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vervainandspritz · 3 months ago

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THE EDGE OF DARKNESS

Thomas Shelby x Stepdaughter!Reader

Warnings: taboo, DARK!, smut

A/N: The song mentioned in the fic is "Till Death Do Us Part" By Peter Gundry. This fic is for Halloween, and there will be a few more dark ones. Enjoy.

Inspired by @majortom1947 request

His focus drifted away once again, almost driving him mad. Tommy slowly let go of the pen he held in his tense hand, dropping it on the stack of documents that sat firmly on the dark desk. The room was filled with nothing but quiet sounds of glass meeting wood every few minutes, as the stocky bottle of whiskey emptied in an impressive time. His usually calm and steady breath hitched in his throat followed by an exhale, making him sound almost like a martyr.

Wide, intimidating silhouette of a strong man behind the desk wouldn't give it away, but his head felt heavy, yet was spinning with the troubles burdened upon his shoulders. His wife's harsh words rang loudly in his ears causing nothing but annoyance and burning frustration under his skin. As the time passed between his fingers, loose as sand, the reason for their marriage faded so successively, he could barely remember it. She couldn't be further away from his idea for a perfect or even remotely good wife, but he did what he had to. Like always. Her Romani upbringing and a tight bond with the Gold family left him with little to no choice after Arthur refused to take this responsibility upon himself.

When it came to heavy weights, it was always left for Tommy to handle. Fucking always.

Letting out a deep breath, Thomas leaned back in his comfortable seat, popping a few buttons of his shirt open, as he carelessly tossed his red tie aside. In the comfort of his office, Tommy let his mind wander towards the thoughts so unwanted and forbidden, they rarely were present outside of his space. Knowing his own weakness, Thomas ground his teeth for a short moment at the realisation of how his control started slipping away. The farther down the rabbit hole his brain went, the stronger the burning bothered him.

After years of letting his manly urges slowly starve to death, dealing with the humiliation and frustration that came with being married to a woman so insufferable, she managed to kill his sex drive, THE thought didn't come unnoticed.

At first, it came and went. The next time it happened, Thomas’ eyes wandered to HER pale legs for a little too long before blinking the infatuation away. After that point… he lost count. He was only a man, after all.

Squeezing the bridge of his nose, Tommy breathed in deeply, silently cursing out the headaches he's been dealing with lately. Tommy imagined the smoke from his cigarette filling his body with hope of cleansing him from all thoughts of Y/N.

The hope died pretty quickly, as it tended to happen for people like him: people stained with burdening responsibilities and the weight of the world on their back.

As her image simmered behind his closed eyelids, his brows furrowed in worry.

What a beautiful distraction she was. A forbidden fruit, an evil snake from the depths of Eden, poking on his self-control and morals, whispering unacceptable yet impossibly beautiful ideas straight into his ear, driving the poor man mad. Leaving him burning hot and yearning for her touch. She tempted him with her beauty everyday for the last year. Her beautiful, innocent eyes, which looked nothing like her mother's. Her eyes weren’t tainted by greed and the dark shadow of death, which surely came from years of living in Birmingham. Lurking for people at every turn.

Y/N was different. She was raised away from dingy cities, in fields and forests, travelling from town to town with her father and rest of the family. Y/N lived far away from her sad excuse of a mother, yet still ended up having to suffer her presence once Patrick Y/L/N lost his battle to cancer. Not even the strongest of Romani spells could stand a chance against a body leaning so hard towards the path of self-destruction.

That's how she ended up here, at Arrow House with a disgraceful mother and stepfather who was barely present and silently pining after her.

The sweet girl grew to trust him, after several months of avoiding him.

Thomas didn't mind it at the beginning. He had no interest in fathering an adult whom he was closer with in age than with his own wife.

Y/N soon learned after moving to Arrow House that her mother had little to no interest in getting to know her, at any level that matters. The important thing was to present herself well in front of people, the audience, as she liked to call them. The audience watched every move of the Shelby family quite carefully. If Marilyn Shelby was anything more than shallow, it was definitely demanding. For peace, Thomas had no issues in letting her spend his money left and right, as long as it kept her mouth shut. With practically nobody left to trust, Y/N started appreciating Tommy's presence, even if it was entirely silent.

That's how the first two months passed. They lived their lives around each other without more than a few words when necessary, yet his presence became associated with peace and safety in her inexperienced mind. His stillness and calm, husky voice was a source of much needed comfort.

With each passing day, her trust grew as she let the guard down, Y/N’s body language clearly changed, not going unnoticed to Tommy’s bright knowing eyes

Suddenly, a loud knock on the door echoed throughout the spacious room, violently ripping Thomas’ hazy mind out of the infatuating thoughts.

“Tommy?” He heard from the door, and his head turned to face her. There she stood, barefoot, wrapped in a robe at least two sizes too big for her thin frame. Her long hair flowed down her back. Y/N’s intense gaze left him burning again, as Thomas cleared his throat.

“Come in, angel” He let out, his eyes grazing over her skin. He was braver than usual, the alcohol in his bloodstream made it more difficult to keep his painful desire hidden.

Without a thought, Y/N closed the door behind her back, making her way through the office, slumping on the chair in front of his desk. Her eyes were absent, not meeting his gaze even once as she silently looked around his desk. “What's burdening your mind?” His voice cut the air like a knife, making her finally look at him.

Y/N’s big eyes seemed teary, making his heart stop for a second as he sat up straighter in the armchair. When his brows furrowed impatiently, the dam broke and quiet sobs pushed past her lips.

Watching her slowly break apart, Thomas ran a hand through his hair before getting up and rounding the desk, eventually taking his place on the edge of it. Leaning down, his rough hand came to rest on her shoulder. He wanted nothing but to feel her close and now was a perfect occasion.

Upon feeling his touch, Y/N suddenly rose from her seat, stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around his core, seeking comfort. This Tommy did not expect.

His breath hitched and his brain was barely able to process the heat of her body pressed to his own. He trembled slightly and hoped she wouldn’t notice. A couple moments later he embraced her carefully, like she was made of porcelain, able to be shattered into a million pieces if held too tightly.

“She… She said it's over. That I've lived here long enough to figure out my life without depending on her—your money.” Her voice was quiet, fragile even. The genuine fear and urgency she held him with, made Tommy's heart beat faster. His other hand came to rest on the back of her head, petting it slowly as she continued at her own pace. “I’m… I'm not ready but—but I know she's right, I shouldn't… be here that long.” Y/N kept mumbling as her forehead pressed into his shirt covered collarbone. His hands’ movement came to a stop at her words. Tommy slowly peeled her away as his fingers grasped her chin. His gaze fell to her soft pink lips and he immediately regretted it as his mouth went dry for a second. Regaining his composure, he spoke.

“Angel, your home is here. You're not going anywhere anytime soon, and your mother is… not in charge. Not under my roof, eh?” His voice was deep, a little too deep for his liking even, as Tommy tried to light up the mood slightly. Not wanting her to see the way his pupils dilated seeing her so close. The way his breathing got deeper, chest raising and falling visibly. Her lips just a small reach away, tempting him like never before. The stirring in his lower stomach made it difficult to think, but Tommy knew one thing for sure, and it was that he wouldn't let her leave. Not his Angel.

The next couple days Thomas tried to spend more time at home than in his office, knowing how Y/N needed him to be around. The more time they spent around each other, the less guilt he felt.

He liked it. He liked looking with desire, and not feeling burdened with guilt. Looking in her eyes during the late nights spent in his office, slumped in the chair which she called hers already.

And he? He didn't mind, not one bit. Deep down, he thought about it more than he should have. Even if she felt like calling HIM her own, Tommy wouldn't mind.

Driving back home, the gravelly road scritched under the heavy weight of his car, small turbulence in the cabin making no difference, as he barely paid attention to the road.

Only when the high, black fence started showing from around the corner, he forced himself to focus. Taking the right turn, smoothly getting on his property. The shaking of the car fading into oblivion as the gravel road turned into expensive tiles by the mansion.

He thought he had more time to solve the issue, Thomas thought, as a suitcase fell out of the window, missing his Bentley by less than ten inches.

Eyeing the mess, he mentally prepared himself for what to expect after crossing the entrance. Grabbing his suitcase, he swiftly got out of the car, quickly making his way to the door before getting inside. The screaming and Marilyn's high pitched, dramatic voice could be heard even before he opened the door.

Without a second thought, he climbed the stairs as the two women came into the view. Marilyn held tightly onto her daughter's hair, pulling down clearly, judging from Y/N’s pained expression as she sobbed.

“Enough!” Thomas boomed, quickly grabbing onto his wife's wrist, his rough, calloused hand squeezing so tightly it surely would leave bruises. The older woman gasped, pulling her hand back as she took a step back. Her eyes narrowed as soon as her eyes fell on his face, gazing with contempt and anger.

“This little whore stole my pearls! I found them in her room!” She growled, clutching the jewellery close to her chest as she tried to lunge forward again, stopped by Tommy's broad chest. “If I see her in this house by tomorrow, I'm going to put her down like a bloody dog, Thomas! Tomorrow!” She kept yelling, but he could still hear the quiet sobbing from the woman behind him. Y/n cried, holding onto her scalp that burned hellishly. Bruises on her face already getting darker while heavy tears decorated her beautiful face one after the other with no end.

Tommy's blood boiled, veins on his neck protruding from the heated anger he felt deep inside. His self-control ran thin as his hands shook with the urge.

“Y/N, go to your room.” He instructed, in a demanding voice. One of his hands sneaked back to give her small fingers a knowing squeeze. Feeling it, she nodded, wiping her tears away as she slowly let go of the material from the back of his coat.

Marilyn's cold, green eyes followed after her daughter, contempt and hatred visible. She hated how much attention she stole from Tommy ever since appearing in Arrow house. She hated how much money he kept spending on her.

Marilyn felt robbed, like it all belonged to her.

Jealousy rushed through her veins, even though her heart was stone cold. No feelings for Thomas Shelby were held, but she claimed rights to him nevertheless. After all, It was impossible to love people like him anyway, right? Marilyn thought.

Her hand met his cheek with a loud slap, as she took a step forward. Looking him in the eyes she felt the upper hand.

“You think I'm fucking stupid? Don't you think I see the way you look at this little whore?” She hissed with poison, her red smeared lipstick making her look even less approachable than usually. “If I see her here in the morning, all Birmingham will know about your perverted urges.” She finished with a whisper, her shaky hand petting his cheek mockingly, not caring about the way he… watched her. Blue colour long gone, replaced by the deep shade of the night sky.

Only then her heart skipped a beat as she realised she took a step too far. Shallow breath pushing past her lips. Eyes widened with confusion, pierced with fear as blood ran cold.

But it was too late.

“Goodnight, Marilyn”

Y/N lay in her bed, clock ticking in the background, reminding her of how late it was. Darkness swallowing every inch of the room besides a small stream of light coming through the window from the street lamp. Heart thumping in her chest the only sound she could hear… before the music started playing. The melody grew louder, the familiar rhythm echoing upstairs coming from the gramophone standing in the corner of the corridor. A song she knew all too well after spending many quiet nights in Thomas' office. Note by note the tension increased with the tempo of the piano playing, coming to a peak as the door creaked open, barely noticeable in the dark.

Her eyes, used to the darkness already, noticed the flash of blue irises and the silhouette she knew too well. Breath hitched in her throat with each step he took.

Second by second, note by note. When the song abruptly came to a halt, his hands touched her face. His face hovered over her own, lips so close she could see every detail.

“Tommy” She breathed out softly, but before Y/N could continue, the song resounded again, almost like urging him to move faster. The tension broke, tearing a painfully deep sigh from his throat as his chapped lips pressed against her own. Y/N’s eyes squeezed shut, taken aback by the boldness of his actions. Her lack of experience creeping up her spine, causing anxiety but Thomas didn't give her enough space to dwell on the details. Crushing all of them with his touch, touching each and every inch of her soft skin with his calloused hands, causing some discomfort which he immediately softened with kisses. Music in the background seemed to set the pace, and as the thempo increased, his touch grew impatient.

“We—We can't” She managed to whisper, even though her throat was dry with a need she didn't understand.

“It's just us, angel. Me and you” He growled, his eyes holding the wilderness he was unable to hold back after all this time. His body tense and firm like a statue, as he kept moulding her flesh to his liking… and she let him, because Y/N didn't know any better. She didn't want to know any better.

Some sudden sounds kept piercing the music, catching Y/N’s attention for a millisecond before he'd make her forget again, touching and pulling needily. Soon enough her body was bare for him to take. Greedy eyes taking in every detail he could see in the dark, swallowing every sound from her mouth, stroking her womanhood skillfully, wanting nothing but to worship every soft, welcoming inch of her perfect heat.

“Just me and you” He echoed, grabbing both of her wrists and pinning them softly above her head, taking control of her along with the situation.

Music seemed to be never ending, as he slipped into her body, stretching and pushing his way into the space he claimed for himself only. Her innocence taken away so abruptly and harshly, yet she never felt so loved and wanted before.

“Tommy, I–” She moaned, head lifting off the bed to find his lips, which he immediately understood, giving into every need and every urge.

Spending all the strength he had to give her time, and not let the animalistic urges take over fully, as she needed… guidance.

“I know” he responded, moving slowly, feeling as she successively accepted his cock, relaxing into his arms and whimpering beautifully.

He was patient, slow and understanding… until he couldn't anymore, moving increasingly faster and harder, his hands squeezing her wrists a little too tight but they were both lost. Lost in the forbidden dance led by the embers smouldering in their chests, intensified by the music they both heard. Tangled in the forbidden, breathtakingly beautiful dance.

Y/N let him paw at her skin needily, pushing into her deep and fast, taking everything he needed. Lost in the experience and in the intense being that Thomas Shelby was.

Maybe if she was just a little less gone, a little more meticulous, she'd notice the dark red stains on his shirt.

The raw obsession in his touch ever since he held her for the first time so innocently. The metallic scent of blood on his skin.

Tommy couldn't let anything and anyone separate them, after all.

Devil and his angel.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #dark fantasy #tommy shelby dark #thomas shelby dark #halloween

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year ago

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Like Real People Do

Pairing: Abraham (Grantchester) x f!reader Warnings: Allusions to smut, mild angst, mentions of pregnancy. Word count: ~2.5k

Summary: Her and Abraham have been seeing each other on the sly for the last six months. Some unexpected news makes her worry she's ruined everything between them. Based on this request.

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She gasps as she feels Cora’s hands gently squeeze her breasts through her blouse.

“Sorry, love,” the dark haired, older woman smiles at her apologetically, “it’s one of the only ways I can know for certain. Might be worth you seeing a doctor though, just to be sure.”

“No!” She shakes her head vehemently. “No doctors. If mum finds out she’ll kill me.”

“Seems to me you’re not far along, but give it another month or two and you’re gonna start to show. You can’t hide it forever,” Cora tells her softly. “Does Abraham know?”

Feeling tears prickle at her eyes, she lowers her head, inhaling shakily. “N-no,” she replies, her voice wobbling. “God, Cora, what am I gonna do? Please don’t say anything.”

Cora sighs, stepping forward and pulling her into a tight hug. “I’ll pop some water on to boil and we’ll have a nice cup of tea. That always makes everything better.”

The Romani people had arrived into Grantchester six months ago, setting up camp on Mr. Ruskin’s land. They’d kept to themselves and caused no trouble, so there had been no rush from the farmer to move them on, especially when they were paying him good money to make use of his stables for their horses.

She had been enamoured with Abraham from the moment she’d laid eyes upon him. His intense blue stare and the way it had dragged slowly down her form from top to bottom then back up again had made her skin feel hot.

He felt impossibly tell as he’d approached her and introduced himself, a lopsided smirk upon his sharp, handsome features. From the way her heart raced as she’d told him her name she’d known instantly she was in trouble. She was going to fall hard for this man, and she had.

It was a warm summer’s evening, the sun hanging low and vibrantly orange on the horizon as they’d walked to the top of the grassy hill that overlooked the village, settling down onto its grassy bank.

“I like it up here,” she’d told him, “I come here when I’m feeling sad or worried. Nice to pull my head out of the clouds by being close to ‘em, y’know?”

He’d raised an eyebrow at her, that trademark smirk reappearing and she’d felt for certain he was going to make fun of her, until she’d felt the weight of his arm around her shoulder. It had made excitement flutter in her stomach.

“Pretty girl like you shouldn’t ever feel sad or worried,” he’d told her, pulling a brown glass bottle from his inner jacket pocket and holding it up to her, “Pal’s ginger wine, fancy a swig?”

She’d giggled, accepting the bottle from him and uncorking it before taking a drink. It had burned the back of her throat as she’d swallowed, making her eyes go wide as she’d covered her mouth with the back of her hand, coughing and spluttering.

Abraham had laughed, taking the bottle back off of her and rubbing her back. “Yeah, it’s a bit on the strong side. Go easy with it.”

They had shared their first kiss that evening, and the ginger wine tasted so much sweeter upon his lips than it had from the bottle. His lips pressed against hers firmly, yet felt soft against her own as he’d threaded his fingers into her hair, their breaths heavy as his tongue had slipped against her own.

Every night after that had been filled with his presence, his large hands wandering over her curves as their mouths had moved together.

When he’d pressed inside of her for the first time, as they’d laid against a blanket on the hay, she’d winced slightly, tensing up at the uncomfortable sting. He moved with such self assuredness that she couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy, acrid and bitter in her chest. How many girls had there been before her?

Her worries were immediately pacified the moment he’d sensed her discomfort and pulled back slightly to look her in the eye, his palm cupping her cheek. “Is this your first time?” He’d asked quietly.

She nodded, embarrassment heating her skin, and averted her gaze with shame.

Abraham had grasped her chin between thumb and forefinger, brushing the tip of her nose with his. “Good,” he’d whispered, “that means you’re mine.”

He had kissed her passionately, his movements inside of her slow and gentle.

God, I love you, she’d thought, and every day since then the feeling had intensified.

It had been half a year of bliss, and she had been too wrapped up in her whirlwind romance with her handsome traveller to take any notice when she’d missed her monthly bleed the first time. However, when a second month had passed without any sign of it she had noticed and grown worried. Her breasts felt tender and she was more tired than usual.

The thought of telling her parents she might be pregnant had terrified her, she was sure they’d disown her. Cora was a kind, motherly figure of the Romani people’s camp and had always been welcoming to her, she had felt like the safest option.

Now as she sits opposite her, her hands cradling the comforting warmth of a cup of tea, she knows she’s made the right choice.

“I can’t tell Abe,” says quietly, figures stroking against the delicate china of her tea cup. “We’ve never even said I love you. He won’t want a baby with me, I was just a bit of fun until you all move on again.”

Cora tuts, pushing a plate of biscuits towards her. “You do both of you a disservice. That boy loves the bones of you, anyone can see that. Tell him.”

“What if he finishes with me?” She asks worriedly, her eyes big as she stares across the table at her.

“Then I’ll give him a bloody good clip round the ear,” Cora quips, snatching up a custard cream from the plate.

She feels lighter as she steps out of the caravan, more prepared to deal with the burden she has to bear. Filled with courage from Cora’s words, she makes her way towards the stables, knowing that’s where she’s most likely to find Abraham at this time of day.

Hearing voices as she gets closer, she pauses, listening intently to the conversation, keeping herself out of sight.

“So you’ll be ready for us to make a move once this thoroughbred’s sold then?” She hears Pal ask.

“Yeah,” comes Abraham’s response, “she’s fast, so she’ll sell quick.”

“And what about your missus, is she alright with all of this?”

“She’s a good girl,” Abraham says, “easy going, she’ll give us no trouble.”

Her heart lurches in her chest, her throat feeling tight and she turns and walks quickly away in the direction of home.

She’s a good girl, easy going, she’ll give us no trouble.

The words play on a loop in her mind. Abraham’s easy summer fling, one that will give him no hassle when it comes time for him to abandon her and move on to the next town, the next girl. Is that really all she is to him?

Hot, fat tears roll down her cheeks as she bows her head, wrapping her arms around herself, willing her feet to move faster, so she can fall apart in private. The thought that she is carrying the child of the man who plans to leave her is more than she can handle.

She shuts herself away in her bedroom for the next couple of days, feigning illness to her parents. It’s not a complete lie, the morning sickness has begun in earnest, though she is displeased to find it doesn’t have the courtesy to restrict itself simply to that time of day, and waves of nausea have her crouching over the porcelain at all hours.

This is the longest she has gone without seeing Abraham since they met, and in spite of the fact she knows their relationship is doomed to fail, she can’t help but miss him. When she’s not vomiting up the tea and toast she’s fought to keep down, she’s curled beneath her duvet, fear and sadness gnawing at her. What will she do without him? What will she do with a baby?

It’s early afternoon, and her dad is at work, her mum out running errands, when she sees the small pebble sail towards her bedroom window, dinging loudly off of the glass as it makes contact before falling away again.

She feels a rush of excitement as she looks out to see Abraham standing on the path below, looking up at her. Despite everything she cannot help what she feels for him, can’t deny the effect he has on her. He gestures for her to come down, brow furrowed slightly in concern.

Dread forms a hollow pit in her belly. Has he come to tell her he’s moving on, to end things? She is not sure her heart can take hearing him say the words to her, yet she slips on her shoes and goes outside anyway.

Abraham moves to embrace her, but pauses, stepping back as she hovers by the front door. “Your mum and dad in?”

She shakes her head and he visibly relaxes, posture becoming less rigid as he reaches out and takes her hand.

“Not seen you for a few days,” he tells her, “everything alright?”

