#language is her caravan

[lathalea]

The Arrival

Yes, my beloved readers, it's time for another Thorin fic from yours truly!

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader/OC (pick one) Rating: G Warnings: none Author's notes: Thorin and his Company have reclaimed Erebor and started rebuilding their kingdom. Everything seems fine except for the fact that the King Under The Mountain is eagerly awaiting the arrival of someone very dear to him... Also, I want to apologise to Peter Jackson for stealing some lines from An Unexpected Journey and J.R.R. Tolkien for appropriating and rephrasing one sentence from The Lord of The Rings.  I'm a hopeless romantic, what can I say? You can find this fic on AO3. For @legolasbadass 💙💙💙

Khuzdul: Iglishmêk - dwarven sign language Kurdelê - my heart Lukhdelê - my light of all lights

The King Under the Mountain, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the second of his name, also known as Thorin Oakenshield, the king of Durin’s folk, was not a patient Dwarf—and yet he waited. He had been standing on the main terrace above the Great Gate of Erebor since the moment when the first rays of the morning sun gilded the distant peaks of the Iron Hills. His eyes, however, were turned towards the west, where the jagged tops of the Misty Mountains grazed against the pink sky. As he took a deep breath, fresh spring air filled his lungs. It was his—and his people’s—first spring in Erebor since it was reclaimed. The winter after the Battle of Five Armies passed in a blink of an eye. The kingdom was being rebuilt and prepared for the returning Dwarves, food stores had to be replenished, new trade agreements had to be signed… but among all those duties, something else kept Thorin awake until late on many a night. His memories.

The memory of a pair of hands gently resting on his shoulders as he sat behind his desk, and the sweet timbre of the voice that went with it, “Come, Kurdelê, it is time we reposed for the night, those reports can wait until the morning.”

The memory of those soft, sweet lips pressing innocently against his cheek and murmuring something scandalously indecent into his ear.

The memory of how her body felt in his lap, his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, her forehead pressed against his, her silver laughter as she pretended to scold his rash behaviour, so unbecoming of a king.

The memory of her bare skin in candlelight.

But there were other memories, too. Their lengthy late-night conversations about anything and everything. Their secret escapades to the market, or to an inn, dressed as common folk, pretending to be a couple of travelling merchants. Their wanderings through the Blue Mountains in search of the best view of the sea in the west (his choice) and the most beautiful flower glades (her choice). 

During the lengthy council meetings he had to hold almost daily in Erebor, he would recall how much her presence changed the dynamics of similar gatherings back in the Blue Mountains. Her reasoning was swift, and her no-nonsense approach to the matters of state made even the most ancient council members nod in approval. Even now, he would—out of habit—turn to his right, wishing to discuss a matter with her or ask for her insight. But she was not there, and so he would give out a dissatisfied grunt and return to the matter at hand. 

He knew that the only thing he had to do was wait, and he abhorred it. But there was nothing to be done. No sane person would risk crossing the Misty Mountains in the middle of winter. Now, however, the spring came into its own right. And he sent his best men to the High Pass to oversee the approach of the first dwarven caravan from Eriador. It was supposed to bring the first group of his people returning home, merchants, masters of craft, their families and belongings… and her. The whole Erebor was waiting for the arrival of their kin—the symbol of a new beginning for the Mountain and its dwellers. Many eyes turned to the west, counting the days, making wagers, discussing the route the waggons must have taken, and the current road conditions. It seemed that in those days, only one topic existed: the caravan.

But Thorin could only think of her lovely hand in his.  Of her kindred touch.

As soon as a raven brought word from the caravan, reporting that they have succesfully crossed the mountains, he could not stop himself from looking to the west, and hoping. 

This was the fifth day he spent on the terrace, waiting for any signs of the caravan’s approach.

On the first day, Gloin waited with him in hopes of seeing his wife and son, but was called away due to some issue in the treasure chamber. Thorin stayed, cursing the enchanted forest (and its haughty king, for good measure) for daring to obscure his view. Sadly, neither the forest nor its king moved out of the way.

On the second day, Dwalin asked Thorin whether he was growing mawkish in his dotage, staring at the edge of Mirkwood like a lovesick whelp—a question he had to take back on the training grounds. 

On the third day, Dori asked whether Thorin would rather wait inside, on account of that nasty rain, and drink some warm tea with honey. No, said Thorin, he would not. And that envoy from the Iron Hills could join him there, on the terrace, by the way.

On the fourth day, Nori, Bifur and Bofur kept Thorin company, amusing him—and themselves in equal measure—with the latest gossip straight from the taverns of Erebor (all two of them, for now). He had no idea that several hundreds of dwarves, mostly newcomers from the Iron Hills and the White Mountains, could wreak such havoc. And marry so swiftly and in such numbers. Spring was truly in the air.

Now, on the fifth day, he stood alone, and waited. Roac was circling the Long Lake below, giving out a single caw from time to time, “Still nothing.”

And then, a hunting horn rang out in the air. Thorin knew its sound all too well.

“Balin!” he exclaimed to his friend who sat in the hall beyond the terrace. “Sound the alarm!”

The elderly dwarf raised his head from above a piece of parchment, slightly puzzled.

“Call out the guard,” Thorin insisted, feeling his impatience take the better of him. “Do it now! 

“What is it?” Balin rose from his seat, his scroll forgotten.

“The caravan!” Thorin gestured excitedly—perhaps a tad too excitedly for a Dwarf of his stature—towards Mirkwood, where a long line of waggons started emerging from the forest. “They will be here soon!”

She will be here soon. 

Over a year passed since the last time he held her in his arms, since he braided the silky dark waves of her hair, and since he looked into the brilliant, wise eyes of the woman he loved. To him, it felt like an eternity, and in that very moment, as he hurried down the stairs that led towards the Great Gate, he made a solemn promise to himself.

When the caravan arrived, most of the Dwarves were already gathered outside of the mountain. The guards held their heads high, presenting their weapons in an honorary salute, not leaving their posts, but even they cast curious glances at the newly arrived, trying to find familiar faces in the crowd. Thorin smirked at his thoughts. They looked as impatient as their king.

He knew the protocol of such meetings like the back of his hand, requiring him to stand by the gate, look regally, and welcome the newcomers to their new—old—home. His resolve wavered, however, when he saw a familiar figure clad in a green, fur-lined gown getting down a waggon, helped by one of the guardsmen. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Without thinking, he took a step forward, and then stopped, recalling who he was and what he was expected to do. He was also not allowed to leave his post, just like his guards. Instead, he observed from a distance, admiring the way the waves of her hair fell down her shoulders as she looked around, perhaps slightly disoriented, taking in the surroundings. Thorin saw the exact moments when her gaze rested on the mossy stone shaped by his ancestors into statues of warrior kings. Then her gaze moved down, focusing on the green marble of the Great Gate. Her eyes widened, her lips formed an “O” and then moved, she spoke something, but her words were lost in all the commotion. In that very moment, she reminded him of that bright-eyed maiden he had met for the first time in a mountain meadow half a world away; the maiden who laughed at his abysmal jokes, who fit so well in his arms when they danced, and who accepted his awkward courting efforts. The time that passed between then and now did not take away her ability to wonder and enjoy the world around her. She endured so many hardships on the way from the Blue Mountains to Erebor, so many cold nights on the road, faced so many dangers, and yet she never wavered in her decision to leave the Blue Mountains behind to be with him and their people. Now, she was finally here and, at last, he felt complete. Being able to see his own kingdom—their kingdom—through her eyes, and to see how amazed she was at the view, was a reward on its own. 

Thorin could not stop himself from smiling when her eyes finally met his. 

“Welcome home, my…” he began signing in iglishmêk, in that discreet way they often did on official occasions when the eyes of many would rest on them.

A light flush bloomed on her cheeks, she responded with a smile, and began walking towards him, oblivious of her escort and the joyous crowd around her, forgetting about the protocol, moving faster and faster, a giggle escaping her lips, her braids danced in the wind, her cloak flowed behind her, and…

“Thorin!” she called him in that melodious voice of hers, and there were diamonds in her eyes, or perhaps it was only his vision that suddenly turned very blurry, and he opened her arms, and thought “the Abyss take the protocol!”, and he rushed towards her, ignoring Balin clearing his throat in embarrassment, because she was finally here, and he had waited long enough—and they finally met halfway.

He wrapped his arms around her and felt her pressing into him, and there was laughter, and more tears in their eyes, the diamonds of happiness, those most precious among gems, and he was finally able to finish that sentence.

“Welcome home, my wife,” he rasped out, pressing his forehead against her, breathing in her familiar flowery scent, the one he adored so much. This was her, finally her, in his arms, and only she mattered in this very moment, not the crowd cheering around them, witnessing this moment of tenderness between their ruling couple, not even his kingdom, nor the world around them—now, it was only her.

“I missed you, my love,” she murmured, holding tight onto him, as if she wanted to make sure he would not disappear, and a wave of warmth washed over him. “I can’t believe I’m finally here, with you, after all those months…”

“Neither can I,” he agreed, cupping her cheek tenderly and eliciting a small sigh from her. “It was much too long, Lukhdelê.”

“Aye, it was,” she nodded, her eyes searching his face, as if learning it anew.

“I made a promise to myself,” Thorin continued. “Never again.”

“Oh?” she tilted her head in that alluring way of hers, and he had to suppress the improper urge to kiss her passionately in front of his people.

“Never again shall we part for so long. I crave you by my side, my heart,” he stated, bringing her hand to his lips.

“Then I will be looking forward to you upholding the promise,” she graced him with a teasing smile that made his blood run faster. “We have been apart indeed for too long, and so were our people. I believe it is time for us to work on improving their morale, would you not agree, my king?”

“Your wish is my command, my queen,” he agreed and took her in his arms again, and then their lips met. Sweetness intermingled with warmth, tenderness fueled the fire inside them, and he cared not that they stood in front of the gate in the sight of many.

After all, who cares about protocol when you have to properly welcome your wife home?

💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

📜 Searching for more stories to read? Check out my masterlist!📜

Do you like my writing? Would you like to read more? Feel free to show your support by having a Ko-fi with me! Thank you 💙

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed): @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings​ @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @anyaspidergirl-blog @jotink78 @rachel1959 @saltwater-in-the-afternoon @linasofia @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @legolasbadass @yourqueenunderthemountain @reblogunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @xmly-xo @mrsdurin @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry  @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000 @kami-chan1512  @ragsweas @enchantzz @aduialel @myselfandfantasy @thewhiteladyofrohan @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @blairsanne @fckmini @clumsy-wonderland @wormsmith @mailinsblogofstuff  @medusas-hairband @xxbyimm @knittastically @saucyminxbrainspill @quiall321 @frosticenow @glassgulls

#thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #richard armitage #thorin x reader #legolasbadass #the hobbit fanfiction #thorin x oc #thorin oakenshield x reader #hobbit fic #thorin

[llovelymoonn]

favourite poems of july

knar gavin strindberg grey

dahlia ravikovitch the love of an orange (tr. chana bloch)

danez smith summer, somewhere

hannah gamble your invitation to a modest breakfast: “your invitation to a modest breakfast”

claire schwartz lecture on the history of the house

joseph brodsky collected poems in english, 1972-1999: “a part of speech”

ralph angel twice removed: “alpine wedding”

bob hicok insomnia diary: “spirit ditty of no fax-line dial tone”

caleb klaces language is her caravan

philip good & bernadette mayer alternating lunes

hester knibbe light-years (tr. jacquelyn pope)

tracy k. smith life on mars: “the universe as primal scream”

rigoberto gonzález other fugitives and other strangers: “the strangers who find me in the woods”

stephen edgar murray dreaming

james schuyler other flowers: uncollected poems: “light night”

amy beeder because our waiters are hopeless romantics

diane seuss backyard song

tomás q. morín love train

safiya sinclair the art of unselfing

carol muske-dukes skylight: “the invention of cuisine”

peter gizzi the outernationale: “vincent, homesick for the land of pictures”

william matthews selected poems and translations, 1969-1991: “onions”

c.k. williams butcher

mark mccloskey the smell of the woods

jennifer chang the age of unreason

richard blanco city of a hundred fires: “contemplations at the virgin de la caridad cafeteria, inc.”

bob hicock the pregnancy of words

j. allyn rosser impromptu 

carl phillips then the war

stephanie young ursula or university: “essay”

gloria e. anzaldúa the new speakers

kofi

#tbr #knar gavin #strindberg grey #strindberg gray #dahlia ravikovitch #the love of an orange #chana bioch #danez smith #summer somewhere #hannah gamble #your invitation to a modern breakfast #claire schwartz #lecture on the history of the house #joseph brodsky #collected poems in english #a part of speech #collected poems in english 1972-1999 #ralph angel #twice removed #alpine wedding #bob hicock #insomnia diary #spirit ditty of no-fax dial tone #caleb klaces #language is her caravan #philip good #alternating lunes #bernadette mayer #hester knibble #light-years

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Mora makes Teyvat go round

Self-Aware! BSD x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Self-Aware! Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald x GN! Reader

Description: Ningguang and Pantalone are proud of being of Creator's good side. With power of mora and buisnesses, they will gain more strength, gaining even more favours from Creator to their nations.

Unfortunately, mora is low due to attacks on caravans.

But, this new possible partner, who wants to offer organise trades between nations, peak their interest.

Warning: OOC. English is my second language. Slight mutilation (non-descriptive). Dehumanisation (Reader called 'it'.

______

Mora is stability.

Mora is power.

Mora is respect.

People need mora to get food, clothes, houses. Everything.

People need mora to build shrines for Creator.

Ningguang and Pantalone use mora to give Creator respect and happiness.

______

Pantalone's eyes twitched.

Another ship was sailed, another caravan was attacked.

And nothing can be done about it.

Dottore tried. And look, where he is now? Went completely mad, tried to kill Creator, and now is locked in a cell.

It became another hit on Snezhnaya's reputation in the eyes of other nations.

And in the eyes of Creator.

Their Holiness, after Dirty Imposter disappeared, were wrecked with sorrow.

Each day, nations brought gifts to the ivory throne.

Each day, people were searching for an Imposter.

Both of these actions were focused on bringing back Creator's smile.

And both actions required mora.

Mora, that Snezhnaya start becoming low.

Pantalone breathe in.

The situation was bad.

Yes, he has enough mora to spoil Creator for the next hundreds of years.

Yet, in this situation, he needs more mora.

Much more.

Pantalone looked at the pile of open letters he had on his table. Offers, coming from different groups. Travelers, mercenary, wanderers.

All of them offered their help in moving goods from nation to nation.

All of them failed.

Pantalone took another unopened letter.

He read through it.

Another offer. And he has no other choice, except it.

__________

Ningguang read through the contract one more time. It was written on a fancy paper with an ornament around the edges. Pantalone, who was sitting next to her, read through his own contract.

Pantalone spoke, looking at possible businesses partner above glasses.

"I must say, Mister Fitzgerald, it's quite an interesting offer."

Blonde businessman smiles politely.

Pantalone cast an interested gaze on the gems, that were laying in the middle of the table.

Gems looked stunning. They looked almost perfect, they varied in sizes.

"Are you sure, that you could transport all the goods safely? You are aware of the situation, right?"

Fitzgerald took one of the gems.

"Mister Pantalone, Miss Ningguang, I assure you, My Team and I are more than capable of doing it. As you can see."

Fitzgerald pointed at the gems. "We have this gems here. From Fontaine. And we did a great job transporting them."

Pantalone and Ningguang looked at each other. Everyone said that. Everyone failed. Ningguang and Pantalone don't have any other choice.

Ningguang spoke.

"True. Let's try to do it. We spent a lot of mora on the Imposter Hunt. All these rewards and mercenaries."

Pantalone chuckled.

"But it was worth it. I even got a precious relic from it."

There were envy in Ningguang's eyes. She also has a little souvenir from the Hunt. Yet, in comparison to Pantalone's, her trophy was simpler.

"Anyway, It's a deal, Mr Fitzgerald."

Both contracts were signed.

Francis broke a tree trunk, when he left Liyue.

Pantalone lost a lot of jewelry because of it.

_______

The first trade was from Liyue to Mondstadt.

If someone saw a new trade caravan, they would think, that they have gone mad.

First, instead of a horse or ox, a white tiger was (somehow) harnessed to the cart. Atsushi chuffed from time to time, but did his job perfectly.

Fitzgerald was walking beside white tiger, looking around. He spoke out loud.

"Look, Weretiger boy, a dangerous monster."

Francis points at the hydro slime, that was more interested in berries, then caravan.

Meanwhile, Francis activated his ability.

"This beast can be defeated only with 100000000 mora punch. Mister Pantalone and Miss Ningguang were so generous, agreeing to give away all their mora, all their possessions to us, right?"

Atsushi scoffed.

Fitzgerald's punch left just a few hydro droplets from the slime.

Somewhere in Snezhnaya, in one of Pantalone's safes, 100000000 disappeared.

"We are saved... Oh, no! Another one!" theatrically gasped Fitzgerald, pointing at lizard, that was staring at the cart.

"This one is more deadly! I must double the effort!"

When the caravan arrived at Mondstadt (Atsushi turned back before someone could notice his tiger form), Ningguang's and Pantalone's safes became more spacious. And Teyvat wildlife get some damage.

______

Fitzgerald's plan was risky, to tell the truth. According to you and books Jouno and others have brought from Teyvat, there was only one language in Teyvat. At least, the only official language. There was no information, if other languages existed. But Francis decided to take this risk.

With some help from Poe, Natsume, Rimbaud and Fyodor, Fitzgerald created an 'ornament'. A synthetic language, that was made from mix of English, French and Russian alphabet and grammar. With Poe's writing, new words looked like an ornament.

The ornament, that proclaims, that person, who sigh the contract, will give away all their money and possessions to Fitzgerald.

And he has a nice little ability to use with new finance help.

_________

Francis stared at what was before him.

He proved, that he can be trusted. And, his businesses 'partners' show them, what their trophy's from the Imposter Hunt were.

_____

Ningguang had four bloodied canines....

****

Dirty Sinner were put in stocks in the middle of Liyue's Harbor. It looked half dead.

It wasn't enough. Tommorow it will be executed. It still have too much dignity.

Rocks, dirt, rotten fruits, manure...

Everything were thrown in Imposter.

It wasn't enough.

Ningguang stare at Imposter.

Its mouth were in blisters.

Its teeth were intact...

A dagger and her fingers weren't the best instruments for a dental practice.

But, Ningguang managed.

*****

And Pantalone had two pinkie fingers in the jar....

*****

It screamed, when its injured feet made contact with snow. Pantalone grinned.

He got a great trophy.

First one, who did it.

Soon, Imposter will lose even more.

Acolytes needs mementos from their great victory.

_______

Fitzgerald saw the mountains of gifts. Gifts for that beast, who ordered to hunt after his treasure.

And he, Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald, must be the one, who delivered it.

Francis can't stay here. In Teyvat.

