want is for those stupid assholes to follow us down and take control again, or worse, call us criminals again. We deserve this whole goddamn Earth to ourselves, we were the ones who were going to die for it if it turned out to be uninhabitable anyway. 

Most people understand this and are happy to take off the damn wristband-tracker-whatever the fuck they are. If everyone on the Ark thinks we died, they won’t follow us and we will finally be free. But Clarke and her stupid boy toy followers are making things way harder than they need to be. They’re being dicks to John, my John. I can’t stand it. 

“Stop it, Murphy! Everyone, you have to stop taking those off, the Ark has to know we’re alive!” Clarke screams at John over the fire. Maybe he is being a little bit intense, not letting anyone get dinner until they allow him to remove the wristband. But it’s for their own good! How can that bitch not see that? 

“No one wants the Ark to know we’re alive, Clarke. We want to be free. We deserve to be free.” He retorts, then turns to everyone, “Do you want to be the Ark's prisoners again? For doing nothing? For saving their asses and getting nothing in return?” He yells, and everyone around boos at Clarke; she and Wells look like they’re about to pop their top. 

She grabs a piece of meat anyways and starts eating, then glares at him. “No rules, right? Screw you, Murphy.” His eyes look like he’s ready to kill her, but I know that look. When he looks murderous, he’s really just sad, or scared, or something. Maybe angry too, maybe a bit murderous, but mostly sad. And that makes me fume. 

I hand my food to John and stand up. Yanking the food back from Clarke, I step right up to her and get in her face. “You know you can’t do that shit. Chaos is good, but you’re just being fucking stupid. He’s helping people, whether you realize it or not. You, Wells, and Finn can all just go on your merry fucking way and find your own food. We’ll get your wristbands later.” She looks like she’s about to throw a punch, but Finn stops her and pulls her away. I’m still fuming, who does she think she is? Finn is right, she is a fucking princess. Wells and Clarke think they get to decide all the rules just because his Daddy and her Mommy are in charge up there. Well, they’re fucking wrong. 

As I sit back down, John gives me back my food. We are both still so pissed off at the whole situation, and not just because of right now. Clarke and those stupid boys are always getting in John’s way. They truly think they can lead us! While I sit here thinking about how fucked up it is, John grabs my hand and brings it up to his lips, planting the softest kiss. I know he’s trying to calm me down, even though he’s just as mad as I am. He’s so fucking sweet. He could be ready to kill someone and when he looks at me or touches me, it is always so soft and loving. He treats me like a queen no matter how he feels. 

I smile at him and when I catch his eyes, I can tell he needs a break. He is trying so hard to keep his cool in front of everyone, but I can tell the frustration of the day and that encounter is getting to him. I quickly shove the last bite of food into my mouth and lead him to our tent with his hand in mine. I’m going to take all of his thoughts and make them melt away, I know just what to do.

The second we get inside, he asks, “Am I doing something wrong?” and I shake my head and smile at him, staring into his gorgeous blue eyes. You may think he likes to take charge with the way he acts around other people, but you’d have it all wrong. He needs the release of not having to make choices. To listen to someone else for a change, have someone else be responsible for him when no one is watching.

“No baby boy, nothing wrong at all. You’re perfect.” I kiss him on the lips, then kiss both of his cheeks, and when I look into his eyes again, I can’t take it. He’s just so hot, standing there and waiting to react to my every move. I kiss him again, harder this time, moving my hands up under his shirt a little to glide my hands along his stomach and chest. He grabs me by my waist and kisses me back deeply, stifling a small moan. I know he wants me. I grin and look up to him, putting my hand on his cheek softly. “What does my good boy want, hm?” 

He bites his lip and looks into my eyes, knowing just the right words to say. “I want to make you feel good, Mistress. I just want to feel you all over me. I want to feel you on my hands, my lips, my tongue, I want to please you with every part of me.” It’s hard for me to keep my composure when he says such yummy words.

“And you can have me. But not yet. Sit on the bed, for now you only get to watch.” He immediately obeys, sitting on the bed with his eyes glued to me. I slowly take off my shirt, much slower than normal, feeling his eyes look over every inch of my stomach, my ribs, my tits, my collarbone and neck, and finally my face again. With my pants, it’s the same thing. I turn around this time though, giving him a full view as I bend over and let him watch every part of my ass and legs become exposed. I peel my underwear off too, giving him just a quick peek of my pussy before standing up and turning around again. 

Instead of letting him touch me like he asked for, I smirk at him, trailing my hands up my stomach and start squeezing my tits, then trailing my fingertips around my nipples until they get hard. I love watching him practically drool, watching his pants get tight, his hands grabbing onto the sheets to stop himself from leaping up and grabbing me.  

I move a hand down my stomach, across my hips, parting my legs just enough to let my hand slip between them. I keep one hand squeezing my tit and sometimes pinching my nipple, letting the other hand glide along my slit, then I start to slowly rub my clit. I lean my head back and moan, wondering just how much this is killing him and enticing him to watch. After maybe a minute or so, I pull my hand back up, stare straight into his eyes, and lick the wetness off of my fingers. His face flushes, and I ask him, “What is it? Do you want a taste too?” 

He stumbles over his words as though he couldn’t get them out fast enough, “Yes, Mistress, please let me taste you.” It makes me feel so warm inside when he says these things. Of course, I’ll give him what he wants. I walk towards him, put a foot up onto the bed to give him a better view, and slide a single finger inside of myself. When I pull it out, it’s glistening. It’s fucking teasing me to do this too, but I love seeing how much he wants me. 

“Open.” I demand as I put my finger up to his lips, and he does so immediately. I slide my finger in his mouth, and he is happy to suck my finger clean. “Good boy, you are so patient. You get to touch me now.” I lay down onto the bed, “Whatever you want to do to start with, baby, you earned it.” 

He climbs on top of me, kissing my neck oh so gently, it almost tickles. He works his way down to my chest, and as he does so, his kisses become more erratic and have more pressure. He gets to my tits, and uses his tongue to circle my nipple, using a hand to follow suit on my other nipple. I close my eyes to fully enjoy the sensations, combing my fingers through his hair as he does this.

After a little bit of this, I feel my wetness and the tingle of desire a bit too intensely. “Okay, I need you on my pussy, right now.” The end of my sentence is almost a growl, I didn’t realize how fucking wet I was until it hit me like a brick wall and I couldn’t wait a single second longer. 

“Yes Mistress, of course.” He scoots back on the bed, wetting two of his fingers using my own juices, sliding one in and pumping a few times before adding the second. He starts kissing my clit, just warming me up as he continues to slowly pump his fingers in and out, just barely curling his fingers up at the last second of every thrust, only a whisper of a touch to my g-spot. Even with how soft he’s being, my breathing quickens. He’s not one to need too much direction on exactly how to please a woman. He doesn’t start off too fast, and he definitely knows where all the good spots are. Whether he’s naturally gifted, or if he’s practiced, I’ve never cared to ask. He’s all fucking mine and that’s the only thing that matters to me. 

“You’re doing so good, baby, you’re such a good boy for me, that’s just right.” I coo at him, making sure every second that he knows just how good he’s making me feel. 

His kisses on my clit slowly turn into kisses with tongue, and that turns into pressing his tongue into me with the tiniest of suction of his lips, letting go with a tiny pop every time. As his kisses change into this, his fingers start working faster, and the second he feels my g-spot swell, he starts fully curving them into that wonderful “come here” motion as he pumps them in and out of me. His tongue gets faster as well, consistent stimulation with suction every few seconds, it’s perfect. I grip the sheets with one hand and his hair in another, unable to control how loud or often I’m moaning. I can barely talk anymore, but I mumble out a “Good boy, just like that!” 

It only takes a couple of minutes before my orgasm comes to the brink, my legs shaking and the world around me practically spinning as I hit my peak. When it calms down, I grip his hair tighter and pull him up to me in a sloppy kiss, both of us breathing heavily. “Am I making you feel good, Mistress? That was good?” He asks me, and my heart melts. He is probably the only guy in the world to make a girl cum that hard and not be full of himself about it. He wants reassurance that he’s doing things just how I like them. Fuck, I love him. He is going to be mine forever, I swear to God. 

“Yes, you are doing so good, baby boy. I’m going to keep you mine forever. Understand?” I look into his eyes so that he knows that isn’t just pillow talk, that he really is mine. Forever. 

He nods with more enthusiasm than I’ve ever seen, and responds with the same seriousness in his voice that I had in mine. “Yes Mistress, I’m all yours, forever. You own me.” 

I give him one more kiss before switching our positions so that I’m on top of him now. “I need you to be inside me now.” I say as I slowly ease myself onto him, groaning as I feel the fullness inside of me. “It’s my turn to watch as you feel good, baby.” I say soothingly, before adding sternly, “now don’t you dare look away. I want to look into your eyes the whole time I’m making you feel good.”

He bites his lip and nods, almost immediately moaning as I start riding him, slowly at first, moving my hips up and down, then back and forth, then a mixture of them all, in a circle. I love watching the sweat slowly build in his hair, watching the muscles on his chest and abs clench as I make him feel so good. I place my hand on his chest to give me better leverage to go faster, faster, and stop right as I see he is starting to get closer to his orgasm. 

Disappointment flickers in his eyes, but only for a moment, he knows I’m never going to fully deny him. He’s too beautiful and perfect to truly be mean. I lean down to give him a kiss, before whispering into his ear. “Now, you’re going to make me cum again. I’m going to stay still, and you are going to fuck me like this, exactly how I tell you to.” 

“Yes Mistress, I want to make you cum on me. Please tell me what you want.” He begs and I groan quietly, he’s too fucking good. 

I straighten back up and tell him to start off slow, which he does. He keeps his hands on my waist to help him gain leverage, and I trail my fingers along his chest and tell him constantly how good he’s doing, how much he’s pleasing me. I tell him to go faster, then to slow down, then to go deeper and harder, then faster, then slow again. He follows along with my words perfectly. I like to work myself up to the edge, not too fast, I want to enjoy every moment of this. But when I notice he is getting a little tired, I tell him to speed up and fuck me as hard as he can. 

My nails dig into his chest as I cum, my head falling back as I moan and my legs squeeze against his sides, making it harder for him to continue fucking me but he pushes through. When I look back down at him I smile at his flushed face, “Stop, baby. You can stop. You are such a perfect fuck toy. Now it’s finally your turn.” 

I start riding him again, keeping up with the quick pace and making sure I’m going all the way down, pushing all of him inside me with every hip thrust. I love watching him pant and whimper as he gets close to the edge. “Mistress, please, I-I-I’m close!” he says with urgency, and I get off of him and immediately jerk him off, keeping the pace as I watch him cum all over himself, biting my lip as I watch.

“Look at what a mess you’ve made, baby.” I tease, making him blush a little bit but he knows I’m not mad. I just love watching him make a mess everywhere, especially on himself. I quickly grab a rag and clean him up, first wiping the sweat off his brow and then cleaning up his chest. 

I lay down next to him, propping myself up on my elbow. I kiss him all over his face, a million times practically, whispering in a soothing voice “You are such a good boy,” and “You did such a wonderful job,” and “It’s all over now baby, I love you so much.” and “I’ll be right here to care for you, always.” in between the kisses being peppered all over his face. He snuggles into me, and I am happy to hold him, regulating my own breathing in order to help him regulate his. 

I stroke his hair, humming softly in a soothing lullaby I forgot the words to a long time ago, every once in a while kissing the top of his head. After a while, he looks up at me and asks, “Did you really mean it, that I’m yours forever? Because.. I want to be. I always want to be yours, Y/N. Always.”

I smile back at him, my heart melting all over again. “Whatever would I do without you, John? I love you.” 

Please feel free to reblog!!!! Below is to keep anyone from stealing my work, but reblogs are literally the lifeblood of Tumblr and helping a post get more views, thank you 😘

Copyright Disclaimer

All content on this post, excluding the images and characters, is the property of the blog owner and is protected by United States and international copyright laws.

You may not copy, reproduce, distribute, modify, publish, or create derivative works from any material on this website without the express written permission of the website owner.

If you violate the terms of this copyright disclaimer, you may be liable for damages, including but not limited to reasonable attorneys' fees.

[inmyownlaine]

John Murphy x Reader: Enemies to Lovers Trope

Warnings: Weapons, threatening death

Word Count: 2075

Part: 1

Summary: After taking cover in the underground bunker, you find yourself trapped with your sworn enemy. As time trails on, you realize the two of you will have to stay there till the coast is clear. The worst part? There’s only ONE bed 😮🤯

──────────────────────────────────────────────────

He hated you. More than anything or anyone. In fact, if he were given the option to be pushed off a cliff or spend time with you, he would jump on his own accord and do a backflip on the way down.

And you couldn’t stand to be around him. You would rather spend your time eating soggy bread, walking in wet socks, or ripping band-aids off your bare skin. Anything was better, more preferable, than seeing his face.

If the two of you weren’t spitting insults at each other with vitriol and pure malice, you were physically harming one another. There was nothing amiable about the shoulder check he delivered on a daily basis. Likewise, your perfectly placed foot was not in jest. Especially when he would trip over it and go tumbling to the ground.

It got to the point where you couldn’t walk alone. He would grab you by the arm and slam you against walls, knife to throat, as he chuckled menacingly in your ear. “You know how easy it would be for me to kill you?” he would always ask.

And he couldn’t sit with his back to you, or else he’d find the barrel of a gun nudging his temple, and you with an itchy trigger finger. You’d deliver a smug little smile, pushing it further and further into his head. “And just like that, all my problems would suddenly go away,” you would always comment.

Yet, neither of you actually did anything. It was the sheer adrenaline, the barbaric action, the thrill of it all, that led you to behave so irresponsibly. The bruises and cuts and words would not stand in your way. No amount of concerned teenagers or useless pep talks would interfere. Nothing.

Being this wicked was a lonely road. You felt like a great white approaching a school of herrings. Wherever you went, there was an immediate scatter. Active avoidance upon sight was recommended. But you were the best shot, bar none. It was the only reason anyone allowed you to have a gun.

Or tag along on their excursions.