She stares at where their hands join together, then up at his face and suddenly it feels as though she can’t breathe. She doesn’t want this to be her final memory of his touch, the clasp of his hand in hers as he breaks her heart.

Snatching her arm back, she swallows thickly, ignoring the way his eyes widen and his lips part slightly in apparent shock. “No. No, I’m not alright,” she says, voice wobbling.

Tell him.

She can’t. She doesn’t want the reason he stays to be because she has trapped him by falling pregnant. She wants to be enough for him, but the fact that he has her and wants to leave anyway tells all she needs to know; she isn’t.

She presses on, not giving him the chance to interrupt her. “I heard you and Pal in the stables the other day. I know you’re leaving, I just wish you’d had the decency to tell me sooner. So, if you’ve come here to finish with me, I don’t wanna hear it. I know. Spare me.”

Her breathing is laboured by the time she finishes speaking and she’s crying once more.

Abraham steps forward, his own eyes watery as he reaches for her. “Please, I–”

“Don’t,” she chokes out, before spotting her mum coming from the end of the lane.

Abraham follows her line of sight and stuffs his hands into his pockets, walking quickly away in the opposite direction, as she steps back into the house. She slams the front door and runs up the stairs to muffle her tears into her pillow. She doesn’t emerge for the rest of the day, falling into an uneasy sleep.

It has been four days since she overheard Abraham and Pal’s conversation, three days since she left the house, and the walls are beginning to feel as though they’re closing in on her. She is desperate to get outside, to breathe in fresh air and clear her mind and body of the heartache that plagues her.

She heads for her favourite hill. The climb feeling more tiring than it usually does, a side effect of her being pregnant she supposes. She wonders if she will have to stop coming here altogether as she gets bigger. The thought makes her sad. She is losing everything she loves.

The tickle of the grass against the backs of her legs as she sits down, coupled with the gentle breeze on her skin, has her closing her eyes, turning her face up towards the sun, enjoying its gentle warmth.

Staying like that for a few moments, she smiles to herself, savouring the first time her mind has been quiet since Cora confirmed her suspicions about her current condition.

She senses the sunlight darken through her eyelids and slowly opens them to see Abraham standing over her.

Her mouth turns downwards, her heart sinking.

He’s come to finish what he started.

“Alright?” He says, long limbs folding as he settles beside her on the grass.

She sighs. “Why’d you follow me here? I’ve said all I’ve gotta say.”

“Good for you,” he says, narrowing his eyes, “but I haven’t, so you’ll listen for once. I’m not leaving you. What you overheard the other day was Pal asking about me planning to bring you with us, you misunderstood.”

Tell him.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurts, acting on Cora’s advice before she has the chance to talk herself out of it.

Abraham’s eyebrows raise, his baby blues widening as he stares at her wordlessly for a moment. Time feels as though it stretches for an eternity, and she worries he’ll simply get up and walk away, but then he smiles, a wide grin that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes them twinkle.

“Just as well I’m taking you with me when we go then,” he says, placing a hand on her knee and squeezing gently.

She sighs, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms around her middle. “You aren’t obligated to me just because you got me up the duff.”

“I know that,” he says, his hand never leaving her thigh, “but I meant what I said, I won’t leave you, baby or no baby. Look–”

He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a delicate gold wedding band, and she gasps.

“This was me nanna’s. Mam held onto it, wanted to give it to her daughter. Unlucky for her, she had all boys, so she said whichever of us got married first could have it. Been carrying it round since we first kissed, I’ve always known I wanted to ask you.”

“You were gonna ask me to marry you?” She asks in disbelief.

Abraham nods. “I still am. Figured you wouldn’t wanna come with me if I didn’t make an honest woman outta you, and well…I love you.”

She sniffles, resting her head against his shoulder and he wraps his arm around her, pulling her close. “You’re not angry that I’m pregnant?” She wonders aloud.

“Not at all. It’s not happened in the order I thought it would, but that’s life, I s’pose. Just means you might look a bit fat in your wedding dress.”

She huffs a laugh, swatting at him playfully and he grins.

“So, we’re doing this then?” He asks.

“Yeah, looks like we are,” she smiles up at him.

“Good, ‘cause I wouldn’t leave without you.”

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xxmrs-waynexx · 2 years ago

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Rules/Notes:

Please read!!

THIS BLOG STANDS WITH PALESTINE

Who I Write For:

Pretty much anyone in DC. If I don’t write for them, I’ll add them here! This is a new blog so I guess we’ll find out!

What I Will Write:

Smut, Fluff, Angst, etc. Platonic is a fun one for me. I love batfam content.

What I Won’t Write:

Incest, pedophilia, and again, this is a new blog so I guess we’ll find out based on requests what I should add to this list. If you have to ask “do you think nova would write this…?” then send an ask and I’ll let you know!

On a less intense note, I won’t write canon characters ONLY. All things I write will include x reader

Notes:

Hi! I’m Nova. I’m a full-time college student and as much as I love writing, things may become difficult. I also have chronic illnesses and will be in pain/sick 9 times outta 10.

Also, please reblog if you enjoyed anything I have written. It means so much.

In regards to the Batfam/Certain characters:

I myself am Jewish and therefore, I stick with a Jewish Bruce Wayne. Unless specified otherwise (i.e. you want a nice Christmas with him), he will be Jewish.

Dick Grayson is also a Romani Jewish man. He is not white. Not for my little world at least.

Quick Rules:

I will always give trigger warnings/warnings in general

I want to get to know you guys! Send in more than just requests please <3

DC is a dark universe, therefore I do write some dark topics at times

Masterlist:

Bruce Wayne:

Stressed (smut)

Young Again (fluff)

Clark Kent:

Gloss & Glasses Series Masterlist

Dating Clark headcanons (fluff)

Wally West:

You Can Always Call (angst/comfort/tw)

Dating Wally headcanon (fluff)

Jason Todd:

I'm Fine (fluff, nsfw mention)

Tough as Nails (fluff, comfort)

Dick Grayson:

No Peace (fluff)

#dc imagine #dc #dc comics #dc fanfic #batman #batman fandom #wally west x reader #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne x reader #clark kent #clark kent x reader #superman x reader #bruce wayne smut #superman #batman smut

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sooibian · 4 years ago

Text

Star-Crossed

Pairing: Baekhyun x Fem!Reader, OC Lys, Minseok, Yixing

Description: In his struggle with his inner demons and the outside world, will Baekhyun succeed in saving the one he loves?

Themes: Romani AU, magical realism, fluff, angst, mildly explicit, implied smut, secret relationship, knife related superstitions

Warnings: Blood, knives, violence

Word Count: 8.2k

Tagging: @changshapatrol @rosetvler @bbyunz @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt @royal-aeris @bbhmystar @tydontstop shy tagging @his-mochi-cheeks !

Part of the Steampunk Romani AU collab with @leewalberg @vampwrrr @xui-n-soowillbethedeathofme

Pre-reading notes:

Baekhyun can influence physical objects with his mind, unnamed MC is a plant whisperer, Yixing is a dragon, and Lys is a mind reader.

Glossary: bulibasha - clan leader; chao - tea; dragă - darling; dya - mother; gadjo - someone of non romani descent/origin; iubit - lover; kafa - coffee; lăutari - musicians

**********************************

The camp was bathed in an enchanting silver of the sparkling night sky. Evenings like these were ideal for bonfires and conviviality. Merry peals of laughter reached your ears in sporadic waves - delightful by nature but not entirely alluring. You’d always preferred the abyss of your own thoughts. Encumbered by gaiety, not many missed you on such occasions for you were ordinarily out of sight - living on the far edge of the camp, a stone’s throw from the surrounding forest that served your clandestine gift for curative botanicals. The one that you had inherited from your mother.

You would have loved nothing more than to spend your days curating elixirs for inflictions superficial and of the mind. Hogweed for flu, Borango for the heart, lavender blossoms for the mind...the flora would sing sweet praises of her roots, stems, leaves, flowers, and fruits. Songs that could be heard by you and your mother before you. The others, they had to study. They had to spend nights on end learning and perfecting this scientific art.

Destiny demanded you take over your ailing grandfather’s weapons trade and spend a good part of your life acquiring and selling lethal daggers, swords, machetes, and often the antiquated colt. But you held no bitterness against the inexorable fate and accepted life as it came with its blunt and sharp blows.

As you sat tidying your workbench, your paring knife slid off and fell to the floor with a clang as if to signal you of an impending rendezvous. The wintry chill took you by the tips of your fingers ever so gently and guided you out of the comfort of your home only to envelope you in her warmest embrace.

The sound of his footsteps set your heart racing and you cursed at your rather self-destructive whims and fancies. Not wanting to seem like you were dawdling, you almost hurried back into the caravan but decided against it in the last minute. Even after everything, he had your soul dangling by a string, jerking it to the tunes of a bittersweet symphony. Appearing unflustered, you forced your eyes to marvel at the blue-white Rigel and red Betelgeuse instead but they battled for a mere glimpse at him.

The moon cast a beautiful, pearly sheen on the visitor but failed at masking his savagery. His black ankle banded pants, the frayed red brocade coat that was layered over a lace up shirt, the weighty golden azazel ring on his left thumb which was a sign of his elevated status in the clan, the leather belt around his lean waist, even the bandoleer strapped over his right thigh that steadfastly held his jamdhar all bore garish smudges of dried blood.

The guilt of seeing this dagger on his person never ceased to bog you down. Had you not found it, it would never have found Baekhyun.

He stopped at a foot's distance from you, one hand pressing a piece of cloth to an old gash across his eyebrow which seemed to have come undone. He watched you with an unmistakable conviction in his boldly lined eyes while yours landed on the sprig of basil resting against his throat. It made your heart clench with a fatal concoction of hurt and guilt.

He shouldn’t be here.

You pointedly scrutinized the smoky emanations that rose in black wisps from the weapon. Despite your continued dissent, Baekhyun insisted on using the jamdhar. He cleared his throat meekly, drew the weapon out of the bandoleer and hid it in the inside pocket of his coat and advanced towards you.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you said "Stay", and raised your index finger at him as if in command. The last time Baekhyun wound up in your caravan it didn't end well for you. In fact, every time he came to see you, he brought along with him agonizing memories of that day - the one day on which you both wished that the sun hadn’t risen.

As soon as you turned around, he grabbed you by your wrist to hold you firmly in place. The front window of the vehicle burst open and with a whooshing sound your medicine crate and teapoy flew out of it only to carefully descend at your feet.

"When will you ever stop flaunting your feathers like a peacock." You muttered under your breath, pursing your lips to suppress a smile. "I'll need a flask, a lidded dish...and a mat."

In one quick movement, he pulled you towards him, deliberately pressing his firm, laddish torso to your back. He leaned in closer, his tender lips and warm breath tickling your ear, as he whispered, "Take me inside, saves us the hassle", sending a frisson of wildness down your spine.

But you were quick to prise away from his captivating grasp and meet his misty eyes with an unwavering gaze. Crossing your arms over your chest, you stated with a hint of annoyance in your tone, "The Healer lives not too far from here. I'm just a weapons dealer, anyway."

Strangely enough, only the potions and cures concocted by you soothed Baekhyun’s woes - they helped restore his strength that was devoured raw by the jamdhar. But that wasn’t the only reason why he was drawn to you. If Baekhyun knew love, it was because he saw it in your eyes. With his head rested in your lap, the one feared by all felt at home... he felt at peace.

Averting his gaze from your stern countenance, he let out a deep sigh and conceded defeat.

***

You started him off with a decoction of Feverfew flowers diluted with water and honey to help soothe his muscular aches while concocting a balm out of beeswax, Laca leaves and powdered root of the Allheal plant for his bruises. He took a hesitant sip and thrust the flask back into your hand, wincing at the bitter taste of the brew, "More honey."

"Honey doesn’t come cheap." You jeered, immediately regretting your words as you glanced over his soul crushingly worn out demeanour.

Baekhyun’s undertakings as the money lender’s henchman always ended up taking an ugly toll on him. This wasn’t something he was cut out for but weighed down by the burden of fealty, the obvious facts seemed to elude him. Hastily handing him the jar of honey, you inched closer to him to clean his wound.

He retreated playfully. Gaping at you, he complained in mock-offense, “Men and women shouldn’t be inappropriately intimate!”

Unheeding, you responded, “Especially if they’re spoken for.”

His jaw dropped in protest but he clamped it shut at once. Lowering his gaze, he quietly added a generous dollop of the sweet nectar to the flask and stirred the mixture with one of the decontaminated knives from your medicine crate.

“Stir with a knife and stir up strife”, you taunted him despite yourself.

Undeterred, he continued to stir with an increased vigour. “Since it doesn’t bode well for us to see each other unless I’m battered and bruised”, he retorted, chuckling darkly, the sparkle of the entire galaxy pooling in the depth of his eyes, “this solves it.”

Growing up, you never concerned yourself with the frail and sickly lad who had the ability to influence physical objects with his mind; he didn’t mingle with kids his age and spent most of his time tailing the money lender’s son Minseok. Now that you think about it, it was the other way round. Minseok tailed Baekhyun, cleaning up the messes he made and looking after him despite the second-rate treatment the adopted boy received from the rest of his family. For someone that small-boned, Baekhyun was loud, boisterous, and slightly too obnoxious. It wasn’t long before you wrote the troublemaker off as someone you’d rather steer clear of.

You, on the other hand, spent the better part of your childhood and adolescent years learning the Romano Zakono at the feet of your grandfather, apprenticing with the Healers of the clan, practising intricate embroidery and the cursive script, and secretly mimicking the songs and dances of the lăutari.

You’ll never forget the day he sneaked up on you dancing to one of Damian Draghici’s songs. It was a little before sunset, you were alone by the pond, dressed in your newly sewn red crêpe skirt and a coordinated red blouse that showed off your elegant collarbone and just a tasteful bit of your midriff. Last year, you came of age and started discovering the sublime beauty of womanhood that was revealed by the luxe curves and graceful lines of your body. With a golden belt tinkling on your waist, beaded earrings dangling in your ears, a colourful cotton scarf around your head, eyes emboldened with the darkest kohl, lips tinted with a fearless maroon, you sneaked shy glances at yourself in the clear pond.

The soft evening wind had rendered your already wild hair untamed and you were draped in the fragrance of the woody white oudh carrying sweet undertones of ylang ylang flowers and patchouli. You’d stolen a tiny bit of the expensive attar from your mother’s dresser drawer and dabbed it behind the top of your ear. You always wore perfume in that spot since it was oilier than the ear lobe, and oil tends to hold on to perfume better, helping it to diffuse for longer. That way, you’d carry the delectable essence of nature with you at least until the next sunset albeit at the price of a scolding from your stern but loving dya.

To your knowledge, you were the only one by the pond. Everyone was busy celebrating the union of one of the elders’ granddaughter with the blacksmith’s son. Dressed up this splendidly, it would be an utter waste if you didn’t sneak out for just a bit to croon and sway to Damian Draghici’s latest Trandafire after being spellbound by the performance of the lăutari at the wedding.

Halfway through your routine, you were alerted by a sudden ruffling of the leaves. As you turned your head in the direction of the sound, struggling to see in the fading daylight, a scrawny boy fell out of the magnolia tree and straight into the pond, tush first.

Mortified, you wanted to run to the Healer to ask for a little something that would obliviate your memory of this ordeal, or better yet mix that something in this rude intruder’s kafa the next morning. But the impact of him falling into the water created a huge splash, leaving you partially drenched. There’s no way you could go back to the feast looking like this. What on earth was this boy doing here while the entire clan was by the gazebo, celebrating!

Upon a closer look you realized that he, of all people, was in dire need of some flesh to his bones.

Dripping wet he staggered out of the pond, a pout on his lips and eyes downcast. Ignoring you, he started to walk towards the camp but you yelled after him, “Creep!”

The boy who couldn’t have been more than a year younger to you, was half a head shorter. He turned around and sneered, low-toned, “Creep?”

“How dare you...how dare you..watch me..” Perplexed and livid, you contemplated on the choice of your words.

Hands on hips, he sauntered towards you with his head tilted to the side, brows pinched together and a corner of his mouth raised in a smirk. The mood of his tone sent chills down your spine when he asked, “How dare I what?”

Fuelled with an unadulterated rage, you glared at him but he merely stood there, countenance casual, as if he’d just asked for directions to your grandfather’s weapons’ store.

His outfit was ragged and clearly bigger for his frame but it highlighted his broad chest and shoulders. The cuffs of his pants were tattered, loose threads hanging by their seams and the right elbow of his black lace up shirt was patched with a squarish cloth of a different fabric. If you were dressed anything like him, you would have skipped the wedding, too. The patch on his elbow had come apart as a consequence of the fall, revealing a fresh wound.

Sighing in defeat, you grabbed him by his left wrist and dragged him to the edge of the pond. To your utter surprise, he followed without any protest. You sat down and he sat next to you, albeit a little too close for your comfort. You slowly dipped your feet in the cool water and he, reluctantly, after folding his pants up to his knees, did the same.

Unfastening the drawstring on the little pouch fixed to your belt, you removed a clean gauze and a vial of white petroleum from it. Soaking the gauze in water, you took him by his right forearm but he flinched and retracted. “What are you doing?” He asked, eyes widened in surprise.

“Cleaning your wound.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why would you do that? I have nothing to give you in return and I don’t like owing people.”

“..owing people? How old are you?”

“What has my age got to do with anything?”

Shaking your head, you gave him a small smile, “No, nothing. You don’t owe me, alright? I’m doing this to...to... improve my skills. If anything, I owe you. Clear?”

Baekhyun’s suspicious eyes eased into a soft smile and he nodded in agreement. His smile was radiant and his striking eyes were accentuated with smooth, bold strokes of glittering kohl which had smudged along the edges, resembling a beautifully chaotic thunderstorm. The dimming evening light cast a faint shadow of his eye lashes on the apples of his translucent cheeks. Amidst his pleasing facial features, it was his nose that stood out for you. You couldn’t quite tell what it was but you wanted a small bite of it.

He was undoubtedly the most handsome boy you had ever seen.

“Why aren’t you at the wedding?” You asked, carefully folding the sleeve of his shirt up to his upper arm and cleaning the blood off of his elbow with the wet gauze. As you were applying a generous layer of white petroleum over it, you felt his stiff posture gradually relax.

His gaze shifted from you and he stared into the distance and replied, “No reason.”

You simply nodded and decided against prodding him further. Taking the cotton scarf off of your head, you folded it into a makeshift bandage and swathed his elbow in it.

“Why aren’t you at the wedding?” He asked, fixing you with a steady gaze.

“Because I’m dressed way too exquisitely for a mere wedding.” You laughed.

“I’d have to agree.” He said in a small voice. “Do you come here often?”

“Would you like me to?”

“As a Healer isn’t it your duty to follow up on your patients?”

“I’m no Healer, but I’d like to see you again on the next full moon. To check up on the…. very deep gash on your elbow.”

Baekhyun’s lips curled upwards and his eyes crinkled. He nodded sagely in response.

“I have to go now”, you said, finding a part of your heart already missing the boy you never wanted anything to do with.

“I’ll leave first”, Baekhyun responded.

As you watched him go, magnolia flowers came floating in the air towards you in a straight line. They spun and wove around each other in a circle as if dancing to the beats of Trandafire. The brightest fireflies fluttered and joined in on the little gala of flowers, entwined like gemstones on a tiara, as the soiree adorned its rightful princess.

***

Thereafter came a seemingly endless string of secret rendezvous under the starry night skies. Baekhyun would braid your hair with flowers, sing you sweet love songs, bring you little gifts he’d find on his travels with Minseok and his father. They were mostly ingredients that you couldn’t find in the forest; you’d only describe their physical properties once and he’d commit them to memory, presenting you with only the best of the best of his finds.

Musings of the past were quick to pave the way for promises of a future. Even with its neck haltered and back against a wall, love was foolishly brave.

The more Baekhyun got involved with the money lender’s dealings, the lesser time he had for you which made every moment of yours with him even more precious. You held on to each other until the very last second as the agony of parting continued to amplify with the next meeting.

Years went by and one sweltering summer evening, you acquired a sealed weapon from a thirsty gadjo in exchange for an amphora full of fruit wine. The gadjo said it was a jamdhar, a rare push dagger, mainly intended for piercing armours. It was useless to him since the weapon had sealed itself and only an equal could unsheathe it.

But to you, the jamdhar meant freedom.

The dagger was rare, unreasonably powerful, mysterious and quite unlike any weapon in your grandfather’s munition. Merely fifteen inches long, it weighed about eleven pounds on the scale but it was quite heavy to be wielded by the average person. You could use the dagger to your advantage to evade inheriting the weapons’ trade and convince him to allow you to pursue your dream as an apothecary instead.

You later discovered that your plea had fallen upon deaf ears but you reckoned it was worth a try, anyway.

On Sara-la-Kali’s pilgrimage day, a feast was hosted by the babas of the clan. Among the many events held that evening, one event was held by your grandfather inviting men and women, young and old, to unsheathe the jamdhar.

Eyes outlined with an ebony galena and dark hair tousled, Baekhyun was dressed in black leather slacks and a loose midnight blue silk kurti which accentuated his broad and masculine frame. He wore an ivory tooth necklace and adorned the forward helix of his left ear with a gold ring. There was something different about him that day. He was unfaltering and undaunted. He was a force of nature.

He fixed the weapon with an unflinching gaze that sent shivers down your spine and proceeded towards it with one deliberate step at a time. He grabbed the sheathed jamdhar as if holding up a feather and drew the reticent dagger out of its cocoon with a sharp hiss.