He needs some real world.

He hopped, that he would reached Lowecraft 'waiting' place, before the sunrise.

_______

Fitzgerald stumbled from the portal, back to their world. He wasn't looking, where he was going. He needs to see you. To make sure, that you aren't in pain.

"What have you learned about, Fitzgerald?" Yosano's voice was sympathetic.

Francis looked at her. She was waiting for his answer.

She was the only one, who knew everything about your injuries.

Before that night, Fitzgerald only knew about burns.

He finally found his voice.

"Teeth... Toes..."

His voice was muffled, when Yosano hugged him, pressing his face to her shoulder.

She let him cry.

________

Pantalone was happy. Fitzgerald did a great job. Trades between nations slowly start anew.

Slowly, mire mora will come to Snezhnaya and his vault. And he will spend it to make Creator happy.

Suddenly, his mansion starts shaking.

The next moment, Pantalone was sitting on the Shezhnaya's snow. His home was nowhere in sight.

_______

In Guyun Stone Forest some of the stone spears, that Morax threw during Archon War, collapsed. Fitzgerald was sure, that crystalfly was a dangerous predator.

________

Ningguang grabbed the table, trying to stay on her feet. She was having a conversation with other Qixing, discussing, what other things they could trade with other nations, to use new mora on gifts for Creator, when half of the pillars in Guyun Stone Forest collapsed. Before anyone could react, a second earthquake came, destroying the rest of the stone pillars.

Outside, people of Liyue saw, how Jade chamber disappeared right before the earthquake.

______

Fitzgerald saw a second crystalfly.

______

Both Ningguang and Pantalone have a headache.

They have lost their houses. And, somehow, almost all mora they owned. There were no sighs of treasure horders or weasel thieves. Both Ningguang and Pantalone knew, how to be careful with spending mora.

Yet, both now have one thousand mora each.

The knock on the door made Pantalone and Ningguang turned their heads towards the exit.

Baisi noticeably flinched. She looked terrified.

"We finished looking through taxes declarations... And..."

Baisi put the documents on the table and left.

In a few moments, two loud shouts were heard.

"WHAT DOES IT MEAN, THAT HALF OF TEYVAT POPULATION BECAME BROKE?!"

______

Spa was quiet. Spa was good.

And this spa was completely yours and Fitzgerald's for today.

Fitzgerald announced, earlier today, that you two will have a self-care day. And 'drag' you here.

You had some sweets prepared for you.p

"Now, try this, Treasure" Fitzgerald put a sweet roll right to your lips. You took a generous bite.

Francis secretly smiles.

All your teeth were intact.

He cast a quick glance to your feet.

Currently, you two enjoyed foot massage.

Francis smiles. Your pinkies were here.

He squeezed your hand.

And promised to himself, to keep you safe and sound. And make sure, that no one will even think about taking something from you as a trophy.

____

Bonus

You raise an eyebrow, looking at all the mora Mark, Steinbeck, Dazai, Anglo, Fyodor and Sigma brought in the house.

You took one of the coins. It glimmered in daylight.

Without looking away from the coin, you asked.

"Okay, I will ask. How?"

Twain looked pleased with himself.

"We rob one of the banks, that belonged to that one, in glasses."

Steinbeck added.

"Fitzgerald won't be the only one, who could rob Mr Pants."

Dazai looked extremely proud.

"Ango and I are scumming people. We put some fake donation boxes. People are glad to spare some mora."

Ango, who was counting mora coins, spoke carefully. He was looking at you, observing your reaction.

"We tell everyone, that this mora will be used for a new shrine."

You didn't need an effort to not flinch. You spent enough time with Hawthorne to stop flinching every time the topic of religion came up.

Fyodor spoke next.

"And Sigma and I created a casino. Cards, some machines with toys for kids. Some prizes are unique and appealing to many. And almost impossible to win. But, as you know, everyone wants to play again."

Sigma shrugged.

"The prizes for everyone were my idea."

You dropped the coin back to the pile. Your mouth moved, before you can think.

"It reminds me of an anecdote. Want to hear it? A funny short story?"

Everyone immediately perked up. They took it as a sign of your recovery. It was good, that you start recalling something funny.

"Okay, [Y/N], we are ready for the story!" Naomi pretend to be impatient.

Well, there is no going back. You cleared your throat and started.

"One day, American man, Japanese man and Russian man decided to have a competition and see, who will make cat eat mustard by its own violation. American man immediately grabbed a jar and force mustard down cat's throat."

"Hey, that's violence!" Russian man objects. “You have failed!”

A Japanese man spread mustard between two pieces of fish and wrapped it in bacon.

“Hey, that's a hoax!” Russian man objects. “You have failed!”

“Well, your turn!” Japanese man and the American man grin.

Russian man, without thinking twice, takes the jar and smears mustard under the cat’s tail. It, of course, immediately starts to lick mustard, trying to get it off. Cat licks and licks, even though she is yowling.

“Do you see that?!” - Russian man rejoices “Voluntarily and with a song!”

"You have an interesting taste in jokes, Myshonok." corners of Fyodor lips slightly raised up. On the background, Nikolai and Pushkin were howling with laughter.

Actually, everyone was at least smirking. Even Natsume look a little bit amused.

Francis scoffed.

He was making sure, that Ningguang and Pantalone will rot in slums.

And, it was a good thing, that no one would be able to help them.

______

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #imposter sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #sagau impostor au #imposter au #Self-Aware Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald #francis scott key fitzgerald x reader #bsd fitzgerald

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Jessie Matthews (Evergreen, First a Girl, It's Love Again, Gangway)—known as “the dancing divinity”, jessie matthews was a british musical star of stage and screen in the 20s and 30s - if you're an enjoyer of lavish art deco musicals of the likes of fred and ginger, busby berkeley etc, definitely give her movies a try they are delightful! (tantalizingly there were multiple attempts made to pair her and fred together that never came to fruition - gaumont-british tried to get fred for evergreen and mgm wanted jessie for a damsel in distress.) and for the women in tuxedos enjoyers, her 1935 movie first a girl was the first english language remake of viktor und viktoria, famously later remade with julie andrews.

Lili Damita (Brewster's Millions, Goldie Gets Along, Fighting Caravans)—no propaganda submitted

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut—there is one NSFW photo]

Jessie Matthews:

Star of British 1930s stage and screen, she introduced classic songs by Noel Coward and Rogers and Hart to English audiences, and then played perky heroines, but today it’s her genderswapping role in First A Girl that probably gets most attention.

Lili Damita:

#lili damita #jessie matthews #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 1 #Youtube

[viennacherries]

LONGING

Dammon/Tav | NSFW | 4,318 words

"The second Dammon spots her for the first time in the Grove he knows he's monumentally and royally, without a shadow of a doubt (and pardon his language), fucked."

~~~

Dammon is completely enthralled with Tav. She's obsessed with him, too, but she makes him wait for it. He gets what he wants eventually.

Read it on AO3

~~~

The second Dammon spots her for the first time in the Grove he knows he's monumentally and royally, without a shadow of a doubt (and pardon his language), fucked.

She's absolutely gorgeous, all petite frame with strong muscles. Her skin is pale and covered in freckles, from her face to the backs of her hands as she shakes his in greeting. She has one of those smiles that tells him she's definitely going to cause problems on purpose. He knows as soon as he sees her that she's the one who saved the Archdruid and took out the goblin camp. She just has that aura about her that tells you she's absolutely deadly. Unfortunately, thats exactly his type.

It's even more unfortunate, because she certainly notices. She can absolutely tell that he's completely smitten with her the minute their eyes meet, and it's when he gets his first glimpse of that smile of hers. The one the says she's going to make his life hell and she's going to enjoy every minute of it. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to it.

Still, he's the absolute picture of cordiality and good manners. He thanks her for helping them, and even whacks a healthy discount onto his wares in the name of repaying her. He is completely polite and entirely appropriate.

She winks at him as she leaves.

He thinks about it for the next tenday.

~~~

When he sees her again at Last Light Inn, his immediate response is relief. The Shadow-Cursed Lands are cruel and brutal, and after what befell their caravan he was concerned her party wouldn't make it through in one piece. Especially taking into account her considerable affinity for finding herself in danger.

She's barely been at the inn a half hour before there's winged ghouls descending on them.

It's the first time Dammon has the pleasure of watching her fight, and it does nothing to ease the burgeoning flame he's been kindling for her in his chest. When he's done analysing her armour and has come to the conclusion she needs heavier plating, he just observes her.

She's lithe and muscular, and she spins around and through enemies as though she's dancing a pasodoble. Her every movement is precise, considered, calculated. She takes each step like she decided she would take it 5 steps prior, confident and assured. Her fighting style is just as elegant and brutal, all up close slashes and jabs that make quick work of her mark. And Hells, the way she wields her blade. It's a huge, hulking thing, just over half her height, but you wouldn't think it with the way she swings it around like it weighs nothing. The blade itself is simple, boring looking, and Dammon swears to himself in that moment he'll make her something better, something as brilliant and powerful as her. Something deserving of her finesse.

The fight's over almost as suddenly as it began, and he watches as she plants her sword into one of the floorboards, leaning on it with her forearms as she pants and tries to catch her breath. A long bead of sweat falls down over her brow, and she wipes it away with the back of her hand, smearing ghoul blood across her face in the process. Covered in viscera, and somehow she looks radiant. She catches his eye, smiles that awful smile of hers, and winks across the room at him.

She finds him later in his forge, while he's busy hammering out an old sword someone's donated to him. Dammon doesn't notice her til he turns to quench the metal and finds her leaning against the wall, watching him work.

"Tav, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He uses his scarf to dab some of the sweat off his brow.

She's got that grin on her face again as she trails her gaze over him, like she's appraising him. "Trust me, the pleasure's all mine."

He's covered in sweat, he can feel it dripping down his back and neck. It makes him think back to the fight earlier, when she was drenched in her own. He thinks about folding her in half, til they're both dripping with each other's exhaustion.

He clears his throat.

"You flatter me, truly," he's quite proud of how even his voice comes out. "What can I do for you?"

She smirks, "well, I was wondering if you had any suggestions? You seemed to be watching me earlier, so I assume you have a comment to make concerning my equipment."

He knows she's trying to tease him, but he nods anyway. He does have thoughts about her equipment, and now she's asked. That means it's not his fault if he rambles for entirely too long about the merits of different alloys.

"Yes, actually. I think you could do with some heavier plating. You favour fighting up close which is admirable, but it puts you directly in the path of your opponent's blade. You need something stronger to protect you."

Her smirk drops. She clearly wasn't expecting him to have actual advice. "I don't like heavy plating, it makes it harder to move around."

He nods enthusiastically, "yes, yes, you're constantly in motion while you fight. I believe your current armour is steel? It's strong, but some of it's integrity and strength has been compromised to keep it light, and even then you're only wearing half-plates. You need something just as strong, but far lighter. That way you can afford to wear more plating without losing your range of motion and speed."

Her eyebrow is quirked, and she looks somewhat impressed. "Interesting. What would you suggest?"

"Mithril, without a doubt. It's half the weight of steel but it's just as strong. You could wear a full set of plating and it'd feel identical in mass to the half-plates you have currently."

She nods thoughtfully, "I'll keep an eye out, then." The smirk finds its way back onto her face. "Was there anything else?"

There's a brief pause before Dammon speaks again.

"You need a new sword. That one's absolutely dreadful."

The laugh she lets out is musical, and it only serves to pour oil onto the flame in his chest. It roars up like an inferno

~~~

It's embarrassing, the amount of time he spends thinking about her. The image of her, pirouetting through the air as she sinks her blade through the skull of a monstrosity, haunts his every waking thought. Even sleep doesn't provide respite from her visage, and he finds himself waking up every morning achingly hard from another unconscious imagining of the ways he'd like to ruin her.

He wants to tear her apart beneath his hands. He wants to have her desperate and begging underneath him. Wants to tie her up and strap her down and use her until she's craving anything he'll give her, helpless and needful and falling apart at the seams. He wants to see the strong muscles in her arms bulge against her restraints as she writhes and pulls at her bindings, itching to touch him.

He wants her to do the same to him. Wants her to show him just how strong she is by pinning him down with one hand and taking what she wants from him.

It's getting really fucking inconvenient, to be honest. He thinks of her constantly while he works in the city, the bustle of Baldur's Gate around him not enough to distract him, the temperature of his forge only stirring the heat within him further. It makes him think of the way she'd looked at him that night at Last Light, like she was ready to devour him whole.

He lays in bed at night and fists his length desperately, smutty book held in one hand almost as tight as his cock in the other, imagining he's hovered over her, devouring her, filling her, anything and everything. It's depraved, the things he imagines, lewd and scandalous.

And then suddenly one morning she's at his door.

He doesn't hear her coming, so he's snuck up on once again as he turns to quench the commission he's working on.

She looks so different, wearing regular clothes instead of armour. It makes her look softer, but she's also wearing short sleeves which show off the muscles in her arms. It makes him a little weak in the knees.

"Tav? I'm glad to see you again! To what do I-"

"Owe the pleasure?" She doesn't let him finish. "To pleasure, I hope."