In front of them, of course. So everyone could clearly see exactly what you were doing. The wave of terror you caused was oddly devine. You didn’t live to torture others, or to be feared by the masses, but it was such a wonderful feeling to have some sense of power. So you sashayed with pride, lips puckered in a confident pout, leading them steadfast through the unknown forest.

The chatter behind didn’t phase you in the slightest. They were probably gossiping about their childish crushes or bantering with inside jokes. Neither of which concerned you or piqued interest.

That’s when the most grating, most vexatious voice muttered in a not-so-low tone, “Such an easy target.”

There was no hesitation. The gun was already in your hands as you spun around, aiming it directly at him. Everyone gasped, ducking for cover.

Except for him. He encroached your perimeter, arms tightly crossed against his chest, practically begging to be sprayed with bullets. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “That’s cute.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you warned him.

“Or what?”

You sneered. “I’ll finally grant you your wish. A chance to see your father again.”

He laughed aloud, minimizing the distance with every arrogant step he took. With a final act of provocation, he willingly placed his forehead on the muzzle. With both his hands in the air, mocking surrender, he glowered at you through slacked eyelids. “Then do it.”

A foghorn rang out across the woods. You removed the gun from his head and pointed it into the trees. An outbreak of panic coursed through the unit as they frantically asked what to do. Some didn’t wait for a response.

Half of the unit bolted towards the dropship. The other half formed a circle, guns outwards and ready for open fire. It became clear that you weren’t going to be battling someone, but rather, something.

It started as a mist in the faraway trees, consuming the trunks with thick smoke. Then it started to grow in every way, wider and higher, before all that seemed to lay before you was a rain cloud. One that made your skin itch, made your throat close. It was then you knew you had only a single option.

“Run!” you screamed, taking off after the others.

He was right beside you, matching step for step. It had been a while since death brushed your lips, leaving a poisonous sting, invigorating your will to survive. So much so, that the idea of tripping him (for old times sake!), tickled at your brain.

“What is that?” he yelled out, elbow covering his nose and mouth. He didn’t offer any indication, but you saw it, too. A silver wheel was bolted atop a thick metal hatch. You didn't have time to wonder about the specifics. Nor did you have the time to grimace when your hands accidentally touched; first when spinning the wheel, and second upon opening the hatch, revealing a ladder into dark descent.

“Go!” he urged you. You didn’t think twice, stepping onto the ladder and hurrying down, rung by rung. The hatch slammed shut, followed by labored grunts as he tightened it back to its original state and then some. With the abrupt overtake of darkness and the narrow pathway, you felt extremely claustrophobic.

He continued down the ladder as you froze, catching up to you in a matter of mere seconds. He stomped haphazardly, boots barely missing the tips of your fingers.

“Don’t step on me,” you warned him.

“I’ll do what I want.”

Knowing full well that he would love nothing more than to squish you beneath his weight, you pressed on till your foot met the dirt floor. It was pitch black as you fumbled around in the darkness, feeling around for any type of lantern, flashlight, or match box. He trampled behind you, presumably following suit.

“What could be worse than this?” he mumbled.

“Um, what?” you scoffed.

“Wasn’t for you to hear.”

“Cool. So you wanna climb back up the ladder and take your chances out there?” For the first time ever, he didn’t have anything to say. You took that as a victory, further twisting the knife. “That’s what I thought. Shut up.”

Ten minutes had passed and no progress was made. From what you felt, however, you could tell there was a wooden desk with a chair, a broken lamp and a dining table set. Whoever created this doomsday bunker obviously made it to be their home. You couldn’t imagine living your entire life underground, fearful of the dangers above. You stopped short when you realized you had done the exact opposite; lived your life above, fearful of the dangers below.

“This is no use,” you finally said.

“You really didn’t find anything?” his voice spouted back.

“And you did?”

There was a loud plop, followed by numerous rustles and the quiet zing of a zipper. It dawned on you that he was digging around in his backpack and the insides of your stomach burned. If you had been searching for a light this entire time, and he willingly allowed you to make an ass of yourself, it was over for him.

“I swear, if you pull out a flashlight-”

But his face illuminated with the glow of an LED light, revealing his arrogant expression. “What?”

You couldn’t even begin to convey how livid you were. Your fingers balled up into tight fists, and you had half a mind to swing on him. He pointed the light in your direction, blinding you before chuckling.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” With that he pressed on, exploring the rest that this space had to offer. You didn’t want to figure out anything more. All you wanted was the fog to pass so you could leave this hellhole.

However, you didn’t know how long that would take. Hours? Days? The thought of being with him that long made your head ache. So instead, you flopped back on the hard mattress, staring up at the low ceiling.

“What are you doing?” he questioned.

“What does it look like?”

“It looks like,” he started, “you think you’re taking the bed tonight.”

“Not really a thought. I’m here and I’m on it,” you said.

“Comfortable, are you? Not worried I’ll kill you in your sleep?” he asked.

You simply shrugged. “Who says I won’t get you first?”

The banter had gone on long enough. His face flushed as he approached you, looming over your body with his disturbing presence. You tried to act like you weren’t scared. Yet the thought of him actually hurting you wouldn’t escape your mind. If he really wanted to end it all tonight, he could.

“I’m not sleeping on the floor,” he informed you.

“Well neither am I.”

“Don’t make me do this.” You gritted your teeth. Your gun was too far away from you. This would have to be a grappling game, one that you would surely lose. Especially if he kept his knife tucked into his pocket.

“If you’re not going to sleep on the floor, and I’m not going to sleep on the floor-” He stopped abruptly and just looked at you. You looked back, not understanding what he meant.

“Scoot over,” he finally said.

“Ew, no!” you exclaimed.

“Do you have a better idea?” he snapped. “You want to kill each other over a sleeping spot or you want to make it out tomorrow?”

The answer was obvious. You huffed and wriggled to the far end of the bed, nose brushing the metal wall in an effort to distance yourself as much as possible. With your arms crossed and eyes clamped, you imagined this wasn’t happening as you felt his side sag under his weight. He repositioned himself multiple times, frustrating you further, but finally made a decision and laid down quietly.

What would they say? What would you tell them? This was beyond humiliating, it was mortifying. To be laid up next to a person you openly abhorred was not good for your reputation. You had to make sure he knew the boundary and that it would never be crossed.

“You tell no one.”

“I’d say the same thing,” he replied, “but you don’t have any friends to tell.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

──────────────────────────────────────────────────

You awoke to a void. It took a second to remember where you were, rubbing your eyes furiously to try to adjust. There was a foghorn, some eerie clouds, an abandoned bunker- oh!- and your absolute worst nightmare sleeping beside you. It all came rushing back and you found yourself grimacing, hoping that you would be able to leave soon.

You pulled the blanket closer to your chin, itchy wool scratching the bare skin on your arms. That had always been your least favorite texture, which was a great parallel to the current situation, where you were trapped with your least favorite person. Of course, every single item and event and circumstance had to be undesirable.

The knotted threads at the end of the blanket were tangled, so you took it upon yourself to separate them out. All the while you reflected, yet again, on your predicament. Your fingers worked tediously, preferring to sort out these problems than address your own.

With one knot being completely relenting, you found yourself thinking how it wasn’t this tangled when you fell asleep. In fact, you didn’t recall having a blanket at all…

Your eyes widened as you slowly rolled over, just enough so you could look over your shoulder. It was too dark to see. Your hand reached to Murphy’s side, touching him lightly. You felt the same scratchy wool instead of his leather jacket. It became apparent that his back was to you, but closer than it previously was. And the blanket you despised so much was covering you both.

You didn’t know what this meant. No one had ever been kind to you before. You weren’t the least bit surprised. All you caused was chaos and misery. No one owed you anything. Murphy, least of all. Yet he took care of you, tended to a single want instead of treating you like a monster. Like you were nothing less than human.

“Thank you,” you whispered into the shadows. He didn’t respond. And for once, you found yourself wishing that he would.

──────────────────────────────────────────────────

MAJOR shout for the TikTok, I saw it and couldn’t stop thinking about it. Created by the100babe, captioned: read flags looking green. Can’t disagree 🥴🥵

Xx Lainey

[queenshelby]

Siblings (Part One)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Half!Sister

Warning: Incest

It was around 10'clock at night when you heard a quiet knock on the door.  You couldn't help but feel a little surprised—and a bit nervous. You had never had a visitor this late before as usually your siblings were out, getting themselves into trouble, and your Aunt Polly, who had taken it upon herself to look after everyone, was in bed.

Your sister Ada, with whom you shared a room, had sneaked out earlier to see her boyfriend Freddy, so it was just you that night, alone in your small room, lying on your single bed, wearing a nightgown and reading a book. 

"Who is it?" you called out, your heart skipping a beat.

"It's Thomas," came the reply. His voice was quiet and calm. 

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should let him in that late at night. He had just come back from the war a few weeks ago and his demure had changed towards you. It was almost like he had become obsessed with you, wanting to keep you company more often than you were used to. 

Thomas was gone for five years and came back more handsome than ever.  He had a rugged jawline, and deep-set blue eyes. He wasn't tall, but well-built with a perfect gentleman's body.

The war had hardened him, made him stronger, but also wiser. He had seen the worst of humanity, and you could tell that it had affected him deeply. It was understandable; he had been through hell and back.

"May I come in?" Thomas eventually asked, his voice still composed.

Without saying a word, you stood up and covered yourself with a robe , before opening the door slowly.

The light from the hallway spilled into the room, illuminating Thomas's figure. He looked a bit tired, but his eyes were still bright and clear.

"Of course," you said finally, as you walked back to your bed and folded your book closed. 

"I have heard that there was trouble today, at the docks," Thomas  said as he sat down on the edge of your bed. He looked tired, but fatigue failed to sap the confidence and dominance from his demeanor.

You sighed and nodded. "Ada told me not to go there, but curiosity got the better of me Tommy," you admitted whereas, the truth was, that just recently you began to involve yourself with Isiah, another Peaky Blinder and your new-found love had gotten you into trouble. 

"Curiosity, eh?" Thomas chuckled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Isiah wouldn't have anything to do with this curiosity now, would he?" he then asked, his eyes locked on yours.

You looked away, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. "He never meant for me to get involved, Tommy. It just kind of happened," you replied quietly, seeing how Isiah took risks and those risks involved you. 

"Listen Y/N, you are a fucking Shelby," Thomas said, his voice stern but not unkind. "And you need to be careful about who you associate with."

"But Isiah is your friend, is he not?" you asked, slightly confused with Thomas's sudden change of tone.

"Isiah works for me Love. That doesn't make him a friend," Tommy replied curtly, his gaze still fixed on you. "Despite, even if he was my friend, I wouldn't allow him to be involved with my fucking sister,"  Tommy added, the veneer of calmness cracking a bit.

You sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a knot forming in your stomach. The way things were going, it seemed as though you had made a mistake. With the tension in the room growing thicker by the second, you felt compelled to speak.

"Honestly, I don't even know why I got myself mixed up with him, Tommy," you admitted, shame coloring your voice. "I suppose I was bored," you added as an afterthought.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed your face. "You're better than that, Love," he finally said, his voice steady and firm. "And if boredom is what bothers you, then I am sure we can make arrangements for you to work at the betting house," he then told you a lot more gently than before, placing some stray hair behind your ear. 

"Aunt Pol won't allow it," you  said quietly, not because you didn't want to work there, but because you believed that your aunt would not approve of such an idea.

"It is not up to Pol," Thomas said shortly, his fingertips  tracing the curve of your cheek gently. "But out of curtesy, I will discuss it with her, alright?" he added after a short pause.

Before you could respond, Thomas's hand dropped from your face, and he stood up, his presence in the small room suddenly overwhelming.

"But Y/N, if you are going to continue seeing Isiah...," he began to say and you quickly interrupted him. 

"Not after today," you replied firmly. "Not after what happened at the docks. I promise," you added, reassuring your brother.

Thomas looked at you, relief visible in his eyes. "Good. I'll hold you to that Y/N," he said before leaning down to give you a peck on your forehead.

You blushed slightly, shocked by this sudden display of affection from your half-brother. But before you could react, Thomas walked out of your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and, when you settled back on to your bed, you couldn't help but wonder what just happened. Thomas and you have always had a close relationship since him and Arthur had assumed responsibility for you after your father got arrested by the police, but you have never witnessed such a display of emotion from him before.

As you lay there in the dark, the silence was broken by the moonlight filtering through the blinds. The light cast a soothing glow on the room and made the floral quilt on the twin bed look more inviting. Your mind was abuzz with thoughts, each one trying to get a different message across. You tried to silence them and focus on the recent events.

This whole situation with Thomas, your curiosity, the sudden shift in your relationship - you knew that it was not something to take lightly. It felt different, and you could not ignore the strange tension that lingered between the two of you.

You sighed deeply and turned to face the window. It was then that you noticed the stars twinkling in the night sky ever so slightly. They were there, silent and unassuming, much like Thomas. You couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind.

Thomas had always been a mystery to you, even before he left for France, but now it felt like there was a whole other person behind the blue eyes that you had grown up with.

Days had passed and you indeed started working at the gambling den , which was located in the heart of Small Heath. It was a bustling place, and it was chaotic during peak hours, but you found joy in the chaos. Surprisingly, Aunt Polly did not seem to mind much; she knew that this was one of the ways to keep you out of trouble.

While you were working there, your brother Thomas kept a close eye on you and as different men attempted to flirt with you, they quickly learned that you were untouchable, a notion further solidified by Thomas’s warning glares.

On two occasions, he even threatened gamblers with a gun after you were propositioned for a date, and it was clear to you that he wasn’t playing around. Thomas Shelby never made idle threats, after all.

"You do realise that most of these men are harmless, Tommy,"  you said to Thomas one evening, after you had closed the betting shop for the night. The sky was a deep indigo and the stars were shining brightly.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes sharp and piercing. "That may be true, but you are my sister and they need to show you some fucking respect,"  he retorted, his voice steadier than before.

"But Tommy," you began, still unsure of what to make of this sudden outburst. "I am capable of handling my own affairs. I can fend them off," you assured your brother who appeared somewhat overprotective of you.