The weapon gleamed in the moonlight. Its hilt was forged from pure carbon steel and it cut through the birchbark bench like cutting through floating sand. Vicious and double edged, its narrow blade was as clear as mirror glass. Yet, when Baekhyun glanced into it, he saw doleful eyes of strangers - men, women, and seldom children. These were reflections of the spirits of the lives claimed by the weapon.

The jamdhar was mighty and it made the man who possessed it invincible but it was bursting with resentment. Now that the weapon had found its true master, its energy only strengthened after each kill, rendering the master’s soul a shade weakened. Baekhyun would only continue to grow restless until he lost control of the weapon...and eventually of himself. You shuddered to think what might ultimately become of him if he didn’t discard the weapon soon enough.

It was after Sara-la-Kali’s pilgrimage day, the almighty Byun Baekhyun had become a stranger to you but your hearts were still tied together by the fragile thread of...love.

You wondered if you could still call it that.

It had been a year since.

A year of sleepless nights and frazzled days. You found him growing distant in your unyielding pursuit of asking him to relinquish the weapon. But the weapon had given him everything he couldn't afford to lose - fame, might, wealth, and most of all the respect that he yearned for growing up. Nobody dared to cross Byun Baekhyun. Nobody spoke ill of him. His mere presence would hush the busiest streets and people would bow down to him out of fear or admiration... or both.

They say time heals but it was now your arch nemesis. So you did what you knew best. You concocted brews that would help restore his strength only for it to be swallowed up again the next time the vicious blade had tasted blood.

You kept to yourself otherwise than when he needed you but the more you tried to fight shy of him, the more you found yourself in his company - observing the little things that pulled you deeper into your affections for him. The look in his eyes every time he saw fireflies dancing around your caravan, the erratic beating of his heart you felt against your palm when he kissed you for the last time...every time you noticed these things - your safekept heart threatened to leap out of it’s wrought iron cage only to land into his deceitful hands.

“You didn’t know ...they..they didn’t tell you?” Your trembling fingers grazed the fresh sprig of basil resting against Baekhyun’s sternum as you struggled to ground yourself by focusing on your breathing.

His palm met the side of your face in a gentle caress. “I didn’t. Believe me, I didn’t.” His voice was but a tremulous whisper in his futile endeavour to hold back tears.

“I was gone for one day.. I had some business up north.. and.. and everything.. everything’s changed! Just like that...everything’s changed!” You tried your best to lay hysteria off of your voice, but faltered. He wrapped his arms around you, his grip strengthening by the second, holding you closer, tighter as if his life depended on it. He then guided you to your bed and sat you down.

Whole body wracked by sobs, you squeezed your eyes shut. And then you saw her. Lys. The money lender’s youngest. She was a vision with hair as dark as the night rippling down to her waist, skin so beautiful as if covered in specks of gold. You envisioned a goddess enveloped in the strong, reliable arms of your beloved and your heart sank to your stomach.

As bewitching as she was, no man in his right mind would take her as his wife for she could hear the words they never dared to utter. And that was treacherous territory even for the bravest, the most virtuous of them all. Lys could crawl into the mind of anyone she laid a mere finger on and their deepest, darkest secrets would come unraveled to her.

She could hear them all. All but one - the only one you held dear.

As soon as they got a whiff of this, the elders arranged her marriage with Baekhyun showing utter disregard for his consent.

“Let’s run away together”, you managed feebly, dreading his obvious answer.

Devastated, he searched your eyes as a silent tear streamed down his cheek. He took your hands in his, tenderly pressed them to his lips and broke down in sobs.

“You do all their dirty work! Why are they so cruel to you? Why? You’re capable of so much more.” You argued in vain.

His dark eyes shot up to meet yours, stoic and resolute. “I’ve known only one thing all my life that is kill or be killed. You’re only saying this because you don’t know the real me. You’ve never seen me make a man’s head explode. You’ve only ever seen the things I let you see. I am a horrendous brute who was abandoned by his own parents...a monster who deserves no love.

My parents...my parents were simple-minded villagers who perceived anything out of the ordinary as black-hearted. After they found out what I was capable of, they started looking at me like I was different...like I was not human. They’d feed me leftovers, starve me for days, even try to beat the demon out of me. Nothing worked. I was still capable of doing the things that they considered wicked sorcery. At last they decided to sell me off to a merchant for a jagged piece of silver.

The caravan was on one of their travels to the east at the time. They stopped by a field outside my village. It was the elders who spotted me… an eight year old left to his own devices, drawing water out of a well only with the sheer force of his mind. It was Minseok’s father who saved me that day. He saved me from the unthinkable. I can’t do this to them… I can’t let them down. And the more I think about it, I know that I have nothing to offer you. I have mastered no trade, I possess no talent for the arts. I have nothing to give you. I believe you deserve better. You’ve always deserved better. Better than -” His voice trailed off.

“Show me your best blade.”

A glossy yet assertive female voice fell upon your ears while you sat polishing some of the antiquated procurements with alcohol. Your grandfather loved for his collection to be immaculate as if they were elegant relics or souvenirs and not lethal weapons, a single plunge in the right place from which could mean only one thing. Though gradually and unwittingly, you grew up to care for them as such too.

“What do you need it for?” You inquired, attention fixed on the task at hand.

The sound of the visitor’s footsteps grew closer but before you could turn around, firm hands rested upon your shoulders, squeezing hard. The visitor whispered in your ear, “One that is good enough for carving a man’s heart out of his chest”, and broke into a high pitched, maniacal laughter.

“Lys!” Scared out of your wits, you exclaimed as all sounds suddenly started to become more and more distant. Everything faded out of sight and you felt like a lamb to the slaughter under her terrorizing gaze. She continued to look at you intently and shot you a knowing smile, effectively binding your limbs in dread. Tossing a piece of silver in your direction, she walked away with a freshly polished navaja, a fighting knife.

The sheer idea of Lys being aware of your deepest secret rendered you physically and mentally incapacitated for the rest of the day. Anxiety took over, tormenting you with the worst possible consequences of your now unveiled thoughts.

One that is good enough for carving a man’s heart out of his chest.

What did she mean by that? Would Baekhyun have to bear the brunt of your feelings? Has he not suffered enough at the hands of this family by constantly living on the edge of terror and despair?

Would this cost him his life?

Sleep evaded you that night.

Wearing a weapon in the thick braid of yarn around your waist, you threw a shawl over your shoulders, gathered your skirts and headed towards Baekhyun’s caravan.

***

Just as you were about to reach for the door, it swung open and appeared before you two well built, dark haired men - one of them a head taller than the other. Your heart stopped the moment a pair of feline eyes bore into yours. Minseok closed the door behind him and you instinctively backpedalled, almost tumbling over a piece of rock until Yixing grabbed you by your arm to steady you.

"Bladerunner, what are you doing here?" Yixing asked genially but a glint of suspicion danced in his eyes.

Your mind made up too many excuses for you to actually be able to stick with one.

"Answer him, Bladerunner." Minseok commanded with a hardened expression.

Baekhyun trotted out of his caravan and answered good naturedly, "Bulibasha, I'd asked her to bring me a vial of chamomile essential oil. It helps with my muscle spasms."

"Why would you ask that of a Bladerunner, Baekhyun? Is she running an illicit trade?” Yixing inquired, tilting his head to the side, the dimpled smile on his face unflinching

“Bulibasha, I-” Trembling from head to toe, you bowed before him expressing repentance.

Minseok gave you a quick once over and asked Baekhyun, “Why is she dressed like a looter? Tell us what’s going on, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun and you were both well aware that Minseok and Yixing weren’t men you could deceive. They would smell a lie from miles away and the truth would lead to a certain death...or worse, banishment from the clan.

Forget about him, dragă. He's no nurturer...

Your mother's voice boomed in your ears, seizing your throat and bringing tears to your eyes.

“No chicanaries, Baekhyun.” Yixing warning came out sounding more like an advice.

The moment you opened your mouth to confess in a way that would save Baekhyun's neck from the noose, he took two small strides and stood next to you. Eyes downcast, he held your ice cold hand in his and declared defiantly, “We’re in love with each other, Bulibasha.”

***

Yixing ordered to see Minseok, Baekhyun, and you in his private chamber at the break of dawn. To your utter surprise, he permitted Baekhyun to walk you back home provided he would be back within the quarter of an hour.

Your caravan was encircled with a faint golden light from the fireflies dancing around it. Baekhyun smiled weakly at the tragically beautiful sight and you committed the slow upward curl of his tender lips to memory.

Your heart was laden with guilt. When wrapped you in his arms, you whispered into his strong chest as your mind was clouded over with the familiar, comforting scent of sandalwood on his skin, “You shouldn’t have.”

“I shouldn’t have let it come to this. I should’ve stood up for us long ago. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” He breathed softly and plucked the string akin to a noose from around his neck and slid it into the inside pocket of his coat.

“Whatever happens tomorrow”, he whispered as a silent tear made its way down his cheek, “remember that I will never leave your side. Rest assured, I will never let any harm come to you. I love you... I always have and I always will.”

Yixing’s bender tent was twice the size of your caravan. Dimly lit and carpeted, it exuded an intimidating aura. Draped in black, red, and gold panels it carried portraits of eminent members of the clan and the largest one, the one the clan leader himself stood before, was that of a black and gold dragon the mere sight of which was enough to bring the bravest of the men down to their knees. Minseok was seated next to Yixing against the backdrop of the portrait of his own father. His eyes were smoldering embers as he returned your meek obligatory smile with a scowl and stared you down as you and Baekhyun knelt before them. A sense of impending doom settled deep into your bones.

Sure, you felt dread and panic, but just this once you did not feel guilt. Apparently, neither did Baekhyun.

‘Being able to know you and love you has been the greatest gift of all’, was the only thing he’d said to you this morning.

“Bladerunner, did you not have prior knowledge of Baekhyun’s engagement with Minseok’s sister?” Expression neutral, Yixing was quick to do away with unnecessary introductions and jump to the heart of the matter.

When your eyes met his, you realized it would take him mere seconds to burn this room and everything along with it down to ashes. You wondered if he understood the language of the eyes because it was exactly what you implored him to do.

“Bulibasha, we -” Baekhyun spoke on your behalf but with a raised hand Yixing commanded him to stay quiet while holding your gaze steadily.

“I did, Bulibasha.” You declared with all the strength that you could muster, yet your voice was no louder than a whisper.

Lips stretched into a thin line, Yixing’s gaze mellowed as did his countenance when he asked, “Yet, you continued to pursue your relationship with him?”

You hung your head in response.

“Bulibasha -” Baekhyun stood up and pleaded fervently, “Bulibasha, please -”

“This is not something a woman of honour would do now, would she, Bladerunner?” Minseok spat in disgust.

“Minseok!” Baekhyun bellowed, hands balled into fists and seething with rage. You shot a glance at his reddened face, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. A part of you wanted to grab his hand to soothe him but a Minseok’s sharp glare of contempt changed your mind.

“Yes, Bulibasha.” You chose to answer Yixing in your effort to quiet things down.

“Bulibasha”, fiery gaze still boring into Minseok’s, Baekhyun said to Yixing, “I wish to secede from the clan.”

He turned to look at Yixing and pleaded with him, “If this isn’t something a woman of honour would do, then can I be called a man of honour? Should a man like me be allowed to serve the clan? I’ve toyed with not one but the hearts of two respectable young women. This is the only thing I ask of you, Yixing. If our friendship means anything to you, command me to leave and let the Bladerunner continue living with the clan as if none of this ever happened.”

“The Bladerunner has been found guilty of breaking ethical codes, Bulibasha”, Minseok reasoned, “the Zakono beseeches her expulsion instead and Baekhyun should be asked to keep the promise he made to my sister.”

Both Baekhyun and you stole a glance at each other acquiescing in how well-prepared Minseok was. Suddenly, you heard an unmistakable sharp, slicing sound of metal against metal. Acting upon instinct, you quickly rose and threw yourself at Baekhyun, pushing him down to the floor and out of range as a dagger came flying through from the entrance behind you. It flew past the top of your right ear, nicking your helix and lodging itself in the right eye pupil of the portrait in front of you. It was the portrait of Minseok’s father.

Under the startled glare of everyone in attendance, the knife thrower grinned proudly at her skills.

It was Lys.

It took you a moment to realize that had Baekhyun not been pushed out of the way, the blade would’ve gone piercing through his back straight into his heart. Her silken voice boomed ominously in your ears.

One that is good enough for carving a man’s heart out of his chest.

“Lys! You’ve ruined Father’s portrait!” Minseok lambasted his little sister.

Head cocked to the side, Lys sauntered over to her father’s portrait, brushing your arm with her fingernails as she passed you by. Full scarlet lips stretched into a gratified smile, lustrous skin and dark hair glimmering in the soft golden glow of the tent, she pulled the knife out in one graceful movement.

Chucking to herself, she came and stood before you. Placing a hand on your cheek she whispered, “You have beautiful skin, Bladerunner. I’d hate to ruin it.” She ran the blade of the dagger (which you recognized as navaja) along your jaw down to your clavicle. Unflinching, you met her eyes, letting her know that you’d long accepted your fate. She pressed the blade into the side of your neck, leaving you with a deep cut that was as long as your little finger. Blood began to run from it immediately but instead of pain you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

Baekhyun pulled you out of the way and stood like a barrier between you and Lys, glaring at her. His jaw went tight as he roughly grabbed her knife bearing arm, the firm grasp of his fingers was sure to leave her with striking red streaks along her wrist. Smiling to herself, Lys stretched out her other hand in front of Baekhyun. “Hand it over. It never looked good on you, anyway.”

He was quick to draw the basil necklace from the inside pocket of his coat and slap it in her palm. Next, he slowly drew the navaja out of her grasp, inviting a loud gasp from Minseok.

“Baekhyun! What have you done?” Yixing roared.

One prevalent belief still held by the clan was that taking a knife straight from someone’s hand meant that the relationship between the giver and the recipient had been severed. But the enormity of his own action was lost on Baekhyun.

He declared instead, “If the Bladerunner is to be punished, Bulibasha, I deserve a harsher punishment. I don’t care what the Zakono says. You can’t go on acting like she was alone in this!”

Minseok, who seemed to be at a loss for words, simply glared at Baekhyun’s out-of-character rebelliousness.

It was Lys who spoke first. Searching Baekhyun’s eyes, she said to nobody in particular, “He seeks her when he’s upset. And even when he’s not.” Turning to bow before Yixing, Lys stated, "Bulibasha, I would like to request a private audience."

You slept all day after the trial and woke up a little before noon the following morning.

It had felt like one mammoth nightmare - right from the day you laid your eyes on the sprig of basil around Baekhyun’s neck to yesterday when he smacked it in Lys’ hand - leaving you with yet another battle wound on your quest to rescue the man you loved. What transpired yesterday between Lys and Minseok was known only to Yixing, Baekhyun, and you and you were all under an oath to never speak of it again.

The jamdhar was now in Yixing’s custody and it was most likely to be buried deep into the earth after a final discussion with the Elders.

Work that day went by in a daze - all you wanted now was to spend every second of everyday with your beloved but you abandoned the idea till the dust on the matter had settled. You came home to a potted plant which stood pretty on the windowsill of your rustic brown caravan and looked picturesque against the pink bougainvillea creeper around it.

The plant was that of basil.

A basil plant on the window of a woman indicated that she was spoken for. Only one person could’ve put it there. The moment reached out for the plant, you felt a firm grip strengthen around your waist, pulling you closer. Baekhyun nuzzled the side of your neck, soft lips brushing along the edge of your clavicle. This time you didn’t fight this long overdue affection, instead revelled in it.

“Men and women shouldn’t be inappropriately intimate”, you breathed as you found yourself caged between the caravan and the length of Baekhyun’s muscular frame. His lips found yours, teeth playfully tugging at your lower lip before exploring every inch of your exposed skin crudely, eliciting soft moans from your parted lips. His hands found your hips, thumbs digging deep just over your hip bone. His lips teased the sensitive part on your neck as his fingers moved to unfasten the lace of your tan buckskin waistcoat. Threading your fingers through his hair, you pulled him closer evoking a throaty chuckle from him. Giving the sensitive spot the attention that it deserved, Baekhyun took you by the waist and in one swift movement you were lifted off your feet and scooped into his strong arms.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck as he pushed the door to your caravan open with his elbow. He gently laid you on the bed, one corner of his mouth raised in a smirk. Cocking his eyebrow, he allowed his eyes to mercilessly rove over your dishevelled state before slowly sliding into bed with you.

***

You were woken not by the everyday melody of songbirds but by a loud clang that rang mercilessly though your caravan.

“I just...wanted to make you some chao!” Pants hung dangerously low on his waist, a brazenly shirtless Baekhyun exclaimed, the boom of his voice echoing in your ears. Rubbing the sleep away from your eyes, you gave him a quick once over while your head had already begun to throb slightly thanks to the unwelcome blaring this early in the morning. Veiling your modesty with a fleece blanket, you floundered out of the comfort of the bed and meticulously studied the sorry state of your sacred space - your precious little kitchen.

Olive green eggshells were carelessly strewn across the counter. The contents in the saucepan that was perched atop the stove bubbled frenetically, threatening to overflow. Even in your sleep befuddled state you could make out that Baekhyun had carelessly thrown three deshelled pheasant eggs in boiling water which had now dissipated in a foamy mess.

“Baekhyun, what do you think this is?” You raised a green box the size of your palm embossed with a delicate gold flowery pattern, to his eye level.

“Sugar.”

The throbbing in your head increased and your eyes started brimming with tears.

“Where did you find this box, Baekhyun?” You questioned condescendingly.

“In your medicine crate?” He drew the sentence out in a question, taking a cautious step back.

But you took a threatening step in his direction and spoke in a deep, menacing voice. “You….you thought I’d keep sugar in my medicine crate?”

“There was no sugar ...no sugar in..in the cabinet!”

“You know I never use sugar in or for anything.” You maintained, as a tear rolled down your cheek.

“Why are you crying?” He asked, eyes fixed on the green box that was clutched possessively to your chest.

“Baekhyun did you use whatever’s in this box?”

“N-no?”

“You don’t seem so sure?”

“I did not! You’re scaring me now! What is in this box?”

“Tell me you didn’t use it, Baekhyun!”

“I did not use it! I promise! Now will you tell me? Please?”

Exhaling heavily, you answered, “My life’s work”, and hid the box in the farthest corner of the medicine crate.

“Explain”, he said with a yawn.

“Mithridatum...a poison antidote made from sixty-five ingredients. It’s an ancient recipe and it’s taken me fifteen years to research, scavenge for ingredients, and formulate.”

“Why do you keep it around so carelessly!”

“Carelessly?! It was in my medicine crate!”

“You know I need sugar in my chao, dragă.” He pouted.

You handed him a bottle from the kitchen cabinet, “Use this. It’s tapioca syrup.”

“Won’t taste the same but I’ll survive. Now let’s put Mister Mithridatum someplace safer, shall we?”

“Miss Mithridatum is safe enough in my medicine crate as long as you keep away from it. Thank you very much.”

Baekhyun beamed. You knew this smile a little too well so you checked to see if your fleece blanket was doing its job. But Baekhyun was nothing if not audacious. He advanced towards you as you retracted. Hands on hips, putting on a wide grin, he spoke in a voice laced with sugar and spice, “Nice outfit.”

You gathered the fabric up to your neck and bit on your lower lip to keep from blushing. “Thank you.” You said sweetly, feigning innocence.

“You’d look better without it.” He towered over you as you hit a dead end, with your back against the wall of your tiny living space.

You pushed him in the chest and he cried out like a wounded puppy. “Baekhyunnie, bring us some breakfast from my mother’s, will you? Don’t make it look like you spent the night with me, alright? Go now, I’m famished!”

“Of course, you are.” Baekhyun teased and his face scrunched up in a bright yet bashful smile.

“Don’t forget to put on a shirt!”

***

Your mother sent you a generous portion of pumpkin stew and fried cornbread which Baekhyun and you ate - no - inhaled in silence in the comfort of your caravan.

“I have something to say.” He looked at you solemnly and you felt your heart sink to your stomach. And it probably manifested in your eyes since he took your hands in his immediately and calmed you down, “Good...good something, dragă!”

“Baekhyunnie, you scared me.” Panic betrayed your voice and water started pooling in your eyes.

“We’re never to be parted again, dragă. I’ll follow you into the shower too if you like.” He nodded solemnly.

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Frowning, you teasingly clarified.

“We’ll see about that later. Anyway, since Minseok has let me go as part of the settlement...you know whatever happened with...with -”

“Lys.”

“Yes. So, I have a lot of free time on hand. And your iubit doesn’t know much about anything but he knows weapons.” He looked at you intently and shot you a knowing smile.

You urged him to continue with an anxious nod.

“After we’re married, I could speak with dya and take over the weapons’ trade and you can… probably.. continue to make more Miss Mithridates? Or do nothing at all, I’ll be the sole breadwinner of our little, happy family.” He declared, flexing his muscles.

You held him by the wrist and put his hand back in his lap to reinforce the seriousness of the conversation and asked, “You would do that?”

“Unless you want me following you into the shower everyday...yes.”

“What if Yixing disapproves?”

“He can’t, dragă. My freedom...is...it’s part of the settlement.”

You leaned back and looked up into his face, blinking tears from your eyes. You held your finger up at him and mouthed, ‘One moment.’

Rummaging through his clothes you found what you were looking for and said to him excitedly, “I can’t believe you still have this!”

It was the scarf you’d tied around his elbow the day he injured himself while sneakily watching you sing and dance by the pond.