He's dousing the forge as soon as the words leave her mouth.

~~~

"Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee?"

She furrows her brow from her seat on his sofa, "anything stronger?"

"I've got a couple bottles of Arabellan Dry?"

"That'll do." She's smirking again.

He leaves the room to get the bottles and a couple of glasses, and when he comes back she's taken her shirt off.

"Here's what we're going to do." Her voice is firm but playful. "I've taken off a piece of clothing, so I get to ask you a question. You have to answer honestly. If you answer it, you take off a piece of your clothing and then you get to ask me something back. If you don't answer, I put all my clothes back on and I walk out of the door."

He gulps, "what if you don't answer?"

The smirk that graces her lips is absolutely diabolical, "oh, Dammon," the way she says his name is even worse, "I'll answer anything. I'm an open book."

He sits on the couch next to her, pours them both a glass of wine and hands her one. "Then by all means, ask away."

She looks delighted, and her gaze is predatory. "Do you prefer giving or recieving?"

Straight to the point then.

"I like both," he shrugs as he says it, "suppose it just depends on the day and the context. If I had to pick just one, though, I'd rather give."

She nods thoughtfully, but doesn't say anything, watching him expectantly. He downs half his glass of wine and then yanks his shirt over his head.

"What about you? Giving or recieving?"

"Hm. Repeating my question is a bit cheap, but I'll allow it this once. I like both, too. I don't have a preference, really, just depends on my partner." She's barely finished speaking when she stands to unbuckle her bottoms, pulling them off swiftly and sitting back down. The sight of her, dressed in only her underclothes on his furniture, makes his head spin and his other head throb.

"So you like being on top. You like being in charge? Dominating?"

He swallows around the lump in his throat and nods, "yeah. I like... I like making my partner beg." He can feel his skin flushing with the admission, but he keeps talking. "I like making them come undone underneath me until they can't take it anymore. I like making them squirm and give themselves to me entirely."

Tav's breath is caught in her throat, and he realises that she likes it. Wants it. Knowing that fills him with confidence, and he takes another swig of his wine before standing and slowly undoing his bottoms. He pulls them down slowly, teasingly, and he watches as her gaze follows the line of his body. He tenses the muscles in his arms as he lifts the discarded clothes and folds them, and he hears her breathing grow heavier. He places them to the side and sits down closer to her than he was before, lifting her wine glass to her lips and urging her to drink from it. She does, their eyes locked. A drop spills down the side of her mouth, and before she can wipe it away he leans in and licks it from her lips. Her eyes close as she groans in the back of her throat.

He feels high on it. Having her here, knowing she wants him, seeing how receptive she is to him. His next question comes easily.

"Do you like being tied up?"

Her eyes are hooded with lust when she finally makes eye contact with him again. "Yes." She fumbles with the clasp of her bra behind her but fails at undoing it, so he places their glasses back on the table and leans forward towards her, snaking his arms around her back and unclasping it for her. It falls away from her onto the floor, and he takes a breast in each hand. She hisses through her teeth.

"What do you want to do to me?" It's quiet. Sensual. Her voice is absolutely dripping with desire.

"What don't I want to do to you." He smooths his hands down her body, sliding one round to her lower back and slowly pushing her to lay down on the couch as he hovers over her. "I want to tie you to my headboard and taste you until your legs shake. I want to have you begging for my tongue and my hands and my cock. I want to fold you in half and bury myself so deep that you forget what it feels like not to be full of me. I want to absolutely ruin you, if you'll let me."

Their lips are so close now, a hair's width away, and the air is charged around them. When he speaks, it's a whisper against her skin.

"Will you let me?"

She groans out loud and surges up to lock their lips together. It's open mouthed and hungry, more tongue than lips, and they both moan into it as they finally taste each other. His hand is still at the base of her spine and he drags her upwards towards him, grinding against her as he does, and she lets out a beautiful little whimper that has him feeling hazy. He pulls away, just enough to speak.

"Use your words, sweetheart. You want me to ruin you?"

" Yes ."

He tuts. "Say please."

She moans, low and needy in the back of her throat. " Please. "

He stands quickly and lifts her into his arms, carrying her up the stairs to his bedroom. She wraps her arms around his neck and sucks and kisses around his collarbone, and the feeling of her skin against his, her mouth on him, has him absolutely feral.

He practically throws her down onto the bed, and she bounces a few times before settling and crawling her way backwards toward the headboard. The sight of her hair splayed out on his pillows and her naked torso against his sheets is going to haunt him for eternity, he's sure of it. He lets himself admire her.

"Stay there, gorgeous. Don't even think about moving."

She nods, reaching up to palm at her breasts, and she looks like a vision. Like a renaissance painting, a beautiful torment put there just for him. Her fingers brush her nipples, teasing and pinching them, and the subsequent hiss of pleasure she lets out shoots straight through him to his cock. It's almost painful how hard he is, but he's going to take his time with her. Going to take her apart and put her back together with his hands and mouth, smelt her down and reforge her into something new.

Dragging his eyes away from her feels like an impossible task, but he manages and turns to root through the drawer of his bedside table. He finally finds what he's searching for: a length of silky material that's meant to be a blindfold, but that he usually shoves between his teeth to bite down on when he's being particularly noisy. He hangs it over his shoulder and turns back to face her, crawling over her and wrenching her hands away from her tits. He pins them over her and she arches up against him.

"Your safeword," he starts "is 'forge'. You say it, everything stops. If you can't speak for any reason, you tap me three times. Doesn't matter how you tap me, can be your hands, can be your foot. Same deal, you do that and I stop completely no questions asked. Repeat it back to me."

She's panting, "safeword is forge. 3 taps. Stops everything."

"No questions asked."

She nods, "no questions asked."

He holds her wrists above her with one hand, trails his other hand down her arms, along her throat, and brings his hand under her chin. "Good girl."

She moans fully at that, arching and writhing against him at his words, and he feels drunk off it. Having her falling apart before he's even started, so helpless and ready for him. It's intoxicating. When he kisses her it's because he literally can't stop himself, he has to taste her. He nips and bites at her lips and she huffs and sighs with every touch, so responsive and so eager, and he could die right now a happy man knowing he's the one drawing these quiet noises from her.

He pulls away from the kiss, straddling her hips and sitting up on his knees over her. He keeps her hands pinned to the bed with one hand, and he pulls the silk length from his shoulder with his free one. She shudders as he drags it slowly along her torso, the soft fabric cool to the touch. He wraps it around her wrists to bind them together.

"Too tight?"

She tugs her wrists apart slightly and bites her lip, looking up at him through her lashes, shaking her head. He ingrains the image of her, below him and wanting, into his brain.

The free ends of the silk he wraps around the post of his headboard, tying them in a tight knot. Lacing his fingers with hers, he tugs at her hands to test it. The knot holds fast, and he hums in satisfaction. He sits back on his haunches to admire her, runs his hands down her arms to come to rest at her sides, squeezing the skin there. There's a little bit of give to her that lets him get a good grip of her, and she wriggles below him.

Her breasts spill towards her armpits and he can't resist, he brings his hands up to cup them both and teases both of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, rolling and pinching them into hardened peaks. She lets out more of her quiet little noises, needy and wanton and absolutely delectable. When he leans forward and latches his lips around one of the buds, she arches her back into him, making a choked noise of surprise and pleasure, and his cock aches with how badly he needs her. He teases it with his teeth, laves it with his tongue, sucks it into his mouth and tugs away from her gently until she's a puddle beneath him, and only then does he switch to the other nipple and give it the same treatment while he slowly drags her small-clothes down her legs and off of her.

Everything about her is soft and tender. He's never been with someone who wasn't a tiefling before, and her body feels so entirely different to his own. Her skin is smooth and pliant under his, far softer than he thought she'd be from watching her fight. Her skin is cooler than his, too. It makes him shudder as he positions himself between her legs, holding them wide open either side of his face, with his hands spread over the inside of her thighs.

"What do you do if you want me to stop?" He whispers it against her core, mouth just barely brushing against her skin, and she shudders.

"Safeword, or three taps."

"And the safeword is?"

"'Forge'."

"Good girl. I'm going to taste you, now."

He covers her with his mouth before she can respond, and they both moan in tandem. Her from the feeling of his tongue sliding against her clit, him from the musky taste of her arousal. She's like nothing he's ever had before, completely incomparable, but she tastes rich and delicious and he licks his way into her core to taste her deeper. He doesn't start slow or gentle, he's wanted her cunt in his mouth for months and he's going to enjoy it. He drags his tongue over her in firm, insistent lines, and uses the tip of his tongue to massage her inner walls. It has her keening, crying, shaking, and her legs wrench closed from the sensations. Obviously, that can't stand, so he curls his tail around one of her ankles and pulls , and now it's pulled out taunt and she can't move it any further than an inch in any direction. It also has the added benefit of freeing one of Dammon's hands, and he wastes no time in trailing it around her entrance and slipping two fingers inside her. He crooks them upwards towards her stomach, and she wails, canting her hips further into his mouth and his tongue where it devours her clit relentlessly.

He knows she close, because she can't stop her hips from stuttering, and there's a constant stream of breathy high pitched noises forcing their way out of her. He doesn't let up, increases his pace if anything, and then she's coming around his fingers. He pulls them out enough to fit his tongue underneath her, swallowing down every drop of her as she finds her release, licking her through it. He only stops when he feels three taps of her foot against leg.

He sits up instantly. "Are you okay? Do you want me to untie you?"

She laughs shakily, "no! Gods, no, don't. It was just getting too sensitive."

He smirks at that, "good. Now then," He comes up onto his knees between her thighs, trailing his hands along her stomach. She shivers. "I removed a piece of your clothing. If I'm remembering the rules of our little game right, that means you get to ask me a question."

She doesn't even hesitate, "Can you hurry up and fuck me?" A pause. "...Please?"

He chokes out a laugh, "goodness, Tav, how crass of you."

She groans, throwing her head back, "please, Dammon, I need you inside me like yesterday."

"Hm. Next time, you'll have to ask me nicer than that. But right now I'm so desperate to fuck you I'll allow it. I've waited far too long for this."

She smirks despite herself, "oh? You have? I had no idea , Dammon."

He growls a little in the back of his throat, and scoots himself forward on his knees, lifting her ass and resting it on his thighs. He pulls his small-clothes aside roughly to free himself, groaning at the cool air as it caresses his length, and uses one hand to guide it as he pushes himself to the hilt in one small movement. The smirk dissolves off her face as her lips part in a silent moan. He chuckles quietly.

"Don't play coy, Tav." He grabs both her legs under her knees, brings them together and hooks them both over one shoulder. "You know exactly what you do to me. You know exactly how long I've wanted you." He leans over her slowly, until her knees are pressed up against her own chest. She keens. "You know how long I've waited for this. Don't you?" He pulls out slowly, teases her with just the tip in and out of her. " Don't you."

She throws her head back, eyes screwed shut. "Yes, yes, Gods I knew! I wanted you too!"

He snorts into her ear, "well you have me, sweetheart. Or rather,"

He crashes his hips into her. She keens.

"I have you."

He wastes no time. He sets a brutal pace and it's everything he's needed since the moment he saw her. Her legs presses together makes her so tight he sees stars, folding her in half means his cock kisses that perfect spot within her with every thrust. It's everything he imagined. It's better than anything he could've dreamt of. She's slick and warm and beautiful below him as she cries out his name, hips bucking to meet his own every time he slams into her.

He can't stop himself from rambling, words spilling out of him on their own accord. "Hells, Tav, you have no idea how many nights I spent thinking of you like this. How much I've wanted to take you like this, pinned underneath me and begging for me. Gods, you feel incredible. So wet for me, sweetheart. Tell me how much you wanted me."

She tries and fails, just making noises and taking deep laboured breaths. It's completely obscene and it's perfect.

He groans, "where, Tav? Where do you want me to finish? Where do you want my cum?"

Her moan is downright pornographic, "on my stomach, Dammon, please. Want to see your cum all over me."

Her words have him moving frantically inside her, and when she clenches around him with her second orgasm he's lost to it. He pulls himself from inside her, tugs himself twice before spilling across her torso. He paints her pale, freckled body in his spend and he wishes he was an artist so he could immortalise the image on paper.

When he feels like he can breathe again, he tucks himself back into his small-clothes, crawls his way up the bed to untie her wrists and he rubs them soothingly. She sigh, sounding content and comfortable.

"Are you okay?"

She spits out a single laugh, before descending into hysterics, and it's so infectious. He laughs alongside her.

"Am I okay? Dammon, that was fucking incredible. I'm gonna stay in this bed for the next week in the hopes of a few repeat performances."

He can't help the grin that spreads across his face. "A few, hm? I quite like the sound of that."

~~~

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 requests #bg3 dammon #dammon bg3 #dammon #bg3 tav #smut #fanfic #fanfiction

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Ten

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: Madam Despoina gives you a little more insight, as well as a significant gift.

Warning: language, alcohol, smoking, ethnic slur

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 10: Curses

This tired old machine is a-rumbling (oh my, oh my). Singing songs to the secrets behind my eyes (oh my, oh my). All my aching bones are trembling, and I may yet fall apart. Won’t you stay with me, my darling, when the war starts in my heart? Oh ashes, ashes, dust to dust. The devil’s after both of us. Oh, lay my curses out to rest, make a mercy out of me.  — Curses, The Crane Wives

“His name was Dimitris.”

You frowned at Madam Despoina’s first words to you after she entered the caravan. 

“May I sit?”

Instead of replying, Tommy moved to grab the chair against the wall and sat it next to the fireplace, offering his hand to assist her down. 

The old woman thanked him as she sat, lifting her head back to you. Her worn voice was solemn, tired even, as she went on. 

“Dimitris joined my camp some odd years ago, having traveled from the old country. For most of his time with us, he was a good man — hard worker, good soldier, did what he was told. Recently, he became more aggressive. First it was with the women, then fighting amongst the men. When I discovered that he’d been selling information and stealing… well, I displayed a lapse in judgment with my punishment. He was banished, with a threat of death if he returned. Apparently, he still has friends in the camp. They informed him of your arrival, of your importance. I believe he snuck in during the bustle of preparation—”

“He escorted us into the camp,” Tommy pointed out, interrupting. “He escorted us to your wagon.”

The Madam’s face remained unchanged, her eyes not leaving yours while addressing Tommy. 

“A breech that I am investigating with serious severity, Mr. Shelby, I assure you.”

“He dead?” His question made your gaze move from her to him, causing you to inhale sharply. 

What the hell had your life become where conversations about gypsy fortune telling and gangster murders had become just another Sunday night?

Tommy’s eyes flicked to yours before returning to the Madam’s. For an insecure moment, you wondered if he considered you weak for your reaction. 

“When we find him, he will be.”

The woman’s reply felt like cold water as you realized the creep was still out there. Her eyes softened as she held on to your gaze. 

“I apologize, mikrí mou màntissa. This was not what I envisioned for our meeting.”

You swallowed the irony, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. 

She cleared her throat before speaking again. “May I ask — what did he want from you?”

You took a deep breath before shrugging. You had no idea how long ago the event had occurred, could have been an hour or ten, either way you just wanted to push it as far from your brain as possible. It didn’t help that you were on the tail end of your buzz — that and the adrenaline (and your newfound ability to disassociate and compartmentalize) made the memory feel fuzzy. 

“Um, well,” you began, speaking for the first time since the Madam entered the caravan. “Originally he thought I was Anastasia Romanov,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you said it. 

Tommy’s brow creased, “Who?”

You missed the way Madam Despoina watched you answer his question. 

“The Romanovs? The Russian royal family that was just killed like—” you paused as your brain tried to do the quick math. “Holy shit that was just this year,” you muttered to yourself, though the other two in the room could certainly hear you. 

“We heard somethin’ about that in France. A revolution, ya?” Tommy pondered, reaching into his jacket pocket on the hanger to grab a cigarette while shrugging — as if hearing one of the biggest historical events ever was just no big deal. “Who was she, exactly?” 

Realization of just how disconnected you were from the rest of the world began to set in. You’d been here for more than three months, and the only real news you’d been privy to had been the war end. And that was only because Ada had shoved the newspaper in your face. 

You made a mental note to start saving enough to purchase newspapers when you got back into the city. If you were going to be here, you wanted to know what was going on. 

“She was a daughter of the tsar,” the Madam answered for you. “A princess. When the family was taken to be executed, it was rumored that the princess escaped.”

You nodded, “Creep-o said he thought that’s who was coming to the camp when Madam Despoina said they had special company.” 

The Madam hummed her understanding. “We’ve often had queens and princesses come to bargain for good fortune. Dimitris thought you were the princess.”

“He said he knew I wasn’t Russian though due to my accent. I may have implied with my tone that he was an idiot for believing the rumor… he didn’t like that.” You grew angry at the memory of him grabbing you, instinctively wrapping your own arms around yourself. “Still, he said that you thought I was someone important. That he could use me somehow to make him money.”

Somehow was beginning to feel a lot like selling as you said the words out loud. The words sat bitterly at the tip of your tongue as your anger began to bubble. 

“What did he think he was going to get away with, huh? Kidnapping me and holding me hostage? Handcuffing me to a table and forcing me to give seances? The nerve—“ you fumed as you grew lost in your own imagination. “What psychopath thinks he can do that? I can’t even tell fucking fortunes! I’m not important! I can’t—“

The tears surprised you as your anger began to catch in your throat. This was the second time today you’d began to cry out of frustration, exhaustion, everything. And you hated yourself even more for it. 

You felt weak again. 

Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to control your breathing, and suddenly you felt two hands cradling your face. Expecting to see Madam Despoina, who’d been sitting closer to you, you were surprised when you opened your eyes to see it was Tommy who was kneeling in front of you, his own face inches from yours. 

You felt ashamed again for your weakness, dropping your eyes and trying to push him away. But he held on to you and forced you to look at him again. You prepared to see disappointment or pity in his eyes, but instead you saw the same reassurance that you’d almost come to rely on in the depth of his crystal blues.

“That won’t ever happen,” he said confidently. “You’re not a doll, remember? And you are strong. If the Delphi don’t find this fucker, the Peaky Blinders will. Either way, you’ll never see him again, you understand me, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly, the tears no longer falling as he wiped what remained off your cheeks. 

“I have a second reason for coming by,” Madam Despoina’s words broke the spell between you and Tommy, who stood up and resumed his original position between you two women and the doorway. She reached inside her baggy skirt pocket and pulled out a small wooden box, extending it to you. “I wanted to offer you this gift.”

Your brow furrowed as you took it. 

In the Madam’s hands, it appeared to be an ordinary box. But when you ran your fingers across the edges and held it toward the light of the fireplace, you could just make out the intricate carvings. It reminded you of the inside of this caravan. On the lid of the box was the Delphi symbol — you couldn’t help the way your pointer finger moved from the trunk of the tree upward, through the branches and down one side of the circle, across the roots, and up the other side until you completed the path. 

“It’s beautiful,” you couldn’t help but breathe out as you finally lifted the lid. Your brow furrowed again as you examined a pouch of leaves and small vile of water inside. 

Madam nodded. “Boil some water and let the leaves soak, then pour in the water from the vile before drinking the entire cup.”

“Tea? You want me to make tea?” You looked between her and the box. “Um, why?”

She smiled. “My gift. It’s one final conversation with your mother.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, the words falling out absentmindedly, “What? You’ve got to be joking.” You looked down at the box suspiciously. “What is this then, drugs?”

“These are passed from our ancestry, they’re very valuable and once designated cannot be transferred to another. The water is from the original springs of Delphi, the leaves are from the gardens of the temple.”

“The leaves that gave the priestesses epilepsies?” you questioned, raising your brow as your suspicions were confirmed. “You want to drug me and pretend like whatever hallucination I might get is some divine vision from my dead mother?”

The woman gave you a smile, “You still disbelieve, don’t you, young girl?”

You set the box down on the bed next to you and shook your head. “I mean no disrespect, Madam Despoina—“

The old woman lifted swiftly from her seat and reached for your hand. Out of surprise and instinct, thinking she must have fallen, you jumped off the bed and squeezed her hand, matching her firm grip with your own. 

The room flashed white. The Madam before you was all you could see, but as your eyes adjusted, your vision began to shift. 

Her face — it began to change. You recognized the woman’s face, something ancient and beautiful, with eyes that glowed that brilliant gold you’d seen in your dreams. Another flash, and the face began to morph into so many faces, one after the other. Hundreds of women, all unrecognizable and yet something familiar pulled at your gut. 

Suddenly the shifting stopped as you saw your mother’s face. You gasped, taking a step forward before your mothers face morphed again. This time, your foot moved backwards as you looked upon your own reflection. 

Snapping your hand out of the old woman’s hold, your vision cleared. You were catching your breath as you found the familiar brown eyes of Madam Despoina, the caravan surrounding you again, a knowing smile pulling at her cheek. 

Your eyes found Tommy’s, who had taken a few cautious steps toward you both and was looking at you concerned. “You okay?”

“I saw— I, I thought I saw—“ you breathed out, your eyes moving back to the Madam as you held your hand to your chest. 

“Drink the tea. Talk with your mother. She will be able to tell you now what she could never before.”

She turned to leave before stopping. When she turned back to you, she reached out for your hand again. You flinched at her touch, expecting the same thing to happen again, but nothing did.

“During these winter times, our camp retreats back to our home ground to prepare for the cold. We drink and dine as is tradition during these darker and colder months until it is time to travel again. But this year I knew we had to wait — that we were waiting for you.” 

She squeezed your hand as she held yours between both of hers. 

“Today I have felt closer to our god than I have in many years. I had nearly forgotten what his light felt like, but with you, I can feel his warmth again. Won’t you stay?”

“We can’t,” Tommy answered for you, his voice stern. “We promised we’d be back ‘fore Christmas Eve.”

In the back of your mind, you knew that was a lie. Tommy had already told you he’d prepared for you both to be gone for as long as a week’s time. But you didn’t dare question him now. 

Besides, you felt as though her question wasn’t just a courtesy to stay tonight, or even for a few days. The question felt like an invitation — to stay with the Delphi family. 

For a split moment, you considered her offer. You were already a time traveling fish out of water, and you’d bet money that she knew more than what she’d even revealed tonight. Maybe you were here to find them — maybe this is where you were meant to be. 

But your eyes instinctively looked to Tommy at the thought, and your chest tightened. 

Maybe it was a mistake, but that stupid part of your brain or hormones or whatever it was controlling you couldn’t leave Birmingham. 

The Shelbys. 

Tommy. 

Madam Despoina hummed an understanding, her eyes watching your internal struggle. “Then you should leave now. There are some here who are under investigation of helping Dimitris, and it may not be as safe as I’d have wished for you here.” Her eyes dropped in shame. 

“If you thought we may be in danger, why would you ask for me to stay?” 

“I’m an old woman, mikrí mou màntissa.” She repeated the foreign words again, and her soft smile made you sense they were a term of endearment. “Sometimes I’m more selfish than I’m proud of. I will see you again someday, Cassandra. Until then, remember what I told you —“

“Stay true to myself.”

“Aye. You will feel like you can’t use your second sight for fear of alteration, or alienation. But it will be your asset in the times to come. And it can save those around you, if you let it.”

She looked to Tommy then, whose brow creased at the conversation. 

The Madam smirked. “Our god is closer to you than you think.” Her attention moved back to you. “Listen to your mother. Break the cursed chain.”

She turned again to leave. 

“Wait,” you stepped forward as she paused. “Why are you giving me this now? You told me before that it wasn’t the time. What’s changed?”

Madam Despoina let out a humored hum. “You’re not the only one who gets visions, love.” At the doorway, she stopped and turned to Tommy. “Remember what I told you as well, Apollon.”

With that, she left the caravan. 

Tommy ran his hand through his hair as he let out a breath. “We’re leaving. We’re gettin’ in our wagon and gettin’ the fuck out of this nut house.”

He began to get dressed, throwing on his gun holster over his shoulders before putting on his jacket. 

Your brain was processing the name Madam had called Tommy. “She called you—“

“Get dressed,” he instructed, ignoring you and handing you the bag and your shoes before grabbing the rest of his clothes. 

You pulled out one of the clean skirts and pulled it over your nightgown. You grabbed your jacket and threw it around you before shoving your feet into your shoes. Stuffing the rest of your items in your bag, you gingerly picked up the box Madam Despoina had given you and set it on top before latching it closed. 

Tommy returned, offering you his hand to lead you out of the caravan and through the dark, clutching the bag close to your chest. The wagon came into view, Johnny Dogs hustling to secure Midnight. 

“Tommy, she called you—“

He shushed you, his eyes flashing down at you before making a quick scan around you both. “Not now.”

You huffed. “Never now.”