"I am sure you are," Thomas agreed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But what kind of employer would I be if I did not at least protect my employees from unwanted advances, eh?" he asked, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a half-smile.

"A pretty shite one I suppose," you admitted, returning his half-smile with a lopsided grin as he locked the door.

"Exactly," he concurred, shaking his head as you stepped onto the sidewalk, right by your brother's side. "Now let me walk you home. It's late," Thomas said as he always did when you worked in his betting house until after dawn. 

As Thomas and you walked side by side, the silence between you was comfortable, but there was still something that kept niggling the back of your mind. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but it seemed like Thomas was hiding something from you.

Nonetheless, as you walked to the house you shared with Polly, Tommy and the others, you couldn't help but steal glances at him, trying to gauge what it was that was causing this strange behavior lately.

It was like he took a liking in you that almost felt, more than brotherly, but you decided not to focus on the matter and instead enjoyed the warmth of his company while it lasted.

Days passed, and your routine at the gambling den turned into sort of a normality, despite the occasional tensions between patrons and your brother that threatened to boil over.

On evening, at your house when you and Tommy were on your own, you ought to address it, his overprotectiveness and  the strange tension that kept building between you.

But, Tommy simply brushed it off and told you that he was simply concerned for your safety.

"But I am safe here Tommy, with you and the others," you reminded him, your tone gentle yet firm. "And at the gambling house, even if some of the customers are inappropriate, it is a safe place because no one would dare to fuck with you, Arthur or John and  I think you know that," you said, unable to mask the frustration that crept into your voice.

Tommy looked down at you, his gaze intense but soft. He took a deep breath before speaking, as if choosing his words carefully.

"Y/N, I know that you can look after yourself but, what I have learned over the years, is that no one is safe. Not here, not anywhere," Thomas said, his voice still firm but softer than before.

You stared into Thomas's eyes, feeling a strange mix of emotions coursing through your veins. Awe, admiration, and... something more. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on yet.

"The war changed you, you know?"  you said the words before you could stop yourself. 

Thomas sighed and looked at you, his expression filled with a mix of sadness and guilt. "Yes, I know," he admitted quietly. "I can't help it, Y/N. I've seen and done things that most people couldn't even imagine." 

You nodded, understanding dawning on you.

"No, you are right Tommy. I can't imagine," you said softly, caressing the scar on his cheek, causing Tommy to lean in closer, his eyes locked on yours. 

You felt your heart race as you looked into Thomas's eyes. There was something about him that made you feel safe, yet also intensely aware of your feelings for him. You had never felt this way about anyone before.

"But you know what's amusing though?" you murmured, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room as Thomas leaned over some more, his fingers lightly traced your jawline, you couldn't help but play along. "You are so overprotective towards me when it comes to potential suitors and there is almost no reason for you to be that way, because I never even kissed a boy before, so it just seems so absurd to me," you continued, allowing yourself to drop your guard, just a little.

"I find that hard to believe, Y/N," Thomas murmured, the pad of his thumb brushing the corner of your lips before slowly moving to trace the length of your jawbone.

Your breath hitched in your chest, hearing his low voice uttering your real name; you always felt an odd sense of familiarity from him, especially when he chose to use your given name, just for a brief moment. It almost felt like the two of you were not step-siblings. 

"No, it's true. I never kissed a boy before, Tommy," you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You didn't know what had come over you, but suddenly, you couldn't help but feel drawn to your half-brother. "What is it like?" you

asked, your lips barely moving as Thomas continued to trace a path along your jawline.

"What's what like?" Thomas asked, his voice low and husky, as he leaned in even closer to you.

"Kissing," you clarified, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks as you admitted this.

Thomas seemed taken aback by the question, his gaze lingering briefly on your lips before meeting your eyes again.

"I guess it depends on who you are kissing," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sometimes, it's just a kiss and it feels like nothing because it means nothing. But other times, it's more than that. It can be a way to express your feelings for someone. To show them how much you care about them," Thomas explained, his gaze still locked on yours.

"Do you think you could show me?" you whispered, surprising yourself with your own boldness.

Thomas's eyes narrowed as he looked at you, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way your breathing had quickened.

"Seeing that you are my sister, that would be inappropriate, don't you think?"  Thomas said, a subtle hint of amusement in his voice. 

"It's just a kiss, Tommy," you replied, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. "And no one needs to know," you continued, your heart pounding in your chest as you confessed this vulnerable part of yourself to your brother.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes searching yours as he processed your words. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and for a moment, you wondered if he was going to tell you no . But then something shifted in his gaze, a heat that made your heart race.

"Alright. Fuck it," Thomas muttered, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

You gasped slightly, surprised by how sudden the kiss was and how soft and gentle his lips were.

Your  hands reached up to grip his arms, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingertips as you leaned into the kiss. Thomas's other hand reached up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

Not knowing what to do, you followed his lead and when he parted his lips, you did the same before tentatively touching your tongue to his, experimenting with the new sensation. 

Your brother's lips were warm and as the kiss deepened, you felt a fire ignite within you, spreading from your core to every inch of your body. Your heart was racing as Thomas's hand dropped down from your hair, tracing a path around your neck as he deepened the kiss once more before, suddenly,  he pulled away.

You stared at Thomas, your lips still tingling from the kiss. You could see a storm of emotions raging within his eyes, but you couldn't quite decipher what he was feeling. Was it guilt? Shock? Excitement? Pleasure?

"I am sorry Love, but I have business to attend to," he told you with a horse  voice, his breathing heavy and uneven from the kiss.

You nodded, trying to catch your breath as well. You could feel a blush spreading across your cheeks as you moved away from him, giving him some much-needed space. Thomas looked at you, his eyes heated with desire, before turning away and leaving the room without another word.

Even after he had left. a jolt of pleasurable heat still lingered on your lips where Thomas’s mouth had just been, you couldn’t believe what had just happened. Your stepbrother, fucking Thomas, he had just kissed you and you didn’t know if you should feel guilty about it or if you should be elated.

“You’re an idiot,” you muttered to yourself as you ran your fingers through your hair, still feeling dazed. Your mind was racing, replaying the image of Thomas kissing you, over and over again.

Your lips were still tingling from the contact, but the room felt cold and empty once he left, leaving you alone with your tumultuous thoughts.

You couldn't believe what had just happened. Thomas had kissed you. He fucking kissed you and you were the one that had asked him to do it. 

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[vervainandspritz]

JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Request made by @justsumtuffstuff: Could you do a tommy shelby imagine where you secretly have his kid but don’t tell him until one day aunt polly sees you and is like “holy shit” but that’s not the surprise, the surprise is you have twins. Just a lot of angst and fluff pretty please? ((:

This fic will have two parts!

Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, grieving, a lot of pain, eventual fluff, smut

A/N: It's a.. heavy fic, so beware. Interact for more

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

~~

The land of Birmingham seemed to never change, not one bit. Ever since the first people settled there, the sky hung over them as if by force, never clear enough to see prospects for the future. Robbing the poor kids of dreams, of the loud thumping in their hearts caused by excitement for the good that never came.

It would seem that God has lost his way to Birmingham, not to mention Small Heath. Dirt, smoke and silence that rang too loud when working men would finish their shifts in factories seeking peace in their homes. After all, the human brain can get used to everything.

What was the difference between going to sleep hungry every night, and the relentless churning in the depths of her stomach that Y/N felt? Pain that never let go, waking up along her side like a loyal husband, never ceasing to accompany her throughout the day. Never loosening the hold on her heart.

Oh, how cruel the fate can be, Y/N thought, looking at the white ceiling of her bedroom. One she slept in for many nights too long, carrying the weight of the curse on her shoulders.

Because she was cursed, that one she was sure. Seeing the man she loved more than anything else in the world, losing himself in the grief after another woman.

Because that was the woman whose name Y/N dared not speak or even think. That's who she was, another woman. Embodiment of pain and betrayal of so many promises, taking away the beautiful, blue gaze Y/N yearned for so badly.

God must have been so cruel, putting her through the uncertainty of ever seeing him again throughout the war, and then taking him away.

Taking him away from Y/N, and letting her watch the process. Letting her see the distance growing, the dilated pupils in his eyes after each doze of opium, fruitlessly trying to numb the pain he carried.

Y/N couldn't help but wake up everyday, wondering how different his grief would be if it was her who died. Would he cry? Would he push the other woman away, like he did her? Sometimes the pain felt like too much to handle, but Y/N would never try to pull the trigger. Subconsciously feeling the weight of shame in her chest if she'd ever somehow found out she was right. That he wouldn't care.

So she lived, losing pieces of her heart day by day, warming his bed whenever he saw it convenient.

Until that one day came, that was. Hearing the... Scary, oh so scary news from her doctor she visited in secret. Putting both of her hands on her still flat stomach, she didn't feel anything physically. Yet it was enough to find the strength, buried so deep in her heart.

The love she felt for her unborn children outweighed the love for him.

The tension in Arrow house felt heavier than usual, as Y/N dragged her heavy suitcase down the stairs before slowly making her way to his office. The pain, longing in her heart slowing her down, extending the seconds into forever.

Y/N took a deep breath as her hand pressed down on the metal handle, the loud click echoing throughout the mostly empty room. Wordlessly she slipped inside, walking up to his desk quietly, letting out a shaky breath when she stopped mere inches away from the wooden furniture. His eyes didn't move from the documents he was reading, an empty gaze fixed on black letters despite knowing she was there. Y/N waited for a second, giving him a chance to look at her. Hoping he would.

But he didn't.

”I'm leaving” she said, loud enough to be heard. Silence followed her words, loud like never before as her heart squeezed in anticipation, silently begging him to stop her. To say something. Several moments passed before he finally did, making her heart stop for a mere second.

”Safe travels, Y/N Y/L/N” He responded in a cold, husky voice and for a moment, Y/N wondered who he was, wearing his face but sounding so different.

But the dust settled, just like the weight of his words as soon as she closed the door behind her back for what she thought would be the last time.

~~

Polly's eyes cut through his skin like a blade, her gaze never changing after that one feral day. The look of contempt and disgrace not even a bit different than one she gave him finding out what happened, back then.

”I was hoping you wouldn't be so stupid” She hissed, leaning forward, reaching for a cigarette with a shaky hand. Her eyes were teary, as she inhaled the smoke. ”When you were younger I saw your mother in your eyes. Now, they're full of greed and foolishness. Just like your father's” She spat out with contempt, raising from the chair. Quickly walking up to his own, she kneeled down for a moment, to meet his gaze.

One so empty, that gave her goosebumps.

”I will never forgive you, and... Neither will you.” She whispered. ”But you will have to live with the choice you made.”

Her words echoed loudly in his head several minutes after Polly left... And they never stopped ringing now, thirty eight months later. Thomas counted, every morning to be sure. After sobering up it was difficult to tell days apart. He rarely slept, fearful of the dreams he had at first.

He saw her, she was so close and yet no matter how fast Tommy ran, he couldn't reach her. Out of his reach no matter how hard he screamed or cried. Looking at him with the burning tears he caused.

It took him three months to sober up, give up on opium and... Feel. Thomas wasn't ready for the hellish pain that dawned on him once the drug wore off. The terrifying longing that dawned on him when he felt the remnants of her perfume on his pillow. The lack of relief he hoped for so badly, throwing away every single Grace's belonging he held onto previously, burning the photos and destroying the items, but it never came.

As time stretched, it became more intense. Thomas carried the pain and guilt wherever he went, finding the smallest bit of relief only in his office, searching for Y/N in every piece of England day by day.

Replaying the ways in which he treated her, internally setting himself on fire and forcing himself to feel every bit of it. Because that's what he deserved, to feel and carry the cross he created with his own hands.

Oh how beautiful the pain was, as he'd lean back in his armchair, closing his eyes and remembering her gaze. Her scent and her laugh, echoing so lively in his mind.

...but none of it worked, no matter how many people searched. How much money he spent on the search. Almost like she disappeared into thin air.

Day by day he was dying a little, bleeding through the wounds he so desperately prevented from healing every single time. Keeping the memory of her alive in his mind, not letting the hope die. Because it was all he had. Glimmer of hope. The leader of Peaky blinders became even worse than before. The pain shaped his mind in unknown ways, as the limitless cruelty became visible to anyone who dared to cross his path. Peaky Blinders were unmatched.

Nobody besides Thomas held onto the hope anymore. Knowing Y/N for so long, John and Artur knew she wouldn't come back. Not if her life depended on it. Polly only prayed for her safety.

...and Y/N? She stopped praying once her children were born. After finding out she'd have twins, she prayed every night for them to be born healthy. It was all that mattered.

Not the fact that she had to be using a fake name after moving to Coventry, mere miles away from Birmingham. But she couldn't afford to move further.

It's been.. so fucking hard. Everything. Y/N spent every night crying, begging any God that would listen to take away the pain in her heart. The pain that her babies only managed to lessen. Working as a waitress on nightshifts after accepting the kindness of her older neighbour. Mrs Wilson offered to take care of her boys while she works to help her make ends meet. Y/N had no idea what she would do without a woman she grew to call her only family.

”It's no problem, honey. They're little angels” She said quietly with a kind smile, taking one of the boys into her arms mere days after they were born.

The pain Y/N felt by having to leave her kids every night was stronger than the physical one. Having to work a demanding job after giving birth to keep the roof over their heads.

She cried, cried so much that eventually tears ran out and all she could do was.. keep trying. The two little people by her side were giving her strength. Light that she couldn't see before them, and only existed because they were here. Keeping her own heart beating.

***

”Are you sure? I can take care of them while you go, honey. You know how much I love them, don't you?” The older lady offered eagerly, caressing Nick's cheek with a smile, and a hint of concern while she glanced at Y/N.

”Thank you, but I will take them. The least I can do is spend time with them throughout the day.” Y/N responded, smiling sadly to her neighbour who just nodded along, understanding the allusion.

Letting out a sigh, she put her hands together.

”Be careful, dear.”

Y/N squeezed her hand lightly before pulling away as she held her son's hand, while carrying the other one on her hip.