“Already snooping through my things? You wound me!” Baekhyun pulled you into his lap and whispered into your ear, “I take it with me wherever I go.”

You skillfully drew out a couple of loose threads from the scarf and reached out for a fresh sprig of basil from the plant on your windowsill. Weaving the sprig into the threads you studied his face with rosy eyes.

“Hurry up!” Said Baekhyun, tugging at your arm. As you were helping him wear the necklace with trembling fingers, his hands travelled the length of your back and his lips ghosted over yours, inhaling your unsteady breaths.

An disappointing knock on the door jolted you out of your celebration.

“Are we interrupting something?” A familiar voice reached your ears and you felt your face flame. Smoothing your hair and skirts you scrambled out of Baekhyun’s lap and bowed before the visitor, not daring to meet his eyes.

“Ah! Yixing! You should know better than to walk in on a couple unannounced!” Baekhyun grumbled and ran a hand through his hair, still seated with his legs wide apart. He took your hand in his and pulled you back into his lap.

“Bulibasha -”

Yixing merely chuckled at your embarrassment while looking around your uncharacteristically messy caravan for a place to sit. Pulling away from Baekhyun, you tidied the bed for him.

“Bulibasha, you said we.”

“I’m sorry?” Yixing gaped at you, confused.

“Are we interrupting -” You explained, feeling the heat rising up to your cheeks again.

“Oh, yes! Minseok, come on in!” Yixing bellowed.

“Are you sure Baekhyun’s completely clothed?” Came a high pitched voice from outside the caravan.

Yixing snorted and exclaimed, “Pretty much!”

Minseok cautiously stepped into your caravan and bowed politely.

“You too? Can’t I have some alone time with my beloved?” Baekhyun whined.

“It’s been less than a day and you’ve forgotten us already!” Minseok chided, taking a seat next to Yixing.

“Such is a woman’s love, Minseok. It beguiles the best of us! Anyway, we won’t keep you too long.” Yixing winked at Baekhyun and you bashfully retreated to make the guests some chao.

“Come and join us, Bladerunner, there’s no need for formalities.” Said Minseok curtly and you immediately obliged. There was nothing to serve the beverage with, anyway, apart from watery eggs in a pot.

You came and stood next to Baekhyun and rested a hand upon his shoulder. He immediately intertwined his fingers with yours and you felt relief surging through your veins.

“I’d like to apologise for the things I said to your woman, Baekhyun. It was unkind of me.” Minseok stated, his tone contrite.

“You were only looking out for your little sister. If I were in your place, I would’ve probably done the same.” Baekhyun replied in all earnesty.

Minseok and Baekhyun gave each other a meaningful nod before the cat-eyed man turned to you and said gently, “I truly wish you both a lifetime of happiness, and I’ll make sure to knock some manners into the boy before he’s permanently consigned to you.”

You glanced over to the kitchen and laughed, “That would be of great help!” before peering at Baekhyun who feigned offence at Minseok’s words.

“One last thing before we take your leave.” Said Yixing, slapping his thigh, “The Elders have suggested the full moon of the fourth month for the wedding. Bladerunner, I trust you will convey this to your dya?”

You gave Yixing a measured smile and nodded.

“And Baekhyun -”

Baekhyun pulled you into his lap and held you by the small of your back. Lovingly searching your eyes, he whispered, “I can’t wait.”

*********************************

A/N: This oneshot will be followed up with a spin-off for Lys which will explain what transpired in the “courtroom” but if you know me, you’ll know about my snail’s pace when it comes to updating. So I’ll be happy to give you a summary over DM if you’d like! :)

This was my first time attempting something in this genre/theme so I’d absolutely love to hear your thoughts on it.

Also, Piper, I’m sorry you got stuck with me :P

155 notes · View notes

kiatkiat-tree · 4 years ago

Text

Onset (2)

A/N: ITS THE PART 2 TO THIS. i didnt mean it to be so fluffy though, forgive me ;-;

Within just a few hours of being told you were an omega, it started to make sense why your Servants were acting the way they were. Even Emiya seemed affected. The poor Archer was probably trying his best to cook dinner for you at his insistence. He maintained his stoic facade, but you could see right through it.

“Emiya, it's fine. Thank you for the offer, but I can cook for myself,” you said, as if you were any better. Dr. Roman hadn't told anyone about this, but you realized how obvious you must've been to the others. Aside from the embarrassment you felt, arousal also pooled between your legs. It was taking everything to not pounce on him..

He didn't have the chance to reply, though, as the door to the kitchen swung open. Gilgamesh, in all his golden glory, had stepped in. His red eyes zeroed in on you, scrunching his nose. With only a day or two before your heat, you had attracted even more people than you thought. Thankfully, Emiya moved between you and the other Archer.

Gilgamesh scowled, obviously displeased. “Step aside, Faker, and allow me to claim what is rightfully mine. This fool's scent has been an affliction to myself. I will take care of it, as pervasive as it is, and mark her as my own,” he said. Gold swirls formed a portal, letting the Archer take a sword from it. “Now, if you choose to disobey me, I shall cut you down where you stand. Move.”

“You are wrong to think I will bow down to the likes of you,” Emiya said. He hadn't drawn his weapon yet, but neither of them wanted to back down yet. Their scents reeked of power and dominance. You rubbed your thighs together, mentally berating yourself for feeling so excited by this. Normally, you would have stopped it already.

As much as you liked the feeling of being fought over, you had to remain rational. It would be an even bigger problem if a fight broke out here. You poked Emiya's side, hoping he'd feel it through his firm muscle that you wanted on top of you—

You shook your head. “S-stop it, you two. I'm heading back to my room,” you said, walking past both of them. Gilgamesh scoffed, reaching out to grab your arm, but Emiya was faster. Both of your Archers scowled at each other, and you thought this would've been the end for them.

Hunger and anxiety gnawed at your stomach as you bolted to your room. A few Servants tried to wave at you, but you couldn't really stop now. It would've been another showdown between them if you paused to chat with them, and that in itself was a major inconvenience.

You were so eager to lock yourself in your room and stay there until the suppressants kicked in that you almost didn't notice the poor doctor standing right outside your room, holding a paper bag. It was his scent that made you falter in your steps, slowing down just to talk to him. He looked like he was waiting, too.

“Ah! Hello, (Y/N),” Dr. Roman greeted, extending the paper bag to you. “I thought you would be in your room, since um... anyway, I got a little concerned since the kitchen was full of alphas a while ago. That would be a little scary for you, so I heated some food with the microwave in my office.”

Words couldn't even describe how thankful you were for a beta like Dr. Roman. While Mash was good company, only the doctor knew about your heat. That was probably the case until Gilgamesh just had to make a scene, anyway. You sighed, taking the still-warm food from his hands.

“Thanks, I was getting hungry anyway....” you replied, opening the door to be wide enough for the two of you. You smiled at him, gesturing him to go inside. “How about the two of us eat together? I'm starting to miss any sense of normalcy.”

The doctor appreciated your offer, he really did. Roman was just scared that something they'd regret might happen in a closed room with him. Your scent (which was slightly tinged with arousal, God help him) was already getting to him, too. Still, the past days must've been hard on you, so he allowed himself to indulge you just this once.

He returned your smile, hoping he didn't look as nervous and horny as he felt. Your room was refreshing, and maybe a bit bare, but that really didn't deter him. What stood out to him was your overwhelming scent scattered all over the place. That, and the sound of the lock turning behind him.

“Sorry, I didn't want another Servant barging in like a while ago,” you said, taking note of how his body tensed up. Dr. Roman relaxed, though, taking a seat on one of the chairs. A few months ago, you invited Mash to have dinner with you in your room, then Mata Hari, or maybe even Bedivere. Since then, you've had a small table and two chairs for them.

It was incredible to see how much trust you've put in him, Roman noted. Now that he didn't have his lab coat on, though, he wouldn't be able to hide any erections in the foreseeable future. The doctor briefly wondered if you would still be able to trust him if you knew what happened right after you left his office.

Maybe he could take you right there. On a proper bed, one that was yours. Maybe if he spilled on your bed, you'd be able to start to smell him and realize just how much you've been tormenting him all along. If he was lucky enough, he'd be able to finish inside you and mark you as his own. Fuck you all day and night—

“Doctor? Are you alright?” you asked. Your sweet, lilting voice combined with the increasing smell of your slick was making his head turn. You couldn't detect anything other than his odd behaviour, but Roman knew you were getting turned on by him. This was giving him a surge of confidence, however misplaced it was.

He couldn't stand it. He sighed, closing his eyes before flashing you a brief, apologetic smile. “Mhm, just lost my appetite. Don't worry! It's not you, I just remembered I had some work to do...” he said. Standing up, he was careful not to let his growing bulge known to you. There wasn't anything else to cover him. He had to get out of there, fast.

Leaving the room should've been easy enough if it wasn't for you going after him. You stood up as well, grabbing his arm. You weren't sure why you did it, but the feeling of his skin against yours was so nice. You sighed, unconsciously leaning towards him. Normally, this would make you ashamed, but you couldn't care less now.

“Ah, doctor, you feel so warm...” you murmured. Heat filled your body as you moved closer, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. Roman stiffened against you. It felt pleasant as you moved your body against him, and he almost gave in to the temptation when he placed a firm hand on your shoulder.

“(Y/N), you shouldn't be doing this,” he said, making sure you were at a distance from him. Your desire for him was thinly-veiled, but he knew it was because of your heat. Thankfully, the cloudiness in your eyes slightly let up. Roman needed you to listen to him because he didn't even know what would happen if he didn't stop. “Please, eat and use the suppressants—“

“No, I don't want that,” you cut him off. You pulled his body against yours in a hug, taking in his scent and... realizing he was hard. Hesitantly, you grinded against him, trying to look for a reaction. The doctor bucked against you in a knee-jerk reaction. “You don't want that, right, doctor? No, Roman. Don't you want me?”

Of course I want you! I've wanted you ever since... Roman's thoughts trailed off, letting himself moan as he felt you palm him against his jeans. This was too sinful, too wrong, and yet it felt so good. He unconsciously moved against her, wanting more of the friction between his clothed cock and her hand.

“I-I do, (Y/N), but...” he stuttered. His jeans were slowly being unzipped by you, allowing you access to his thinner underwear. The doctor closed his eyes in bliss as you stroked his cock through the thin fabric. He didn't know how he found it in himself to stop you, but he did, grasping your wrist in a pause. “You're not in the right mind. A-and whatever might happen, I don't know if I could control. We could talk it out before your next heat.”

With your wrist restrained, you resorted to placing a kiss on his lips. “Trust me. I've liked you for a long time, Roman, but this just gave me courage. I was thankful you weren't affected, but it seems like I was wrong,” you mumbled against him. “This is better. Won't you take me?”

Roman breathed in, capturing your lips in another kiss. He moved your arm away, edging you to your bed. Your lips separated before you settled on the mattress, caged right between his arms. A moment passed before he rested his forehead against yours.

“Please, tell me to stop.”

“I won't,” you say, softly, before kissing him and pulling him onto the bed. Shoes were kicked off impatiently before he crawled on top of you. You could feel his hand making its way under your blouse. His hand was cool against your feverish skin, providing you little relief as he explored your body.

He lightly tapped your stomach teasingly, eliciting a soft whine of his name from you. Roman nipped your neck before looking up at you. His eyes were darkened and hazy with lust, and it was a miracle he was even going slow. At this point, he thought he would have had ripped your blouse off.

“You feel soft,” he absentmindedly commented, latching onto your lips and sucking on them. As he played with your mouth, he slipped through the extra fabric of your bra. Two of his fingers caught your nipple between them, making you cry out as he rolled it until it stiffened.

“R-Romani...” you gasped. The doctor grinded against your core, earning another moan from you. Your hands went to his arm, where your blouse had ridden up to your chest. “Wait, let me take it off...”

“Oh,” was all he could reply. The tips of his ears went red as he removed his arm, fumbling with the buttons of your blouse and the strap of your bra. He flung them to wherever as you let out a breathy laugh. Even in the dim lighting of your room, you looked so beautiful. Scars littered the expanse of your torso and arms, but you had never looked so ethereal before.

“Now isn't the time to be embarrassed, Romani,” you teased. Roman felt what little of the self-control he had crack. He took his shirt off to let it join your own before hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You were about to coo at him again before you felt him suck on the skin of your neck. Red tinged your cheeks as he laughed.

“Hah, I feel you getting a bit too warm here. You're embarrassed too, right?” he said, lapping at the patch lazily before moving downward. Your skin was slick with sweat and saliva, mostly coming from his open-mouthed kisses as he paused between your breasts. The familiar pressure was back again, and you were left with a new hickey on your chest.

Roman was back to playing with your nipple with one hand, while his mouth was occupied with the other peak. One hand was moving across your waist and stomach as well, light on your skin. You carded through his hair, sighing in pleasure as he continued to lave your nipple with his tongue.

His hand moved closer to your skirt, letting you wriggle out of it until you were only left in your panties. With your skirt gone, your scent's intensity has increased tenfold. Roman groaned, resting his head against your chest. The lack of action made you whine, squirming as his hair started to stick to your skin.

“What's wrong?” you asked. Asking him calmly was a feat, honestly, especially when your cunt was almost exposed and you felt like your body was on fire. Roman hummed, the skin on your chest vibrating as he did it. He stroked the outline of your slit through your panties as he sucked another hickey on you.

“Do you know how good you smell?” he mumbled, his words slightly muffled. He shifted around so he was at eye-level with you again, but his fingers never left your panties. The thin cloth covering your pussy was deftly moved aside, letting him slip in one finger inside of you. Your confused expression morphed into one of pleasure as your pussy was finally granted some attention.

Roman smiled at your widened eyes and dilated pupils, never removing his finger from your cunt as his thumb brushed against your puffy areola. “Even now,” he started, placing a small kiss on your cheek. “When your face looks like that... (Y/N), do you even realize how pretty you are?”

You blushed. Compliments like that weren't really common during finger-fucking, and especially when you weren't in heat. Media made you thought that heats and ruts were fast and mind-breaking, but Roman hadn't been anything but sweet and considerate. And maybe a bit of a tease.

You were going to come up with either a snarky remark or a compliment of your own until you felt him add another finger. A whine slipped past your lips as the doctor moved them in a scissoring motion. Some of the slick dribbled past your cunt and onto your mattress. Both of you were too into this to even care.

Another whimper was forced out your throat as he curled his fingers into you, hitting a spot you never knew felt good. You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into another kiss. He paid special attention to that spot, stroking it gently before putting pressure on it. Your body tensed, and you arched your back before you could even notice.

“Nngh, I'm sensitive!” you pleaded as he continued to move his fingers through your orgasm. Your pussy throbbed as he removed his fingers. Roman brought his slick fingers to his mouth, making sure you watched as he sucked on them. A smile broke out on his face as he tasted your cum.

“You taste just as good,” he reminds you, but there's no teasing tone in his voice. It's sort of predatory, and you felt like his prey that moment. There was still a small, thin thread that was holding his sanity together, but Roman felt as if it was going to snap any moment now. He lowered his mouth to yours, letting you taste yourself on him.

“It tastes... weird,” you note, but he's not laughing with you. Instead, you watch as he has a mental battle with himself. On whether or not he should stop before they reach the point of no return. You reach out to him, softly stroking his hair. Your belly is filled with fire and your groin aches, but you still. “Are we still going?”

“I don't think I can stop, even if you tell me to,” Roman answers, cradling your cheek with one hand. You give him a chaste kiss (as chaste as you could when you're naked and he's got half his clothes on) and smile at him. “I really don't want to hurt you. Or do anything we'll regret.”

“I don't think you will,” came your reassurance. You moved to his jeans, which you belatedly realized were still on. As the blood pounded in your ears in your heat-addled state, you traced the outline of his leaking erection. You didn't go any further, though, as you waited for his reply. “Thanks for staying with me.”

Roman hums in acknowledgement as he observes you. Red and puffy lips, and hazy, clouded eyes. Your body was warm, almost feverish, and you weren't really relieved of the warmth plaguing you yet. Still, here you were, telling him that you wanted him as your partner for this heat. His hand moved to where yours stay.

“Of course,” his eyes softened. He still had that lust-filled look from before, but it's better now. He gets out of his pants, taking his underwear with it, before lining up his cock along with your entrance. He held your hand in his, intertwined together. “I can eat you up any moment during your heat, but I want to be inside you now.”

You made a noise that was agreement or something, but you definitely became louder as soon as you felt him stretch your walls with his cock. Slick was dripping out of you, making his movements easier as he waited for you to settle. Your walls clench around him, and you whimper at the feeling of being so full.

“A-ah, Romani!” you cried out. You wanted him to move so badly, why wasn't he moving? Your muscles tensed as you tried to squirm, but your partner warned you with a low growl. It was a warning to stay put.

“Y-you're so tight, ngh,” he said. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and along its creases. He was still getting used to the feeling of your warm walls around him, and he knew that he could never go back to his hand after this. You tried to move again, but this time, he snapped his hips against you.

A squeak falls from your mouth as pleasure fills your body. God, Roman felt so good. The movements he was making was your only relief for the past few days. Your knew your fingers were inadequate for the arousal you were feeling, but you never knew by how much. He thrust inside you again, making you moan and cry out in bliss.

You wrapped your arms around him, loosely hanging off his neck as he pounded into you. Your partner's pace slowly quickened, making you whine with each thrust he made. You barely registered his hand moving to where you clit was until you felt pressure on it. Mewling his name, you arched your back from the bed.

“Ah—Romani!” you cried out. He responded with a breathless sigh of your name, making fast and small circles around your clit. The familiar coil wrapping itself tighter in your belly was back. “Mm, I'm so close—oh God, please...”

“Come for me, (Y/N),” he called out to you. His thrusts were out of rhythm with the circles he was making, but it was still enough to make you snap. You moaned, writhing under him as he continued to move in and out of you. You were so sensitive, but he was still going on without a care in the world.

Your pussy throbbed around his cock, twitching ever so slightly every time he hit your g-spot. He groaned as he felt your walls clamp tight around him, sending pleasurable jolts through his body as he continued. He rested his head on your neck again, sucking on the skin and giving you little kisses.

“I'm so close again,” you whined. It wasn't your fault, anyway. You were already so sensitive from this heat, and now he just wanted to fuck you like a little toy. At least now his hands were on your waist as he held you tightly. They would probably bloom into purples and blues tomorrow.

“M-me too,” he replied. His thrusts became more erratic as his grip on you tightened. “Let's come together,” he added before kissing you fully on your abused lips. You nodded, speechless as he continued to jerk into you. Roman let out a shaky breath as he located where your scent glands were, nibbling on it.

“Are you going to mate me?” you managed to breathe out. Both the rational and irrational parts of you wanted him to, and you give him a little clench around his length. He gasped before thrusting into your sweet spot. Through your moans, you tried to tease him a bit more. “Romani, please bite me. Nn... finish inside, too.”

With encouragement from you, he lapped at your skin before his hips stuttered, coming inside you just as when he bit into you. Pain blossomed from your neck, and a few tears pricked at the corners of your eyes before you came. Your walls fluttered, milking his cock and cum for all it was worth as he licked droplets of blood beading from your mark.

The pain from the bite subsides into small stings here and there as the two of you come down from your high. You breath a little easier now, especially when your body was finally cooling down. Roman had collapsed onto you, panting as well. His sweaty body should've grossed you out, but you still held onto him tightly. His cock was still plugged into you, keeping all the warm cum inside.

The two of you rested for a while before Roman tiredly looked down on your bite mark. His eyes snapped open in alarm as he skimmed his thumb over it.

“W-wait, I marked you?” he asked. Panic flooded your body instead of bliss, and you frowned as you raised a hand to hide it from him. Did he not like it? Was he already regretting it? “Oh no. Sorry. Oh God. You must feel forced—I'm sorry, I know you didn't want it, and—“

You released the tension from your body as you cupped his face in your hands, effectively shushing him. “No, it's alright. I love you, Romani,” you said. “It's different if you don't want it, though...”

“N-no! I love you too, I want it,” he stammers out. His nervousness and everything made you laugh, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you grinned at him. He eyed you, still a bit ashamed as he marked you in the heat of the moment. Nooo, I wanted it to be special!

“I'll mark you after all this is over, I promise,” you told him. “You look like the type to want everything to be romantic, anyway,” you teased. He felt his cheeks warm up as he tried to avert his gaze from yours. Aw, he's acting like a shy schoolgirl!

Even as his body heated up in embarrassment, you moved closer to him, snuggling next to his chest as the two of you rest. You clung to him like a baby koala, he noted, before wrapping his arms around you. After all, this wouldn't be the only time you'd be doing it for the whole week.

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demialwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Just Two Kids

Note: I really wanted more of Solomon/Dr. Roman, so here is something based on him not being erased from the Throne of Heroes and subsequently being summoned a servant. Also, I made up the idea that bonding to your Servant could be done by having sex with them.