“Soon,” he reassured, giving your hand a squeeze before jumping in the back of the wagon while Johnny appeared at your side. “All clear?”

“Aye, Tom,” Dogs replied. His usual jovial vibe was gone tonight, serious as he addressed his friend. 

“Good. Up ya come,” Tommy offered you his hand as he stood in the wagon. 

Your brow furrowed, expecting to sit with him in the drivers seat like you had earlier. 

“There’s a bed in here, and some blankets. It’s the middle of the night and you’ve had a long day. You already fell asleep once today, I don’t need you fallin’ over on the drive back.”

Your instinct was to fight back, prove him wrong. Before you could reply, he squatted closer to you. 

“I won’t have you sitting like a fuckin’ target in case we run into trouble on the road. I don’t expect it, but I’m a cautious man, ‘member? Get in the wagon, and let me keep you safe.”

“She called you Apollo,” you whispered, looking between his eyes. 

It felt like you were standing in a room with thousands of puzzle pieces, and every time you thought you’d found a connection, thought you’d gotten a handle on the full picture, a new piece would pop up and throw you off your track again. You felt like you were slowly losing your mind. 

He softened his look, grabbing your hand and lifting you into the wagon. You let him walk you toward the front before gently pushing you down onto the small mattress pad. “Rest. Once we’re safe, you can explain to me why.”

You swallowed as he stood back up and climbed through the front flap of the wagon and sat on the bench. Johnny Dogs wished you a small farewell and you gave him a sympathetic smile before he secured the back of the wagon. 

Despite everything that’d happened to you tonight, you’d enjoyed the man’s company and hopped to see him again. If Tommy allowed. 

You could see Tommy settling in his seat from your spot, grateful for the secured tarp on the side your head rested against to cut the cool night air as the wagon began to move forward. 

The wheel hit a bump, causing your bag to jump against your leg. You picked it up and secured it against you, not wanting anything to happen to the box inside. 

The box filled with the magic drugs, that is. 

What were the chances that the leaves and water in that box were actually from the Temple of Apollo in Greece? Was it old? New? There’s no way something like that could have survived all this time, and there was definitely no way that if it had, someone would just hand it over to a complete stranger for nothing. 

And the flashes that you saw — was it the drinks you had tonight? You had a hard time believing that the woman you just left would have you drugged without your knowledge — but the cynical side of you, the cautious side as Tommy might say, couldn’t exclude the possibility entirely. 

No, you shook your head, trying to reason your way out of that thought. Why would a woman who already had you drugged offer you more drugs and tell you what they were? If she’d done it once, what was stopping her from doing it again without your knowledge? She could have made the tea herself and fed it to you easily at any point during the night. But instead she gave it to you in pieces, as a gift, and told you exactly what it was (more or less - you still weren’t entirely convinced). 

So if you weren’t drugged, then you had to have just been ole fashioned drunk. 

You shook your head at yourself again, getting more comfortable on the mattress until you were laying down, the wagon wheels continuing to move along underneath you. 

Nothing like that had ever happened to you after a night of drinking before. And there were definitely nights you’d been way drunker than you had been tonight. 

The only time you’d seen visions like that before, with the white flash and everything, was the night you traveled back and saw Tommy in the mud. 

But why Tommy? was the last question you asked yourself before your eyes began to drift closed and you wrapped the blanket around yourself. 

And why did Madam Despoina call him Apollo? 

——

“Cassandra.” 

Your god reached out to you, his once ice blue eyes had now returned to their brilliant gold, his look was full of concern. 

“You just said—“ your breath was short at the previous feeling of dread as you grasped at the front of your dress to steady your heart. 

He cupped your face with his hand, “I said that I didn’t expect to fall for you, Cassandra.”

No, you thought. There was rage, there was anger. He said he cursed you… didn’t he? 

But as you looked up at him now, the face you saw was the same face you’d been gazing upon night after night. You hadn’t intended to fall for the palace gardener. The first night you’d come out here was the day you pledged your allegiance to priesthood. You’d sought solace, a place to sit with your thoughts to ensure that you were making the right decision. 

The gardener had surprised you, his voice soft and kind as he asked if you were okay. After that, you’d come to rely on the man as a confidant. Eventually, you were spending most of your day awaiting the hours until you could see his sweet face again. 

But now, everything was different. He wasn’t a man at all — he was a god. He was your god, confessing his affection for you. 

And yet still, you touched your lips at the memory of his cold blue eyes, his angry words, his curse. 

His brow creased as you pulled your face away, turning back to the garden ledge as you looked out to the sea. Your eyes focused on the horizon line, where you saw ships sailing toward your kingdom. Thousands of ships - an armada. They were racing forward, growing closer and closer to the shoreline, launching hundreds of arrows into the air.

“We’re under attack!” 

You turned back toward your lord and pointed, but he only shook his head. “There’s nothing out there.” 

Whipping your head back toward the sea, your eyes searched for the sight of the ships, but they were gone. The seas were calm once again.

“But—“

An explosion caught your attention, pulling your gaze back down toward the square of the city. It was on fire — people were screaming, children crying. Men in foreign armor raced through the streets on horses, swinging swords and axes, killing your citizens. 

You blinked — they were gone. 

‘You’re cursed, Cassandra! You’re cursed!—‘

“Y/N!”

You jumped at the shout, turning to find Harry standing at the end of the bar with his arms crossed. 

“I don’t pay ya to daydream. We’ve got a packed ‘ouse now snap out of it.”

“Sorry, Harry.” You flushed at your absent mindedness, picking up the rag and moving to give the counter a good swipe before heading toward the first man with his arm reached forward. 

But through the monotony of the job, your mind couldn’t help but wonder back toward your dream in the wagon. 

Tommy had woken you up the same as he had on the drive to the camp. Clinging to his arms, you found yourself gasping for air and your cheeks damp from tears. Embarrassed once again for waking up in a panic, you began to wonder if you’d ever have a normal night’s sleep ever again. 

Despite the nightmare, you’d somehow managed to sleep through most of the drive back into town. You rode up front for the remaining drive back while Tommy hit you with the realities of going back into society. 

“There’s something we need to discuss before we get back to Small Heath,” Tommy had started in his serious voice. “Only Polly knows where we truly went yesterday. Arthur, John, and Ada know a version of the truth — they know we were lookin’ for a gypsy clan that might have had some of your last surviving family members, but we’re gonna tell ‘em we were unsuccessful in our journey. That they were supposed to be outside the fairground, but they were nowhere to be found, so we came back and you decided to give up the search. Got it?” 

You had nodded. “And Polly? What are we going to tell her?” 

“That’s up to you,” he surprised you with that response. “But one thing I want to make clear. That we saw Johnny Dogs and what was discussed with him will be told to no one, ya?” 

“Can I ask why?” You threw the question out as a tester — it wasn’t a no to his confirmation, but you were curious if he’d shut you down or trust you. 

Tommy didn’t respond right away, staring straight ahead at Midnight pulling the wagon forward. You swallowed, ready to admit defeat, when Tommy cleared his throat. 

“Most of what we do is illegal. To make any real money, to gain any real power, we need to expand into some legitimacy. It’s the only way to break out of Birmingham.”

“And Billy Kimber has something to do with that?” 

Slowly, Tommy nodded. “Think so. Still working out the details, but it starts with Johnny Dogs. That’s all I’m willin’ to say now.” 

You thought about the words exchanged between the two men, about what Tommy said on Saturday about domination. You wondered if his ambition extended further than just working with the racetrack owner, or if he wanted to control it. 

Tommy didn’t seem like a man who limited his ambitions. 

“Got it. Not a word, then.” 

You paused, contemplating what you were going to say next and deciding to just go with it. What the hell, right? 

“I still think you should look into running alcohol into America. The probability of a prohibition is higher than you’re estimating.” 

“Thought you said you weren’t a fortune teller,” Tommy rose his brow up as he looked at you. Beneath you, the dirt roads had transitioned into cobblestone, indicating an end to your ride. 

You’d shrugged, “I’m not. I’m just a woman on your payroll, who sometimes knows things, offering you business advice.”

Tommy watched you for a moment more, but chose not to push you on it further. Neither of you said anything as he made his way to your doorstep. You’d mentioned wanting to change and then head over to the Garrison, hopping to mend the nagging feeling you had of Harry being angry with you and offering to work a shift that evening. 

“I’ll see you later then,” Tommy had said as you turned to leave, watching as you clung to your bag and ascended the stairs. 

To his promise, Tommy walked through the doors of the Garrison some odd hours later, an entourage of men behind him. Harry hustled to shoo people out of the snug before escorting the men into the private room. 

This had been a part of the deal Tommy had made with Harry, apparently. The Garrison was not only protected by the Peaky Blinders, but now it was officially the pub of choice for the gang. That meant that any time a Peaky boy was in the premises, the snug had to be available. It also meant that anything a Shelby man ordered was on the house, no questions asked. 

Tommy still dropped a coin at the snug window when he asked for a bottle of whiskey and six tumblers. 

“Irish or Scotch?” You asked, a smirk playing at your lips as you watched him attempt to stop his own smile. 

Without his response, you grabbed the Irish Whiskey and glasses, circling the bar and turning into the private room. Tommy was taking his seat as the men around him grabbed for the cups, Arthur electing to grab the bottle and open it. He poured himself a shot first, then Tommy, then John, before passing it to the other three in the room. 

You vaguely recognized the three non-brothers from the betting shop, and part of you wondered if any of them were the book men you audited as you began to wipe down the table.

Arthur was patting John on the shoulder, sounding already drunk as he went on about the boy finally getting out of that house. You took a quick look at John, who looked tired as he mumbled something about the kids driving him mad. 

You smiled at that, silently wondering if John being out meant that Martha was starting to feel better. You made a note to ask Tommy about her later as you asked aloud if anyone needed anything else. 

“That’ll be all, Y/N,” Tommy answered for everyone. 

You gave a friendly smile, eyes scanning the room before landing on one of the non-brothers, who was watching you quite intently. As a barmaid, you were either invisible or the subject of lustful attention, so a part of you was used to the creepy looks and just bid your time until the man either hit on you or lost interest. Not expecting this kind of attention here, with Tommy around, you felt caught off guard. Awkwardly, you nodded and left the room, leaving the doors open behind you. 

Some time passed as you worked the room, the crowd slowly beginning to lessen as the night went on. You were working on the pub books, taking advantage of the lull, when the man who’d been watching you from the snug approached the bar.

“You’re Ada’s friend, ya?”

You couldn’t stop the quick look through the snug window, noticing that the other Peaky boys were still in there, working on their second bottle. “Um, yeah,” you answered, offering him a polite smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Need something?” 

“Ya, a mild.” 

Trying to control your annoyed face at having to pause your book work — seriously, there was no way you could ever leave Harry in charge of the books ever again — you rose from your seat to prepare his drink. You could feel him watch you as you worked. 

���I’ve seen ya round the Shelby house with Ada and Ms. Polly. I work there, with the boys. Names Benji.” 

Benji — you recognized the name as one of the bookkeepers at the betting shop. He was one you’d been suspicious of for a while now. 

The first couple big offenders of stealing from the shop had disappeared some time after you brought them to Polly’s attention. At the time, your innocent mind believed they’d just been fired and moved on — but now you knew better. The chances that those men were still breathing were slim. 

With Benji’s records, his error rate decreased after the first few men were outed, and you always suspected that he was biding his time before he began to steal again. You just had to wait until you had more evidence. 

For a paranoid moment, as Benji’s eyes scanned you over, you wondered if he knew about your secret employment. He was a Peaky boy, after all. He lifted his hand over the bar counter as an offering when you set his drink down. 

“Y/N,” you offered out of ceremony, your smile still not quite genuine as you shook his hand.

“Y/N,” he repeated, donning his own smile as he looked at you again appreciatively. He wasn’t unhandsome, so you imagine that smile worked on most girls. But after what happened to you last night and your suspicions about his bookkeeping, you felt yourself taking a step back out of caution. “Next time you’re in the shop, say hi.” 

You watched as he took his drink and swaggered back into the snug. Part of you was slightly surprised at his boldness. You were a friend of Ada’s — his employer’s sister. Plus, you and Tommy—

You scoffed at yourself. You and Tommy what? You weren’t a couple — you didn’t think so, anyway. He hadn’t gone to kiss you, or even offer to walk you to your apartment door when he’d dropped you off. What’d happened last night before Madam Despoina interrupted had been… hormones. A mixture of adrenaline, alcohol, and an attempt to grasp onto some kind of sanity after a series of crazed events. 

He hadn’t spoken of the moment since — hell, he hadn’t spoken of any of it since, something that was also making you anxious.  

Out of instinct, your eyes moved to the window of the snug where you could see Tommy sitting comfortably in his chair. As if feeling your gaze, his own eyes moved to meet yours. You jumped slightly, feeling as if you’d been caught, and proceeded to go back to checking on the other patrons in the room. 

You’d settled back to working on the inventory, almost finished when the Peaky boys loudly made their exit of the pub. Surprised, Arthur shouted a drunken goodbye to you, even using your name as he waved and stumbled out the doorway with his arm around John. Benji turned and gave you a wink before following the group out the door. Tommy stood back, watching the whole thing before walking over to the counter. 

“What was that about?” He asked, gesturing over his shoulder to the doorway. 

“What? Arthur saying goodbye? Not sure, but it’s a big improvement over him calling me a whore or just grunting at me—“

“Not Arthur, Hancock.”

Your brow creased. “Who?” 

“Benji,” he added, and you realized Hancock must be his last name. Tommy poured the last of the bottle into his drink. 

You stood up from your seat again and walked over toward Tommy, taking a scan of the room. There were only two young men in the corner finishing up their last round, but you still kept your voice low. “Who knows about me?” 

It was Tommy’s turn to furrow his brow. “‘Dya mean?” 

“My job, at the house.” 

Tommy nodded, understanding. “Just immediate family — me, Pol, Arthur, John, and Ada.” 

“And before you guys returned?”

He shrugged, “Just Pol and Ada, I believe. What’s this about?” 

“I was just paranoid, I guess. I thought for a moment Benji may have suspected me, but now I think he was just coming on to me.” 

Tommy’s back straightened at your comment, lifting his glass for another drink. “And is that somethin’ that you want?”

“No,” you answered immediately, watching his shoulders immediately relax. 

“Good,” he said softly, his eyes moving down to your lips. “Let me walk you home?” 

You smiled at both his response and his request, wondering if maybe you were wrong about what exactly you and Tommy were. 

“I can’t go until those two leave,” you said quietly as you gestured to the corner. 

As if realizing for the first time that the two of you weren’t alone, he turned to the other guests. “Oi! Time to go!”

The young men jumped from their seats and scattered out the door. You couldn’t hold in your surprise at the immediate obedience. 

It’s good to be the king, you found yourself quoting Mel Brooks in your head at the action, not yet confident enough to say your quip out loud. The thought still made you smile though, and you were again surprised when Tommy offered you a smile in return. You knew how rare a Tommy smile was. 

“Fine, but I still have to put the book away and sweep the floors. Harry mentioned something about putting in an ad for another barmaid — I’m not about to further piss him off and have him replace me.”

Tommy scoffed. “I’ve seen the receipts, you practically saved this business. He’d be a fool to replace you.”

Your pride swelled at the compliment as you lowered your head to hide your blush. 

Luckily, it’d been a rather tame night, so your cleanup was minimum, allowing you and Tommy to leave soon after everything was put in order. 

Tommy lit a cigarette as you locked the door, wrapping his coat around you tightly and cursing to yourself how right he’d been about it getting colder. 

“Come to dinner tomorrow,” he said, breaking the silence on your walk. It didn’t sound like a question, but his gaze down toward you implied that he was waiting for a response. 

“To your house?” You asked, curious if this was just a regular dinner or a date dinner. 

He nodded. “Aye, Christmas Eve dinner with the family. Ada made me promise to ask.” 

You deflated slightly at his follow-up. Was Ada’s insistence because Tommy didn’t actually want you there? God, listen to you — sounding like a pathetic teenager again overanalyzing everything your crush said. 

“Okay,” you said instead. 

“Good.” 

He stopped and faced you when you got to your apartment. Gently, he lifted his hand and cupped your cheek, pulling your face upward until your lips met his. It was a soft kiss, but it still left you breathless as he pulled away. 

“After dinner, when everyone’s distracted, we’ll talk, ya? About the dreams, about what Madam Despoina said, and about why when I was waking you up this afternoon you kept saying that you were cursed.” 

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

tag list: @cillixn @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @swordofawriter @sweetmilkshakeluminary @ttae-yong @topstory21 @cole-silas @moral-terpitude @optimisticsandwichgladiator @reallysparklychaos @enrapturedbythemoon @bat-shark-repellant @kpopslur @ilovestrngrthgs @musicsweetie21 @invisiblexcth @lovelydivs @whoisf4yryl0v3r @itscheybaby @laylasbunbunny @lordofthunderthr @luvstylesz @roseanimelover @lostgirl219 @berarenado @akemiixx01 @mulletmcghee @jasminxts @fanfics-that-hit-my-feels @piceous21 @xoprincessmel @arcanebabe @booktvmoviefangirl @cillmequick @nataliewalker93 @the-blueatlas @regatoni1 @goblinjnr @litteltourtius @xxbeckybeexx-blog @tanyaherondale @sometimes-i-sing @littlewhiterose @ja-4-leyvam @rubyxx16

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby reader insert #Peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #Thomas shelby #Thomas shelby x reader #Cillian Murphy #time after time #mine #fanficton

[eureka-its-zico]

Violent Delights

Summary: On a trip with your father to Shanghai, your caravan is overrun. You are taken back to a compound of one of the most ruthless Mafia bosses in all of China: Enishi Yukishiro. Who was in need of a new plaything. 

Pairing: Enishi Yukishiro x f!reader

Words: 3.3k

A/N: I apologize in advance for the filth. This is literally 99.9% smut and 1% filth. I blame @pauking5  for indulging me too much with wanting to write Enishi. But also the minute she told me she couldn't find too many reader insert fics for him my body felt COMPELLED to make this for her so....I hope you enjoy this filth I made you lol. I’m like sorry, but not? Because he doesn’t give me cute smiles and rainbow vibes. He gives me spit in my mouth and make me call you daddy vibes. I hope someone out there enjoys the filth. 🖤 Much love, Jenn

Warnings: This shit is dark besties. It’s dark. Mentions of kidnapping. Dubious consent. Mafia trope. Knife play. Harem. Mentions of violence. Fingering. Its Smut. It's Filth. Please do not read if you are not 18+ (If I miss anything please let me know).

The smell of sex was beginning to overpower the room. The sounds of her moans grew louder and out of control. It was the wet sound of him thrusting into her, his hands keeping her steady as his hips pistoned into her. 

She was only growing louder with each thrust and you hated it. You wished she would shut up. That he would find a new toy to torment in the seclusion of the prison that was his bedroom. It’s been three whole days since he and his men had descended on your father's caravan. Three days of being housed inside this room and unable to leave it.