”Always”

Travelling via train took no longer than forty minutes, and with each passing mile, Y/N's anxiety grew. She hasn't been in Birmingham for a long time now, not looking back.

Yet, because of her official address being still in the Arrow house, she needed to visit the office to complete documentation for boys. She put it off as long as she could, but it was inevitable now.

Despite the negative emotions, Y/N couldn't felt.. better, having her babies with her. The familiar facial expressions or blue orbs were enough to sometimes bring her to tears, but she couldn't love them more. They were a perfect little copy of the man whose name was engraved on her heart. The older they were, the more similar looking they were and now at dashing two and a half years, both boys were troublemakers.

Slowly making their way through Birmingham, Y/N held one little hand, chatting away with Nick, who was more energised than his brother who slept soundly in his mum's arms.

”...and dat?” He asked, pointing towards the building and glancing curiously at his mama. Y/N smiled at his curiosity, seeing how similar personality wise he was to her.

”that's a house” She replied calmly. The little boy cheered loudly, throwing his arms in the air.

"Yaay! Hooose!” He squealed making her chuckle, not caring about the scolding glances from other passengers.

A couple minutes later the other little one woke up, and started fussing because obviously he also wanted to walk now, while Nick wanted to be carried now. Sighing, Y/N put one of the kids down, and as she managed to pick up little Nick, she gasped loudly seeing her son's legs already in motion as he ran towards the crowd.

”Tommy! Thomas, stop!” She yelled after him, chasing him with Nick on her hip who watched the whole thing with his blue eyes wide open. ”Tommy!” She yelled once again, and he finally turned around, stumbling upon someone.

Y/N closed the distance as fast as she could, grabbing little Tommy and pulling him back to his feet, as she checked for any bruises – found none.

”I'm so sorry, i–” She started out, wanting to apologise to the random passenger, but words died on her tongue as soon as her eyes locked with the familiar brown ones.

”Y/N?” Polly stumbled out in shock.

Fuck

Part two upcoming

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Sleepless Nights

Thomas Shelby x Pregnant Wife Reader

Summary: Thomas cares for his wife.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings:

soft Thomas!, kissing, soft talk, lovely husband things.

Thomas prowls the grand corridors of Arrow House with a mixture of determination and unease. The mansion is a labyrinth of opulence, each corner dripping with the wealth he’s fought tooth and nail to secure. Yet, tonight, none of that matters. His mind is solely focused on one thing—finding his pregnant wife.

The house, with its vast rooms and endless hallways, feels both protective and suffocating. The heavy silence is broken only by the distant ticking of an antique clock, a stark reminder of time slipping away. Thomas’s polished shoes echo on the marble floors as he moves through the dimly lit spaces, his keen eyes scanning every shadow and crevice. The opulent decor, a testament to his success, now seems to mock him with its cold grandeur. He enters the library, where shelves upon shelves of leather-bound books line the walls, their spines gleaming in the faint light. The room smells of old paper and cigarette a sanctuary for his restless mind on many nights. But tonight, it offers no solace. He moves on, his pace quickening, his heartbeat mirroring his urgency.

As he strides through the dining hall, the long table stands like an island in the middle of the room, set for a feast that never seems to be eaten. The chandelier above it sparkles, casting prismatic reflections around the room, but Thomas’s eyes are unseeing. He is a man on a mission, driven by an anxiety he rarely allows himself to feel.

Finally, he reaches the living room, a vast space dominated by an enormous fireplace. The flames within flicker and dance, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. And there she is. His wife, his beacon in the storm of his life, sitting on the couch in an awkward yet somehow comfortable position. The sight of her instantly softens his stern expression, though worry still shadows his features. She’s nestled into the corner of the couch, her swollen belly making her position look ungainly to anyone else, but Thomas knows better. He sees the way her hand rests protectively over her stomach, the way her eyes are half-closed in a state of meditative calm. She’s wearing a loose, flowing nightgown that accentuates her maternal glow, the fabric cascading around her like a gentle waterfall.

“Love,” Thomas says softly, his voice a gravelly whisper that cuts through the silence. “Y’alright there?” His thick Birmingham accent adds a rough edge to the tender words, a contrast that defines him so well.

She looks up, her eyes meeting his with a tired but loving gaze. “Tommy,” she replies, a small smile curving her lips. “Just needed a moment. The baby’s been restless tonight.”

Thomas nods, understanding immediately. He crosses the room in a few strides, his presence a mix of power and protectiveness. He sits beside her, the couch dipping slightly under his weight. Gently, he places a hand over hers, feeling the life within her. It’s a moment of connection, grounding him in a way few things can.

“Been lookin’ for you,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning her face for any signs of discomfort. “Worried me, y’know.”

She chuckles softly, the sound like music to his ears. “I’m fine, Tommy. Just... needed to be alone for a bit.”

Thomas’s eyes soften further, the hard lines of his face easing as he takes in her serene expression. “Y’should rest more, love. Don’t want you overexertin’ y’self.” His voice is firm yet gentle, the protective husband surfacing through the tough gangster exterior.

She nods, leaning her head back against the couch and closing her eyes. “I know. It’s just... there’s so much to do. So much to prepare for.”

Thomas sighs, his hand moving to gently caress her cheek. “Leave it to me. I’ll handle everythin’. You just focus on our little one, yeah?”

He could see the strain in her eyes, the toll the pregnancy was taking on her. His heart ached for her, wishing he could take away her discomfort. "I wish I could do more," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

She smiled again, squeezing his hand. "You're here, Tommy. That's enough."

But it wasn't enough for him. He wanted to do more, to alleviate her pain in any way he could. His mind raced, trying to think of something, anything, that might help. Then she spoke again, her voice hesitant.

“Tommy, Ada said if it gets too heavy, you can lift my belly a bit with your hands. It might help.”

Tommy's brow furrowed as he processed her words. It was a simple gesture, yet one that could provide her with some relief. He looked into her eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, and he knew he had to try. "Alright, love," he said, his voice firm with determination. "Let's give it a go."

He moved closer, positioning himself in front of her. His hands, rough and calloused from years of hard work, gently interlaced under her belly. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her dress, the gentle rise and fall of her breath. Slowly, he lifted, supporting the weight of their child. She let out a sigh of relief, her body relaxing into his touch.

"Better?" he asked, his voice soft.

She nodded, her eyes closing once more. "So much better. Thank you, Tommy."

He held her there, his strong arms supporting her, providing the comfort she so desperately needed. In that moment, all the worries and burdens of their world faded away, leaving only the two of them. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to simply be present, to cherish the moment.

"You're incredible, you know that?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Strongest woman I know."

She smiled, a soft blush creeping into her cheeks. "I have to be, married to you."

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. "Yeah, I suppose you do." His gaze softened as he looked at her, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings. "But I wouldn't change a thing. Not a bloody thing."

They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them comfortable and reassuring. Tommy's thoughts drifted to their future, to the life they were building together. It was a life filled with uncertainty and danger, but it was theirs. And as long as they had each other, he knew they could face anything. Eventually, he shifted, carefully lowering his hands and easing her back into a more comfortable position. He smiles, before cupping her face; his hands calloused from years of work, are surprisingly gentle as they cup her cheeks. He brushes a few stray strands of hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ear with a care that belies his hardened exterior. The feel of her skin under his fingertips is a reminder of all that he has fought for, and all that he stands to lose.

“Love,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble, thick with his Birmingham accent. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” The words are simple, but they carry a weight of sincerity that is unmistakable.

She looks up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and fatigue. Pregnancy has been both a blessing and a challenge, but in this moment, with Thomas so close, she feels a sense of peace. He leans in, closing the small distance between them, and presses his lips to hers. The kiss is intense, filled with a passion that speaks volumes of his devotion. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a promise, a silent vow that he will always be there for her.

His hands move from her face to her shoulders, sliding down her arms and resting on her swollen belly. He can feel the life growing inside her, their child, the future of the Shelby legacy. The thought fills him with a fierce protectiveness, a determination to shield them both from the dangers of his world. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“You’ve got to know,” he whispers, his voice husky with emotion, “I’d do anything for you. Anythin’ to keep you safe.” His words are punctuated by the gentle movement of his hands, caressing her belly as if to reassure both her and their child of his unwavering commitment.

Thomas stirred from sleep, his body instantly alert despite the lingering remnants of exhaustion. The warmth of the morning sun filtered through the heavy drapes, casting faint, golden lines across the bed where he lay. His hand reached instinctively to the other side, expecting to feel the familiar form of his wife beside him. The cool, empty sheets met his touch instead, sending a wave of unease through him. He sat up abruptly, the fine sheen of cold sweat on his forehead catching the light. He ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back from his face as his sharp blue eyes scanned the room.

The clock on the mantel ticked softly, marking the time as just past nine in the morning. Thomas swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the chill of the wooden floor against his bare feet grounding him. He rose to his full height, stretching out the tension in his muscles. He was dressed only in his boxers, the morning air cool against his skin. The bedroom was silent, save for the sounds that nature produced in the waking hours of the morning.

His mind raced through possibilities as he left the bedroom, each step measured and deliberate. The house was vast, and his wife could be anywhere, but his instinct told him to check the usual places first. The corridor outside their bedroom was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn against the morning light. Thomas moved with purpose, his eyes darting to each doorway as he passed. He checked the nursery, but it was empty save for the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the window. The sitting room was similarly deserted, the furniture untouched and the air still.

Thomas’s worry deepened with each empty room. He descended the grand staircase, his hand trailing along the polished banister. The ground floor was no different – the study, the drawing room, all empty. He paused at the doorway to the dining room, listening intently. The faintest clink of cutlery reached his ears, a sound so subtle it could easily have been missed. Relief washed over him, but he kept his composure as he moved toward the kitchen, the source of the noise.

The kitchen was a contrast to the rest of the house – warm, filled with the rich aroma of freshly baked bread and other culinary delights. The sight that greeted Thomas made him pause in the doorway. His wife was at the counter, her back to him, completely absorbed in her task. She was preparing her favorite pregnancy craving, a look of contentment on her face as she worked. Her hair was loosely tied back, and she had her loose, flowing nightgown, made of soft, breathable fabric, was adorned with delicate lace and ribbon trims. He had it made especially for her.

A soft chuckle escaped Thomas’s lips, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Hungry, eh? For whatever you're eatin' at what... nine in the mornin'..." His voice was low, the thick Birmingham accent adding a familiar roughness to his words.

She turns to him, a small smile playing on her lips. Her eyes are bright, despite the early hour, and there's a certain glow about her that he finds both endearing and reassuring. "Well... I originally woke up because I had to throw up... but then it wore off and I just sat there for a bit before I actually did throw up..." she explains, her voice trailing off as she takes another bite.

He crosses the room to her, his worry giving way to a tender affection. He reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch gentle and careful. "You alright now?" he asks, his voice softening. "You and the little one?"

She nods, placing the bowl on the counter. "Yes, we're fine. Just one of those mornings."

Thomas wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He can feel the slight swell of her belly against his skin, a constant reminder of the new life growing inside her. "You should've woken me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She laughs softly, resting her head against his chest. "You need your rest too, Tommy. Besides, it’s nothing I can’t handle."

He holds her for a moment longer, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. The kitchen, with its warm morning light and the comforting presence of his wife, feels like a sanctuary. A stark contrast to the chaos and violence that often defines his life outside these walls. He pulls back slightly, looking down at her with a mixture of love and concern. "If you need anythin', you come get me. Don’t try to be too strong on your own."

She nods, understanding the depth of his worry. "I will, I promise."

They both stood there looking at each other.

"Any plans for today?" he asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

She looks up at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I was thinking of organizing the nursery a bit more. And maybe take a walk in the garden if the weather holds."

He nods, appreciating her simple plans. "Sounds good. I’ve got a meeting later, but I’ll be back by lunch. We can go for that walk together."

She smiles, the idea pleasing her. "I’d like that."

Author’s Notes:

Credit for the smol sparkle divider: CafeKitsune

[mydear-corinthian]

Bait || Shelby family x reader

Synopsis: Reader went out partying and the Shelby family's enemy attacked her. Pairing: Shelby family x sister! reader Warnings: ANGST w/ comfort, reader gets injured badly, mentions of blood, stabbing, and violence, swearing Notes: rushed :C, gif is mine Click here to find the MAIN Masterlist Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS Masterlist

It was just a usual night in Small Heath. Due to the boredom, you decided to go outside and maybe have a little fun.

You dressed up. A long gold dress decorated your body. A feathered hat decorated your head. And a few pearl jewelry shined your neck, arms, and ears. Grabbing your gold colour purse, you exited your room, spiraling down the wooden stairs of your family's house.

As you went down, Polly saw you. "Where you going, love?" she asked, smiling.

Grabbing a cigarette stick, you placed it on your lips, leaning to Polly as your aunt was also about to light her long black stick of the cancerous stick. "Party, Aunt Pol. I'm getting bored staying in this house," you replied, your cigarette finally lit.

The matriarch of the family took a puff of her cigarette, her serious eyes locked on yours. 

"Where? Who's going with you?" Polly asked.

"Oh, Aunt Pol.., I'll be fine. It's just 2 streets away from here. I'll be home at 2 am."

"Take care and enjoy love," she smiled, opening the door of the house's entrance, allowing you to exit the house.

<>

The only real issue was that you were wearing heels on the short walk from the house to the party location. Warm lights and vehicles adorned the spacious mansion. The estate was packed with elegantly dressed people in suits. You headed straight to the mansion's bar as soon as you got there and ordered a drink for yourself. Your heels reverberated against the bar's porcelain tiles. Men made up the majority of the crowd, and they were all too busy chatting, drinking, and trying to find women to satisfy their lusts.

"Whiskey, please," you ordered. You sat down just in front of the barman, glancing at everyone while waiting for your drink.

There were a few faces, you knew them because of your brother, Tommy and some were rich clients from the betting shop.

Finally, the barman gently placed a glass of whiskey in front of you. "Your drink, Madam."

You thanked him, picked up the glass, and sipped, letting the alcohol wash over your mouth. After placing a couple more drink orders, you made your way to the dance floor and started to dance energetically to the loud music being played. You moved your hips in time with the song's tune. You're waving your arms in the air. As you danced with the women, the dance floor was filled with a chorus of woos and laughs. Drinks were chugged into your system in tremendous amounts.