Solomon tapped his black-painted fingernails on your bedroom furniture as he waited. Tap, tap, tap across your wooden desk. He wondered what you did here every day. Tap, tap, tap across a shelf on your tall bookcase. He wanted to crack open a book and read it. His steps led him to the closed doors of your closet and he stopped there. Looking at your clothes was too intimate and you might not appreciate that. Because he was a guest here. A guest here in this decade, actually. And you did not invite him, which made him wonder if he would be dismissed at any time. No, your parents had summoned him as a Caster servant for you. Solomon sighed and sat on your bed, before arranging his red, black, and white robes under his butt to avoid wrinkles. Maybe you would let him wear something more modern if you let him stay. Your voice rang distantly through the house as you argued with your parents. "Where are they?!" you suddenly screamed. That was anxiety-inducing. He lifted a hand to scratch the back of his neck beneath his long, white hair. Bringing his hand down, his hair got tangled between his fingers. He pulled them out, itching to put all of it up in a ponytail. Or a bigger braid or something. You threw open the door then slammed it shut behind you, angrily sighing. "Master!" he greeted you, standing up. You walked past his innocent smile and began to pace at the foot of the bed. "T-they hid my suppressants!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air. "Ugh." He frowned, confused. "What do you mean? Also, maybe you should sit...?" He gestured to the bed. "I guess," you replied, sitting. Solomon sat next to you. He nervously turned one of his ten gold rings around over and over. "So I'm an omega," you blurted, apparently needing to get the situation off your chest. Your servant seemed nice enough to talk. "And my parents hid my suppressants. Because...they want me to have sex with you." He began to sweat. "What?" "Well...they said it would bond us since I wasn't raised as a mage because of the omega thing and..." You continued to ramble as his ring picked up speed around his finger. The sweat didn't stop coming. You explained that your parents were terrified that another mage/Servant team would track you down and kill you without protection. Which was a solid concern, he agreed inwardly. And your parents were banking on Solomon being an alpha, as most Servants were. You stood up near the end of your spiel. "You must have had sex right? As king? I heard you had a big harem. Just do it. Let's get this over with!" "Ummm..." The man Solomon was when was first alive seemed like a lifetime ago since he worked for Chaldea. Which it was. It was even weird being called Solomon, not Dr. Romani Archaman. "Ummm," he repeated, inwardly sifting through his knowledge for another way to bond Master to Servant. He visibly deflated when he found nothing and you appeared to panic. "B-but we can't do that yet! You're not even in heat!" he hurried to add. "I will be," you said in a decisive tone. Solomon suddenly stood. "Can't you take refuge with the church? Wouldn't you be safe there?" "No, my parents say they don't trust them. They're convinced I'm as good as dead if I leave this house without you." "I see," he replied, sitting back down. A thought popped into his head then; that he wished he'd never been born an alpha. Then maybe he wouldn't have had to be king against his wishes and...that's when he usually dismissed that thought. He never would have worked at Chaldea and met everyone. That time was something he would never give up. "Okay," you said, "but you can do this right? And be gentle...?" You looked like you were drowning and hoping he would throw you a lifesaver with what he said next. "Yes!" he blurted. He patted the bed. "Sit, please. Try to calm down." You did. He made an attempt to talk you through it but there wasn't much to say. Things were decided for the both of you. You didn't truly feel your heat coming on until Solomon started glancing down towards your pelvis area. He nibbled his bottom lip, smelling it on you. "It's time," you stated. "You make it sound like you're about to give birth," he tried to laugh. Your eyes flew wide. He rapidly waved his hands in front of him. "No, no! Servants are sterile!" "Oh. Good." He would not be getting you pregnant. "Not ready to have kids yet, then...?" "Umm, no?" Lust was taking over his mind, along with the intense desire to put pups in your belly. Even though he wasn't technically able to. His judgement momentarily clouded, he reached for you with two open hands. Come sit on my lap, was what he wanted to say but he lost confidence at the last second. Scratching the back of his neck and sweating some more. "...Solomon?" The layers of his clothing were weighing down his erection. His head pounded in time with his cock. He forgot his nervousness, fisted his hand in your shirt, and pulled you in for a kiss. "I want to...my knot...you," he breathed when you broke for air. "Yes. Please." You chased his lips for more and grabbed at his sleeves, looking for guidance. Solomon chose to guide you back onto the bed instead of having you on his lap. "Leave this to me, okay?" he said, kissing your forehead. He gathered his hair in one hand and threw it back over his shoulder. "I want you, Solomon," you said, tugging on his clothing. "That's the heat talking," he joked, "but that's okay." He gently pried your fingers off his clothes to undo the front of them and let them slide down to pool at his knees. Though practiced at taking that outfit off, it still took too long for his throbbing cock. He could smell your slick soaking through your panties and nibbled his lip again just imagining what your pussy looked like. He left his gold jewellery and tattoos adorning his pale brown body. Your heat must have loosened your tongue because you purred, "Beautiful," eyes roaming all over him. He blushed. They stopped at his dark brown cock, standing up from a puff of white hair. You reached for it immediately. "Not yet," he said apologetically, taking your hand away. You whined and he shook his head with a smile. You were pouting and cute. He could have kissed that cute face but you looked like you were about to turn the tables on him for slowing down. "Your clothes, first," he said, pulling on your bottoms. He helped you take off your clothes, to which you said, "Thanks," awkwardly. Solomon's pale gold eyes were wide at how wet you really were when he pulled your panties from your pussy. His lips parted, tongue poking out. He could have started drooling. "Solomon?" you begged, hot with embarrassment and also because of your heat. "Right, right!" There was your leaking slit, empty and aching. Keeping one hand on your thigh, he pushed a finger inside you. More whining, as you bucked against the finger. Only getting a taste and needing more. The ring rubbed your entrance in just the right way and your mouth relaxed open with a moan. That face had him kissing you, hard. You broke the kiss just to demand, "More." He gladly gave you another finger. And a third slipped in easily. You were already so open to him. His cock throbbed hard in response so he pulled his fingers free to crowd you into lying back. He covered your body with his, lining up his cock, and slipping it inside you, his knees edging your thighs open. Solomon groaned loudly at finally being sheathed inside. "Fuck, Solomon," you gasped, one big step closer to getting the knot you craved. "Feels good?" he asked, his eyes searching your face. "Yeah." "Please let me know if it hurts. I'll stop." Solomon's hair fell around you in curly locks, framing his concerned expression. "I trust you." He locked lips with you after hearing that and began rocking his hips against yours. You puffed into his mouth but he refused to stop kissing you, demanding entrance. He sped up, causing you to moan so he finally left your mouth to keep his forehead pressed to yours. You both closed your eyes and lost yourselves in the act. You opened your eyes when you heard his soft moans. Then he groaned, lips stretching wide in an O-shape. His hips stopped. You frowned in concern. "Um?" Solomon explained with an embarrassed smile that his knot had already expanded. To which you tested in response, wiggling your hips back and forth. Your walls tugged on his knot, causing him to hiss in pain. His seed dribbled from around his length and tickled its way towards the bed. He thought he saw disappointment in your face so he distracted you by having you rub your clit. You weren't disappointed at all. His knot rubbed pleasurably inside whenever one of you moved. He had been a gentleman the whole way, keeping your comfort in mind. You didn't expect your orgasm to hit as hard as it did, with Solomon crying out in pain as your walls clenched around his spent cock. "Solomon?!" you asked in panic. "It hurts. B-but that's okay!" he was quick to add. There was some pleasure with the pain but that was an extra detail he felt best left out. Most alphas can go multiple rounds but now was not the time. Pregnancy had never been the goal. He held your hips, keeping where you were joined still, as he lay next to you on the bed. To let you both rest. He sighed. The silence left space for your mind to wonder, What now? Maybe that could be decided later. With a yawn, you closed your eyes to relax with the pleasant drowsiness. Your Servant was silent or so you thought. Did you enjoy yourself? You were startled, hearing Solomon's voice but dreamily and not through your ears. We are bonded now. I can speak to you in secret. Telepathically. You opened your eyes to find him smiling, pleased with himself. It was cute. He brushed all his curls back from his face and snuggled closer into the pillow. Still smiling at you. He reached over and stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. Your Servant couldn't believe he got a Master as lovely as you. He was foolishly falling for you and you weren't far behind.

#fgo #solomon x reader #romani archaman x reader #smut #a/b/o dynamics #romance #my shit

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queenshelby · 2 years ago

Text

THE CULT (PART ONE)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Words: 3,165

Warning: Smut

Notes: This has been in my drafts for a while and I am still not happy with it. But I posted it anyway. Let me know what you think.

Being out on your own in Liverpool after 8 o’clock wasn’t something you had planned for but, occasionally, you didn’t really have a choice.

You had to pick up a parcel that was important and deliver it to the man who your commune referred to as the one who had been chosen. Being the chosen one meant that he only trusted several people in his group and, fortunately, you were one of them.

Delivery of the parcel wasn’t a problem and you finished your mission by around 9 o’clock that night, following which you thought to take a short cut through an area called “Little China”.

You adored the food and tea in the area, but just as you went through one of the alleys to get a late-night snack on the other end of the suburb, you were attacked.

The sound of footsteps behind you and you felt a moment of absolute, saturated terror as a group of two men approached you from behind.

The men were already moving towards you when you turned around, blocking the path between you and the way back onto the main road.

“Don’t fucking come near me” you spat and, whilst you then tried to scream and call for help, one of the strangers muffled you with the palm of his hand while wrapping his arm around your body.

“Don’t worry Sweetheart. We aren’t animals, alright? We just need money and gold” the other man then said while you bit the flesh of his acquaintance’s fingers.

“Bitch” he yelled as you started began to kick him and lifted your arms to hit and claw and fight back.

The stranger immediately pulled his hand away for a brief moment and you struggled to get loose. There was no chance that you could out-muscle them both but you hoped to throw the attacker off balance at least so that you could pull out your gun.

After as little as a minute, you succeeded and the men became scared as soon as you pointed your gun at them both.

“We want no trouble Miss” one of them then said as he was backing off slowly.

“Oh, no? You should have thought about that when you attacked me” you spat in response before telling the men to leave before you would shoot them both.

With that, the men ran away and little did you know that the confrontation for them wasn’t over just yet.

Scared and relieved at the same time, you decided that it was time for a drink and instead of a late-night snack, you now wanted a glass of whiskey or two in order to calm your nerves after what had just happened to you.

Within less than a minute, you found a suitable pub and sat down at the bar and, when the owner of the pub realised which group you belonged to, he served you without hesitation.

You downed one whiskey and then asked for another which was also when you heard another man approach you from behind.

“You gave them quite a scare, eh?” the stranger said with a husky voice and, without even looking at him, you sighed.

“I am not interested in company right now, thank you” you told the man while starring at your whiskey glass and all you could hear in response was a quiet chuckle.

“Me hačarav tut” the man responded in Romani tongue before continuing on in English. “But then I figured that you had lost this and, perhaps, may need it again in the future” the man went on to say while holding up your necklace which displayed the Romani gypsy symbol of protection.

“You are gypsy?” you acknowledged with surprise after you quickly turned around and snatched the necklace from the stranger’s hand.

“I am” the man then confirmed before attempting to excuse himself. “I will leave now. But baxt tuke” he said, but you reached for his hand again.

“No, wait” you told him and he chuckled again.

“You said that you didn’t want company” the stranger then acknowledged and you bit your lip and smiled.

“Perhaps I changed my mind. Now sit!” you told him, which almost sounded like an order.

“My name is Y/N Y/LN. What’s yours?” you then asked before ordering another two whiskeys, one for him and one for yourself.

“Thomas” the man said before thanking you for the drink.

“Just Thomas?” you asked intrigued.

“Just Thomas” the man confirmed and you offered him another smile. He was older than you, but handsome nonetheless.

“Well Thomas, thank you for returning this to me. It was my mother’s necklace” you told him but, instead of looking you into your eyes, Thomas’s eyes were stuck on the scars you displayed across your arms.

“You are welcome, Love” he said before swallowing harshly while desperately trying not to stare.

“My father did this to me” you eventually told him as you began to notice his looks and Thomas was quick to apologise.

“I didn’t mean to…” he began to say but you quickly interrupted him.

“Don’t apologise. Have another drink with me and tell me what you are doing here in Liverpool. You dress well which means that you aren’t a traveller nor do you work in the factories downtown, which is pretty much where all of the other non-travelling gypsies work” you observed.

“I am here for business. What about you?” Tommy asked while lightening himself a cigarette.

“Same” you told him before snatching the cigarette from him and taking a puff.

“Are you married?” you then asked after inhaling the smoke and the handsome blue eyed stranger shook his head.

“No” he confirmed.

“Are you with a woman?” you then wondered before returning his cigarette to him.

“No, I am single” Tommy confirmed, causing you to smile.

“Do you want to fuck?” you then asked bluntly and his chin dropped

“Excuse me?” Tommy asked after almost choking on his whiskey. He certainly didn’t expect this kind of question from you after you had only just met him.

“You’ve heard me, Thomas. Do you want to sleep with me?” you asked again before making an observation. “I never met a man who didn’t want to sleep with me actually” you teased and Tommy’s eyes certainly widened.

“Yes, I want to sleep with you Love. I’ve got a hotel suite two minutes from here. Do you want to go there or do you prefer the alley?” he chuckled in response before getting up from his seat and offering you his hand.

“Please Thomas, don’t be ridiculous. Of course I prefer the suite” you laughed and, with that, you followed him until you reached the third floor of the Mason Hotel.

Twenty later in Tommy’s suite…

“What are you waiting for Thomas?” you asked bluntly as you stood stalk still and looked him right in the face.

You were completely naked within mere seconds and he was still fully clothed, in his shirt, pants and vest.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you gave him no chance. You walked forward aggressively and immediately reached for one of Tommy’s wrists and pulled it behind his back as you pressed your body into his.

“Eager, are we Love?” he barely managed to say as you stood up on your tip-toes to kiss him.

“I don’t have all night” you said before you grabbed onto the hair on the back of his head with your free hand to force his lips to yours.

Tommy’s response was halting, but yielded slowly. You kissed him passionately and pushed one of your legs between his two, wanting to press yourself into every part of him. As you raised your leg into his groin, you felt it begin to stiffen against your thigh and were pleased.

“There is it is” you teased, whispering into the stranger’s mouth and it was almost like he was under your spell.

You were filled with the sense of your own power and lust, and pushed forward roughly, mercilessly running a hand over his concealed but hard cock. Tommy gasped sharply and you could empathically feel his willpower falter as you stroked him up and down.

Capitalizing on his weakness, you grabbed one of his shoulders and he allowed you to push him to his knees.

You stared down into his face as he looked up at you with his deep blue eyes just before you took two fingers and slid them against his lips softly.

“I wonder how those lips will pleasure my body” you teased while circling his mouth a few times, taking delight in his obvious turmoil. Clearly, he wasn’t used to be dominated like this but he sure liked every bit of it.

Then, with depraved satisfaction, you pressed your two fingers into his mouth and Tommy allowed you to do this. Turned on by this, you began to push your fingers in and out of his mouth, simulating phallacio. His mouth was warm and soft and wet, and you took delight in the scrap of his teeth against your fingers.

Eventually, Tommy began to reciprocate, sucking on your fingers without looking away and the fact that he continued to look you in the eyes said to you that he was a real man. A man with a lack of fear. A man you may not be able to bend to your will.

“That’s enough” you soon said as you pushed your foot between his bent legs and felt that he was still rock hard.

“As you wish” Tommy smirked and, being unable to help himself anymore, he reached up to you and his fingers brushed your stomach.

You leaned in closer so he could touch your more easily and, after a little teasing on his behalf, you grabbed his hand and forced it between your legs.

“What are you waiting for Tommy?" you eventually asked as you threw your head back in delight. “Taste me” you ordered as you placed your hands onto his, forcing him to pull your labia open to reveal the pinkness inside, barely an inch away from him.

With that, Tommy couldn’t hold back any longer and clamped his lips around your pussy, and felt your sweet taste fill his mouth.

“That’s it” you moaned as Tommy flicked his tongue across your numb and you were more than happy to play along, pulling his head against you to feel more of what his lips had to offer.

Feeling bolder, Tommy eventually pulled up one of your legs with his free hand, and gripped your buttock as you wrapped the leg around him.

He held you tight and kept on pleasuring you with his tongue, causing you to moan in delight until you pulled Tommy’s hand back, stood up, and reached for the zipper of his pants.

“Like I said, I don’t have all night and I need your cock inside me! Now!” you told him as you were aching for him to plunge into you.

“I’ll be at your service Love” Tommy smirked before taking off his shirt while you were undoing belt buckle and moved down the zipper of his pants.

Without having lost any time, you released his cock from its confides and, with one hand, stroked its whole length.

“I know you will be Thomas. Although I think that, before you fuck my brains out, I should get a little more acquainted with this beautiful cock of yours” you then said before sinking slowly to your knees.

Keeping eye contact the whole time, you opened your mouth and enveloped the head of Tommy’s cock. For a moment you were still, but then Tommy could feel your tongue starting to roll around him, flickering over his frenulum and gliding over his glans. Slowly, one of your hands began to pump along the shaft, rhythmically and in time to your tongue while your lips began to move forward and back along it, sliding firmly over his skin.

With your free hand, you eventually reached behind him, right in between the cheeks of his firm buttocks in order to penetrate him from behind. Despite Tommy’s relative silence, he tensed up in anticipation and you pressed one finger into his anus.

He made barely any noise and, with a wash of satisfaction, you began pushing in and out of him rhythmically.

Before long you were pushing into Tommy with considerable force and his breathing had picked up, in a good kind of way.

“Fuck” Tommy groaned louder and this groan soon turned into a suppressed cry, followed by an uncontrollable moan as you forced your finger into him as far as it would go without pause.

He began to gasp very hard and you knew that he was getting close and you felt a hot, wet pain between your legs at the sound of his pleasure and choked breaths.

"Cum for me, Thomas. Let me taste your pleasure" you said in a commanding whisper and, at your command, he did, indeed cum, unable to hold back any longer.

“Fuck Love…” he barely managed to say as only moments later he made a loud choked cry. His whole body quaked, and he seemed to go limp.

His cum quickly filled your mouth, thick and warm and you felt that hot pain between your legs shoot up into an awful, unbearable strain- only to almost instantly break into the indescribable pleasure of climax.

You swallowed up spurt after spurt and Tommy was now shaking violently and attempting to breathe in quick, short little gasps.

His orgasm was intense, more intense than anything else he had ever felt before. It was almost magical in a way.

***

After Tommy finally came down from his high, you were still full of wild desire for him, but considered it unlikely that he could go again. Most men couldn’t but, one way or the other, you didn't care.

You pulled him down on the floor, ignoring the fact that there was a perfectly comfortable bed just behind you.

“Make me cum Thomas” you demanded and he began to kiss you over every emerging piece of bare flesh.

“Don’t worry Love, I will. In fact, I will do anything you ask of me” he said and his teeth grazed you, and finally closed upon you all around. You made wild, babyish gasps and began gyrating against his crotch.

“I want you to make me scream, for everyone to hear” you moaned and, to your surprise, you were moving against a decided, tantalizing stiffness. You couldn't believe it! You once again felt that hot, wet pain between your legs that demanded penetration.

You spread your legs wide against him and Tommy knocked his body in between your bent legs and put his fingers on you, sliding them up and down your wet and aching softness.

“So wet” Tommy groaned in approval as you made a demanding noise, and he shoved his fingers into you, opening your up. His rock-hard erection quickly followed like the thrust of a sword.

“Oh god yes, that’s it” you made a girlish, squealing moan and he began thrusting in an out of you like a machine. He was spellbound, a man with a mission.

“Fuck me hard Thomas. Fuck me like I am nothing but a whore” you demanded as you threw your hands up onto his back and dug your nails into him, pulling him down upon you, relishing the relentless plunge into your body.

You continued to make wild, animalistic moans, and took pleasure in clawing him and pulling his hair. You were still in charge and all he did was follow your commands.

A mindless, euphoric depravity possessed you and you began to whisper to him, over and over “make me cum Thomas…take me…fuck me” in a child-like, gasping voice- taunting him like some demon.

You grabbed one of his large, hot hands and bit him cruelly but in a teasing kind of way and Tommy made an agonized cry and began shaking again in the same way as he had before, near climax.

Then, you suddenly grabbed him by the throat with both hands and squeezed so tightly that his vision clouded in an instant and his thrusting was peaking in a crazed violence.

Just as he pounded into you with all his might, you came so fast that you made a weird, strangled cry of your own. Shaking and shivering, enjoying your high, you spurred him on.

“Fill me with your cum Thomas. I want to feel it deep inside me” you told him and, with that he, too, let out a strange, tormented wail and stalled.

“Fuck, you feel so good” he barely managed to say as you released the grip on his throat and he came, hard and fast, filling you with his seed before he collapsed upon you.

You could feel the warmth of his release inside of you and it felt amazing.

You stared up at the off-white ceiling, sweaty and thoughtless. You felt the warmth of his gasping, heavy body pressed upon you and were flooded with pure satisfaction.

After some moments of lying there, you finally laughed merrily, and gently pushed him onto his back, so that he, too, could stare up at the ceiling.

You got up to get dressed and you could see his smile. It beamed like the sun while he watched you as you yanked on your underwear, then your skirt, and clumsily began to button up your blouse.

“Why don’t you stay the night Love?” Tommy asked as he reached for his cigarettes but you shook your head.

“I can’t. I have to get back” you said and Tommy could see that, unlike him, you were not beaming, nor were you smiling at all.

“Get back to where?” he asked as he saw that your expression had turned serious again. For some reason, you were clearly beginning to feel a heavy burden of guilt about what had just happened between you and he didn’t know why. After all, it was you who initiated this.

“Go back to my people Thomas. You wouldn’t understand” you said and, when he stood up and approached you, you looked him in the eyes and ran the fingers of your clean hand through his hair and over his cheeks.

“I enjoyed this Y/N” Tommy said before kissing you one final time. “Will I see you again?” he then asked but you shook your head.

“No. It’s not possible Thomas” you told him, clearly being upset by your words.

“Why?” he asked and you sighed deeply.

“Because I am cursed and it is safer for the both of us this way” you told him and, with these final words, you left.