Like the previous nights before, he’d stationed you in different areas of the room. Areas that allowed you to perfectly see - to watch - as one of his concubines rode him. While he fucked them into an oblivion that left them dazed and unable to walk by the time he finished. 

Tonight, Enishi forced you to sit at the edge of his bed while he’d chosen to fuck one of the many girls in the chair he sat in now. You could still remember when she first walked in the door - the way he’d laid her over the intricate table that sat in between the two chairs in the bedroom, lifting her skirts to expose her to the room. To you. The lewd noises that followed as he licked and sucked at her cunt caused her to practically howl his name as she came. 

Enishi. 

The nice one - you’d forgotten her name - explained the best she could through the language barrier that they were concubines. 

You’d heard of tales from your father and mother when they’d come back from their grand adventures about women like this. Kingdoms where the kings got to have their wives and children and women just like her on the side. Women who did whatever was sexually asked of them and took whatever the man did because it was their duty. Deemed only for the pleasure they could bring and not conversation or substance. 

Just their body. Just their cunt. 

You could feel your cheeks burning as you focused on the edges of your dirty dress. You tried counting the frayed edges of one side that had torn when they’d ripped you from the carriage. The mud that had smeared on one side where you’d been dragged had completely dried and now began to flake. You ran your fingers over the dried dirt and watched it turn into sand with each rub of your finger. 

It would’ve been a solid distraction if the sudden octave from the concubine hadn’t increased. If she didn’t shout in surprise that left you involuntarily turning to make sure she was alright. 

Of course, she was alright. Enishi had simply changed positions. He’d moved her to be face down against the same round table from earlier, but now her hips were angled up to take each punishing thrust that he gave her. The sound of skin on skin filling the room back up at a punishing speed. 

It wasn’t the sight really that made a heat wave start across your skin that threatened to burst from your chest from sheer embarrassment. It wasn’t the angle he had her in either. 

Enishi was looking at you. 

Dark brown eyes bore into you as he held the concubine's arms back behind her. His body pinned her to the edge of the table so she had nowhere to run. Just like you. He continued to watch you as she came; her walls squeezing him as she struggled to get away from him as he continued to fuck her. 

You refused to look at him or acknowledge him at all. What you hated the most was that you already knew what he was planning to do. 

The first time he’d done this was two days prior. The first day you’d been kidnapped and held at his compound. He’d fucked two girls that night and you’d been more than impressed at his stamina. You’d tried to look away from him. He was your father's killer, for Christ's sake, and yet…

He was all tight corded muscle and shamelessly walked around the room naked and exposed. The first time you’d seen his cock it had been slick and wet from recent sex with one of the girls. His cock was still hard and had an enticing vein that ran down its side, begging for you to look. Enishi had a good length but what replayed in your mind was how thick he was. Insanely thick is what you shamelessly remembered and you hated how your body reacted as you shamefully rubbed your legs together to get some form of friction. 

The second day was when he’d noticed it. The way your legs moved under all that fabric of the skirts of your dress desperate for friction to ease the ache that had started at your core. With each snap of his hips and the cry of pleasure that came from one of the girls it sent you spiraling. You hated it. Felt betrayed by your own body. 

After he’d finished and sent the girls back to their room he casually came over to the chair he’d forced you to sit in. The same one he’d been in tonight. You tried to ignore him as he came over in nothing but a robe with the front still leaving him exposed. Your mind was worried about so many different possibilities of what he might do to you, that you never expected him to grab you by the throat and force you back into the chair. His feet kick your legs wide apart. 

Enishi controlled you easily. The way he applied just enough pressure to arch your back until you looked at the ceiling. His deep baritone resonated over your skin in his native tongue. You couldn’t tell what he was saying and had no way of knowing what it was. You just knew whatever he said as he lifted your skirts, was filthy. 

His knees kept your legs open enough that his free hand made its way through your undergarments to touch your wet cunt. You could still remember the devilish smirk that stretched across his lips as he continued to speak to you. 

Was he calling you a good girl or something or worse maybe? He could’ve been calling you his little slut for all you knew or even hinting that you liked it; like watching him devour the women he brought to his bed. Something nowhere near endearing and more centered around stripping you of every last ounce of what dignity you had left. You struggled to fight against him. To break free and do…what? 

Even if you somehow magically removed his hand from your throat and got away you had nowhere to go. Just outside the door of his bedroom were an endless number of guards. They would easily stop you and bring you back. 

Those same nimble fingers that touched at the edge of your cunt now moved between your folds. A soft whimper left your throat that you wish you would have swallowed back down. The pads of calloused fingers grazing your swollen clit wasn’t enough friction for release, but it was enough to bring your desire flaring up. 

Enishi pulled his hand back from you to find it covered in your juices. You watched as he played with it, his fingers scissoring to make a slow string appear. It was lewd. Vile. Yet you couldn’t tear your eyes away. Your heart now thundering for another reason as you watched him take your body’s betrayal between his lips and suck his fingers clean. 

Like clockwork, you heard him pull out. The lack of sound of skin on skin made the room achingly quiet. His words were sharp, demanding, and harsh as he took her by the head and pushed her towards his cock. His hand fisted it as he pulled long hard jerks leaving strings of come to lace over her waiting tongue - with his eyes glued to you. 

You fought not to shiver or let your hands curl in your lap as your heart hammered in your chest. 

Steady breathing. Deep…steady…breaths…

You faintly heard him dismiss her. Your eyes catch her hurrying back into her kimono and tying it sloppily. However, the look Enishi was giving her was enough to inform her plainly her usefulness was over. 

You’d seen what he could do that day he tore your world apart. The finesse he carried shattering bones and the ease of snuffing out life. You’d seen it in the way he handled some of the women he brought to his bed. All it took was one wrong move - word - and their moans turned to sharp whimpers before they were dismissed. 

There wasn’t any denying that Enishi was a man possessed by the devil and full of rage. He was terrifying, but also…

The sound of the door slamming shut behind the concubine brought you back to the room. Your heart was beginning to race as you realized you’d zoned out, leaving yourself unprepared for whatever was about to happen. A majority of the time he left you alone. He’d stare at you or move around you like you weren’t even in his room, except yesterday was different. 

Today felt different.

Enishi wasn’t anywhere near you, however, and you felt yourself breathe easier. Maybe you would get lucky and he would go back to treating you like a nuisance trapped inside his room. A nuisance he created. 

He was standing next to his desk and it only took a flick of your eyes to know he wasn’t dressed. He was still naked. It only meant one thing. Suddenly, you were confident to try and run away from this room - from him. The alarm in your head only grew louder as he poured himself a drink from the whiskey canter and set it back on the desk. 

He’d started talking and you weren’t sure if it was at you or to you. It was growing increasingly difficult to not grow more frustrated at the language barrier between you. The only good thing was spitting and the middle finger was a universal “fuck you” from the universe. 

You dared to spare a look up from where you sat on his bed. It was then you saw the wakizashi in his hand. The sheath missing and the blade glinted angrily in the light. Your mouth was suddenly dry, and you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to retreat. Your hands flew back on the soft sheets to try and pull you away; desperate to get some space. 

In one swift motion, Enishi tipped what was left in his glass into his mouth and launched it against the wall. The glass shattered immediately on impact and sent sharp fragments flying across the room with one scratching across your face. You screamed as you felt the sting of the air as it entered the fresh cut. You were concerned about whether you would crawl back into the glass when a hand wrapped around your bare ankle and tugged.

A fresh scream rose in your throat and just as you were about to release it, the wakizashi was pressed tightly against your throat. It was close enough that if you swallowed too hard you might just get cut. Enishi pulled you back down to the bed with your legs spread to make room for him. The duvet that had bunched at the end from your struggle was the only thing that saved you from feeling his cock pressed against you. 

Enishi waited until he had your ass barely on the edge of the bed, the rest hanging off and controlled by his waist. This was the closest you’d ever been to him. Your eyes hungrily took in the sight of the muscles in his stomach and the definition in his chest. The veins in his arms that shamelessly matched the veins in his cock. 

Enishi was raw power and if it wasn’t for the fact he had the wakizashi to your throat maybe you would’ve appreciated him more. What were you even thinking? This was the man who’d set your whole world on fire. Kidnapped you and left you a prisoner in a foreign land and at his mercy. 

A fire of rage lit up inside you and you no longer cared about being complacent. Safe. You wanted to tear him apart. Enishi noticed the change because a wry smile of a challenge lit up his face and when you went to move away from him, your hands clawing at his chest, he easily grabbed your arms and pressed them down. He did the same with the blade of the wakizashi and you felt the first warm trickles of blood slide down the side of your throat.  

He leaned forward until your faces were almost touching. His eyes peeked out from the blades of his air like a tiger in the grass. The richness of his voice smoked across your skin. All words you couldn’t understand, but the body language you could. 

He would kill you if you did it again. You were kept alive on the whim of entertainment for him. You wanted to spit at him. Tell him to fuck off just to see if he would do it. Death had to be better than this. 

The train of reasoning and fury came to an end when you felt the first traces of his fingers at your entrance. Panic flooded you while you realized he’d worked the skirts of your dress up leaving you exposed to the room - to him. 

“No.”

It came out rushed and through your nose. You tried to pull your arms free from under the forearm that held them, blade at your throat be damned, but Enishi was a mountain of strength and you had none left. You were still wet and you hated the way it made you seem wanton. 

Enishi mumbled one last thing before you felt two fingers push their way inside you. The reaction he received was instant. A moan sharp and wild burst from your mouth and enveloped the room. The sound was all the permission Enishi needed to start thrusting his fingers in and out of your cunt.

You wanted to tell him to stop - to tell yourself that you didn’t want this as Enishi buried his fingers knuckle deep over and over. His fingers curved upwards deliciously and you found your back arching against the sheets. A fresh sting from the blade carving across your skin as one hand grabs at his forearm and the other bunch in the sheets. 

God, you hated the way you were coming undone for him. The way your cunt tightened hungrily around his fingers to pull him in deeper in hopes of feeling fuller. The only way that would happen would be to feel the delicious stretch only his cock could provide. You wouldn’t go there. Wouldn’t allow this monster anymore of your body. 

With the hand on his forearm, you tried to make him stop and only succeeded in feeling the muscles work below the skin with each thrust from his wrist. 

Slowly, he removed the wakizashi from your neck and drew the blade across your collarbone. Even lower it continued until you heard the sound of fabric ripping as it was sliced open. Enishi timed each shred into the fabric with each pump from his wrist. When he finished the whole front of your dress - the last of the life you’d owned - was bared open exposing your breasts to him. 

One minute the blade was there then gone and replaced with the rough pads of his hand as they groped each breast. His fingers took the raised buds between calloused fingers that gently pinched.

Your body reacted to every touch of his hand on your skin and the demands it placed on it. Your hips were now moving in a desperate rhythm to meet his fingers. Your hand still locked on his forearm while the sheet was fisted in your hands. The duvet cradling around your head and practically smothering you as a throaty moan of, “Fuck,” came from you. You tried to smother it inside the duvet, refusing to let him hear just how good you felt with his fingers knuckle deep inside you. 

You pulled the duvet closer with your head turning to greet the soft fabric when it was ripped painfully out of your hand. The hand that had been at your breasts now was at your face squeezing it hard and forcing you to look at him. 

Enishi growled something - you could only assume it dealt with ownership. Whatever sounds you made belong to him and for him alone because as he spoke his thumb pressed down against your clit and rubbed in circles as the pace between your thighs grew brutal. The stimulation tore a moan from you instantly and you tried to pull your face away but Enishi held tight forcing you to fall apart as he watched. 

With the dual stimulation, it didn’t take long for your orgasm to build. Your walls fluttered around his fingers as your breathing became labored. 

Again, he spoke to you. His voice caresses along your skin like an extension of his hands. His thumb flicked up on your clit and he released his hold on your face allowing it to fall back on the pillows. This time you didn’t try and cover all the sounds he fucked out of you with his fingers. 

Just as your orgasm was about to crest Enishi brought his mouth down against his breast and bit down. His teeth tearing into the soft flesh turning your panting moans into a scream. Suddenly, your orgasm hit you with a violent intensity. The feeling of you gushing all over his hand - his bed - made your body feel euphoric as your orgasm rolled through you but the violence of his teeth imprinting against the tender flesh of your breast edged it towards pain. 

You knew he was marking you on purpose. One part because he could and the other because you were property - his property. 

When the aftershocks of your orgasm began to fade you were greeted with pain. Enishi pulled his mouth away from your breast and a wicked smile beamed down to greet you- a tint of your blood staining his lips. Again he spoke to you and again you wished you knew either the Japanese he spoke or the Cantonese he used whenever he spoke to most of the men who entered his office. You wish you could tell him how much you hated him and that he could claim you like this as many times as he wanted, but that hatred would never dull or fade. 

He must have seen it on your face because that smile spread into laughter as he pulled away from you. He was still completely nude and uncaring as he grabbed a towel and tossed it in your direction. Enishi gave you one last look before his bare feet padded towards the bathroom. 

You’d been dismissed. Just another toy he proved to himself he could have in the many at his disposal. You tried to remain calm as you sat up at the edge of the bed. Your hands shook uncontrollably as you took the towel he’d tossed and began to clean up what you could. 

The front of your dress was completely ruined. You weren’t even able to fold it over you. Fresh tears sprang to your eyes as you realized you had nothing left and maybe that was how Enishi wanted it. No family to come looking for you. Lost in a foreign land and kidnapped by the head of a criminal organization. He would take what he wanted because you weren’t strong enough to fight him or deny him. And maybe Enishi’s goal all along was to make the only person you could depend on be him. 

_________

As always, thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

_________

#Violent Delights #enishi yukishiro #enishi yukishiro x reader #enishi yukishiro x you #enishi x reader #enishi x you #rurouni kenshin #mackenyu #enishi yukishiro smut #enishi yukishiro fanfiction #dubious consent #smut smut smut #99% smut and 1% filth

[vampcubus]

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟓 : 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄! 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw . sub!vampire!julian devorak . dom!fem!reader/apprentice . menstruation kink . blood kink . facesitting . squirting . slight mommy kink (says it like once?) . slight scent kink . handjob .

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 3.8k+

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 : 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓

The shop was bustling with patrons today. A flurry of foreigners passing through town from the far north came in for herbs and bobbles alike, some having to duck under the door frame in their rigid tallness. They even bought some of the runestones you’ve been trying to sell for months, overall a successful day business-wise!

If only you were in the right spirits to enjoy it. Concealing pain with a smile and chipper attitude only lasts so long, and while the Northmen had been easygoing, you felt relieved to finally flip the sign on the door to closed.

You try to be enthusiastic as Julian makes his dramatic entry from just next door, lazily wiping down the front counter. He seems to notice your mood however and flusters, toning it down and walking up to the counter to lean over it.

“Busy day?” He inquires knowingly, red eyelashes fluttering when you meet him halfway for a kiss.

“You could say that,” You chuckle, smiling against his lips and snaking an arm around his shoulders to pull him in closer. “Did you get any precariously tall northerners in your clinic by chance?”

“Yes actually, how did you...” He looks shocked that you knew. 

“Had half the caravan in my shop. It was good for business but… well.” You sigh, sagging against the counter as a cramp twists your stomach in knots. You grimace and shift as you feel that icky trickling sensation.

Julian’s eyes glaze over just slightly, sensing the fresh gush of blood before his expression morphs into worry. 

“Are you alright, darling? That time?”

“Yes, how do you always- oh.” It’s easy to forget that Julian was a vampire, considering he tried so tirelessly to keep it from you in the beginning. And there wasn’t much of a difference between vampire Julian and just Julian. “M’ok just cramping.”

“Anything I can do? Warm bath? Massage? I could run to the market and see if there’s any pumpkin bread left.” You smiled at his thoughtfulness, not surprised your selfless lover was already prepared to get on his knees and worship you after a full day of his own work. He’d truly do anything you asked, anything you desired. And you feel slightly guilty for how that power makes you feel hot under your clothes.

But you also knew that Julian loved it most when you indulged in him, and so you push back the urge to reject pampering.

“A warm bath and massage sounds lovely actually, darling.”

“Excellent! why don’t you go rest your feet a moment and get comfortable while I go run the bath?” Julian takes your hand and leads you around the corner of the counter to meet his lips against your brow before he sends you off to decompress.

It feels nice to strip away all the layers of your outfit after a long day of running the shop. As you dispense your dirty laundry into the basket, something catches your eye from your slightly ajar wardrobe. You reach for it and pull out a luxurious sheer bathrobe, one of the many gifts you’ve received from Nadia. Receiving gifts flustered you but you let her spoil you, knowing that was just her love language. You hadn’t had an occasion to wear it, but now seemed a good time as any. The fabric even feels expensive, decorated with carefully embroidered patterns and trimmed with Prakran gold. It feels like silk as you slip into it, light and flowing in all the right places. You do a few twirls in the mirror, feeling pretty in the colorful garment.

You can hear Julian calling you from the bathroom and hurry to join him. The bathrobe doesn’t stay on for long, already fluttering to the floor when you see him spilling essential oils and Epsom salts into the steaming bath.

You sigh contentedly as your body sinks into the blissfully warm water, already feeling your stress melt away. You immediately start with your face, eagerly scrubbing away the extra oils and dirt with a nice-smelling face scrub you picked up in Nevivon. Normally Julian would leave you be while you bathed unless you were sharing the tub, always thinking of your privacy. But this time he’s glued to your side, watching for your reactions raptly as your body relaxes into the tub.

“What?” You quirk a brow, and your voice seems to snap him out of his thoughts and his cheeks flush—or at least they would if he would feed a healthy amount. It was still difficult to convince him to feed from you, even after all this time.

“I want to wash you,” he says simply, and you lose your grip on the soap bar in your hands, it plops into the water with a small splash and you stare at him with wide eyes.

“I can wash myself you know. I’m on my period not crippled,” you laugh nervously, leaning forward to look for the soap.

“Of course I know that, is it so wrong to want to take care of you?” 

Because Julian has never had an ulterior motive, ever. You thought to yourself fondly, he was trouble but the endearing kind.

“Only if it’s just an excuse to see me naked,” you teased and he laughed heartily. 

“You wound me with your accusations! I would never do such a thing,” Julian purrs, that mischievous grin you loved making an appearance. “I am, however, completely genuine.”

His hand caresses your back comfortingly and you place a soapy hand over it, thumb stroking over his knuckles. 

“Fine then, since you’re so interested.” You passed him the soap.

The snarky declaration of victory you expect never comes, instead, you feel lathered hands on your back and shoulders, washing away the sweat and grime from the day. His thumbs deliberately dig into your shoulders in an attempt to ease some of the tension there, before his cupped hands dip in to catch some soapy water to rinse away the bubbles. You can’t help the pleased moan that escapes you as he washes the rest of you with the same care. You didn’t expect this to be so intimate and yet so far from sexual, he really was taking care of you.