<>

You excused yourself and your new friends to go the restroom after a few hours of nonstop drinking and dancing. You were relieved that after eating at your place for a few hours, despite having numerous drinks, you were sober. You reapplied your clothing and your cherry lipstick as you straightened your hair in front of the big mirror. It's almost two, you realize as you glance at your pocket watch. Because you're the kind of person who takes responsibility seriously, is mature, and always arrives on time, Polly wasn't concerned about you going out late to party. After gathering your belongings, you put them back into your golden handbag and head out of the bathroom.

Finally saying goodbye to your new girlfriends, your heels found their way to the mansion's exit. Since you were sober already, you decided to take a walk back home.

As you walk through the dark streets of Birmingham, you cannot help but feel uneasy. You felt like you weren't alone at all. You felt that someone or somebody was following you.

And you were right.

Reaching for your pocket gun, you tried to protect yourself from the person who was following you by looking over your shoulder. You were too late, though. You were forcefully grabbed by two men, one of whom disarmed your gun. You were trapped against the wall by two rough pairs of arms, your head hitting the rocky concrete. Particularly on your stomach, you felt something cold and sharp graze your flesh, and the pain eventually got intolerable.

"What the fuck do you want!" you panted weakly, feeling a warm liquid drip on the side of your stomach.

"Just.. sending a message to your git brother," the low Irish accent sent shivers down your spine.

Campbell.

On the other hand, Polly was at the dining table, a cigarette in her hand as she watched the clock tick.

It was already past 2 and she started to get worried. You always come home on time - not even a minute late.

Polly hurriedly went to the telephone and dialed Tommy's number, her fingers shivering.

"Hello?"

"Tommy,"

"Pol? Why are you calling at this hour?"

"I-it's (y/n). She's not home yet and I'm starting to get worried. Oh God, Tommy. What if something happened to her?" Polly stammered, holding the telephone pole tightly.

"Not at home? I'll call John and Arthur." Tommy replied before ending the call.

<>

You tried to move and get out from their touch but due to the injury that you had, you were getting weaker.

"Tell your fucking boss to fuck off!" you hollered, heaving due to the pain down your stomach.

Punches rained down on you so hard you were gasping for air and screaming in pain as two strong fists crashed into your stomach and chest. Every blow sent waves of pain through your body, causing your legs to buckle and your breath to come in short, frantic gasps. Every strike was brutal, breaking your will and power in the process.

During the cruel assault, a fresh, burning pain suddenly appeared in your abdomen. Compared to previous experiences, this feeling was sharper and stronger. Frightened, you looked down to see the sparkle of a blade pressing against your body again. The man with the knife was cautious, taking his time as he carved the initials "C.C" into your flesh. The letters were an endless source of pain and abuse burned into your mind.

Dizziness was starting to get worse and worse but you paid no mind as you built up all of your strength to get up and grab your gun that was thrown on the cold hard bricks of the dark alley. Your cold fingertips pulled the trigger, emptying the bullet chamber by shooting them non-stop.

Two bodies were now on the cold floor, both lifeless, and their blood pooling out of their bodies, mixing with the hard concrete.

"You don't fuck with the Peaky Blinders."

Taking a deep breath at what happened, you stood up but moaned in pain after you felt the cuts and bruises all over your body. Looking down at your stomach, your dress was slit and filled with your blood.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered. Leaving your bag alone and limply walked back to the house.

Every step was a painful fight and the walk seemed to go on forever. Your back was laden with weight, and the pressure turned your spine into a throbbing rod of agony. Your single shoe scraped the uneven sidewalk, causing sharp pains to shoot through your leg with each step. As you struggled to remain straight the world around you became hazy and wobbly, and your vision became less sharp at the edges. You could feel consciousness sliding away, hovering on the edge of darkness, and every breath was a strained gasp. If you returned home without passing out, you were quite lucky.

Thankfully, you did.

Your bloodied palm opened the silver-colored knob, twisting it, and opened the door with all of your might.

There Polly was, looking at you with widened eyes. She ran towards you immediately, checking up on you.

"Dear God (y/n)! What happened to you?!"

Your body became weak due to a lack of strength in your muscles. You had a really pale face. Your dress was stained and damaged by your blood, and your hair is disheveled. Your aunt's voice fades more and further, the walls in your head beginning to swirl. After that, all you could see was darkness.

Polly caught you before your head contact with the wooden floor. Your arm limped on her touch.

The whole Shelby family including Michael, arrived at the doorstep, looking at the scene in front of them with their eyes locked and widened.

"Help me out here!"

As Polly commanded, everyone went inside. Tommy, John, and Arthur carried you gently before placing you on the dinner table that was filled with glasses and plates. Tommy removed the items on the table before Arthur placed you there. Michael and Ada quickly grabbed the first aid kit that was inside the kitchen room's wooden cabinet.

When Polly teared up your dress, she gasped.

"C.C.. Fucking Campbell," Polly's voice hissed, seeing the carved initials on your stomach, bleeding harshly.

Your breaths started to get faint and weaker, your body started to get cold.

"Stay with me, (y/n)," Ada whispered between sobs as she watched Polly do something with your wounds and help her aunt hand out the supplies that she needed.

"Fuck.. Fuck!" Tommy shouted, walking in circles as he rubbed his temples harshly.

"Arthur, John, Finn, Michael, find Campbell immediately!" he ordered.

"Bring me back his fucking head."

Michael and the brothers moved quickly, their actions a blur of rage and anger. They took immediate action after realizing this. With a mixture of terror and determination, their hands trembled as they took out their firearms from their pockets. The icy steel of the weapons was comforting, a guarantee of justice for the wrongs done.

They left the home without saying anything, the wooden door slamming shut behind them with a loud crash. They were barely aware of the sharp, biting night air. Their only thought was to locate the person who was responsible for this. 

"She isn't even part of this fucking shit and yet she was targeted,"

Polly's eyes shot daggers with Tommy's blue orbs while her hands focused on healing up the wounds all over your stomach.

"You better fucking catch him, Tommy."

As soon as Polly's done patching you up, she stormed out in front of her nephew, disappointed at him.

"I'll look out for (y/n). You heard Aunt Pol, catch that bastard," Ada said, fixing up the used cotton and alcohol before throwing it out.

Tommy sighed as he exited the house. Looking for the man who did this to you.

<>

You woke up with the sunlight beaming on you. Looking at your surroundings, you noticed where you were right away.

Slowly, you tried getting up but your body fell again, moaning in pain.

"Easy, (y/n). Don't move, your wounds are still fresh," Ada said, slowly guiding your back to allow you to lie down comfortably.

"A-Ada, I was so scared... I didn't know what was going on.."

Your eyes were starting to get wet until tears were dropping down your cheeks as you recalled what happened last night.

You were so traumatized. You didn't want to remember again. 

And that time, you knew that remembering is a curse.

"You're safe now, love. We're here now," Polly said, her arms locked with yours, giving you a comforting smile.

The door opened, and your brothers were there.

They immediately greeted you and asked how you were.

"God, love. I'm sorry that happened to you," your oldest brother, Arthur, said, gently combing your hair with his rough fingertips.

"It's okay, Arthur. I'm fine now,"

"We got him already," Finn remarked.

The gang leader showed up, his coat hanging on the chair. His footsteps echoed in the room as he approached you, placing his palms on your head.

"How are you now?" he asked, sighing.

"Fucking scared, Tom. I nearly died! This is fucked up."

"I know, (y/n). I know."

Polly stood up in the middle of the small argument, shutting the both of you. Her fists curl up like a ball, her brows knit together.

"Let her rest first, Tom. She had enough already," she said.

"I'm sorry," he apologized softly before exiting the house.

Tommy felt simply anger and guilt. Even though his sister isn't involved in the business, she was the one targeted. She's currently in there getting better from the physical and emotional trauma she recently went through.

"You're safe now, love." Polly gave you a comforting smile before asking the other Shelby siblings for breakfast. 

"Thank you, Aunt Pol."

[marina98s]

[s1ater]

i do what i have to do.

pairings. bellamy blake x fem!reader

part two of two.

about. in which you point your gun at someone you never thought you’d point it at.

warnings. swearing

ricky rocks. look who finally finished a year old one shot/fic/whatever you call it 🤗🤗

bellamy coudn’t hurt you even if he wanted to. so, when mumbling the words, ‘move or i’ll kill you’, you could see right through his bluff by the way his eyes so willingly betrayed him, filled with... hurt.

in all truth, bellamy believed you would have shot him if it would have come down to that, and maybe that’s what pained him most. he wouldn't hurt a hair on your head, and you would have, but only for the best interest and safety of arkadia and your friends. 

you never wanted to hurt bellamy, but recently you really, really wanted to slap him upside the head for all the stupid shit he had been doing. and maybe a gun scare would knock some sense into him, or maybe it would only put him deeper into the hole pike was digging for him. 

bellamy yanked you to your feet quickly after the two of you had seemed to have recovered from all the commotion that had just taken place. you weren't sure whether or not he wanted to get you away from the increase in rowdy crowd or to have his way with you first. 

you were beginning to think it was the last option as he marched down the hall with you in front of him, gripping your left arm while the other pressed against your back. one, two, three, four more steps before he shoved you into one of the guards rooms, his room. 

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he let go of your arm with a slight shove causing you to stumble forward a bit. he looked angry, more than you had ever seen him and more than you would have ever wished to see.

“bellamy, don’t start with me,” you mumbled, raising a finger to harshly accuse him... for something. “if you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.”

he scoffed, looking beyond dumbfounded with his mouth slight agape, not believing the words that had just came from your mouth.

“stop fucking talking,” he needed to think. he begun to pace back and forth, and you had no idea what to do with yourself as you watched him. “i need to get you out of here.”

"what?"

he gives you a dumbfounded look that was filled with a sense of urgency, "y/n, you just shot someone that can have you dead within seconds. you don't leave, someone’s going to do exactly what you did, and take justice into their own hands."

"you should have let me finish the job."

"we're not starting this," he grips your shoulder before pushing you by your upper back. "people are leaving. o, kane, miller—you go with them. you stay, they'll kill you."

"how do you know this?" you mumbled, glancing back at the mention of your friends and the planned escape you all had developed. bellamy was considered a traitor to you all, so he would be the last person on your list to concern with the escape plan. 

"eyes everywhere."

you narrow your brows at him, "you're coming with."

he narrows his brows in shock, not expecting you to say this, you share the same expression, also shocked by yourself. the past month would explain this--not only had you watched your world at arkadia fastly crumble after the slow rebuild of humanity, you also witnessed your relationship with bellamy slowly tank moment after moment while his with pike was created.

so, offering passage was an absurd idea. after all the betrayal.

he seems to wince after his surprisal settles but is quick to keep a straight face as best as he can, "you're getting the wrong idea."

"am i?"

"we're not friends anymore, y/n. this isn't old times," his words are intentionally stinging, but you don't miss the look on his face that betrays him. "you can't save me if that’s what you’re thinking. I don't need to be saved, i know what i’m doing."

you frown, "bellamy, you need to stop acting like there's never going to be a happy ending for you before it comes true. leave with us."

"you know i can't do that."

"why not?"

"I dug myself in too deep this time," his face was still stone cold, but it didn't prevent remorse from blossoming in your chest. "maybe if you weren't such a terrible shot, this would be all over."

***

in well under an hour bellamy had you out of arkadia, alone. your friends had left a lot sooner than thought and no matter how much begging you did—expectedly—bellamy left his mind unchanged. 

you knew exactly where your friends were going—where they’d be. it was a long and lonely hike but it was enough time for reflection.

you miss the time where you felt like a kid still. where you were young and reckless and full of hope that you’d finally get to be free upon that first step off the drop ship. that you had purpose and will and fighting was something you hadn’t really minded aside from the possible side affect of death.

now you were tired. you just wanted to lay your head down for once and not think about the pointless rivalry purging your everyday life.

“y/n, you’re okay,” octavia pulls you into a tight hug, a certain relief setting over. “god, after we hadn’t seen you, we assumed the worst.”

“i’m okay,” you gave her a thin-lipped smile, “thanks to your brother.”

“bellamy?” she seems shocked, like that’s the first courteous thing he’s done for someone in years.

“yes,” you nod, understanding the hostile tone she almost takes with his name. “i think he might’ve saved me.”

“where is bellamy?” miller speaks causing you to realize they had all emerged from the cave.

"he's gone."

"dead?"

"no,” you shake your head, “he stayed behind. he said he had to fix some thing’s before he showed his face again.”

octavia mentally rolled her eyes, but kept her composure as she watched you, “you’re here. that’s all that matters.”

***

“is he dead?”

“indra has him.”

“bellamy-“

“y/n,” he gives you a pointed look at your protest. “you know that’s as good as dead.”

he was right. pike killed her people, that was far from unforgivable. he’d be lucky to receive death.

“she didn’t kill you.”

he shook his head, keeping his eyes low to the ground, “thanks to o.”

it took a day for bellamy to find you all. his face was beaten and bloodied, but you knew better than to ask what the cause was. he had a lot of enemies at the moment and it wasn’t like this was something out of the blue for him. you would've been surprised to see a clean face.

“she doesn’t hate you as much as you think.”

“i’d like to think she doesn’t hate me at all,” he presses his lips into a thin line. “you’re right though.”

you nod, trying to look sympathetic.

“about everything. i’m sorry.”

your mouth slightly opens in shock from not anticipating his words; apology and admitting.

“i’m sorry too,” you nod, swallowing harshly as you think about having that gun pointed inches from his face. “i would’ve never shot you.”

“you sure?” his voice is lighthearted, but you can tell he’s genuine when asking. “could’ve guessed otherwise.”

“guessing will only hurt you,” you tease, but quickly drop the blitheness. “i shouldn’t have done it, but i was scared… and angry.”

“i know,” he whispers, “we do what we have to do, right?”

“right.”

“then if that means shooting me to knock some sense into me, do it.”

a laugh gets stuck in the back of your throat at the preposterous thought of it. the funny thing was you knew he wasn’t joking. classic bellamy, putting himself in harm’s way.