Tag List:

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@cdej6

@kathrinemelissa

@landlockedmermaid77

@crazymar15

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smalls-words · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter One: Have We Had Sex?

Summary: Your job leads to one hell of a woman.

Pairings: Detective!Fem!Reader x Detective!Steve Rogers (separating co-parents), Mama!Reader x Margaret "Peggy" Rogers, Reader x Natasha Romanoff (friends atm), Natasha x Wanda (platonic), Natasha x Delilah (friends), Natasha x Yelena (sisters).

Warnings: Demons and Angels, murder, blood, sexual suggestion (no smut), Natasha is a rich smug woman, lots of biblical references.

A/N: I'm really excited to be writing this. Lucifer is one of my favourite TV shows.

Series Masterlist

*not my gif*

The wind in her hair as she cruised down the highway was just one part of her thrilling night ahead. She idly sent the car around the corner, following the massive line outside of the bar before the engine shut off and she threw the keys to the valet at the front door.

"Hey, boss." He greeted her as he caught the keys.

She stepped in to hear Fame by David Bowie playing in the background, briefly admiring the dancers on their platforms whilst a waitress handed her a drink. Her hand curved around the condensating glass effortlessly, as if it was a skill practised for centuries.The dark navy suit curved around her body, a shimmering silver dress shirt matching her multiple piercings whilst a few tattoos covered her wrist and peaked up at the back of her neck, slightly hidden by her bob of fiery red locks.

A few moments were taken at the top of the stairs, looking down onto the main floor of the club before making her way down the set of stairs. Many glances were both given and received by passersby, many of them being women in skin-tight dresses with shoulder straps so thin she could tear them with her teeth.

She was also sure many of them would enjoy it.

As she spotted her target, she approached the turned-away brunette but could still see her face in her mirror's reflection whilst she cleaned a glass in hand. "Where have you been?" Her Romani body was held beautifully and scandalously in the top that exposed quite a bit of cleavage, her jeans hidden by the bar.

The boss smirked at her reflection. "Oh, holed up in a château, copulating with a young woman named Faith. It's ironic, isn't it?"

The brunette looked down. "Thank you, Patrick. You can go."

A gleeful young man stood up and licked his lips clean before leaving the two to chat.

"You little devil." Her boss smirked knowingly.

The sexy Romani grinned mischievously. "What? I dropped something."

"Well, I'm sure you did."

"Now, Natasha, I am a big fan of sex."

"Obviously." She nodded.

"But I didn't leave Hell to be a bartender. Shouldn't you be spending your valuable time doing something more... significant? You're the queen of Hell, for crying out loud."

"I am retired, Wanda. I've got nothing but time. Thank you." Natasha gestured to her empty glass before Wanda began to refill it.

But then, the pour of the bottle began to slow. The music slowed, the people slowed. Natasha and Wanda looked at each other, an annoyed look in the redhead's eyes whilst the brunette seemed a mixture of worry and alert.

Natasha took the two drinks Wanda had poured before heading over, smirking at the blonde as she emerged from the smoke and shadows.

"Yelena, how's it hanging, little sis? Huh?" She asked, holding one drink in either hand.

"Your return to the Underworld has been requested." Yelena stated rather formally.

Natasha put down both drinks and began her theatrics, knowing they'd piss her off. "Oh, right, okay. Let me just, uh, check my calendar. Yeah, here it is. Uh, the 7th of never through to the 15th of ain't-gonna-happen. How does that work for you guys?"

The stare Natasha received would have killed her within a blink of an eye if Yelena's special ability was a death stare. "Look, remind Dad that I quit Hell because I was sick and tired of playing a part in his play."

"I'm gonna warn you against disrespecting our father, Natasha." Yelena grumbled.

Natasha took a sip of her drink before she scoffed. "Yeah, well, our father's been disrespecting me since the beginning of time, so pot-kettle, don't you think?"

Yelena sighed loudly. "You are a mockery of everything divine."

Natasha's expression sank into one of gratefulness, her hand falling over her heart. "Thank you. Thank you, but lately I've been doing a fair amount of thinking. Now, do you think I'm the Devil because I'm inherently evil, just because dear old Dad decided I was?"

Yelena took a step towards Natasha. "What exactly do you think happens when the Devil leaves Hell?"

Just as Natasha scoffed, Yelena placed her hands firmly on her sister's shoulders. "All of those demons, all of those tormented and tortured souls, where do you think they go?"

Natasha knocked Yelena's hands off of her, meeting her face just inches away. "Don't know, don't care. Not my problem, sister. So consider the position officially open. And you, my feathered friend, can go to Hell."

In a blink, Yelena's dark grey wing-tip was held underneath Natasha's throat, ancient steel fused at its tips. But Natasha didn't flinch, no - instead, she chuckled. "Yeah, try it. You think Father's upset now."

Yelena stepped back, her wings neutral as they rested behind her, a small chuckle coming from her too. "You know, he will not be merciful for much longer."

And with that, Yelena left just as quickly as she came. The world began to return to normal speed, bustling patrons and staff whilst Natasha decided to get some air. There were few things in the world that could rattle her, and as much as she loved her, Yelena was one of them.

So Natasha stood outside, spinning a coin in her hand, still thinking about her conversation with Yelena, when a taxi slowed to a stop in front of Lux. The rear window rolled down and a beautiful hot mess appeared.

"Hey, you. Remember me?" She asked.

Of course Natasha knew who she was - she prided herself on knowing everyone in LA - but she also prided herself on being the flirtiest and most teasing. "You're famous, aren't you? Delilah, isn't it? Can I have your autograph?"

Shouts of "I love you, Delilah!" came from the line behind Natasha as well as other people walking past, many already taking flash photos.

Delilah chuckled at Natasha's quip. "If I can have a drink."

So, Natasha led her inside and got her a drink, clearing out a booth with a single stare so the two could sit.

"So are you gonna tell me why you really came back?" Natasha smirked.

Delilah sighed. "There's something I need to know."

"And what's that?"

"Did I... sell my soul to the Devil with you?"

"Well, that would imply the Devil's actually interested in your soul." Natasha quipped before she recognised Delilah's worry. "Look, all I did was introduce you to a few key people who owed me favours, that's all."

"I mean, with all the good came a hell of a lot of bad." Delilah commented.

"Oh, right, so the Devil made you do it, did he? The alcohol and the drugs, the topless selfies. The choices are on you, my dear. I mean, Jimmy Barnes?" Natasha scoffed. "I can't believe you almost married that sweaty little imp."

Delilah rolled her eyes as she tried to gain back some dignity. "He produced my album. You introduced me to him."

"I suggested you work with him, not sleep with him. Besides, I bet he's a shit lay."

"Well, I... got confused."

"And then you left him at the altar."

Delilah sighed. "Yeah, that was rude of me."

"No, actually, I quite enjoyed that bit." Natasha chuckled, to which Delilah joined her.

"You know, he trapped me in the bathroom at the Grammys, said he wanted to get back together. Then I hear he's marrying a supermodel - this weekend. And I'm jealous. Oh, God, I'm a mess." The blonde's head fell into her hands before Natasha took it out of them by a gentle grip on her neck.

"God has nothing to do with your mess. Look... You didn't sell your soul, Delilah. You do owe me a favour though."

"I'm scared." The shy pop star admitted.

Natasha nodded with understanding eyes. "You should be. Because what I'm about to ask you is gonna be quite difficult for you." She paused to watch Delilah's fearful reaction. "Pull yourself together. That's it, that's all I'm asking. 'Cause you're wasting your talent, your life. Hmm? What do you say?"

Natasha led a tired and drunk Delilah out of her club, keeping her steady as they walked into the brisk evening chill. Delilah slowly brought them to a stop, Natasha's eyes falling onto her.

"I'm gonna do as you asked. I'm gonna get it together. Promise, Natasha." Delilah nodded.

Natasha sighed regrettably. "Look, it's not about me. What happens now, that's up to you. Okay? Now come here, you." She hugged her.

Tires squealed to a stop before two bullets hit Natasha and three hit Delilah, the glass shattering from the other three. Natasha fell to the ground and Delilah collapsed next to her, the redhead's eyes shutting slowly.

But when they opened to a car crash in front of her, she checked over Delilah and her heart sank to find no pulse at her neck. She stood, anger fueling her, and stormed over to the wrecked car.

"Oh, no, no, no, not yet." She growled, shaking the guy awake before bringing his head towards hers. "What did you do?"

"I'm sorry." The guy whimpered.

"'Sorry?' Why did you end her life?"

"Why else? Money."

"'Money.'" Natasha scoffed. "Oh, it's times like this I wish I was still in Hell. All the fun activities I'd have planned for you."

"Hey, girl, I just pulled the trigger."

Natasha watched as the light of his soul faded from his eyes, drifting off into what she hoped was her old domain. She silently prayed for some of her best demons to torture him before she pulled out her phone and called the police, staying by Delilah's side even as her blood stained the glass shards around her corpse.

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А full-blown crime scene formed within half an hour. Helicopters spun as police swarmed the crime scene. Delilah's body was put in a bag and slotted gently into the back of the coroner's van as an unmarked cop car pulled up. Out hopped LAPD homicide detective, Y/N Valeria - a beautiful woman, but one that downplays it on purpose. She's smart, cold and direct, as shown when she immediately moves towards the dead drug dealer.

Another plain-clothed detective walked up from the other direction, the badge on his hip reading Detective Steve Rogers. "Want to hear what I've got so far?" He asked cockily.

You huffed as Steve's grainy voice annoyed your brain. "Lieutenant said this is my case."

"Yeah, Y/N, it is your case, but try not to take too much time. It's an easy one. That's our bad guy, Eddie Deacon, he's a low-level drug dealer. I found these in his pocket, and I found this in Delilah's purse, so obviously drug-related. She probably owed him a bunch of cash or something - she's not exactly selling out stadiums these days."

"How do you know he's low-level?" You questioned.

"Look at his car." Steve chuckled.

"Did you look at his watch? That thing ain't cheap." You replied.

"It's probably fake. Look... there's gonna be a lot of attention on this one, Y/N. I wouldn't pick at it too hard. Not after Palmetto Street."

Steve watched your eyes darken as you folded your arms. "I asked for this case because of Palmetto Street, Steve. So, are there any witnesses?"

The tension between you both was enough to almost see, just like heat rising from the tar of a hot road. Steve eventually pointed you inside and you walked into the club, noticing other cops questioning possible suspects whilst a medical officer was checking up on the club owner.

You decided to talk to her.

You really shouldn't have.

"Natasha Romanoff." She greeted you.

"'Natasha Romanoff'? Is that, uh, a stage name or something?" You questioned.

She simply chuckled. "God-given, I'm afraid. You know, you look familiar. Have we met before?"

You paused for a few seconds, processing the odd question. "Yeah, five minutes ago. And I'm asking the questions here. Talk to me about your relationship with the victim."

Natasha sighed as she stopped playing the piano to have a drink. Her mind instantly drifted towards what she would do with you given half a chance, and with her special ability, she knew she had more than that. "Well, she used to work here a few years back. I would occasionally accompany her while she sang. Then she became a big star and someone decided to end her life." She ended bitterly.

"Do you know the shooter?" You asked quickly, writing down brief dot points in your notepad.

Natasha shook her head. "No, but we did have an interesting little chat just before he kicked off. I asked him why he did it." She clarified when your brows furrowed cutely.

"Huh, like to play cop, do you?" You snickered, causing Natasha to laugh at the comment.

"No, I just like to play in general, Detective. What about you?"

*Christ, Y/N, get control of this questioning.* You thought to yourself before you spoke again. "I see. Did he tell you why he did it?"

"Why, money, of course. You humans, you love your money, don't you?" Natasha smirked as she took another sip of something you thought could only be whiskey, tequila or bourbon.

"Yes. Yes, we do. And, uh, what planet are you from... Russia?" You quipped, but you didn't expect a chuckle from it.

"Yes. He also said, 'I just pulled the trigger.' Now, don't you think that's interesting?" Natasha added.

You hesitated, but then decided to continue the questioning with this strange woman. "Delilah was shot to death by a drug dealer. And looks like Delilah herself kept the guy pretty busy. You know, it's sad, it's ugly, but it's not rocket science. Something probably went south between them. She gets riddled with bullets, and a nice little act of God takes him out."

The redhead shook her head in dismay. "You know, it doesn't work like that, Detective. It's quite a neatly wrapped little present for the LAPD, don't you think?"

You led the conversation down another path, hoping to get answers for the questions asked by the other cops to you. "Why don't you tell me something? How does she end up dying in a hailstorm of bullets and you get away without a scratch? I think that's interesting, don't you?"

Natasha simply smiled at you. "The benefits of immortality."

*This girl has to be crazy.* Your thoughts grumbled as you continued talking. "'Immortality.' Mm, of course, uh, you spell that with one or two M's? I always forget."

"What will your corrupt little organisation do about this?"

At the bold question, your notepad slapped down to shut. "Excuse me?"

Natasha sighed before clarifying. "Will you find the person responsible? Will they be punished? Will this be a priority for you? Because it is for me. She was my friend."

You scoffed as you tucked away your notepad and pen, folding your arms. "You got some balls on you, woman."

"Oh, thank you very much, but they're really quite average." Natasha grinned.

"I bet." You grumbled.

"Now, are you sure that we haven't met? I could swear I've seen you naked- have we had sex?" Natasha asked, pushing you over the line.

"We're done here."

You walked around the piano before Natasha took your wrist, her voice faltered by the slight flinch and the tinge of fear hiding beneath your storming anger. "Uh, Detective, wait. Someone out there needs to be punished. We're not done!"

You ripped your wrist out of her grip. "Yeah. Yeah, we are." You growled.

*I hope I never see her face again.* Your mind mumbled as you got into your car and headed back to the station.

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"You have got to be kidding me." You muttered under your breath, the sight of Natasha standing with 2Vile enough to make you regret waking up.

"LAPD, guns down. On the floor, down." You ordered, the butler beside you as an idea popped into your head.

"Detective, welcome to the party." Natasha grinned at you but you ignored her gazing eyes.

"Grab the bucket, collect the guns. Now." You looked once at the butler.

"You sly fox, you did listen to me." Natasha continued.

You shook your head, lowering your gun once the bucket of guns was by your feet. "I ran the dead guy's cell phone. 2Vile was the last person he called. What I find highly interesting is how you made the connection on your own."

"Well, I've been busy, my dear." The redhead smirked.

You looked at 2Vile. "Why did you call the shooter two days before she was murdered?"

He huffed before confessing. "Fine. Yeah, I called Eddie 'cause he hooks me up sometimes. He met Delilah through me. Whatever. Don't make me a killer, do it?"

"No, but it does make you a suspect." You gave him a fake smile.

"Wait, aren't you that chick from that film?" The man standing beside the rapper pointed at you.

"Hmm, what's this? What film?" Natasha faced you, intrigued.

"You used to be an actress or something, right?" The man asked again.

"Yeah." You sighed.

"That teen movie... I forget what it's called."

You watched as Natasha had an epiphany. "Of course. Hot Tub High School. That's where I know you from."

You felt the conversation spiral out of your control quickly. "Let's just stick to my questions, shall we? So-"

"The one with the famous nude scene, coming out of the hot tub! It was, like, a complete Fast Times rip-off. She was, like, the new Phoebe Cates!"

"Thanks, I appreciate that."

"That was quite a nude scene." Natasha grinned widely at you, her tongue briefly coming out to wet her lips before her teeth dragged over her bottom lip.

Your short fuse burst at her. "I have far too many bullets in this thing for you to still be talking. You, we need to have a conversation right now." You pointed at 2Vile.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "That's a waste of time, Detective. I've just threatened his life, he's not our guy. He would've said, trust me."

Your eyes widened. "You did what?"

"Yeah, isn't that illegal?" 2Vile looked at you hopefully.

"Uh, little bit, yeah. You stay put. You, you're coming with me." You grabbed your cuffs and Natasha's arms, locking them into place as you led her outside to your car.

"I'm not quite sure why I'm being arrested." She asked.

"Because you're interfering with a police investigation, you've broken I can't even count how many laws, and you pissed me off." You ranted, opening the car door and gesturing for her to get in.

"Right. I can get out of these, you know?"

"Funny." You chuckled, which was shortly cut off by the sight of the open cuffs in Natasha's hands. "How'd you do that?"

She sighed at you. "Come on, we're wasting time. We should be out there solving a homicide and punishing those responsible."

"'We'? You're insane. I'm taking you in. Get in the car."

"No, that's boring. Not to mention pointless." Natasha whined. "Come on, I'll help you. It'll be fun."

"How could you possibly help me?" You leaned on the open car door, tempted to zone out and ignore everything she says.

"I have a certain skill set. I can be very persuasive with people and tend to see things that others cannot."

You tried to register her cryptic words. "So, you're psychic or something?"

Natasha chuckled. "No, I can't read people's minds, I'm not a Jedi. People just like to tell me things."

"Hmm, just-just tell you things? Just confess their sins, just like that?"

Now Natasha was annoyed at your semantics. "No, not their sins. I have no power over people's sins- I actually get a bad rap for that. I have the ability to draw out people's forbidden desires. The more simple the human, the easier it is. The more complex, the more challenging and exciting, really. But no, the actual sins, the sins are on you people."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the look making Natasha's body react accordingly. "'You people'?" You scoffed - you weren't a freaking alien, or a robot as far as you knew.

She sighed. "Okay, look. Tell me, Detective, what do you desire more than anything else in this life?" Her eyes fell onto yours, her green eyes almost sparkling in the sunlight.

"This is it? This is your big trick?" You asked, to which she nodded.

You analysed the green irises, taking note of the way that some brighter and darker lines slashed towards the pupil in a daring and almost charming way. "I guess, when I was a little girl, I... always wanted to help people and... and be taken seriously... when I say to shut up and get in the damn car."

Your grin spread as Natasha's fell. "You're not a Jedi or something, are you?" She asked.

"Get in the car." You grumbled.

"No, no, no, no, no. Look. I know something you don't know."

Your eyebrow rose and Natasha almost wanted to get rid of it right then and there. "Really? What's that?"

"Won't say unless you take me with you on this." She smirked, but it faded as your posture didn't change. "Please, come on. I got to 2Vile, didn't I?"

"Why do you care about this so much? About Delilah?"

"Look, I just... I just do. If I hadn't meddled with her career, maybe she wouldn't have died."

"Okay. Okay, fine. But if this little clue thing of yours doesn't pan out, these are going back on, and they're gonna stay on." You held up the pair of cuffs in your hand.

"Is that a promise?" Natasha grinned, to which you nodded wryly and pushed her towards the door.

As you drove to Beverly Hills, you could feel Natasha's gaze on you. It felt both familiar and different - the familiarity of a man's horny stare whilst the difference of admiration instead of lust.

You answered the call on your earpiece, waiting for the office on the other side. "Yeah, therapist in Beverly Hills with the first name Katherine. See if Delilah was a client."

"Ah-ah, actually, she had a pseudonym, which I also happen to know. I'm quite good at this, aren't I? Uh, Penny Lane." Natasha gave you the information.

"Okay. Delilah may have gone by Penny Lane. Thanks." You ended the call, looking into your rear-view mirror to see Natasha looking back at you. "Don't look so smug. Nothing's panned out yet."

"No, no, no, it's not that. It's just that I knew that I recognised you."

"Right, you've seen my boobies. It's exciting. What are you, 12?" You grumbled.

"So is the movie why you've got such a chip on your shoulder?" She asked suddenly.

"Uh, it's low on the list of things I have to live down, I guess."

"Right. Attractive female cop struggling to be taken seriously in a man's world, is that it?"

"Yeah, something like that." You shrugged.

Natasha scoffed, but for some reason, you felt it wasn't towards you. "Well, they're threatened. You're clearly smart and have notable instincts. Ignore them. Trust yourself."

You looked back up at the woman when you felt her eyes fall away from you, almost willing to thank her for the compliment - although, you weren't quite sure if anything out of her mouth was truthful.

Your phone rang and you pressed the earpiece to answer. "Detective Valeria. All right, text it to me. Thanks."

"What's that?" Natasha asked when you finished.

"What you were saying stands up. There's a Penny Lane who sees a Dr. Katherine Bishop in Beverly Hills."

Now you could add one truthful statement to her name.

"Excellent. I'll clear my schedule." Your phone rang again, surprising Natasha. "Ooh, someone's popular."

You huffed. "Please stop talking. Hello. What? You're kidding me. Is she okay? Oh, of course he's not there. Thanks." You ended the call, feeling almost itchy as Natasha looked at you again.

"We have to make a pit stop."

"What? No, absolutely not." She argued.

"My kid got into a fight. I got to pick her up." You shot back.

"What, can't she get herself home?" Natasha grumbled, the sound odd coming from her lips.

"She's seven." You scoffed.

You then shut her up by taking the corner sharply, as well as the added harsh braking when you stopped outside of the primary school. "All right. Wait here."

"With pleasure. I despise children." She mumbled as you left the car.

However, she soon left it at the sight of a pretty MILF-y thing walking past in a pencil skirt and white blouse. She followed her inside, hoping to take it further than third base, but after losing sight of her, Natasha sat down on the bench and pulled out a cigarette.

"I don't think you're allowed to smoke in here." A childish voice came to her right, and surprise surprise, it was a child.

Her blonde wavy locks and blue eyes stared at her whilst her two front teeth were missing. A pair of blue leggings matched with her blue and red shoes whilst a grey zip-up hoodie covered her red shirt underneath. Her small pink backpack sat just behind her, the straps still over her shoulders.