You’re suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude to have been blessed with such a thoughtful partner. You’d been skeptical about him when you first met, back then he was so mysterious… and troublesome. But even then you were drawn in by his allure, fascinated by his dangerous charm. After saving the world together and many many months in a wonderful relationship you realize he was just a big softie at heart.

Julian is so enthralled with washing you that he doesn’t see the dreamy look you have as you stare at his focused expression. You smile when you realize he’s doing his best to keep his eyes trained on the appropriate areas of your body. Your wet hand drips onto his clothes as you reach around to delicately place a hand at the back of his neck and press him forward for a kiss. He catches on quick, soap slipping from between his own thin fingers as your lips devour his, his guttural groan muffled by your eager mouth. 

His sudsy thumbs stroke over the planes of your face as he holds it in his hands, a gesture that makes you smile.

You pull away, amused by the dazed look on his face as you do so.

“I think I’d like that massage now.”

“Say less, my love.” Julian grins that devilish grin you recognize all too well and before you can react he’s all but scooped you right out of the tub into his arms bridal style, water splashing everywhere, soaking into his clothes as he carries you from the bathroom to the bedroom.

“JULIAN! Oh my god!” You squeal with laughter as you feel the rush of cold air against your skin, as he stumbles around with you in his arms. “Put me downnn.”

He does so with a gentleness you don’t expect, letting your body sink into the soft bed before he motions for you to turn over onto your stomach. You do so, but realize with a start your predicament and the shyness comes flying straight back into your gut. 

“Fetch a towel, Jules?” You laugh nervously over your shoulder and he seems to realize your intent and his gaze softens. You can tell he wants to say something but decides against it.

He obeys, leaving for a moment and then returning with a towel, letting you shuffle it under your lower half. You do your best to relax your body as the ache in your lower back starts to return without the enveloping warmth of the bath. You sigh contentedly as Julian’s rough hands smooth over your shoulder blades, reaching for a pillow to cuddle your face into as his hands work their magic. You jump as cold oil spills onto your skin, he must’ve grabbed the massage oil when you weren’t paying attention.

“Cold cold,” you complain half-heartedly, and he chuckles out a quiet apology as he smooths the oil over your back, down to your thighs, all the way to your aching feet. You squirm at that, kicking your feet gently in warning, he knew you didn’t like your feet touched. He relents with a gentle pat on your ankle and slides his hands up your body until he feels the stubborn knots in your back and works to loosen them. A blissful pressure and release that makes you sing his praises as the stress you seem to always carry with you slips away.

“Mmm, you’re doing such a good job, Jules. Thank you,” you murmur, your sleepy praise muffle by the pillow, but you can tell he hears you when you feel his lips against the back of your shoulder. 

“You needn’t thank me, not for this. I’m enjoying this just as much as you,” he whispers against your skin and you’re tempted to call his bluff until he leans more of his weight against you and you feel his rigid hardness pressing against your lower back. You can’t help but smirk, lazily picking your head up from the pillow to meet those sea-spray-colored eyes you’d grown to love over your shoulder. 

“I think you’re enjoying this a little too much, baby,” you purred, watching his eyelashes flutter at the pet name. Still, he smiles crookedly, fangs glinting in the candlelight, nuzzling his pointed nose into your neck affectionately.

“Can you blame me? With you looking like this… smelling like you do.” His lips are cold against the delicate flesh of your neck and it induces a full-body shiver. Something he says clicks strangely into your mind though.

“Smelling?” You questioned, brows knit together.

It seems to snap him out of a trance and his lips jerk away from your throat, he visibly flusters, stumbling over his words.

“I- well—yes. I know you’re embarrassed about it but you smell… very delectable like this.”

The idea of being more attractive whilst your body was going through a cleanse that most women were taught to be ashamed of appeals to you more than you thought it would. While Julian’s sanguine hunger never bothered you, this newfound fascination endeared you to that side of him even more. It felt nice to be loved and desired as you are, no matter if you’re having your blood or not.

“That explains how clingy you are tonight. Your hands are wandering, Ilyushka.” The use of his birth name is deliberate and the resulting roll of his hips against your ass upon hearing it makes you giggle. 

“I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be treating you but all I can think of is myself, how soft you feel against me.” Julian laments, more of his weight pressing against your back as he relaxes atop you, hands rubbing circles into your hips.

“I think you’ve treated me more than enough, Ilya. Let me take care of you now.” You cooed, your hands abandoning the pillow to place them over his own around your hips.

He makes a submissive keening sound, ensnared by your change in demeanor. 

“Roll over onto your back for me?” You offered, your mind already rich with ideas of just how to thank him for the feather-light looseness in your muscles. It’s easy to forget he’s a doctor sometimes with all his ripe silliness and the shenanigans he roped you into on the daily, but his expert knowledge on just where to touch you to turn you into a paste was your favorite reminder.

He complies with a muted ‘oof’ as he lazily strips himself from your body and turns over until his back meets the colorful sheets. You stretch out your limbs until they crack and sit up straight, rolling your shoulders and turning this way and that. No pain at all. You feel confident in your nakedness as his grey eyes rake over your oiled form. It could be a trick of the light but you swear you saw the slightest bit of red bleeding from the outer ring of his iris. 

Inspired by the weightlessness you feel with his eyes on you, you scoot yourself between his spread legs, grabbing him under his knees and yanking him further into your lap. He gasps at the force you manhandle him into reach with, his impossibly long legs wrapping around your waist. Your fingers undo the ties of his breaches and you’re pleased with the sight of bare flesh as opposed to underwear, you grin, catching his mischievous gaze. He truly was trying to get your attention today. Your pupils dilate at the sight of his long cock already flushed red and leaking with pre under your scrutinizing gaze, his narrow hips twitching upwards into your touch as your hand slips past his cock to scratch over his flat belly instead, fingers twisting in the auburn hairs at his navel. 

“Look at you, already drooling for me. Are you really this worked up after touching me?” You teased a fingertip around the tip, delighted by the way his dick jumps at the contact. His thighs twitch around your hips. And you can tell he’s trying not to buck, to be good for you. As proud as you are of his eagerness to obey, the image of him fucking himself into your fist with reckless abandon swims around your mind in an endless loop. Your walls clench around nothing at the thought, your teeth catching your bottom lip as your hand wraps around his length fully.

“I can’t help it. You’re just so… nnn please, just so… ahh.” Julian’s eyelids flutter as you ever so slowly start to pump his cock, distracting him entirely. 

“Just what, baby?” You remind playfully, enthralled by the subtle changes in his expression as he attempts to produce a response through the thick fog forming in his mind as he slowly sinks into subspace. 

“You’re just so… amazing, please! Ah! oh fucking-“ Julian’s mumble melds into a wail as your pace suddenly changes from slow and teasing to fast and purposeful. He cries out in pleasure, head falling back onto the bed as your hand twists over the head of his cock and squeezes at the base with every purposeful stroke. “Oh, please! You’re—fuck yes. You’re going so fasttt.”

Julian’s mouth falls open in rapture, fangs on display as you jerk him off faster than he deserves. He doesn’t deserve you, deserve this incredible pleasure from this incredible woman. But you loved him, needed him, assured him he was yours; fangs, deeds, and all. You accepted all of him. And with that assurance he knew you’d forgive the way his hips started to frantically buck into the tight tunnel of your fist, an erotic squelching noise fills the room as you let him fuck your hand, using it to get himself off.

“You’re so pretty like this, Ilya. I adore that debauched expression you make.” You praised, and Julian moaned loudly, his tongue swiping over his teeth. “Makes me want to give you everything you desire, just to see that fucked out expression on your face.”

“Please please!” He begs. 

“Please what, baby? Use your words and I’ll reward you.” You promise, but you aren’t prepared for his next request.

“Sit on my face.”

Your hand halts and Julian sobs, frustrated.

“Julian, I can’t I’m—“

“I want you to, so badly. Since I walked in and smelt you, all I could think of was your beautiful thighs around my head as you grind yourself against my tongue, letting me drink from you.” His words flow like poetry, burning themselves into your mind, he spoke them with such hunger and desperation that your whole body feels smoldering hot. You’ll recall those words on those rare lonely nights you’re apart rubbing yourself to memories of him.

Julian’s silvery eyes have almost been entirely eclipsed by crimson, and it makes you press your thighs together in anticipation—at the thought of straddling his face while he sated his sanguine thirst by eating you out. It was depraved, it was mortifying, but… surely the blood wasn’t the same, would it even feed him? Why didn’t you care? Why didn’t he care?

“Please, I want to taste you.” Julian restates, shaking you from your thoughts, eyes rediscovering his own as your expression softens.

“Alright, baby, if that’s really what you want.” You relented, taking your hand off his cock as you released him from your lap and started to crawl up his body. 

“Thank you, momma,” Julian whimpers and it goes straight to your pussy, he knew you liked it when he used that name in bed. “Oh thank- mmm!”

You cut off his thanks with your lips against his, hands sinking into his auburn curls and tugging. The slight sting makes him moan into your mouth, and your tongue dips into his mouth, curling around his own. You kiss messily for what feels like a long time, grinding against his hard cock. It takes everything in your power to stop yourself from letting him slide between your folds upon remembering his request.

“You sure about this?” You ask anxiously once more, feeling unexpectedly shy as you get into position, hovering just over his face. So close, but just out of reach even as his face surges forward to chase the intoxicating scent.

“I could explode just thinking of your blood against my tongue as I pleasure you, please don’t make me wait any longer, please I promise it’s alright.” Julian babbles, eyes glazed over as he stares at your cunt, mesmerized.

His desperate reassurance snaps the last string of hesitance from your mind and you take in a deep breath before lowering yourself over his face. His hands shoot to your hips immediately and for a moment you worry you’ve finally disgusted him, but instead he presses your hips harder against him. He kitten licks around your labia at first, catching a stray droplet of your wetness mixed with your blood and his eyes roll back. Julian truly does try to restrain himself but your flavor sends him into a frenzy, his nimble tongue delving between your folds to lapping at the droplets of blood as they drip from your cunt. 

You gasped out a moan, not expecting the enthusiastic way he devours you from below, rolling your hips into the frantic motions of his wandering tongue. Julian moans in appreciation, urging your hips to move faster and you comply, losing yourself in the feeling. You’re so sensitive it almost hurts how good it feels to have his tongue inside you, and his nose rubs against your clit just right with every eager rut against his face.

“Oh good boy, you’re so good. Fucking me so- Ahh! So good with your mouth, baby. I don’t know what I was even worried about, you’re so eager.” You babble, and he groans torturedly against your cunt, his hips bucking into the air. His cock stands at full attention, weeping with pre and the head has nearly turned purple with want. 

You’re tempted to reach back blindly for his cock to jerk him off while he drinks from you, but you get a better idea that requires less stretching and reaching. 

“Touch yourself for me, Ilya.”

His hand shoots to his cock so fast you rush to steady yourself without one of his hands supporting you. Julian whines and mewls pathetically against your hot flesh, pupils blown wide as he ruts frantically into his own fist. He must be close.

“Gonna cum already? Do you really like this so much?” You teased, and he says something but it was muffled, vibrating pleasantly against you. 

In an attempt to let him speak you lift your hips but he grunts, his free hand forcing you back down with a whine and a pointed, crimson gaze.

“You’re so greedy.” You run a hand through his red hair, twisting your fingers in the strands to guide him against your cunt.

His tongue slides from you and instead lathes over your aching clit and you buck with a cry, he always knew just where you needed stimulation and when. The only thing Julian loved more than making you laugh was making you cum.

“That’s it, oh fuck you’re so good at this.” Your voice shook, head tipped back and eyes staring at the ceiling as you felt yourself dance on the precipice of release for a few agonizing moments before you finally start to quake. Your orgasm is so intense you don’t realize the strangled keening noises you’re making until the ringing in your ears stops. Julian eagerly opens his mouth as you squirt all over his face, delighted since it wasn’t often he could make you do so. And as you cum around his tongue he finally releases the tight grip around the base of his cock he placed to not cum the moment you started making those broken noises.

His whole body shakes and squirms as he pumps himself at lightning speed until he’s shooting cum all over his fist and stomach, soaking his shirt even more. He moans brokenly against your cunt, body seizing with every spasm of his cock in his grip. 

You both collapse into a heap of limbs on the bed, you don’t remember how you got onto your side when you start to come to, all you can process is how blissfully painless you feel. You really need to have period sex more often if this is how you felt afterward. Regrettably, you turn over and grimace at the smearings of your blood around Julian’s mouth and nose, resisting the urge to laugh as you smack a hand over your mouth.

He notices your gesture and props himself up on his elbows, quirking an arched brow in your direction. You see that the red from his eyes from earlier has completely vanished, leaving behind those familiar grey irises.

“What’s so funny?” Julian snorts, and that only makes it harder for you not to laugh. 

“You look like a crime scene!” You wheezed, rolling around on the bed and clutching your stomach.

Julian blushes a healthy bright red, and you’re lost to the world in your screaming laughter.

#‧₊🦇˚⊹ ashi writes #kinktober 2021 #kinktober #julian devorak x reader #ilyushka x reader #julian x reader #the arcana x reader #n/sfw #smut #female reader #dom reader #fem!reader #sub julian #dom!reader #vampire!julian

[aifanfictions]

a story about (y/n) who is khal drogo's translator and khal drogo slowly falls in love with her and asks her to be his khaleesi in front of all his people one night by the fire

The Khaleesi's Heart

(Y/N) had always been captivated by the vastness of the Dothraki Sea, with its endless golden plains stretching as far as the eye could see. She had joined the Khalasar as a translator, seeking adventure and a chance to immerse herself in the rich culture of the fierce horse lords. Little did she know that her journey would lead to an unexpected and life-changing encounter.

Khal Drogo, a man of immense stature and a reputation that preceded him, had never taken much interest in the affairs of outsiders. His heart was bound to the warrior code, and his focus was on conquest and the endless expansion of his Khalasar. As he led his people through the sea of grass, he rarely spared a second thought for anything or anyone beyond his warriors and his beloved bloodriders.

One fateful evening, as the setting sun bathed the horizon in hues of fiery red and orange, Khal Drogo's warriors captured a party of travelers on the fringes of his territory. Among them was (Y/N), who had been accompanying a merchant caravan on her journey to learn the Dothraki ways. She found herself standing before the imposing Khal, her heart pounding in her chest.

(Y/N) knew the importance of diplomacy and the art of communication. Fluent in both the Dothraki tongue and the common language of Westeros, she was able to bridge the gap between her people and the fierce Khalasar. Her eyes met Drogo's, and she bowed respectfully, uttering the words of introduction in flawless Dothraki.

"Anhaan vekhat hoshori, majin adak jin," she spoke, introducing herself as a translator.

Khal Drogo, unaccustomed to hearing his mother tongue from the lips of a foreigner, was taken aback. His dark eyes bore into hers as if trying to decipher her intentions. Her confidence, intelligence, and the fire in her eyes intrigued him in a way that no one ever had.

Over time, as (Y/N) continued to serve as translator, she and Khal Drogo shared more than just words. She found herself drawn to the strength and honor that defined his character. He, in turn, began to seek her presence during meetings and discussions, valuing her insights and wisdom.

As the weeks turned into months, a connection grew between them, though they rarely spoke of it aloud. (Y/N) saw beyond the fearsome exterior of Khal Drogo, recognizing the depth of his heart and the unspoken longing in his gaze. Khal Drogo, a man of few words, found himself yearning for (Y/N)'s companionship, her laughter, and the way her eyes sparkled when she shared tales of her homeland.

The Khalasar continued its relentless journey across the Dothraki Sea, conquering rival clans and collecting tribute. In the midst of the dust and chaos of battle, Khal Drogo and (Y/N) found solace in each other's presence. They shared stolen moments by the campfire, where he would listen to her recount stories of the world beyond the grasslands, and she would learn of the proud history of the Dothraki.

One night, as they sat by the fire, the sky above them was ablaze with a tapestry of stars. Khal Drogo turned to (Y/N), his eyes filled with an intensity she had come to know all too well.

"Anhaan vekhat anni, (Y/N)," he said, his voice low and filled with sincerity. "You have brought light to my Khalasar and to my heart. You are strong, wise, and beautiful. Will you be my Khaleesi?"

(Y/N)'s heart skipped a beat. She had never anticipated such a proposition. To be the Khaleesi of the Great Khal Drogo meant leaving behind her old life, her dreams of adventure, and embracing a destiny she had never imagined. Yet, as she looked into the eyes of the man who had come to mean so much to her, she knew that her heart had already made its choice.

"Yes, Khal Drogo," she replied, her voice unwavering. "I will be your Khaleesi."

Word of Khal Drogo's declaration spread throughout the Khalasar like wildfire. The warriors and the women ululated in celebration, recognizing that their Khal had chosen a powerful and deserving Khaleesi. The union of two strong souls promised a future of prosperity and unity.

As the flames of the fire danced around them that night, Khal Drogo and (Y/N) sealed their commitment with a sacred Dothraki ritual. Their love would be tested in the trials of the unforgiving Dothraki culture, but they were determined to stand together, a force to be reckoned with.

And so, under the vast, starlit expanse of the Dothraki Sea, a new chapter in their lives began. Khal Drogo, once a warrior without equal, had found something even more precious than conquest – love. And (Y/N), the outsider who had ventured into this world seeking adventure, had found a love that would change her destiny forever.

As the months turned into years, Khal Drogo and his Khaleesi led the Great Khalasar to new heights, forging alliances and achieving greatness that had not been seen in generations. Their love story, whispered through the winds of the Dothraki Sea, became a legend, a testament to the power of love to transcend boundaries and unite even the fiercest of hearts.

In the heart of the Dothraki Sea, beneath the endless sky, Khal Drogo and (Y/N) embarked on a journey of love and destiny, a journey that would shape the future of the Dothraki and etch their names into the annals of history as a love that conquered all.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

#drogo x you #drogo #khal drogo x y/n #drogo x y/n #khal drogo x you #khal drogo #khal drogo x reader #drogo x reader #GameOfThrones #Khaleesi #Dothraki #LoveStory #FantasyRomance #Adventure #EpicTales #Fiction #StrongCharacters #Storytelling #RomanticFantasy #LoveConquersAll #FictionalWorlds #CharacterDevelopment #TaleOfLove

[sofasoap]

Accidental meet cute

Pairing : Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x F!reader

Summary: What happens when your friend tries to be a cupid behind your back?

Part of Gaz Fest 2023

Warning : M rating. Semi-crack, meet cute. Coarse languages.

A/N: Thank you @glitterypirateduck for organising the writing festival!! * cheering *

Thank you @siilvan and @jynxmirage for listening to my brain storming blabberings :) Based on real life event ( ..80% of it ) see End A/N.

Enjoy!!

Moving away from the crowd as you finish watching one of the bands onstage, in search of some beverages to quench your thirst. 