“me a couple months ago would be more than happy to oblige,” you shake your head, making it his turn to laugh.

“us a couple months ago was a different story. i’m sure we already had guns to each other’s throats.”

you laugh with him, “yeah.”

“never again.”

nodding, “never again.”

you stare at one another now, quiet and calm. you don’t think you’ve ever had a moment like this with bellamy before.

you’re not sure what to do, but bellamy does.

your months of angsty butting heads leading to civilness, then ultimately leading to radio silence on both of your ends due to pike, had killed him. and now, here you were, back in his grasp of more than just civilness, he couldn’t let that go.

“i lied,” he mumbles, suddenly shifting from the rock he sat on. “instead of shooting me…” he’s leaning now, hovering, and just barely resisting the urge to complete his intentions. you feel his breath fan your face; feel, because your eyes are shut. “please, just kiss me.”

his nose is slotted against yours, still hovering as he watches you beneath his eye lashes. his lips are so close… so close to yours, it’s killing him that he waits.

“i’m sorry, but i have to do this,” he smiles before finally pressing his lips against yours.

@thecraziestcrayon @mynewnamedoesnotmatter @myalupinblack @cc13723things @Uselesssapphickitten @black-rose-29 @reality-runaway @let-love-bleeds-red @rudypankowisdaddy @the-anxious-youth @kitkat-mini @itzstacie @deadbeatbarb @phantompogues @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @dayanaralight @nyx3028 @hizziestial @ritz-hell-hotel @fruitiseavey @kayalect @deathtobarbie @areil4 @strnqer @mystic-writings @gbrownn @moonlighy @straightzoinked @thelaststraw3 @navyabhatnagar @alexxavicry @esposadomd @lupinsluvbot

[staiyn]

Peaky memes

more sillies!

Small note from ya girl!

Probably in the future make more memes of cillian murphy characters! Love em, so just warning yall

[bingbongsupremacy]

Drunken Mistakes Pt. 1

Pairing: John Murphy x Reader

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Pregnancy, Reader can get pregnant, swearing, throwing up.

Summary: It was a one night stand. That's all it was. Little did you know that it'd lead to something else.

*Not Proof Read*

This Fic does not mention body type, weight, race, gender, etc. If I happened to mess up and add a pronoun or anything that could define the readers appearance, please let me know so I can fix it. Ty!

*****

" How long has this been going on? " Clarke asks while casting me a sympathetic look.

I brush my hand over my mouth, trying to wipe off any remaining vomit off of my lips. The bitter taste of stomach acid lingers in my mouth, something that almost causes another round of vomiting.

" I'm not sure. A few weeks? " I try to create some distance between me and the nauseating smell a few inches away from me. I lean back against a rough fallen tree, taking a few deep breathes.

" Have you been feeling extremely tired lately? "

I nod. " I think it's just a cold, C. I'll be fine in a bit. "

I hope it's just a cold. Clarke saw me running out of the drop ship to puke and decided to follow me. Ever since then she's been asking question after question.

I just want to go lie down.

" When was the last time you had your period? " Clarke's question catches me by surprise.

My eyes widen. " Whoa. Look, I appreciate your concern but I don't remember scheduling a consultation, doc. "

I hadn't really thought of that. These questions...she can't be serious, right?

Clarke takes a seat on the tree next to me, her body turned to face me. " Y/N, I think you might be pregnant. "

What?

" No, no. " I shake my head. " No fucking way. "

Clarke sends me a small smile. " I think so. All the symptoms...I've seen this before. I'm guessing your chest has been hurting and you've might of had some cramping? "

I think back to the past few days. She's not wrong. My body's been very weird the past few weeks, especially in the morning when I seem to have my daily puke fests.

" You're pregnant, Y/N. " Clarke softly states again.

" I can't be. " I shake my head. My chest begins to develop a tightening feeling. I pull my knees towards my chest so I can hug myself. " I can't be fucking pregnant. Fuck no. " I bury my head into my knees.

" Look, I can't be one hundred percent sure on this. At least not yet. If you start to show, then we'll know for sure. " Clarke gently pats my shoulder to try to deliver some sort of comfort. " For now, just try to relax, okay? We'll figure this all out when we know for sure. "

This is the last thing I wanted. I knew I shouldn't have gotten drunk.

But everyone did. I mean, we were all so excited to be on earth for the first time. What else is there to do in a place like this but party and hang out with the people around us?

Should I tell John?

We don't know for sure. Not yet. Besides, who knows how he'll react. He's on some weird power trip. Who knows what he's capable of doing.

What if he doesn't want the baby? What if decides to convince Bellamy to banish me or has his friends kill me or something?

Plus we don't know anything about this planet. At least not about how it is now. Is it even safe to bring a kid into a world like this? We don't know what's fully out there. What if there's more than just mutated animals.

Relax. You don't know what's going on yet. It could just be a cold.

Hopefully it's just a cold.

*****

" You were right. " I blurt after bursting into the drop ship.

Clarke looks up from her heated conversation with Bellamy, her brows furrowed in confusion. " What? "

" You were right, Clarke. " I state again, my words beginning to wobble. " You were fucking right. "

Clarke's eyes widen as she realizes what I'm saying. She immediately abandons her conversation with the man in front of her, instead rushing to me.

" What's she talking about? " Bellamy calls after Clarke.

Clarke ignores him and grabs my arm, gently leading me out of the now suffocating drop ship. Clarke leads me into the forest, just far enough for our conversation to be private.

How tears of frustration begin to flow down my cheeks. " I can't believe this, I'm pregnant. I'm fucking pregnant. "

Over the past few days I started to notice a small protrusion in my stomach. Originally I'd thought it was just bloating. It's not bloating. I'm showing.

" What the fuck am I going to do, Clarke? I can't raise a baby. Not here! Not without my mom. I'm all alone and I don't fucking know what to do. " I cry.

Clarke gently takes a hold of my shoulders. " Hey, hey listen. You're going to be okay. You're not alone, I swear. We're here to help you. I'm here to help you. And, you have the baby's dad, don't you? "

The mention of Murphy causes me to let out a small sob. Do I? What if he accuses me of sleeping with someone else, claiming it's not his kid? What if he wants nothing to do with it? After all, it's not like we're dating or even friends for that matter. It was a one time thing. I can hardly stand him as it is.

" I don't know. " I shake my head.

" What do you mean you don't know? You don't know who the dad is? " Clarke asks in confusion.

" No! I-I know who the dad is. I just don't know if he'd want to help. " I pull away from Clarke and sit down on the ground, pulling my knees in to tuck into myself.

Clarke sits down next to me. " Who is it? "

" Murphy. " I mumble softly.

" Who? " Clarke asks again, apparently not hearing me the first time.

" It's Murphy. " I say louder this time.

Clarke is silent. She doesn't know what to say. She's not his biggest fan and I think part of her is thinking the same way. He might not want anything to do with the baby at all.

" I don't think I can do this. It's danger out there, Clarke. There's people we don't even know. What if I get the baby killed? What if we're attacked and I can't defend it? " I air out my worries. " Or what if I'm such a bad parent that they end up hating me? "

" Don't think like that. You don't know what's going to happen which is terrifying but also beautiful. Your baby will love you no matter what happens. And even if you don't have Murphy, you'll still have me and the others. We're a community. We're not going to let you deal with this alone. " Clarke reassures me.

" I don't know, Clarke. " I sigh.

" Listen-" Clarke begins before she's interrupted by one of Bellamy's lackies.

" Clarke, Bellamy needs to speak to you in the drop ship. "

Clarke lets out a small huff in frustration. " What is it now? " She mutters while standing up. She turns to me once more before leaving. " We'll finish this later. Just try to go relax. Maybe take a nap or something. Stress isn't good for the baby. "

This world isn't good for the baby.

Clarke follows the boy back towards the drop ship, disappearing after a few minutes.

I'm going to need bigger clothes in a few months. Where am I going to get them? What about baby clothes? Or toys? Or books? Medication?

Stop.

I force myself to try to calm down. It's going to be okay. It has to be.

I head back in the direction of my make shift sleeping area. Maybe some sleep will help.

Before I'm able to make it very far Mbeige stops me. " Where do you think you're going? " He asks, his voice stern.

" None of your business. " I spit, trying to walk past the boy.

He doesn't let me pass. " It is my business. We need this wall up by nightfall. Get to fucking work. " His voice is venomous, his eyes glaring into mine.

He's not playing.

" I need to go to my tent. " I try to push, not daring to back down from his stare. I fucking hate this guy. He and a few others including John, make it their daily goal to make the lives of everyone shitty.

" You don't need to go anywhere but the wood pile to start putting up the wall. " Mbeige persists.

I glare at the man for a moment, scanning his eyes for any signs of a possibility for him to let me through. Nothing.

" Fine. " I spit, turning on my heals. I walk towards the nearest wood pile and begin to pick up pieces of heavy, thick wood. I manage to drag a few pieces towards the wall and set them up before I feel sweat start to build up from the heat. I need water.

I struggle to pick up one particularly heavy log when one of Mbeige's friends shouts at me.

" Pick up the fucking pace. We don't have all day here. " He snaps.

Annoyance and anger burn up my face. Maybe they should get off of their lazy asses.

" Y/N! " Clarke's voice shouts from out of no where. " Put that down! " She demands while running over to us.

" Stay out of this, Clarke. Y/N's a big kid. They can handle a little weight. " Murphy smirks. He was alerted to the situation from Clarke's yelling.

I try to ignore the snickers from Murphy's friends as I continue to drag the log over to where it needs to be used.

" I'm serious! Y/N can't be carrying shit like that! " Clarke doesn't back down.

Murphy's eyes flicker over to me as he observes my struggle. Humor is evident in his tone. " And why would that be? What makes Y/N so different than the rest of us that they get special privileges' while we have to work? Hm? "

Clarke's expression is furious. She storms towards Murphy before whispering into his ear.

Murphy's friends immediately flock to his side, ready to force her away.

Murphy's eyes widen as they meet mine. His cocky smirk slides off his lips and his face falls into one of surprise. The malice in his eyes fades away and is quickly replaced with shock.

He knows. Clarke told him.

What the fuck.

" Take the wood from Y/N. " Murphy's words surprise me. His demeanor is very different now, his shoulders unusually tense. His gaze doesn't leave mine as he orders his friends around. " Now! For fucks sake, Mbeige, take the fucking wood! " He shouts.

Mbeige doesn't need to be told again. He swiftly takes the wooden log out of my hands and begins to pull it towards the wall.

Murphy's friends cast confused looks at each other.

" You need some water. " Clarke breaks the silence. She walks over to one of the pouches of water and picks it up.

" You're not seriously going to let them drink water when they just barely started fucking working. " One of Murphy's friends complains.

Murphy still hasn't taken his gaze away. " Mind your own fucking business. " He snaps aggressively.

Clarke brings the water over to me and I hesitate to drink it. Everyone around us has paused their jobs, instead choosing to watch us.

" I'm okay. " I shake my head and refuse the drink I so desperately want.

" Drink it. " Murphy orders again.

I meet his gaze again.

His eyes slightly soften. " Please. "

Feeling very uncomfortable, I accept the pouch from Clarke and take a sip. The cool liquid immediately soothes my thirsty throat.

" Back to work everyone! " Murphy orders to the people who are watching us. " This wall better be up by tonight or no dinner! " He threatens.

Once I've had my fill of water, I turn my attention back to Murphy. He walks towards me before stopping a few feet away from me.

" I think we need to talk. "

Oh shit.

[itsonlybaby]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛 - 𝐛. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

playlist ! this one is pretty long tbh, i cannot sleep, can only write

Bellamy Blake - Dropship

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ You stumble across a knocked-out person, and you drag his body to your cave not knowing what to do; if only you knew what this would lead to. ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: smut, lots of plot, violence, nsfw, grounder reader

Finding unusual things in the first wasn't uncommon. In fact, it became a normal occurrence for me. I had loved studying the animals in the Trigeda, always finding them astounding, every one acting a different way, how they'd interact with each other.

It was different from how humans interacted, with the animals it was peaceful; the circle of life. And with humans it was tough, always using violence as the first means of answer, their reasoning always being 'Jus drein jus daun.'

Blood must have blood.

Lincoln had told me about the boat people, how my views and theirs didn't share many differences. But I knew I couldn't condemn my life to one stuck on the water, surrounded by miles and miles of sea and fish.

I loved the wholly green trees, and the spots of color by the flowers when a welcoming spring came; a sign of forgiveness from the harsh conditions of a rough winter just weeks before, when the animals would go into hiding.

When the Sky People initially landed it scared off the animals for miles around the drop ship, it took two weeks for them to return to their natural acts.

I knew Trikru weren't fond of the Sky People, they were like all the other clans- instantly resorting to violence and wars. They fit right in here on Earth.

So when I found a boy who bore the symbols of Skaikru in the middle of the forest unconscious, I had to do something.

I knew what they'd do to him if they found him here, and I'd never forgive myself if I let that happen knowing I could've done something.

I had tried picking him up but he was fairly heavy, and I was fairly weak. I felt bad dragging him, not knowing what lay between the grass but it was the only option I had.

Luckily for him, my cave was nearby.

I dragged him all the way inside my cave before assessing what had happened.

I felt very awkward feeling him up and down, feeling as though I was invading his personal space; which I was. But it was for the greater good.

I think.

Once I was sure he didn't have any wounds I felt his face, his freckles, and dirt hid underneath my palms as I cupped his cheeks. His temperature was high but he was breathing fine, possibly dehydration? Starvation? Either way, I couldn't do anything until he woke up.

I removed his jacket and placed it under his head as a sort of pillow while also trying to take his body temperature down I rubbed a cloth with water across his dirty face.

Once the dirt was off his features were much more prominent, his freckles littered his face with underbags like he hadn't had a good night's rest in days. My guess was either blue or green eyes.

Deciding to let him sleep I backed away from the boy. I stepped towards my meat rack and grabbed two pieces of provisions, then placed the meat on the metal rack above the smoke to get something ready for when he awoke.