"Oh dear, what will become of me?" She asked sarcastically, going to light the end.

"My mother is a police officer. She could arrest you."

At the child's words, Natasha snapped the lid of her lighter shut. "I think I might know your mother."

"What's your name?" The child asked.

"Natasha. What's yours?"

"My name's Margaret, but everybody calls me Peggy." She replied, her missing teeth causing a slight lisp.

"That's a hooker's name." Natasha blurted.

"What's a hooker?" Peggy asked curiously.

She froze slightly. "Ask your mother. So... why are you in trouble?"

"See that girl over there?" Peggy pointed to a girl sitting across the hall, most likely a pre-teen. "She was bullying me. She created a fake Snapchat account and used it to make fun of me. So... I kicked her in the no-no-touch-touch square."

For clarification, Peggy pointed at Natasha's private parts. "Oh. Oh, I see. Well played. Well played, indeed."

As the school bell rang, Natasha watched as you came out of the office and took Peggy's small hand in yours. But then, at the front of the school, you came to a stop. Natasha analysed the blonde man in the beige-on-beige suit, designating him a douchebag.

"Hi, Daddy." Peggy smiled at him.

"Hi, munchkin." He smiled back.

"Wow, shocker, you're late." You bickered.

"Come on, give me a break. I'm putting a case to bed." He replied, and Natasha watched as Peggy blocked her ears with her tiny fingers.

"Right, like I'm not working a case, too. Oh, yeah, the one you tried to steal from me." You shot back, your hand coming to soothingly brush your fingers through Peggy's hair.

"You mean the open and shut one. You did open and shut it, right?" He questioned arrogantly.

"I'm being diligent, Steve. It's a high-profile case."

"Exactly, which is why you need to be smart about it."

"She is smart. You're the dimwit." Natasha commented, watching Steve look between herself and you, almost like you should be defending him. "Perhaps you should refrain from arguing in front of the child. It's unbecoming."

"I don't know whether to laugh or to shoot you." Steve scoffed, stepping up to Natasha intimidatingly.

"Surprise me." She smirked.

"Isn't she funny, Daddy?" Peggy beamed.

You looked at Steve as he stepped back from Natasha. "Hey, can you drop Pegs at my mom's? We have to go. Thank you."

You knelt down to Peggy's level. "Peggy baby, give Mama a kiss. I love you so much. Good job standing up to the mean girl."

"Thanks, Mama. What's a hooker?" She asked.

You looked up at Natasha, who was looking anywhere but your eyes, and then a grin came to your lips. "Daddy will tell you."

You watched Peggy take Steve's hand. "Bye, Natasha! It was nice meeting you!"

Your hands rested on your belt. "Hmm. I think she likes you."

"Of course she does. What's not to like?" Natasha quipped.

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You sat patiently outside of the therapist's office, the name Dr. Katherine Bishop slid into place on the door's label whilst a bunch of certifications were abbreviated underneath in small writing.

"Was your offspring planned or a mistake?"

Natasha's question shocked you as she sat down on your left. "Planned. Sort of."

"Really? 'Cause I've never understood the human desire to procreate."

"That's probably a good thing." You mumbled.

"I mean, children are hideous little creatures, terrible, taxing burdens." She sipped on the coffee in her hand, as black as possible. "Oh, yours is fine. I mean, nothing to crow about, but nothing to be too embarrassed about either, so that's quite good, isn't it?" She corrected herself.

"Are you at all aware of how dickish you sound?" You asked annoyedly.

"No. Speaking of dicks... Why was that ex-husband of yours pressuring you to close the case?" Natasha leaned in close to you, the distance letting you see those narrow lines of bright and dark.

"No reason." You replied cautiously.

"Strange." The redhead murmured.

"Yes, you are." You grumbled.

"Did my father send you?" She asked.

As you were about to answer, the door opened and the noirette therapist smiled at you both. "Okay, Detectives, I'll see you now."

"Thank you." You slid your phone into your pocket and readjusted your badge and gun.

"Oh. 'Detectives.' Exciting."

You ignored Natasha's comment.

"Dr. Bishop, I'd like to ask you a few questions about Delilah." You began, but watched as her eyes drifted to Natasha, almost hungrily.

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" The redhead asked.

"What?"

"Yes, I wouldn't recommend it. I'm like walking heroin. Very habit-forming. It never ends well." She sank into the back of the couch.

"I'm sorry, do... Do you two know each other?" You questioned, watching how Katherine struggled to look at you whilst Natasha was in the room.

"No, no, but I know that look."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Katherine tried to deny it.

"That is interesting because... you don't look at me that way." Natasha turned to you.

"What way?" You asked, now extremely annoyed.

"With carnal fascination." She clarified.

"That's 'cause it doesn't exist." You scoffed.

Natasha sighed. "No, you see, that's just it. With most women, it does. I tend to appeal to the dark, mischievous hearts in all of you, but you, Detective, you seem oddly immune to my charms."

"Referring to them as 'charms' is a bit of a stretch. Truth be told, I find you repulsive. Like, on a chemical level." You commented.

"That's fascinating. Now, tell me, Katherine-"

"You say it's fascinating, and yet I can see that it disturbs you, doesn't it?" The therapist asked with a soft tone.

"Dr. Bishop-"

"Kate is just fine." She corrected you.

"Okay. Kate, we know that Delilah was having a clandestine affair with a wealthy married man, so if you just tell us his name, we will be on our way." You smiled shortly, your patience running out with every second Natasha was sitting with her thigh against yours.

"I'm sorry, I can't do that." She replied calmly.

"Oh, she's one of the complex ones." Natasha whispered in your ear, her breath tickling you. "Katie, darling, why don't you tell me? Hmm?"

You watched the incredibly disturbing interaction of a mess of giggles coming from Kate whilst Natasha tried to coax the answer out of her. "What did you do to her? Did you roofie her?" You asked angrily.

"Oh, no, it's not her fault. She's just reacting to me. Just watch and learn, okay?" Natasha told you, patting your thigh twice before turning back to Kate. "Right, the answer is yes, we can take a trip to Pound Town if we must, but first, you're gonna have to tell us, Katie, okay?"

You almost gagged at Kate's moans. "Okay... It's Grey Cooper."

"Grey Cooper? Seriously? That is juicy." You agreed.

"Grey Cooper, the actor? The one who's married to Amanda what's-her-chops?" Natasha asked for clarification, to which you gave a nod. "Oh, no, he's horrible. So square-jawed, so handsome, so vanilla. Oh, I'm really quite disappointed in Delilah. That's truly terrible taste in the opposite sex."

"Thank you very much, Dr. Bishop. We'll be in touch. All right, we got to go." You stood up.

Natasha took your wrist gently. "Yes, of course, but I... I made a deal, so I'm gonna have to hold up my end of the bargain. You wouldn't mind waiting outside?"

Your eyes widened slightly. "Are you seriously talking about having sex with her right now?"

"Well, it won't take long." Natasha shrugged.

"I do yoga. Hot... yoga. I'm freakishly flexible. Want to see?" Kate suggested sultrily to Natasha.

You walked towards the door, looking at Natasha impatiently whilst your back was turned to Kate.

The redhead sighed. "Uh, look, I'm really sorry, but I'm gonna have to take a rain check. I will be back, okay?"

"I certainly hope so." Kate mumbled.

"My word is my bond." Natasha gave her a flashing smirk before she left with you.

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After interviewing Grey Cooper, the most boring man on earth according to Natasha, you were stumped. Natasha had given you directions to Lux and the two of you sat, a drink in her hand whilst you stirred your straw in a club soda.

"Thanks." You muttered to the officer on the other end of the call, hanging up after.

Natasha's eyes on you had an expecting hold, but she never rushed you. Her suit jacket sat on the back of her chair whilst her white dress shirt covered her arms and torso. She was nursing a plain vodka drink and you kept your eyes away from her as long as possible.

"So, Grey and Amanda have zero connection to the shooter. But the shooter had the same watch as Grey. That can't be a coincidence. Maybe Delilah gave him one, too, like kind of a go-to gift? I..."

Natasha didn't like seeing you distressed like this. If you were distressed, you would get annoyed and angry with her charms. "Well, that would imply she was actually sleeping with that maggot."

You chuckled. "Really? Jimmy, 2Vile, Grey Cooper. That's three other maggots she's sleeping with. I don't think there's a lot of discretion going on with her."

"Yeah. I suppose you got a point." She sighed, watching you down the whole soda.

"God, what am I doing here?" You mumbled.

"Wrong deity, but, yes, that is the eternal question." Natasha smirked, making you chuckle.

"No. I mean here, in a bar, with you."

"Well, I don't know. You tell me, Detective. I mean, despite your proclaimed revulsion, you can't deny that there's a connection between us. Tell me, what do you actually want?"

"You mean, 'what do I desire more than anything else in this life'?" You teased, mocking her slightly.

"Yes. But no tricks. Not that they work on you, you freak." Natasha snickered, observing the small smile she'd brought to your glum expression. "But seriously, I'm curious."

You sighed. "I don't know. What I told you is true. I really do want to help people. My father was a cop. He was a great cop. My mother was an actress. Really cheesy one. I tried the acting thing, I took off my top. Wasn't really contributing to the betterment of society."

"I disagree. I love that movie." Natasha grinned.

You smirked slightly. "So I quit. Decided to become a cop like my dad and, uh, dealt with the whole Hot Tub High School thing, until I became a detective and found a whole new way to ostracise myself."

"Ah, the... reason your ex-maggot was pressuring you to close this case?" Natasha queried.

You nodded. "Yeah. Exactly. There was a case, a shooting on Palmetto Street where a cop was shot, and I saw it differently than pretty much everyone in my department, including my ex. I stuck my neck out, and it backfired. And, uh, now... no one wants to work with me." Your head tilted back in annoyance, but mostly guilt and shame on yourself - something Natasha could easily see.

"Well, I'm available." She shrugged.

"Too bad your little protégé isn't around to collect the check." Wanda commented as the TV ran above the bar, your eyes drifting to it before they shot to Natasha, her eyes coming to yours too.

"Of course. Delilah didn't give that watch to the drug dealer."

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Natasha sat in the passenger seat of your car as the sirens wailed above her, your control over the vehicle incredibly enticing for her. As you slammed your car door shut, Natasha watched you check over your gun and its magazine in particular.

"What's that for?" She asked you as you pocketed it in the back of your jeans.

"In case Jimmy goes Neutron." You answered sarcastically.

You opened the door and followed Natasha into the recording room, keeping your face neutral as Natasha stood in front of you, her jacket doing a good job of hiding most of you.

"Hello, Jimmy. How's the album sales doing?" She stared at him.

"What album?" He asked.

"Soundtrack to Time Will Tell, which you produced." You clarified, walking around Natasha. "Whitney Houston hit the top ten for album sales after her death. Michael Jackson hit the stratosphere. Not sure you'll achieve such heights having Delilah killed, but that sure is a boatload of royalty checks headed your way. Guess you really needed the cash, huh? Which is why you had to pay the shooter with your watch."

Natasha watched Jimmy's smug grin fall into one of fear - the fear of being found guilty. "The watch Delilah gave you. Now, that's just sick. But then you are, so... seems fitting to me."

Jimmy pulled out a gun from his back pocket and Natasha realised what you meant earlier as your own aimed right at his chest. "Hey, Jimmy? Calm down, you don't have to hurt him too."

"I made her, and she ruined me. She humiliated me, she owes me!" He snapped, holding the young singer's temple to his gun.

"You're not God, Jimmy. You didn't make her. But you did destroy her. So I'm gonna punish you." Natasha promised, walking towards him ever so slowly.

"You back off, you freak. I mean it. I am not going to jail for that bitch. No chance."

"Listen to him, Natasha. Back off." You ordered, but the woman didn't.

"I told you, it's fine. I'm immortal." She rolled her eyes - how had you not understood that yet?

But she couldn't get close enough, because when Jimmy's gun trained onto her temple you shot him straight in the chest.

"Why did you do that?!" Natasha growled at you in complaint as the singer ran off.

"He was going to kill you." You scoffed.

"No, no, no, no, no, no. You just... you just let him off too easy. He needs to pay! He needs to suffer! He needs to feel the pain, not escape it!" Natasha snapped, watching fear creep into your irises from around your steeled expression.

"Don't worry. I'm sure where he's going, the pain's coming."

"No, it's not, actually. And you know why? Because I'm here and he's-"

Two harsh thuds reverberated to your inner ears as you fell back from the concussive force of two bullets. You looked down at your shoulder and gasped at the immense pain that came with moving your arm. Any movement at all hurt like a bitch, so you simply let your arm go limp onto the carpet.

"Y/N..." Natasha murmured, your eyes focusing onto her instead of the ceiling, your body focusing on her warm hand holding your cheek instead of the searing pain in your shoulder.

"I... I don't want to die." You whimpered weakly.

"I won't let you, malyshka. Your father will just have to wait for you." She quipped softly.

Your blurred vision watched Natasha stand over Jimmy and snatch the gun out of his grip, but you weren't sure where all of the bullets in Jimmy's gun went. He'd aimed them at Natasha, but she made no move to buckle in pain, not even a flinch.

Natasha ripped him off of the floor and smashed the back of his head against the glass. "Please don't kill me. Please, please, please..." He begged, but this was not like your pain-filled one - this was the one of a weak man too scared to face his punishment.

"Oh, Jimmy." She turned him around, holding him still within her constricting grip.

"You're going to wish that's all I did to you."

Jimmy screamed as he saw her reflection, dark orange eyes staring back whilst freshly burned skin covered her head. Natasha knocked him out and cuffed him with your pair of cuffs, looking up to see some paramedics rushing towards your unconscious body.

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*This world is too damn bright.* Your first thought floated around in your mind as you slowly opened your eyes. Two bunches of flowers, one some lovely purple lilies and the other lively sunflowers, rested in the sun on your bedside table.

"Well, look who's back." Natasha smirked as your eyes fell onto her.

She was wearing a beautiful red jacket with a set of dark blue jeans, one of two black boots resting on her other knee.

"How long have I been out?" You asked weakly.

She leaned forward onto your bed's railing. "Five years." She sighed regretfully.

Your eyes widened. Had it been five years? Where was Peggy? Was Steve looking after her? What about your mom?

Natasha's chuckle eventually stopped your thoughts as her hand took yours. "I'm joking, malyshka. It's 2pm."

"You're such an ass." You grumbled.

"Why thank you." She grinned.

You looked her up and down. Her hair hung beautifully down her face whilst her chest seemed alright, no damage to her arms and legs as far as you could see. "Oh, God. He was firing at you. How are you not... more dead?"

"You're having a very hard time with this immortal thing, aren't you?" She shook her head lightly.

You sighed at her antics, pausing for a moment. "What, uh... What happened with Jimmy?"

"Jimmy... Jimmy got what he deserved." She commented, watching you shuffle over on the bed.

"Well, I'm pretty sure I would be dead if you didn't help me, so thank you."

"I'm sorry, what was that last bit? I didn't quite catch it." She teased.

You shook your head as a small smile grew, your hand gently pressing on her shoulder. "Thank you, Natasha."

"You're welcome. And besides, you're far too interesting to let die." She grinned as she leaned back in her chair.

"You saved my life because I'm interesting?" You scoffed.

"Wildly irritating as well, but yes." She teased.

You chuckled through your nose a few times before your head came to rest back on the pillow. "So what now?"

"Well, I mean, I've obviously proven myself to be an invaluable crime-fighting tool. You're a pariah in the department. I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship, don't you?" She stood and grabbed her things.

"Who the hell are you?" You questioned wondrously.

She sighed. "I told you, I'm-"

"Natasha!"

You smiled at the little blonde as she tackled Natasha's leg into a hug, smirking as the redhead's arms raised. "Ah, yes, hello child. Um, just... Why don't you save some of this unpleasantness for your mother, yeah?"

Natasha easily picked up Peggy and roughly laid her on top of you, your painful chest letting out an 'oof' at the impact. "Oh, did that hurt?"

You glared at her playfully before Peggy snatched your attention. "Are you hurt, Mama?"

"I'm okay." You assured her, holding her close and running your fingers through her hair.

"Right. Well, I'd stay for the family reunion, but it's giving me terrible IBS. So, look forward to seeing you soon, Y/N." Natasha smiled as she held the door frame.

"I don't." You waved goodbye.

"Bye, now. Glad you're not dead."

You rolled your eyes as Natasha left, kissing Peggy on the forehead before you both fell asleep.

#smalls words #devil of my word #domw au #natasharomanoff fluff #natasharomanoff angst #natasharomanoff x reader #natasharomanoffimagine #natasharomanoff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #devil!natasha romanoff #detective!reader

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butwhyduh · 3 years ago

Note

uhh hi! i love your blog and all your writing and i have binge read all of your works so far i guess? so i was wondering if you have any favorite batfam writers like yourself here on tumblr or ao3 that you enjoy reading from? anyways, admire you lots you seem so sweet and cool!

🥺 thank you. But also 😳you’ve read it all?? That’s a uh bit of reading. I’m very flattered but also don’t forget to sleep and eat. Here’s my ao3 too butwhyduh

It’s not a comprehensive list by any mean. And I’ll be kicking myself for not adding someone the second i post it. Some of them write more on their ao3 or tumblr but I’ll link tumblrs first.

@invisibleanonymousmonsters @catxsnow @psychovigilantewrites @littleredwing89 @arestorationofbalance @ereawrites @batshit-birds @ragingbookdragon @shyestofhearts @prettylittlebrownskingyal @citrinesparkles @barelyalivebutnotdead @rainbow820 @batarella @dibs4ever @superhero--imagines @sohotthateveryonedied @internalsealpanic @glorified-red @thychesters @scarletbirbs @lostoctaviaaugusta @tadpole-san @thegirlwiththebambooblade @uncpanda @quillsareswords @magicalbeanie @magicalbeanie-recs @pricetagofficial @rason-rodd @gangrenados @daringyounggrayson @river-bottom-nightmare @angelz-dust @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan

@spiderjizz doesn’t write fics but has smut fic recs and many are dc.

Ao3 fics I liked. They are randomly placed.

Wally West x Dick Grayson (whump)

Wally West x Dick Grayson (smut)

Damian Wayne vs Santa Claus

Bruce gets Damian as a baby

Tim w/ cigarettes (funny)

Damian and Tim when the school explodes

Romani Dick Grayson fic

Jason todd takes a gap year

Garth of Shayeris x Reader who is a star sapphire lantern (it explains what that is in the story)

Through the mirror series (reverse Robin au)

In for a pound (baby Damian is brought to Bruce)

Tim drake is a fae au

Another reverse Robin au

Talon!Dick Grayson

Jason Todd is colorblind

Neurodivergent batfam series

Batboys body swap

Dick Grayson becomes blind

Pizza girl’s guide to Gotham (Jason todd x reader)

Wing au (Tim Drake whump)

Another body swap batboys fic

#fic rec #b’s fic rec #batboy x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #red hood x reader #red robin x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #batfam fic

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alovesongshewrote · 2 years ago

Text

Is There a Doctor on this Plane? (Yes, yes there is.) - P7 | Eddie Munson x Reader

Plot: PURE SPICE. also, nightmares. [Eddie Munson x Gender Neutral!Reader] Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Word count: 2,666

Warnings: nightmares, murder, spice (no smut)

Disclaimer: Uh, yeah, fuck netflix, and fuck whoever came up with having a "stranger things experience" in a former n*zi prison where jewish and romani people were exterminated. that's an incredibly fucked up thing to do, and i do not support or endorse it.

A/N: woooo boy did this fic end up being longer than i thought it'd be. y'know, originally, i planned for this to be a oneshot, but here we are, part 7, the final part. thanks for reading babes

Tags: @twistedhistory @keepingitlokiii @efvyqrs

Nightmares. Of course, it had to be fucking nightmares, because you just couldn’t have anything nice, could you? You had Eddie, and then he died. You got Eddie back, and you immediately got into a fight with him. You reconciled your fight, and you were instantly bombarded with a bunch of FUCKING NIGHTMARES.

The world around you was red and black, full of thick smoke and twisting vines. You were back in the fuckmothering Upside Down. God. Fucking. Damnit.

As you walked through the wasteland, Eddie’s screams rang harshly in your ears. You could hear the man you loved dying as the demobats slowly tore him apart, digging into his skin and ripping away chunks of flesh until there was nothing left but a mangled mess of a man. You could feel his life slowly fading away as you ran through the abyss, failing to save him thanks to your incompetence.

Your heart froze when the screams stopped. That meant he was dead. That meant that you’d lost him again.

You fell to your knees, your palms digging into the harsh ground as you collapsed. You screamed. You didn’t know what else to do.

As your world folded in on itself, another sound took the place of Eddie’s screams- his voice.

“You said you didn’t want to lose me,” Eddie’s voice echoed around you, deafening you to all other sounds. You couldn’t hear your own screams. His voice continued, “But now I’m back, and you just don’t want me anymore.”

When you looked up, Eddie was standing in front of you. For a split second, he looked as he did when you last saw him- healthy. Alive. Of course, the longer you took in his visage, the more that image distorted. Blood soaked through his clothes, covering his skin with a sickening red sheen. Dark purple bruises covered his skin, echoing injuries he’d sustained even before the demobat attack.

“You can barely stand to look at me,” when he spoke, blood poured from between his lips, “You see me the way everyone else does, don’t you? As a freak. As a threat.”

“What? No-” pain ricocheted through your body at his words. He sounded so hurt, like he genuinely believed what he was saying. That you saw him as a freak, as the scary cultist most of Hawkins saw him as. Your own voice sounded miles away, as if you were speaking from a different world.