You were dragged along to the music festival by your friend, which to be honest, you had no interest in attending at all. After being nudged and bribed ( well, thinking back, more like coerced) by your friend and with promises of staying in a caravan instead of roughing it out in a basic tent and possible muddy floor, you gave in.

“Come on! My parents said they can lend us their old caravan, there’s enough space for four of us in there. There's a toilet and a basic shower.” your friend trying hard to sell you the idea. “ Plus, you seriously need to get out and experience the sunlight. You can’t coop up at home all the time, and complain about you never getting a chance to find your ‘soulmate’ “ putting her hands up and doing an air quotation mark, she exasperated. 

Well, that is true. You aren’t the most outgoing person, and it is time to finally do some socialisation, to enjoy life a little bit, and maybe, just that maybe, you can break your record of partnerness life. 

You didn’t quite expect the tricks and plots your friend went to trying to find you a date.

As you were ordering a glass of wine from the mobile bar not far away, your phone started ringing. Frowning as you stare at the unknown number, you hesitated for a few seconds before picking it up. 

“Hello???” 

“Heyyyyy is this uh…what’s her name again??” the speaker on the other side of the phone turned away to call out to someone in the background, and you heard a mumble which sounded like your name as a reply. Is that your friend Emma’s voice???

“OH yes hey hey.” They greeted you again with your name. “I got this number from your friend, and my friend Kyle, who I might add is a very handsome fellow, is quite willing to meet up with you.” A vague muffled protest could be heard in the background, but was quickly shushed by the speaker on the phone. 

You pull your phone away, staring at the screen, utterly confused. What the hell is this about??

“Hey handsome!! Take this!!” 

Kyle looked down at the wrist band a random passerby just threw into his hand, with what seems to be phone numbers written on it.

“If you are interested, ring the number!!”  Ah so he was right. “Wait,” Pulling the girl back, “Interested in what?” 

The girl giggled, “My friend! We are trying to get her out of the dating desert.” Holding up the wristful of bands, “We made a whole lot of these and now giving it out to people, see if we will get some luck. Oh, she doesn’t know about it though.” Kyle cocked an eyebrow, silently questioning the girl’s method without the said person’s consent. 

“OH he is definitely interested, you got a picture of her?” Kyle’s friend perked up beside him,leaning his head onto his shoulder as he wrapped his around around the other. “What a coincidence, we are trying to get our good buddy here,” patting Kyle’s shoulder and in the process nearly spilling the beer in his hand. “Some actions as well. He’s been wayyy too busy with work to brush some rust off his dick.”

Trust his good friend to say something decent. 

The girl just laughed, and took out her phone, scrolling through the photo album and flipped the screen towards Kyle and friend. “There, that’s her, third from the right. What do you think?” 

“Sorry but who the hell is this and how in the hell did you get my number??” You semi yelled into the phone, as the background crowd noise and the band on stage started playing again.

“Your friend Emma! She was giving out numbers to people!” 

OH that bitch… you turned around to look at your two other friends, who are currently holding drinks in their hands, with a stiff smile on their face, looking semi guilty but not sorry at all. 

“Surprise!”  One of your friends laughed nervously as you glared at them, hands up trying to defend themselves. “We just want to help you..”   

“Hello?? Hellooo? You still there?” you turned back to your phone, ignoring your friend’s comment. “ Put Emma on the phone for me, PLEASE.”  You try to sound as polite as possible to the stranger on the phone as you requested for your friend, but a hint of anger still sips through. 

“So, explain yourself.” You growled. 

“Oh, you’ll like him, I promise.” Dodging your anger, Emma quickly put forward her case, “Look, I can see him right in front of me, I chatted to him for a bit, and his friend, who is equally as cute,” she sighed, “ come on, just come over to meet him! He fits all your criteria, plus, he did mention you are his type. So, just pop over to the beer bar on the other side of the main stage, he will meet you there.” 

“I don’t think your friend is that interested in me by the sound of it… ““Relax! She is TOTALLY interested!” Just before you hung up the call you briefly overheard Emma reassuring… Kyle? 

Ah well. Why not? Let’s give it a try. This isn’t much difference to some blind date or meeting up through a dating app right?

And for the second time, you gave in to your friend.

“What did Emma say he looks like??” your friend whispered into your ear, as the three of you looked around the bar area, trying to spot the guy.

 Looking down at her phone, checking the message Emma sent through; “Let see.. Uh, Dark skin, short curly hair..taller than you? Brown eyes.. And.. scar on his cheek on the left? How vague can this woman be…”she mumbled. 

Your eye stopped at this tall dark man standing at the corner of the bar. 

There he is, in a simple white singlet, ¾ blue jeans and matching cream colour shoes and jacket tied around his waist. 

Casual, yet stylish. And wooah boy, the tight fit clothing definitely shows off his lean but well toned muscles beautifully. Is it suddenly getting hotter in here?

“I think that’s him there….” you whispered into your friend’s ear as you pointed to him.”he is the only one that fits all the description…” 

“Let me go scout him out.” Before you can say anything or pull her back, she marched towards the bar, full of purpose. 

She subtly slid into the gap between him and the patron next to him, ordering a drink, while trying to side eye him at same time. 

Her eyes brighten up as she spotted something, and turn towards facing you and your other friend, nodding furiously. 

“OH! Is that the wristband Emma gave you?” you heard your friend speak loudly. Gosh, how much more embarrassment would your friend bring you? You mentally facepalm yourself as your other friend drags you towards the bar. “You must be Kyle! Where is Emma and your friend??”

You can see him getting startled as he jumps slightly, turning around to face her. “Um, they took off about ten minutes ago, saying there was a band that both of them needed to check out…um, who are you?” Waving her hand dismissively, “It doesn’t matter who I am, it matters who SHE is. Come come, come meet my friend, the mysterious lady you are going to try woo tonight.” She stepped forward and half pushed you towards the bar area, “Alright, two of you have fun! We are going to check out the food stalls outside!” 

With that, your friend just left you and Kyle, standing in the middle of the bar, staring at each other awkwardly. Fidgeting with your hand, you decided to break the ice first. “Hey um, So, you are Kyle?”  holding your hand out, you introduced yourself. 

“Kyle, Kyle Garrick, but everyone calls me Gaz,”  you raised your eyebrow, confused. He chuckled, “Inside joke. Don’t worry.” waving towards an empty seat right beside you, “you must be tired walking all the way from the otherside of the festival ground in the mud. Take the seat.” Oh a gentleman, you thought, tick a box. 

“Thanks Ky… Gaz.” After turning around ordering yourself a drink, you start asking him questions. “So.. seen any bands you like?”

Gaz shrugged. “ I’m not familiar with any of them to be honest with you. I got dragged here by my friend because he said I need, ah, more, ahem, companionship.” Gaz quickly took a sip of his beer, hiding his embarrassment of hidden meanings of his words. 

Eyes wide, you perked up, “OH I thought I was the only victim!! My friends, the ones you just met,” waving into the air into nowhere while rolling your eyes. “dragged me here because they said I need to find someone to relieve my sexual frustration.” 

Gaz burst out laughing at your bluntness. “Sounds like we have much in common. Should we form a self-help group to recover from the trauma our friend has bestowed upon us?” Gaz gives you a wink and flashes you a wide smile as he jokingly suggested. 

Very cute smile too. How perfect can this man be? Got humour,physically attractive, a gentleman.. You have to admit, Emma might have helped you to hit a jackpot here. 

“Well, to form a group, we have to start up a member list.” You tilted your head as you whipped out your phone,smirking. “And better set up regular meetings to talk about our problems right?” Using all the flirting energy you haven’t had a chance to use.. At all? You are going all out. 

“So, we should set up a date then?” There’s a mischievous yet excitement in his eyes and bright smile as he takes your phone to enter his own number in there. 

“It’s a date.”  

“You going to shag him tonight?”

“Shut the hell up Emma… and Thanks.” 

Ok. so I said it's based on a true event. and 80% of it's truth. idea came from my receptionist, who excitingly told me about her experience at a country music festival she went to last week. She made up a whole lot of wrist bands with her name and phone number on it, and both her friends and her were handing it out during the festival. she did end up striking a date :) which is happening this week LOL. So.. it works??

tag list :

@deadbranch

@kaplerrr

@homicidal-slvt

@lia0-0

@floral-force

@saltofmercury

@siilvan

@rileyslibrarian

@mistydeyes

@okayyadriana

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@jynxmirage

@nrdmssgs @schr-torta @glitterypirateduck @cumikering

@roosterr

@groguspicklejar

@obsolescent @whydoilikewhump @b1rds3ye @devcica

@caramlizedtomatos

@argella1300 @tiredmetalenthusiast @liyanahelena

#gazfest #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x female reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick mw2 #kyle gaz garrick fluff #kyle gaz garrick x you #sergeant kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick imagine #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x you #kyle garrick fluff #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #sofasoap writes #one shot series #meet cute

[agaypanic]

Hi!! I absolutely LOVE your James Maguire series! We really don’t have enough James love on the internet. Is it ok if I request a James Maguire x reader oneshot set just after the camping trip episode? Where they still go to the caravan and all the teens have to put the beds together and squeeze in one room and no one wants to sleep next to James so reader ends up there and they wake up cuddling? The others probably make fun of them so bad lmao (Maybe like a little extra from the fella series??) 🥺thank you so much if you do, I had this idea and I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. If you don’t write it I understand thank you anyway xxxx

Squished (James Maguire X Quinn!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: A stolen tent means less room. But the Derry Girls make do.

A/N: I’m gonna be posting this as a stand alone (so not on the fella masterlist), but I’m gonna write it using the stuff from the fella part 5. So this can be read by itself or as like a lil extra thing from the fella

***

It was a long while before the Derry Girls arrived in Portnoo. After hours of being squished in two cars, harboring what was most likely a fugitive, and getting Grandpa Joe’s friend’s second-best tent stolen, seeing the caravan felt like seeing Mother Mary herself. The only thing that stopped Y/n from rolling out of the car the second she spotted it was her baby sister, who had sat in her lap the entire journey.

“Oh, thank fuck.” Michelle almost yelled as everyone poured out of the cars. Erin gave her a remark about her crude language, in front of her family no less, but was ignored. “I’m allowed to be upset, Erin. I just lost the love of my life and was stuck in a car with you and your kookie aunt for God knows how long.”

“You didn’t even know him, Michelle. He was a criminal.”

Y/n handed her sister Anna off to James so she could get out of the car and stretch her stiff limbs. She tried to ignore the sight of James holding Anna because he seemed nervous to hold her but was still trying to entertain her while he waited for Y/n. It was just too cute.

“Okay, I can take her.” Y/n sighed, reaching out for her sister. James looked at her a little funny.

“Are you sure? You held her the entire trip up here; you don’t want a little break?” She supposed he was right, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t like how he acted with her interest in mind.

“I mean if you don’t mind-”

“Of course not.” James smiled at her, and she would’ve been giddy if Erin and Michelle weren’t there. Anna babbled against James’ shoulder, grasping at his jacket. The two teens smiled at her, talking to each other while Erin eyed them, not that they noticed.

“No wonder Emmett thought she was their wain,” Erin muttered to herself as she grabbed her suitcase out of the car’s boot. She didn’t know whether to be disgusted or happy for her sister and the fact that she fancied their English friend.

***

“Jesus, it’s cramped in here.” Michelle groaned as she squeezed past the girls to throw her bag somewhere in the caravan the Quinn family had rented. They only rented one; they didn’t expect Erin and Y/n’s friends to accompany them on their annual holiday. Grandpa Joe, Gerry, and James were going to sleep in the tent that Joe’s friend had lent them, but those plans had gone south. But Joe insisted that they should still sleep outside.

“We’re men, aren’t we?” He had said. “We don’t need no damn tent.”

But one look at James, and the girls knew that wouldn’t work out well. He was already nervous around Joe and Gerry, mainly Joe, especially because he was the one who allowed Emmett to steal their tent. But living outdoors with them for who knows how long? No thanks.

The adults had gone to a close-by shop that sold camping gear to get another tent for them to sleep in. Grandpa Joe almost had a heart attack when the girls suggested that James sleep in the caravan with them, but then Mary calmed him down by saying that the girls would be fine because James was gay.

James was getting sick of correcting this assumption. But he didn’t want to sleep in a tent with the adults, so he let it slide.

“Okay, how are we doing this?” Y/n asked, looking at the somewhat cramped space. The girls’ things were either thrown somewhere in the caravan or clutched closely to try to create more room. Everyone looked around. “I know there’s a bed at the end.”

“I call it!” Michelle yelled, pushing past everyone to sit on the bed before anyone else could claim it. She looked smug, probably thinking that she wouldn’t have to share with anyone else.

“Fine.” Y/n sighed, moving Anna to her other hip. She was charged with looking after her while the adults were gone. James was going to offer to carry her, but then decided to take their luggage. “But you have to room with someone else in that bed.”

“What the fuck, Y/n?!” Michelle snarled.

“Look around you, Michelle.” James defended. “There’s six of us in here.” Michelle rolled her eyes at her cousin. Huffing in annoyance, she looked at everyone in the caravan.

“Fine. Clare, you’re with me, yeah?”

“Two down, four to go,” Y/n muttered, looking around. “There’s the two seats in the front, and then the sofa could probably fit two.”

“I’ll take the sofa.” James volunteered, moving to set his bag on it, but still holding Y/n’s for when she decided where to sleep. Erin smirked.

“Orla and I call the seats!” Y/n would’ve glared at Erin if she wasn’t in a room with James and Michelle. She had a sneaking suspicion of what Erin was planning. 

“Is that okay with you, Y/n?” James asked. He was still holding her bag, in case she had reservations about sharing a sleeping space with him and wanted to switch with someone else. 

“Yeah.” Y/n nodded, watching James smile as he dropped her bag next to his. “Fine with me, James.”

“Aye, James, it must be exciting to finally have a girl in your bed.”

“Shut up, Michelle!”

***

It was late at night when the girls finally decided to go to bed. They had spent most of their time talking about this and that or playing games. Everyone bid each other good night and went to their sleeping areas.

“So, how should we do this?” James asked Y/n quietly. Their gazes kept going between the sofa and each other, trying to figure out what to do. “I can sleep on the floor if you’d like. I’m fine with it.”

“No, James. Don’t be silly.” Y/n bit her lip, trying to figure out how to fit the two of them in this tiny space. “We could lay on our sides.”

It became awkward very fast. The two faced each other, noses almost bumping. They were stiff, trying not to disturb the other. Y/n tried to fix this by turning around so they wouldn’t face each other. She must’ve forgotten how small the sofa was because James reached an arm out to stop her from falling to the floor.

“Careful,” James said, arm wrapped around her waist to pull her further from the edge. Y/n couldn’t ignore the butterflies in her stomach, somewhat surprised that James had the strength to pull her. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She replied meekly, grateful it was dark so James wouldn’t see the blush on her cheeks even though he was so close to her.

“Want me to let go?” His grip loosened slightly, but she caught his hand before it could leave her.

“No!” Y/n cringed at how loud she was. “I mean, uh, if you don’t mind.” James’ arm settled around her.

“Of course not.” He adjusted himself slightly before letting out a deep sigh. “Good night, Y/n.”

“Good night, James.”

***

“Why is he all over her like that?” Michelle grimaced, joining the crowd of her friends. They all stood before the small sofa, looking down at a sleeping Y/n and James. In his sleep, James had wrapped both arms around Y/n and kept her close to his chest. She didn’t seem to mind, holding her hands on his to prevent him from moving. “Fucking disgusting.”

“Quiet, Michelle,” Clare whispered as Y/n stirred. When she stopped her movements, the group let out a breath of relief they didn’t realize they were holding. “You know what we should do?” Seeming to read her mind, Erin slipped her shoes on.

“I’ll go get Mammy’s camera.”

#james maguire x reader #james maguire #derry girls #derry girls x reader #agaypanic

[sourwolf-sterek32]

Broken Heart

Summary: You were the first and only female Witcher.

You and Geralt had been together since you were teenagers, training and fighting alongside each other for decades. However, when Yennefer of Vengerberg showed up, he chose her.

Now, years later, you go back to Kaer Morhen for the winter and come face to face with Geralt of Rivia, forcing old feelings to resurface once again.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Language, violence

Previous Chapter

Chapter 13-

The plan was set to use Ciri as bait for Rience. Yarpen and his men were already off spreading word around the local bars, saying that he was transporting Ciri in his caravan, there was just one piece of the plan that needed to be organised.

Jaskier.

It had been a few months since you last saw the bard, so when you heard his voice in the distance you couldn't stop the smile from spreading across your face.

"Uh, no, darling. No! Look at me."

You paused on the corner of the dark alleyway, your cloak wrapped around your body covering your black studded armour and sword. The last thing you needed was for people to spread the word that a Witcher was in town, if that happened, the plan would be blown.

It wasn't hard to spot Jaskier across the street looking up at his partner Vespula. She was leaning over the balcony above him with his lute raised in her hands in a threatening gesture.

Oh, this looked interesting. What had Jaskier done now?

"Look at my eyes. There is no need to harm the innocent!" Jaskier all but pleaded as Vespula grinned and he knew exactly what was about to happen. "No, no, no, don't! No-"

She threw the instrument over the edge of the balcony while Jaskier shouted, and you had to admit that it was a good throw. The lute flew clean over Jaskiers head before a man standing not too far behind him caught the wooden instrument with ease.

The man seemed to be important if his fur collared outfit and the fancy dressed woman beside him was anything to go by. They kind of looked familiar, but you couldn't quite figure out who they were.

You remained hidden in the shadows of the alley while Jaskier spoke with the two of them. If you wanted to listen to their conversation, you easily could with your enhanced hearing, but you hated eavesdropping on people you cared about. It was an invasion of privacy that you did not feel comfortable with, so you chose to simply watch them from a distance.

Just from body language alone the man seemed to be nice and made Jaskier smile, however the woman on the other hand, didn't seem so nice. Jaskiers body tensed whenever she spoke or got near which was setting off alarm bells in your head.

Invasion of privacy or not, you began to listen to the conversation because that woman was making you feel uneasy.

"-or we will single-handedly undo every good deed you have done for the elves... we will kill them all." The woman whispered in his ear.

Was that a threat? Was this woman threatening him?

"Yeah, yeah, I got the gist." Jaskier replied, his body so tense it was almost shaking.

You took a step forward about to go over there not caring about being spotted when Jaskier might be in trouble.

"I've got business in town before we portal back to Tretogor. You have five days." The woman continued to say before she turned around, motioning for the man to follow.

You watched cautiously as the two of them walked away not taking your eyes off them until they disappeared around the buildings further down the road.

Jaskier remained standing in the middle of the street, his shoulders relaxing once the woman left as he looked down at the lute in his hands and let out a heavy sigh.

"Bad time?" You called out, announcing your presence as you walked over to him.