It didn't take long for him to wake up, the smell of cooked meat filled the cave in a warm atmosphere.

The boy shot up, looking around cluelessly before his eyes landed on me. He instinctively grabbed for a knife, instead gripping onto nothing.

I probably should've dressed less like a grounder.

I knew little of English, only really hearing it when I went to Trikru villages or Polis.

He backed up into the cave wall, struggling to stand on his feet.

"Shhh," I spoke softly, placing my hands out in a calming manner, if I could calm animals I could calm humans right?

"Where am I?" His voice was loud and rough, it boomed off the walls of the cave.

"Cave," I simply state, grabbing my knife from my pocket as the boy's eyes widen. I knew he'd feel safer if he thought he was in control. I tossed the knife over to him, showing him I had no other weapons.

He quickly leaned in to grab it, now aiming it towards me.

"Why am I here?" His voice was less louder this time, but still fairly rough in octaves.

"Asleep in the forest,"

The dots seemed to connect in his mind as he lowered the knife, still weary about my every move.

My hand slowly went to my side, grabbing my canteen and sliding it across the floor to him.

"Drink," I demanded, giving my best trusting smile.

He kicked it back to me, untrusting the contents. If I wanted him dead I would've done it when he was asleep in the middle of the forest!

Even animals trust easier than this.

"You first," He said.

I rolled my eyes and took the canteen to my lips, taking a small sip to save the rest for him.

Sliding it once again to him he swiftly took it and drank the remaining contents in a very fast manner, like he's never tasted water that good before. His swift actions made a giggle erupt from me, making him look weirdly at me.

"Why?" He asked, placing the knife in its respective holster.

I looked at him confused, unsure of what he was referring to.

"Why save me?"

I thought about the words for a moment, unsure of how much trig he knew- or if he knew any at all.

"I am much kinder than Trikru," I said, walking towards the smoke rack. "Food, eat,"

He wasn't sure if he could trust me, even after I just saved his life, he thought I'd want some unrepayable favor back, or that I was just waiting for my leader to show up.

I sighed and walked to the wall of the cave, sitting down and leaning back on my arms. "Okay, starve," I said.

His face was one of inner debating, not taking long before getting up and taking his share of the meat.

"What's your name?" He asked, now sitting down in the same spot he was before, which was fairly close to me. Though he held the knife in his hands as he ate; I didn't mind.

"Many questions," I say with a smile, "y/n."

He never returned my smile, instead turning his expression into one of seriousness "I'm gonna have questions for the person who dragged me to this cave,"

I scoffed, "You have a knife, gonot,"

There was no use in helping someone who won't take it, it's like chasing a rabbit who doesn't wanna be chased.

The boy rolled his eyes, his head shaking as well, he knew enough to know I told him to leave. He used his knee to prop himself up, heading towards the cave entrance with one last look at me.

Brown eyes. He had deep, brown eyes.

It had been a few days since my last encounter with the brown-eyed boy. I hadn't thought about him much, only before I went to bed, when I woke up, when I was watching animals, and when I was talking to Lincoln. I'd like to think that wasn't much.

I couldn't shake the fact he hadn't even thanked me for saving his life, nobody had ever treated me with such coldness before. Especially after I help them. Maybe it was just a Skaikru thing, maybe they weren't used to common courtesy. He hadn't even told me his name.

The boy on the other hand had also been thinking of me, the grounder who saved him.

Though he didn't like that word.

Instead, he told everyone he camped out in a cave with a grounder that he held hostage. He couldn't believe the grounders were kind, not after the lives they took, the torture they put Skaikru through. But he couldn't help repeating my name in his head, repeating that day over and over.

A grounder saved him.

I wasn't sure why I was so drawn to the boy with the brown eyes, but I just knew I was.

Walking through the forest I was picking random flowers, feeling bad for them as I was ripping them from their bodies stuck to the ground, but it made great feed for the rabbits.

I was twirling the daisy between my fingers when a loud voice boomed off the barks of the trees, scaring the crows from their nests.

"Don't move!" I heard a voice yell from behind me.

My entire body froze in fear, I had never been put in a situation like this, never having made many enemies.

"Turn around, slowly!"

I did as told, moving as slowly as I could until I was face to face with a boy, this wasn't the boy from the cave, this one had bright blue eyes you could see from miles away and a messy middle part with a particularly big nose.

I felt like a deer that was spooked by hunters, everything in me was telling me to run, escape, and take my chances. But my legs wouldn't cooperate with my head. I couldn't take this guy on, I wasn't a fighter, I never learned.

He could sense the fear radiating off me, "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you, grounder." He spoke with such spite as if I was a disease or plague.

I couldn't form any sentences, my heart was beating against the cage of my chest, and I prayed that anybody would come and save me.

I didn't wanna die.

I didn't wanna die before learning his name.

I was about to die and he was the first thing I was thinking of, unbelievable.

"Speak!" He shouted once again, stepping closer to me with his gun aiming towards my head.

"Murphy!" The familiar voice filled my ears.

Murphy, I'm assuming, looked back quickly before letting out an angry groan.

The brown-eyed boy appeared, and when he saw the scene he was angry.

He marched up to Murphy and grabbed ahold of his jacket, making him drop the gun.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He yelled into Murphy's face, still gripping his jacket as strong as ever, he practically lifted him up.

"Finishing the job man!" Murphy tried pushing the boy off but it was no use, fear seeped into Murphy's voice.

"Finishing the job?" He repeated though it wasn't a question.

"C'mon, Bellamy, she's just a stupid-," Murphy tried reasoning.

Bellamy.

"She's what!?" Bellamy yelled, slamming Murphy into a tree before grabbing him again, "She's what!?"

I couldn't lie to myself, seeing this side of Bellamy was attractive. Knowing he was already so protective over me, I couldn't let him kill Murphy.

"Bellamy!" I shouted.

Bellamy didn't look towards me, instead, he glared into Murphy's eyes before throwing him down and backing away towards the dropped gun.

Only then did he meet my gaze, examining me from feet away to make sure Murphy didn't harm me.

Murphy took a while to regain his composure, standing up and dusting himself off while looking between us.

"Let's go," Bellamy said, looking towards Murphy.

Bellamy stole another glance at me before leaving for their ship, leaving me standing there still processing everything.

That day came and went, and so did the next. I had begun missing Bellamy, I roamed the woods hoping I'd run into him but I never did.

I even debated on just running into their camp, but the big weaponry scared me off. All I could do was hope and pray he was okay, that Trikru hadn't gotten to him first.

I spoke with Lincoln the day after the incident, I told him about Bellamy, about Murphy. And he admitted he too saved a girl from Skaikru, she was Bellamy's sister, and she wasn't like the rest. Octavia was kind, and gentle with Lincoln, a calm contrast to the way most people had treated him.

I was happy for Lincoln, he found someone he was interested in, and it was nice to have someone relate to the same experiences I was going through.

Bellamy was worrying about me just as much as well. After the previous incident, he wasn't sure I could handle myself if another person were to threaten me. The thought alone had his blood boiling.

He wanted me there, in camp, where he knew I'd be safe. But after what happened with the grounders he didn't think the rest of the camp would like that idea.

He tried everything to go outside the walls, to even catch a glimpse of me but he knew the camp needed him there now. The wall wouldn't build itself. He'd always find his mind coming back to me, carefree picking flowers and talking to the animals.

Most would find it crazy but he found it mesmerizing. In such a dark world there was such beauty, and I knew how to find it in even the darkest of times.

I was in my cave when I heard someone call me.

"y/n."

It was Lincoln.

I smiled when I saw him, Lincoln was one of my best friends, well, my only best friend.

"Yea?" I ask, walking up to him, his expression is a mix of anger and worry.

"They're going to attack tonight, the bridge,"

Lincoln didn't need to explain further for me to know what he was talking about.

Trikru was going to march on Skaikru.

I needed to warn them.

I swiftly ran past Lincoln, but he quickly grabbed my arm.

"Lincoln! I need to-"

"Be safe."

I gave him a nod before rushing off to the drop ship, my mind only worrying about Bellamy and his people. With every step, the sky got darker, and my legs began to get sore but I had to push through.

And then I saw it.

The big wooden fence made of scraps.

"Grounder!" I heard one of the men atop the wall yell. "Don't move!"

Bellamy was the first to open the doors, his face turned to one of surprise, but I didn't have time for reunions.

"Don't shoot! She is safe!" Bellamy yelled.

I ran to him, "Bellamy," I looked into his eyes, "They're attacking soon, from the bridge," His expression dropped to a more serious look.

"We know," He said, "Ravens working on a bomb right now,"

My face must've contorted enough for him to notice.

"For the bridge," He finished with a smile.

A breath of relief passed through my lips.

"Come in, I'll catch you up."

It took him an hour to explain everything, from Murphy going missing to him returning with a temporary sickness infecting everyone but the immune. It was something Trikru did to thin out the battlefield, my heart felt for all the souls who couldn't make it past the sickness.

"Bellamy!" I heard a girl from outside his tent call, he gave me a look before exiting the tent and I curiously followed, receiving stares from everyone around us.

"Raven? What's up?" He asked Raven, she had a tan complexion with a high ponytail.

"We did it, now we just need to make it there and shoot it."

Bellamy nodded, "I'll do it,"

I immediately looked towards him, "No!"

"I have to, it's for my people," He said, now looking down towards me.

I couldn't stand the thought of possibly losing him, what if something went wrong and he never came back?

"There isn't any other way?" I pleaded, worry evident in my face and tone.

"Our other shooters are too sick and I'm the last good shot," His hands went to my arms in a comforting matter, "I'll be back before you even know it."

His words did little to calm my worries, but I knew he was set on his decision. All I could do was nod in reply.

Raven handed him a sniper and mixture, "Pour the gunpowder around the jelly, then run far away."

With every word she spoke, I could feel the fear and sadness crawl up my spine.

Bellamy was ready to leave but before he did he looked at me before approaching another boy "If anything happens to her, they answer to me, got it?"

The boy nodded his head in reply.

I watched as he left the gates and as they slowly closed behind him, the anxiety growing within everyone in the camp. If Bellamy failed, it was over for everyone else as well.

For the next few hours, I stayed in Bellamy's tent, lying in his bed and curled up under his blanket which still smelled like him. I was beyond worried for him, I hadn't known him long but I deeply cared for him.

"Don't think I just forgot." I heard a voice say, now entering the tent. It was Murphy.

The same scared feeling returned throughout my body.

"What do you want?" I ask, sitting up off the bed, trying to seem as tough as possible knowing deep down I was terrified of the man standing in front of me.

"You made me look weak!" He shouted at me, his grip on the knife becoming stronger as his knuckles clouded over with a white shade.

"I don't know what you mean," I tried defending myself, Murphy stepped closer and brought the knife to my throat. The cold metal sent shivers and goosebumps down my body.

I wanted so desperately to defend myself, to take action, but I just couldn't.

"Shouldve done it when I had the chance,"

"Done what," Bellamy said before entering.

I almost started crying at the sight of Bellamy, his curly hair now matted in the dirt, but he never looked more handsome.

Murphy instantly dropped the knife and turned around, the moment he did Bellamy's fist locked with Murphy's face, making him scramble on the ground. Bellamy grabbed Murphy by the collar of his jacket and dragged him to the gate, not even letting him get up.

What scared me most is the fact Bellamy hadn't said a word since he found us.

The gates opened and he threw Murphy to the ground, giving him a nice kick to go with it.

Once Murphy was out of the way the gates closed, everyone watching in worry and fear as whispers erupted from the crowd.

Nobody had ever protected me like Bellamy had, I felt more safe with him than I've ever felt before.

Bellamy wasted no time in returning to the tent, seeing me wait there for him.

I ran into his arms and cupped his cheeks, locking our lips together finally.

His hands snaked down to my lower back, pulling me closer into his embrace as he led me to the bed laying me down gently.

I pulled away to catch my breath and he took this time to shrug his jacket off.

"I missed you," I said breathily, smiling up at him while he took his shirt off, revealing his toned chest which I swiftly ran my hands over, feeling every crevice, wanting to engrave the feeling into the pads of my fingers.

"I missed you too, princess," He returned my smile slyly, sneaking his hands under my top and sliding it off with ease, revealing my bare chest as he looked in complete awe.

Being under his gaze made my face flush with a deep red, suddenly feeling vulnerable, it didn't take him long to get his hands working up and down my body, feeling over my breasts and sides before slipping my pants down slowly revealing my soaked cunt, I bit my lip at the coldness meeting my warm pussy.

Bellamy let out a groan, feeling his bulge harden against his tight jeans. Tossing my jeans to the side he slid his fingers in between my slit, coating his fingers in the juices and trailing them up my thighs.

"This fine, princess?" He asked, staring into my eyes with his beautiful brown eyes.

I nodded my head quickly, needing this more than anything at the moment.

I heard his belt unbuckle and his zipper become undone. His hands grabbed my thighs and spread them open before lining himself up with my hole.

Bellamy let out a soft groan after only pressing his tip into me, he slowly pushed deeper into me causing sweet moans and pants to fill the tent.

It was the sweetest sound Bellamy had ever heard, he needed to hear more.

Once Bellamy was fully inside me he began slowly grinding his hips into me, not wanting to fully pull out. The feeling was ecstatic, unlike anything I'd ever felt before.

My hands reached for anything to grab onto, landing on his arms I grabbed onto them as the pain flooded my body from the abuse my sweet spot was going through.

"Doing so good," Bellamy groaned out, grabbing ahold of my hips while my legs wrapped around his waist. He gazed at the facial expressions I was making, the faster he pounded the better they got to him.

Bellamy wanted to be rough with me, to thrust into me until I couldn't take it anymore, but he knew he needed to be gentle with me. At least for now.

His grip on my hips forced me to stay still, unable to properly arch my back making him hit the deepest spots in me. I knew I couldn't last, I knew my climax was reaching me this soon.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck... Bell!" I moaned out loudly, my climax washing over my body as I shook in Bellamy's grip.

The tightening of my pussy drove Bellamy crazy, he couldn't be gentle, not like this, not when I was below him being so irresistible.