“I’m just another monster for you to fight, aren’t I?”

His eyes disappeared for a moment, leaving empty sockets in his skull. Was this what Chrissy looked like when she died in front of him?

He walked towards you slowly. Each step he took felt malicious, full of ill intent. You were frozen in place, trapped as he sized you up like a predator taking in his prey.

“Eddie-” your voice was nothing more than a whimper. You sounded terrified.

When he got to your side, he didn’t hurt you. Instead, he knelt down and slipped two fingers under your chin to make you meet his eyeless gaze. You were forced to look at him, at what had been done to him. Even bloodied and broken, he still looked so beautiful.

“I know I’ve never deserved you. I’ve already held you back. So if you don’t want to be here, just go.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. A sword manifested in his other hand as if he had drawn it from the shadows around you. The blade was long, its metal black as pitch. The tip of the weapon rested against Eddie’s chest, directly over his heart.

He said nothing, but he moved the sword until you had no choice but to hold it. Your hand covered his where it lay on the hilt. Still silent, he began to move the blade forward until it pierced his skin.

“No,” your voice was still so quiet, and it still sounded so far away, “No, no, no, no, Eddie-”

The sword sank into his chest, and his face remained blank. Stoic. His eye sockets held no expression for you to find. His screams echoed through you, distant and far away. His mouth didn’t move.

As the two of you ran the sword through his body, the screaming continued. As he collapsed into your arms, his cries still echoed through the air. They sounded so distant, so far away- the same way your voice did when you spoke.

Oh. Oh, shit. Logically, this could only be a nightmare. That meant that Eddie hadn’t just impaled himself on a sword, and you weren’t trapped in the Upside Down. That also meant that those screams were real, and Eddie was in danger.

You forced yourself to wake up, your dream self practically screaming until your eyes opened. You took a moment to get your bearings, forgetting where you were for just a moment before you remembered what you had to do. The screams had gone silent, but that didn’t ease your mind. In fact, they fanned the flames of your anxiety- silence could mean that everything was fine, but it could also, very much, mean death.

You threw open your door and ran out into the hallway, immediately hitting a fabric-covered wall- wait no, shit, that was just Eddie.

“FUCK,” you screamed, scaring the absolute shit out of Eddie just as he had scared the absolute shit out of you. You threw yourself back, hitting an actual wall and allowing yourself to slide to the floor.

“Holy shit,” he said, rubbing his eyes, “Don’t do that again, Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry,” you panted, trying to calm your racing heart, “I didn’t mean to scare you. Y’know, again.”

“It’s fine,” he sat down across from you, “It’s fine.”

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, catching your breath and trying to relax your tense muscles.

“So,” he started, “You’re awake because?”

“I, uh,” you bit your lip, unsure of how to proceed, “I couldn’t sleep. Bad dreams.”

He nodded, “Me too. Y’know, I woke up because I thought I heard you screaming.”

“I thought I heard you screaming.”

“And you came to save me?” he asked, “That’s so sweet, my hero.”

“More like your healer,” you smiled, kicking his thigh with your outstretched leg, “I’m allowed to freak out over you, you almost died.”

“I know. I’m still sorry.”

“I know,” you looked up at him for a second. Your fingers tapped a quick rhythm into the carpet. You wanted to be near him. You wanted to get closer to him so badly- and what was stopping you?

You pulled yourself forward and across the hallway, before sitting at his side in the dark. Your hand was so close to his, so close that if you wanted, you could reach out and touch him.

“What did you dream about?” you whispered, as if there was anyone else in the household you could wake up by speaking too loud.

“Nothing much,” his volume matched yours, “Just, y’know, dying. Being torn to shreds. Except this time you were there with me. They got you too.”

“So we died together, then?”

He nodded and took a shaky breath, “Yeah. You died first, though. In front of me. Even after you died, I could still hear your screams.”

He sounded terrified. When you looked over at him, his knees were drawn to his chest. His eyes stared off at something a thousand miles away. He looked like a scared kid. You took his hand in yours. His fingertips were rough from years of guitar playing, among other things. You loved the feeling of his skin on yours.

“Y’know that didn’t happen, right?” you leaned closer to him, “I’m okay, Eddie. I’m alive.”

“I know. Still sucks, though.”

“Yeah,” a smile escaped onto your face, “Still sucks.”

“What did you dream about?” he asked. His eyes were on you, now, his gaze combing over your face desperately until he focused in on your lips. You barely noticed this, of course- not because you were thinking of your own nightmare, but because you were looking at him in the exact same way.

“You. My dream- my nightmare was about you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You made me stab you. With a sword. And you didn’t have eyes. It was kind of weird. It scared me though, so I have to give it that.”

“Hm,” he leaned towards you just a little bit, “Was the sword cool, at least?”

“Very cool,” your voice wasn’t even a whisper- it was like a breath, quiet and airy.

“You know it wasn’t real, right?” he practically repeated your words, “I’m here. I’m okay.”

“I know.”

He brought one of your hands to his chest. You could feel his heartbeat, a steady rhythm that pounded beneath your palm, “I’m here because of you. Thank you.”

He leaned in to kiss your cheek. Your heart began to race, and beneath your hand, you could feel his heart do the same. Your fingers dug gently into his shirt.

“Your heart is beating so fast.”

“Oh, yeah?” he pulled back, his eyes meeting yours, “What’s your diagnosis, doc?”

You didn’t give him a real answer to that. You were too busy staring at his lips, biting your tongue as you tried to control your racing mind. You failed, and the answer you gave him was:

“Fuck. I really want to kiss you right now.”

He smiled, laughing a tiny laugh at your audacity, “Go for it, baby.”

To your credit, you didn’t hesitate, even for a second. Your lips were on his in an instant, moving quickly, desperately, as if you would never have another chance to kiss him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling yourself as close to him as you possibly could.

He kissed back, smiling against you as he put his hands on your waist. As his grip on you tightened, you let out a tiny moan. That was all the encouragement he needed to lift you slightly and move you onto his lap, positioning you so that you were straddling him. As he did so, your hands moved, sliding up his neck to hold his face. His slight stubble pricked at your palms, but holy fuck did you not care. You were kissing the man you’d loved silently for years- literally nothing else mattered.

“Goddamn,” he murmured into the kiss, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

You pulled back slightly, an impish grin painting your features, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this!”

You leaned forward, kissing along his jawline as his hands moved up your back, “You’re so fucking pretty, you know that?” you whispered against his skin.

He shivered beneath you before pulling you away from his neck. You panicked for a second, wondering if you’d crossed a boundary, but before you could say anything, he switched your roles. His lips ghosted across your skin, stopping every few inches to bite down gently on your skin.

“Oh, god,” you moaned as he bit down particularly hard on one spot. Your hands curled into fists, tugging slightly at his hair.

“Mm, I wouldn’t worry about god right now, sweetheart,” he whispered before biting down on your throat again, drawing a string of curses from between your lips and making you bury your face in his shoulder.

“I love you,” you whispered into his shirt, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” his voice was just as quiet as yours, just as soft, and just as loving. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you to him in a tight embrace. You stayed like that for a few minutes, on his lap, in his arms, listening to his heartbeat in the otherwise silent hallway.

“Hey, baby?” you could feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest, “As much as I love this, if we stay here for too long, it’s going to destroy my back.”

“Good point,” you said, sitting up straight, “It’s fuckin cold out here, too,” you stood and held out a hand to help him up. He took it, and once he was standing, you didn’t let go.

“Come with me,” a smile crept on your face as you examined your entwined hands. You looked up at him before you continued, “I think I know a place.”

Of course, he followed where you led, as he always would. He followed as you pulled him into your bedroom, and he followed as you pulled him down on top of you as you collapsed onto your bed.

His hand was still in yours, and you brought it to your lips, placing a soft kiss on his knuckles. When you looked up, his doe eyes were staring back at you, and you were struck with a thought you generally wouldn’t want to have in this situation- Steve Harrington was right.

The way Eddie looked at you, with his eyes so full of love and adoration, you really, really didn’t want to let him go.

So, you didn’t. You pulled him closer, kissing him again and again for as long as you could. His hands ran down your sides, desperate to feel every part of you. Your hands found their place on his face again, and he seemed to relax into your hold.

“Hey, Eds,” you whispered.

He pushed himself up a bit, just so he could meet your eyes. His head cocked to the side, asking a silent question.

“I can fit my whole world in my hands.”

“(Y/N)-”

You scrunched your face up slightly, tapping your thumbs against his face, “Right here.”

“Shit, you’re adorable,” he moved down slightly, peppering kisses across the top of your chest, biting down slightly and making you run your hands into his hair.

“Eds-”

“Mhmm?”

“Stay with me tonight? Please?”

“Of course, baby.”

He kissed you deeply, and you wrapped your arms around his neck again, “Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay with me, just, generally?”

“Oh, yeah. As we’ve seen,” he stretched up, taking in the sight of your body beneath his, “Death couldn’t keep me away from you.”

“More like I wouldn’t let it take you from me.”

“Fair point.”

And with that, his lips were back on you, and that’s where they stayed for the rest of the night.

That morning, your skin was covered in small purple bruises. Honestly, it was a good look for you- and for Eddie, who was covered in several similar bruises.

After kissing your love a quick good morning, you pulled yourself out of bed and made your way to the phone, dialling a familiar number and waiting.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Steve? Yeah. I made a move. It went very well. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Harrington!” Eddie said, his voice a little louder than usual so that Steve would hear him through the phone.

As you hung up the phone, Eddie came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your neck. You shut your eyes and leaned into him, placing your hands over his.

“Do you think he’s gonna tell the kid?”

“Oh yeah. Get ready for a three-hour-long phone call later.”

You smiled and turned in Eddie’s grasp, “Let’s go back upstairs, then. Get some rest while we still can.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He kissed you, gently and with a very intense passion that you were determined to hang onto. You watched as your man went upstairs, and as he stopped at the top of them waiting for you. A window behind his head let in the light from the rising sun. The light caught on Eddie’s hair, giving him a sort of halo.

“Come onnnn,” he groaned, “We only have so long before that butthead calls.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you laughed as you ran up the stairs, following him through the morning light and into your bedroom for some well fucking deserved rest.

#x reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things spoilers

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misstressshelby · 3 years ago

Text

A little magic

Summary: After failing to get pregnant Tommy Shelby and his wife try alternative methods.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy issues, smut

Paring: Tommy Shelby X Fem Reader

Word Count:2,438

(A/N: I am not Roma. It is an extremely closed culture that differs from region to region so it is hard to research. Everything related to magic in this is just things I've learned in my own craft. Expect Amari De who is the goddess of motherhood and nature among Romani. Also, this is my first smut so I'm very nervous.)

“Mrs. Shelby, did you hear what I just said?” The voice broke you out of your trance. You had been staring at a painting hung on the wall since you’d sat down. No, you didn’t hear what the doctor said but it didn’t matter. He said the same thing the last six doctors told you. It wasn’t impossible for you to have children, just highly unlikely. If you did, the pregnancy would be high risk. But there were always more treatments and tests. More prodding, invading questions and people look at you with pity in their eyes.

“Yes, I heard you. Thank you for your time, Dr. Turner.” You replied with a tight simile.

Tommy squeezed your hand beside you while taking a drag of his third cigarette. You didn’t remember the ride home, only that you drove in silence. As soon as you arrived you went to your shared bedroom. You were exhausted but knew you wouldn’t sleep. Your body hated you that way.

Two weeks later Esme had come to see you with her small army of kids. The girls were trying to make the boys play school with them but the boys wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, they wanted to go outside and play cowboys. Esme and you sat on chairs on the patio overlooking the garden talking about your husbands.

“John hasn’t been home in three bloody days! He only comes in to fuck me then leaves again. I swear I’m gonna cut off his balls the next time I see him.” The woman said exasperated.

“If you cut off his balls what would you do for fun eh? You two go at it like rabbits.” You laughed at your sister-in-law.

“I don’t fucking care anymore. I’m sick of being bloody pregnant. My feet hurt all the fucking time and I can’t remember the last time had a drink. Or any fun for that matter.” Esme gestured to her ever-growing stomach.

You gave a half-hearted chuckle and tried to ignore the pang of jealousy in your chest.

“Oh, I’m sorry love I wasn’t-’Esme rushed out.

“It’s okay Esme. I’m happy for you and John really.” Your smile was genuine this time even though the jealousy remained.

The brunette moved closer and leaned in like she was telling a secret.

“You know me cousin was like you tried for years and just couldn’t get knocked up. Then one day she saw Madam Boswell, now she has five.” Esme had a look in her eye that reminded you of Polly. Sometimes the monarch of the Shelby's would look at you like she saw through you.

“You think she would see me? I’m a gorger after all.” You didn’t want to get your hopes up again.

“You’re a fucking Shelby yeah,” Esme said as if your last name solved decades of tradition. Maybe it did. Being a Shelby opened a lot of doors these days.

Two hours later Esme was leaving the kids with Polly on Water lane. Jonny Doggs was preparing a caravan. You were in Tommy’s office writing him a letter and praying to every God that he wouldn’t be too mad.

Dear Tommy,

I’m sorry for leaving without any notice. I’m going with Esme to Blackpool and should be back before next Sunday. Johnny Doggs is coming with us so you don’t have to worry. I promise I’ll explain more when I get home.

Yours always, (Y/N)

True to your word you arrived next Friday to see lights on in the house. The sun had already gone down which usually meant Tommy wasn’t far behind. You opened the large wooden door to find Mary already waiting.

“Hello Mrs. Shelby, how was your trip?” Mary smiled.

“It was nice, Mary. Thank you. Where is me husband?” You asked. You knew the longer you waited the worst your nerves would get.

“In his study Miss, he’s been sleeping there,” Mary told her warily. The maid took your coat and started to walk back into the house.

You stopped her, “Mary is he….is he mad?”.

“No, not mad, just worried.” Mary smiled softly before going back to work.

You made your way through the house taking in the living room like the first time you’d had seen it. Coming back home always feels different. As if the energy had shifted in your absence. As you considered this as you arrived at Tommy’s office door.

The door felt larger than normal looming over you separating you from the man inside. You didn’t knock as you normally would, opting to pop your head in instead.

He didn’t notice you at first thinking you were a maid coming in to ask about dinner. You stood by the door for a moment taking in the sight of him hunched over his desk looking at papers. Tommy’s hair was falling over his eyes and the ashtray beside him was littered with cigarettes. His clothes look disheveled like Mary said he looked as if he’d slept in them.

“Hello, Tommy.” You said as you walked to his desk letting him know you were home.

“Your home.” He stated.

Your husband finally looked up, while he tried to look stoic you could see his shoulders relax.

“Yeah, I am. Did you get my letter?” You asked, knowing the answer.

“Mhhm I got it. Any reason you decided to run off to Blackpoll with Esme and Jonny Doggs love?” Tommy raised an eyebrow at you.

You moved around to sit on the edge of his desk before leaning down to kiss your husband. Tommy pulled you into him despite himself as you savored each other. As you pulled away your foreheads stayed pressed against one another. You took a breath before telling him.

“I went to visit Madam Boswell.” You finally said. “Esme told me that she helped a cousin of hers.”

After the words left your mouth Tommy leaned back in his chair rubbing his hands down his face. “So you let a witch put a spell on you cause Esme said?’ He laughed.

“Oi she’s not a witch Thomas and she didn’t put a spell on me. She only gave me instructions for a ritual; for us to do if we wish.” You scolded him.

You didn’t know why before you would’ve laughed at the thought as well. You’d never really put much thought into Roma magic. You’d listen to Polly’s stories or let her read your leaves from time to time. The same way an atheist would sit through a sermon. But there was something about Madam Boswell that made her feel ethereal. As if she knew everything that had happened and everything that would. It was silly but you clung to that feeling wanting to believe in it.

“You know Pol says Shelby's have magic in their blood, so what’s a little more?” You tried to reason with your husband.

“And you believe her?” He asked but he didn’t laugh this time.

“I think Pol can see things in people that others can’t and so can you. Call it magic or whatever you want.” You took your husband’s face in your hands rubbing along his jaw.

“She says it could help us have a baby Tommy. So why not try? Will you at least think about it?” You pleaded with your husband.

Tommy’s eyes got soft at the mention of you conceiving. You knew how much he wanted a baby too. Though he tried to act like the never-ending appointments didn’t pain him as much as his wife.

“I’ll think about it yeah,” He told you standing from his chair to kiss your forehead.

“Dinner should be ready soon, let's get something to eat yeah? Johnny Doggs is a shit cook.” You laughed, pulling your husband out of his office.

It was three days later when Tommy finally gave you an answer. You was sitting in front of your vanity getting ready for bed when he came in. You knew what he wanted right away, it was rare for Tom to come to bed before midnight unless he wanted a fuck.

“Alright.” He said with a nod of his head.

“Really?” You got up with a smile.” Okay just let me get the things.”

“Things? You never said there were things love.” Tommy grunted.

You ignored him walking toward the walk-in closet to get the bag Madam Boswell had given you.

“It’s only some candles, a seed, a medallion, and a little spell.” You recited every item as you sat them on the bed.

Tommy came to stand beside you. Looking at each item with a wary look in his eye.

“Thought you said no spells eh?” He asked as he picked up the medallion.

“No, I said she didn’t put one on me. All we have to do is light the candles, say a few words, and then plant the seed afterward” You explained.

Tommy quirked an eyebrow at “plant the seed” with a smirk. You shoved his shoulder a little and rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t hide a smile either.

After Tommy stripped to his boxers the two of you stood in front of a makeshift altar. The Amari De amulet sat in the middle of a green and red candle. Tommy took one of the lighters and lit the red before letting you light the green.

Awkwardly you both recited the spell Madam Boswell had written for you.

"Pink for a girl and blue for a boy

wee one you will bring such joy

fill up this womb with baby's life

Goddess hear my heartfelt cries

I am strong and I am worthy

To lead this baby on its life journey

ant so tonight with child is me

this is my spell, so mote it be"

You shifted beside your husband suddenly feeling like a virgin. The anxiety bubbled in your stomach as you forgot how to move your limbs. Tommy sensing your apprehension took your face in his hands. Softly he brushed his fingers over your lips before his followed. As soon as you felt his lips on yours everything fell into place.

You couldn’t wait any longer, bunching your nightgown up before tugging Tommy’s pants off him. Hanging off the edge of the bed Tommy’s arms wrapped around you was the only thing keeping you up. Your mouths crashed together with urgency. Half kissing half groaning into the other's mouth. Tommy raked his hand through your hair and tugged just hard enough to make you gasp. While he placed open-mouthed kisses on your neck you blindly undid the buttons on his shirt.

He pulled the top of your negligee down as the straps fell down your arms.

When he stopped his assault of your neck to pull your mouth back to him you moaned at the sight. His hair disheveled from your fingers running through it. His were lips already swollen. If you could, you would stay like this forever worshiping the man before you .

Tommy had other plans, reaching in between your bodies he found your cunt wet for him. He let his fingers ghost over you just enough to tease. When you ground down into his hand and let out an embarrassing whine all he did in return is smile.

He stayed like that for a while letting you rub herself on his fingers until you were close. The noises you were making would embarrass you if it wasn’t for the look on Thomas' face. He looked up at you like you were a goddess. It was his turn to worship you . His pupils were blown wide while his lips hung slightly open. Your moans became louder. You were sure everyone in the house could hear you but didn’t care.

It was when your mouth dropped into a silent scream that your husband finally pressed his fingers onto your clit. He didn’t move, just let you continue circling your hips in the rhythm you’d chosen. But it was enough to set you over the edge. You hung on to Tommy’s broad shoulders as you came. It took a moment to let the fuzzy white haze wash over you. Basking in the feeling. You picked your head off Thomas’s shoulder only to press your foreheads together. Your noses bumped each other. Lips brushing as a smile came to your face.

You didn’t know if you stayed like that for a couple of minutes or a couple of hours. Gently Tommy laid you on the ground before standing over you taking in the sight. Your hair spiraled in a halo around you while you caught your breath. Thomas grabbed a pillow from the bed behind him. Then placed it underneath your hips.

You watched as he kneeled before you , running his calloused hands up your legs. Only to hook them around your knees and pull you towards him. Your hips positioned on the pillow left your cunt opened to your husband much to his delight. You were already dripping down your thighs but Tommy still leaned down to spit directly on your pussy. You gasped at the feeling. You arched your back towards him before wrapping your ankles around him.

“Please Tommy please I need you…” You started to babble.

“Shh, I know. You’re always so good for me” Tommy reassured you .

You didn’t have time to respond before you felt Tommy’s cock sink into you slowly. Everything else fell away and all that mattered was the feeling of him. Of both of you together.

You couldn’t think of anything else but him. His fingers digging into your thighs. Hurting in the best way possible. The way his cock filled you in a way only Tommy could. The small grunts coming from his parted lips. It was all too much for you. You felt yourself titering on the edge already. The tingling in your stomach grew with each thrust as you drug your nails down his back.

“Please...please Tommy I’m going to cum..Don’t stop.” You rambled.

“Me too just hold on love.” He groaned against your ear.

You felt Tommy grab your hips before thrusting into you one last time. After filling you, he brought his thumb down to rub lazy circles on your clit. It only took a few caresses for you to cum with a loud moan.

Tommy gave you a moment to catch your breath before pulling away. You wrapped your legs around him again before asking him to stay.

You both stayed like that until your breathing calmed down. Only breaking apart to move to the bed and start again.

#tommy shelby smut #slight ooc #slightly ooc #thomas shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby writing #thomas shelby x reader

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