His slow thrusts soon turned rough and fast, each thrust ending with wet and lewd sounds.

Tears began streaming down my cheeks at the overstimulation, my hands going to his chest trying to push him away but my attempts were futile.

"Just keep looking pretty under me," Bellamy said, his eyes not looking away from my face, only taking quick glances toward my breasts.

His praises were addicting, making my legs start to shake erratically.

His face was coated in a thin layer of sweat, causing his skin to shine as the light from the small lantern lit the side of his face, I wanted to remember this moment forever, him above me making me feel so insanely good; better than anyone could ever make me feel.

Bellamy's hand trailed up my body and to my neck, he squeezed lightly giving him a better angle to fuck into me.

The pressure on my neck was enough to make me cum again, my body shook uncontrollably as another orgasm washed over me, painting Bellamy's cock in a thick white layer, making it easier to slip in and out of me.

Bellamy was close to his own climax, chasing the high.

"All mine, all mine," He breathed out, leaning down and kissing my neck while giving light squeezes to my neck.

His groans became louder in my ear, and it wasn't long before I felt him pull out and finish all over my stomach.

He leaned into my shoulder and caught up with his breath, smiling into my neck and breathing me in.

"You did so good," His voice was rough, a slight contrast from before.

He stood up slowly and grabbed a nearby cloth to clean me up, discarding it after.

"You're okay?" Bellamy asked sweetly, while I crawled into a more comfortable position on his bed.

"Mhm, lay with me," I said meekly.

Bellamy smiled at the sight of me curled up in his bed, he crawled in beside me and pulled me closer to him.

"Stay here with me," He whispered, stroking my hair lovingly.

"What if Murphy comes back?"

He thought for a moment, "For you? I'd banish him a thousand times over,"

I smiled up at him, placing a small kiss on his lips.

"I'll stay then,"

With Bellamy's fingers stroking my hair, the heat coming from our bodies, and the safety I felt beside him, I drifted off to sleep.

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[twirlywhirlywriting]

Masterlist

This is my masterlist of my own writings. As of right now, I don't have very many but there will be more to come!

John Murphy (The 100)

Little Tease (Smut)

Good Girl (Smut)

What Would I Do Without You? (Smut)

Eddie Munson (Stranger Things)

Consequences of Being a Brat (Smut)

[inmyownlaine]

John Murphy x Reader: Only Me

Warnings: Weapons, threatening death, cussing, angst

Word Count: 1494

Part: 1 2

Series: Enemies to Lovers Trope

Summary: Murphy’s kind gesture in the bunker has thoroughly interfered with your cold attitude and you couldn’t be more upset. Confronting him only makes it worse, causing his friends to jump in on the insults. However, Murphy reminds them that only he gets to talk to you that way. No one else.

────────────────────────────────────────────

You wanted to tell. Never in your life did you think you would want to divulge such insignificant information. Surviving was not about the pitter-patter of your heart. It was about keeping it intact, protecting it with layers of armor, shooting anyone that threatened it.

The only problem was you didn’t have anyone to tell. Which, of course, confused you. So what if you were a tad vindictive? And callous. Maybe even bitter. But only just a smidge! If people couldn’t look past your absolutely awful qualities and see the sliver of graciousness that oozed through one singular pore then that was their problem.

So instead, you let it burn inside you. The secret festered and boiled, creating a bubbling sensation in your stomach, like a rancid potion in a rusty cauldron. It was enough to spend the majority of your lunchtime stabbing at the food instead of eating it. Imagining that it was Murphy, wishing he had never been kind to you. If he had just left you alone, you wouldn’t feel this way.

Then you could stab him in peace, rather than feeling the twinge of guilt for pretending the fork was going through his pale skin.

A trio of girls walked by. You watched dreamily, a curled fist resting under your chin. Their long locks of hair billowed behind them, cascading in waves down the middle of their back. Even with their dingy clothes and dirty nails, they paraded down the pathway with pouty lips and sultry stares.

But they smell awful you thought, nose wrinkling in disgust. And their hair had to be just as gritty, if not worse, than yours. They weren’t any better than you. They just had the confidence to pretend.

You straightened your back, realizing how deluded you were being. Their portrayal was all fake. They had to put on a show. But you? Your iron fist on every single person, item, and decision was irrefutable. Everyone did what you said, when you said it. Whether it was from fear or anger, you couldn’t care less.

Swiping the hair from your eyes, settling it behind your ear, you regained the part of you before the bunker. All it took was diving into a good, old-fashioned passtime of yours. Comparison and judgment made the world go round. And besides, everyone needed it. How would they ever know their place?

Yes, things were starting to fall back into place.

And then Murphy trudged into the room.

You hunched over, captivated and breathless at the fluency of his steps. His shoulders followed in graceful tandem, swinging in time with his hips. Murphy was poetry in motion. Of course you could tell, being such an avid consumer of Dickinson and Keats.

Not.

You averted your eyes, coming face to face with the endless woods; silence and nature being your only two companions. This was how you preferred it. The trees never questioned you. The cloud never made you feel inferior. A beautiful hush never broke your heart.

This is how you preferred it.

Right?

The sides of your head started to pulse, like the kick from a pistol. It reverberated and rang across your entire forehead, down the ridge of your brows and inside your eye sockets. Nothing was going to solve this except your sleeping bag.

You tossed the leftover food over your shoulder and pushed off the ground. Although, your plans had some competition. With Murphy sitting in your path, chatting to a few of his equally disturbed friends, he was unknowingly fighting the bed for your attention.

This was going to be the easiest thing you’ve ever done. It was as simple as placing one foot in front of the other, acting like you never noticed how incredibly gorgeous he looked with his fresh new wounds, and traveling to the only destination you intended. Everyone knows that sleeping is more important than boys.

You swerved around his group, desperately battling the urge to see if he was watching you. If he even knew you existed.

“Look away,” one of the boys suggested. Fair enough.

“Wasn’t even looking,” another replied. Okay, that was a little much.

You cocked your head in their direction. A snide remark just itching to escape your dehydrated lips, but catching behind your teeth. You couldn’t even form the words to be rude when Murphy was in your line of sight. And he wasn’t even doing anything. Just sitting, minding his own business, and definitely not worrying about you.

But that didn’t matter. Murphy was like…

God, you needed to read poetry.

Ew, what?

“Need something?” Murphy questioned. His eyes were like - they were blue - like - blue…berries! And the way his hair fell past his eyes, parted down the middle, was - attractive. But like, a lot. The shoulder pads on his jacket were spiky. There. That was all the description anyone needed of him.

And really the only thing you could provide.

“Not from you,” you snapped. But then you thought about it. “Actually, yeah. Stop inserting yourself in my life.”

“I’m - not?” he said slowly.

“You’re in my way. Always.”

“Since when has that been a problem for you?” Murphy jeered. “I thought you liked a little challenge. Speaking of which, I think you’re overdue.”

“For what?”

His blueberry…His eyes shimmered with mischief. It reminded you of the glint that reflected off his favorite blade. One that your throat had grown so accustomed to. A sinister thought sprouted in the recess of your brain as you found yourself wishing he would, just to be pressed against you. To touch you, breathe down your neck, make every hair on your body stand at attention.

Would he notice that you would inhale deeply? Not out of anguish, but just to take in his full scent. That his warmth would be the cause of your rapid heart instead of the adrenaline of near death? You might even expose yourself further, rolling your head to the side, trying to lay it next to his cheek…

“Looks like you already know,” he said to you.

“Try me.”

Murphy began to rise, but the boy to his left stuck out his arm. This caused a red alarm to set off in your mind, blaring and flashing with urgency to take action. Without hesitation your gun was aimed, looking down the sight. Murphy didn’t seem too impressed, shoving the hand away.

“I’ll take care of it,” his friend offered.

“Not a chance,” Murphy told him.

“Come on, man. We could end this right now. All of us. We could kill her and no one would bat an eye. No one would care. We might even get a reward.” He chuckled as he said the last part, smug and reckless. He didn’t deserve poetry. He was every bit of phone directory. Useless beyond imagination, full of information that exactly zero people cared about. Just as worn down as the revolting yellow pages, yearning for a time when someone would find convenience in his miserable existence instead of immediately tossing him to the side with all the other nugatory things.

“Quit,” Murphy demanded.

His friend didn’t understand. He scoffed at Murphy, copping an attitude while his tongue grazed over his teeth. “I don’t get you.”

“There’s nothing to get. Just shut up.”

“I’m not saying anything you wouldn’t say!”

“That’s the point, jackass,” Murphy growled. His voice rasped, like the crunching of large gravel. Every single microscopic entity that occupied your body zinged off your bones, your veins, your skin. You felt a flush starting at your toes, crawling up to your face. In the pursuit of playful threats, Murphy made you feel visible. Which, turns out, was not the best look on you.

“You don’t get to say those things to her. Only me. Got it?”

Got it. Got it, bad. Murphy wanted to say something else to you, but there was no time. If you couldn’t outrun your feelings, the least you could do was outrun him. Try to place as much distance between the two of you before you started replacing all the knife scenarios with his hand.

God. Murphy could slam you against the wall with no trouble. Those slender fingers would grasp your neck, digging in his nails so hard they left crescent moons. Splotches of purple and blue would appear around them, painting a stunning portrait of the nighttime sky in the shape of his hand.

He would be proud of it, too. After all, it’s not too often that an artist creates a masterpiece. Let alone one that he could perfectly replicate repeatedly, and for the canvas to never tire of the same patterns and colors.

It was too late. There was nothing left for you to do. And there was only one person that could fix this now. You burst into Clarke’s tent, startling her enough to make her draw her gun. “I need to know poetry. And you’re going to teach me.”

────────────────────────────────────────────

In my feelings, per usual. Massive shout to ryaniq.aep for creating edits that make my heart soar. Season one Murphy is too much to handle.

Look forward to the third part of this little trope series soon! I hope it’s okay that the reader is more on the chaotic side, I’ve actually really enjoyed writing for someone a little devilish. Their internal thoughts kind of crack me up.

Xx Lainey

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven In Your Eyes || Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC (Heaven Lavey Shelby)

Additional content/Info: CLICK HERE

Fic Summary: He meets her at church one dreary night, guided by her singing. Her name? Heaven Lavey. White ivory hair, fair porcelain skin, and petite shape, this almost ethereal creature is Arthur's strict opposite. Yet, all it took was one dive into her heavenly eyes for him to be convinced God has sent His sweetest angel to save his bastard soul. The two lovebirds, obsessed with each other, are determined to live their love no matter people's judgments and no matter the dangers of a Peaky Blinder's life. They are together through the best and through the worst.

But behind her holy appearance and sweet facade, Heaven Lavey is dangerous. With rumors of witchcraft and murder, her shady past weighs on her shoulders. And if she is a blessing for Arthur Shelby, she will soon prove to be a curse for those who dare to stand in her and her husband's way. Even Thomas Shelby himself.

She is Arthur’s Angel, but don't get fooled by her doe eyes: for the rest of us, she is the White Devil.

And by extend, you are too.

Why? Because Heaven Lavey… It’s you.

TW: Major character death, explicit sexual content, canonical violence, graphic description of violence, blasphemy, witch trials and burning of innocent women, dependent relationship (if Arthur and Heaven are happy in their relationship, they are obsessed and possessive, which leads to bursts of violence and deifying from Arthur. By no means I am claiming their relationship is healthy, but it is what works for them)

ACT I. SACRILEGE

♢ Ch. 1 || Heaven in Your Eyes

♢ Ch. 2 || Never Did, Never Dared

♢ Ch. 3 || Something Wicked This Way Comes 🔞

♢ Ch. 4 || Dead Bird at Witchin Hour

♢ Ch. 5 || The Hell in His Eyes

♢ Ch. 6 || The One They Should Have Burned

♢ Ch. 7 || Of Matches and Gasoline 🔞

♢ Ch. 8 || Tango on Broken Dreams

ACT II. CARNAGE

♢ Ch. 9 || For Whom the Bells Toll

♢ Ch. 10 || Closer to Heaven or Closer to Hell? 🔞

♢ Ch. 11 || When The Bridges Burn

♢ Ch. 12 || As They Always Did

♢ Ch. 13 || Cross My Heart and Hope to Die

♢ Ch. 14 || Pure As a Lamb 🔞

♢ Ch. 15 || Women Like Me in a Men's World

♢ Ch. 16 || Après Moi le Déluge

♢ Ch. 17 || Our Old Friend Death (c o m i n g . . .)

♢ Ch. 18 || Il Diàvulu Biancu

♢ Ch. 19 || Empire of Lies

♢ Ch. 20 || The Fog of Silent Hills

ACT III.

♢ Ch. 21 ||

♢ Ch. 22 ||

♢ Ch. 23 ||

♢ Ch. 24 ||

♢ Ch. 25 ||

♢ Ch. 26 ||

♢ Ch. 27 ||

♢ Ch. 28 ||

♢ The series can be longer.

Some events from the show are taken and obviously reworked. Yet, except for a few quotes and scenes, everything else is imagined by the author.

Related works - in chronological order-

♢ From Blood We Will Grow

♢ To Bark and Bite

♢ Kaiser Meeting Cyril (requested)

♢ A Bone to Pick With It (requested)

♢ Perfect Lines

♢ Savage Daughter

♢ A Slice of Us (Modern!HYE)

♢ Love Ritual (@zablife's celebration)

♢ The Woods Whisper 1, 2 (Halloween Horror)

♢Little Lamb 1, 2, 3 (Yandere!AU)

Moodboards and other content

♢ Playlist

♢ Moodboard Aesthetic

♢ Moodboard Chapter 6

♢Heaven In your Eyes Act II trailer

♢ Moodboard Chapter 12

♢ Heaven in your Eyes chapter 16 trailer

Looking for more? Check out Heaven's masterlist I and II

Taglist:

@adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @meowtastics @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @justrainandcoffee @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @copinghex @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @lokigirlszendaya e @mischievouslittlecreature @he6rtshaker @bemyqueenofdarkness @cljordan-imperium @red-riding-wood @jjovin3221 @06nasyrah13 @randomcreator-09 @weepingdreammarvel