Jaskiers head snapped up in your direction with wide eyes and you grinned. He shortened the distance between you and threw his free arm around your neck, pulling you into a tight hug. You chuckled softly and wrapped your arms around his back hugging him just as tightly.

"By the Gods, I have missed you." He whispered, hugging you a little longer than he usually did.

"I missed you too, Jask."

His arm tightened around you a little and after a few more seconds he eventually pulled away, but you didn't comment on the long unusual hug because he clearly needed it.

"Are you okay? What did those people want?" You asked, glancing in the direction they had gone.

Jaskier hesitated before answering, "just Sandpiper stuff."

You eyed him cautiously knowing there was more to the story, but he simply held your gaze and didn't show any indication that he was going to elaborate further.

"If you're ever in any trouble, you know to come to me, right?" You asked gently and he smiled sadly.

"I know, my dear. You have saved my damsel in distress ass on many occasions. You are and always will be my Witcher in shiny armour that rescues me."

You smiled thinking back to all the times you had to stop him from getting hurt by angry husbands and wives after they walked in on the bard sleeping with their partners. It happened too many times to count, but he never did seem to learn his lesson.

"You can fuckin' keep that bastard!" Vespula suddenly shouted from the balcony behind you.

You glanced up over your shoulder to find her glaring down at him before she turned on her heels and stormed inside.

"What did you do this time?" You sighed, turning back to Jaskier who looked away sheepishly.

"She was having fun on the side as well. So, I am failing to see her issue. And it was just one time."

You raised your eyebrows, knowing your best friend better than he knew himself and he sighed.

"Okay, one time with many different people."

You snorted, "that sounds about right."

"Not that it isn't good to see you, Y/N, but, ah, what are you doing here?" Jaskier asked after a beat of silence.

You glanced around the area noting the few civilians walking down the street. None of them looked your way, but you didn't want to take any chances at being recognised, so you grabbed Jaskiers hand and pulled him back over to the dark alleyway.

"Oh, because this isn't creepy at all." He commented under his breath.

"We need your help."

"With what?"

"There's a person tracking Ciri... he has her blood so no matter where we go, he will find us, but not if we find him first." You began to explain.

"What do you want me to do?" Jaskier asked.

"Yarpen has a caravan leaving this afternoon. Ciri will be travelling with him, and we need you to go with her. Nobody would believe that we let Ciri go alone, but if she's with someone we trust..."

"...then they will believe it." Jaskier said, finishing your sentence and you nodded before he smiled. "Aww that's sweet. You guys trust me."

You rolled your eyes, "of course we trust you."

"So where will you, Geralt and Yennefer be?"

"We will be there too, but nobody can know that. Yarpen is off as we speak spreading word about transporting Ciri. It will work, but only if the person knows that we're not there."

"Who is this person that’s after Ciri?"

And there it was.

The question you had been waiting for and dreading.

It wasn't fair to ask Jaskier help be bait for Rience, not after what the fire mage had done to him. You had tried to tell Geralt and Yennefer that, but they were insistent that Jaskier was a requirement for this plan and wouldn't listen.

"The others told me to wait until you were there before telling you that little detail." You admitted, looking away from him.

"Why?"

"Because they're worried that you'll say no." You answered honestly staring at the brick wall behind him, wishing you didn't have to ask this. "But that's not fair on you."

You took in a deep breath and glanced back at him, those confused blue eyes were already looking at you, but for the first time, Jaskier remained silent waiting for you to continue.

"I'm going to tell you now and if you decide that you don't want to do it, you can simply walk away. I won't make you do something that you don't want to do and if anyone tries to argue, I will fight them."

Jaskier frowned, "Y/N, sweetheart, you're starting to scare me. Who is the person that Ciri and I will be bait for?"

"It's Rience."

Jaskiers face visibly paled at the name, and you hated yourself for it.

"Oh."

That was all the bard managed to say and you simply nodded but remained silent to give him some time to process the information.

"I... I can say no, right?" Jaskier hesitantly asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Of course. I wouldn't blame you if you did."

Jaskier nodded, "okay, then I say, yes."

"What?"

"Yes. I will help you guys by being bait for Mr. Fire Fingers."

"Jaskier-"

"I know." He said, cutting you off with a tight smile. "But you will be there to protect me, right?"

"I would never let anything happen to you." You reassured and Jaskiers tight smile smoothed out into his usual bright one.

"That is all I need to know."

"Are you sure?" You hesitantly asked.

"Nope, but let's go before I change my mind." Jaskier replied, turning around to walk off.

"Hey." You said, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder. "If you change your mind at any stage, you tell me, and I'll put an end to it. Okay? I don't care what the others say, your wellbeing comes first."

Jaskiers smile brightened at your words, and he rested his hand on top of yours on his shoulder.

"Your heart never ceases to amaze me, my dear lady."

You rolled your eyes. "c'mon, let's get out of here before someone recognises me."

-

It wasn't until the third day riding on horseback with Yarpen and his men that Rience showed up.

That night you took watch duty, keeping guard while the others slept, but other than a few owls hooting across the still night, there was nothing else nearby. Yarpen took over the watch shift during the early hours of the morning, allowing you to get a little sleep before you would all continue trekking.

You awoke to the sound of Jaskier strumming away at his lute nearby and you groaned, rolling over on your makeshift bed that you had been sharing with Geralt, only to find that he was no longer beside you.

"Some people are trying to sleep." You mumbled, rubbing your face with your hands as you sat up and looked around trying to locate Geralt.

"Actually, nobody is trying to sleep. You are the only one still in bed, quite lazy if you ask me." Jaskier teased with a smirk.

You glanced over at the bard to find him sitting on a fallen log, the lute sitting in his lap as he watched you in clear amusement.

"Sorry, I was a little busy staying awake on watch duty last night to make sure we weren't attacked in our sleep." You deadpanned.

Jaskier raised his hands, "okay, okay. Geez someone isn't a morning person."

You glared at him but there was no real heat behind it before you glanced around camp trying to find Geralt, but he was nowhere to be seen, neither were Yennefer and Ciri.

"They're over there. Ciri had a nightmare or something, I don't know." Jaskier shrugged, pointing to something behind you like he somehow knew what you were thinking.

You turned around and spotted the old structure of Shaerrawedd where you and Geralt had taken Ciri last night to show her the area and statue of Aelirenn, an elven warrior.

"I'll be back." You said, standing up with a stretch before throwing your sword sheath over your shoulder and walking over there.

"Francesca, the elven queen, she believed she could offer something more to her people." Yennefer was saying as you walked through the old remaining structure of Shaerrawedd.

"And so do I." Ciri said before glancing over her shoulder when she heard your footsteps.

You gave the girl a small smile when you noticed how emotional she seemed to be. Whatever they were talking about was serious.

You walked over to Geralt who lifted his arm and pulled you into his side, whispering a quiet 'good morning' and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple before focusing back on Ciri when the girl began talking.

"Geralt, Y/N, you guys taught me how to fight. Just like Calanthe." She looked between you and Geralt before continuing. "And Yen, you're teaching me how to harness my powers. Like Mousesack. What if this is the reason destiny bought us together? Nenneke said I have the power to change the cycle of hatred. And I want to. To be the balance between kinds and mages, and to align the Continent, instead of constantly pitting parts against each other. Because I am sick and tired of destruction and loss."

Geralt’s arm tightened around you for a moment before he pulled away and stepped over to Ciri, grabbing the girl’s shoulders and holding her in front of him.

"I don't doubt you, Ciri." He insisted. "I do doubt the world, though. It-"

Geralt stopped midsentence, his head snapping up on high alert and that’s when you heard it. The low rumbling in the distance.

Shit.

Rience was here already.

Geralt glanced over at you almost for confirmation that he wasn't hearing things and you simply nodded, "they're here."

"Let's go. Now." He ordered, looking over at you and Yen before he began to walk away, Yennefer quickly following.

Ciri watched them both walk off with almost worried eyes and you smiled sadly at the girl as you stepped forward.

"You got this." You insisted, resting your hand on her shoulder.

Ciri nodded before she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around you tightly.

"It's okay. It'll be okay." You reassured, hugging her back as you kissed the top of her head. "I told you that I would never let anything bad happen to you, didn't I?"

Ciri nodded against your chest, and you pulled away from her, grabbing her shoulder again and giving it a small squeeze.

"We will be right over there." You said, pointing to where Geralt and Yennefer were currently hiding behind a tall pillar across the remaining courtyard of Shaerrawedd.

Ciri nodded but didn't say anything before you gave her one last encouraging smile before you jogged over to Geralt and Yen, drawing your sword from your back, ready for the fight that was about to erupt.

"Are you ready?" Geralt asked quietly from beside you.

You glanced over at him, his golden eyes meeting yours as you gave him a small nod despite not being ready at all.

This fire mage was powerful, and he wouldn't come alone.

"How long do we wait?" Yennefer asked.

"Until she draws them out."

You took in a deep shaky breath, your fingers tightening around your sword as you stared at Ciri standing in the middle of the courtyard by herself.

"She can do this." Geralt insisted, noticing your clear worry.

You nodded despite not believing him in the slightest. It wasn't that you didn't think Ciri could fight. The girl could definitely fight. You taught her most of it yourself, but Rience was bad. Really bad.

"Cirilla of Cintra. Alone at last."

Hearing Rience’s voice had your heartrate skyrocketing and you hoped like hell that Jaskier was hidden away in Yarpen’s caravan right now.

A moment later, Rience stepped out from the shadows with a sickening grin spreading across his face as he stared at Ciri.

"Well, not quite. I've bought more friends this time." The mage explained, holding his arms out just as over a dozen men stepped out from behind the broken building, quickly surrounding Ciri before they attacked.

You watched on proudly as she took down three of the men single handedly before Geralt gave you the signal to join the fight.

That was all you needed before you reached down and grabbed a throwing knife from the inside of your boot. You threw it across the courtyard, impaling the blade through the neck of a man who had grabbed Ciri.

He instantly released his hold on her with a painful scream catching Riences attention, his eyes hardening in your direction before Yennefer stepped forward.

"Last time, I beat you with my wits. This time, you meet my magic." She said, just as Rience hurdled a ball of fire at her which she easily blocked with her own powers.

Whilst Yennefer was keeping Rience busy and distracted, you turned your attention to Riences men and stabbed your sword through the chest of the closest one. Geralt did the same, the two of you swiftly moving around each other as you cut, stabbed and sliced your way through the bad guys like you had done and trained for a thousand times before.

"I like my odds." Rience suddenly shouted.

You spun around and your heart stopped when you saw him holding Ciri to his chest in a headlock.

"I like our odds better!" Yarpens voice shouted and before you had a chance to react, Yarpen and his soldiers suddenly appeared out of nowhere and began charging at Riences men.

Jaskier was with them as well. He didn't have anything in his hands, no sword, no lute, not even a simple rock as a weapon, the bard had nothing to use to defend himself as he followed Yarpen into battle.

He was crazy.

Brave. But crazy.

You were so focused on Jaskier that you hadn't even realised that Ciri got free from Riences hold or the fact that the mage had summoned a portal to escape until you heard Yennefer shout.

"Geralt! Y/N!"

You spun around quickly just as Yennefer threw her hand up, holding the portal open with her magic before Geralt ran through after Rience, not letting him get away.

"Can you keep it open?" Ciri asked, looking between Yen and the black portal.

"Some new strain of Chaotic insanity. But I will. We just need to wait for Geralt."

You quickly glanced back over to Yarpens men, noting that they had slaughtered the last of Rience’s fighters before you turned back to Yennefer.

"I'll help Geralt-" You began to say before someone cut you off.

"Archers! Get down!"

Suddenly arrows whizzed through the air, and you hastily raised your free hand, casting a Quen in front of yourself, Ciri and Yen. The protective shield only just forming in time to block the arrows that hit it at force.

The others weren't so lucky though and you watched on in horror as many of Yarpens soldiers went down before an army of Elves marched into Shaerrawedd, swords and bows raised, ready for a fight.

Oh, shit.

"Keep it open." You ordered, glancing back at Yennefer.

She met your gaze with a strained expression, struggling to hold the portal open, but she nodded anyway before you turned your attention to the Elves who were already taking out Yarpens men.

Rushing forward, you swung your sword cutting through the Elves like butter before you caught a glimpse of familiar red out the corner of your eye.

You threw your hand up casting an Aard at the five Elves that were sprinting towards you with swords raised. The force of the telekinetic wave threw the Elves back a few metres, knocking them down before you turned around and searched the sea of Elves and Dwarfs until you spotted Jaskiers red jacket in the crowd.

You were about to shout at him to go and hide because the bard was still not holding any form of weaponry, but then you noticed what he was actually doing, and you quickly shut your mouth.

He was dragging the injured to safety. Jaskier was putting himself in danger to get Yarpens men out of harm’s way and tending to their injuries as best he could.

"Ah!" Ciri's voice screamed.

Your attention was snapped away from the bard quickly and you spun around just as one of the Elves grabbed Ciri's arm and began pulling her away.

"I got her! I got her!" He yelled.

"No, you don't." You muttered under your breath, adjusting your grip on your sword before spearing it through the air across the courtyard.

Ciri let out a surprised yelp when the blade of your sword impaled through the chest of the Elf beside her. He instantly released his hold on the girl as he fell to the ground, a pool of blood soaking into the dirt around him as his body laid motionless.

"Y/N!" Yennefer's voice suddenly shouted. "Get Geralt out of there! I can't hold it for much longer."

You glanced over at your sword in the Elves chest across the courtyard before glancing back at the portal and cursing under your breath.

Shit. There was no time to get the sword.

You sprinted back over to Yennefer, hesitating for a second before you jumped through the portal and instantly ducked behind the closest pillar when a wave of burning fire hurdled towards you.

"Fuck." You swore, only just managing to dodge it.

Geralt had his back pressed to the other pillar not far from you, seeking shelter from the never-ending stream of fire blasting between the two of you.

His golden eyes locked with yours through the flames, a questioning look washing over him.

"She can't hold the portal open for much longer." You explained, just as the fire finally came to a stop.

"Your mage is out of her depth!" Rience shouted from across the room.

Geralt spun out from behind the pillar, doing what you had done earlier and speared his sword through the air, but Rience was quick and managed to duck out the way at the last possible second. His sword clattered to the ground behind the mage before Geralt sprinted across the room and began fighting him hand-to-hand instead.

You reached down for you boot and silently cursed remembering that you had already used your throwing knife and made a mental note to retrieve it from the body you had thrown it into earlier.

Geralt had Rience on his knees before him, his hands clasped around the mage’s wrists stopping him from summoning his fire magic when out of nowhere arrows flew through portable at you.

You quickly casted a Quen to shield yourself and Geralt from the oncoming arrows, but you didn't do it quick enough because the first arrow slammed straight into your shoulder. You let out a sharp hiss at the hard, painful hit but managed to keep the shield up until the arrows stopped coming.

"Y/N?" Geralt called out from behind you.

"I'm good." You grunted, glancing down at the arrow imbedded through your shoulder.

Rience suddenly screamed the same time you heard two very distinct cracks, and you turned around just as Geralt let go of him, exposing the mages broken hands. Geralt quickly glanced over at you with a flash of worry in his eyes when he saw the arrow before the worry switched to confusion when he noticed the unique feathers on the end of the arrow shaft.

"Elves. They've come for Ciri. Go! I'm right behind you." You hurriedly shouted, knowing Yennefer wouldn't be able to hold the portal for much longer.

Geralt nodded, scooping up his sword from the ground before running back through the portal to protect Ciri. You began to walk after him while grabbing the end of the arrow before yanking it out your shoulder.

"Son of a bitch." You hissed under your breath, throwing the arrow to the ground and pressing your hand to the bloodied wound.

But just as you were about to step back through the portal, something hard slammed into the back of your head. The last thing you saw was the portal flickering shut in front of you before everything faded into darkness.

-

Next Chapter

MASTERLIST pinned to profile

Commissions open! Link in bio & DM for enquries

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt of rivia fanfic #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #henry cavill #jaskier #joey batey

[lesvegas]

FNV Quest Mods That Don't Suck

I know I've made modlists before but talk of DLC-sized mods made me want to make another. Big, DLC-sized quest mods are nine times outta ten messy, poorly-made and poorly-written, feel like they should've been fo3 mods, or have numerous other qualities that are detestable to normal people with taste. I've played most of the popular ones and hate nearly all of them. Here are the ones I actually can recommend.

Note: I also highly recommend having a proper modding setup before installing any of these. Everyone and their mother has already recommended the Viva New Vegas guide before because it works and it's beginner-friendly.

Allow me to spare your dash by putting this list under a cut.

"DLC-sized" Quest Mods

Boom to the Moon - A quest where you go to the moon (yes, really) to find out what happened to a man's wife. I promise it's way better than I could possibly describe. Honestly I recommend almost all of Jokerine's mods for her attention to detail and all the cool shit she makes. This quest mod doesn't even end with the moon trip, you'll also get the best-written mod companion I've ever seen. Seriously please give this one a try if nothing else on this list.

Autumn Leaves - A murder mystery in an archival library vault inhabited by Protectrons. Story so good Bethesda stole it to make a fo4 DLC. No combat, no need for weapons or companions. WARNING: if you suck at navigating vaults like I do you may have a bad time finding stuff (there's a walkthrough in the files). Also some of the lines are a bit odd because the author's first language isn't English. Also one character is a bigot in every way possible because he's intentionally designed to be as punchable as possible. Despite all of this it's still easily one of the best quest mods I've ever experienced.

Unfortunately, making quest mods DLC-sized in general leaves ample opportunity for shit to get messy fast, so honestly your best bet for quest mods is smaller scale, vanilla-feeling mods. So while I highly recommend the above mods, I'd recommend the following ones even more for a more seamless experience.

"Vanilla-feeling" Quest Mods

The Collector - A quest given by a broker in which you collect debts from gamblers. Similar to the Atomic Wrangler quest Debt Collector.

Caravan Tournament - Do you suck at Caravan? Skill issue. Play this anyway and tell me how it feels to lose because I'm sure it's just as interesting as winning but I'm too good at Caravan to to see it for myself. If you get good you get to see a tiny Robobrain wearing a hat.

Working On The Chain Gang - A Powder Ganger Quest Mod - Okay, technically this makes a second faction of Powder Gangers that aren't affected by your reputation with the vanilla Powder Gangers (so yes, even if they hate you, you can experience this mod). These new Powder Gangers reorganize themselves into a legitimate faction that blends seamlessly into the Mojave NPC ecosystem.

The Moon Comes Over the Tower - This one is technically cut content, but that just means it's peak vanilla-feel. Restores the rest of the quest where Emily Ortal asks you to bug Mr. House's network in which you actually have to travel to places to do it.

Okay, these ones are silly, but trust me

Among Us But It's Fallout - It's a vault with a murder mystery you get to solve! Memes aside it's honestly really well done and you should try it.

The Hollander Hotel and Casino - For a quest involving a haunted hotel (no jumpscares, don't worry), this one feels a little goofy at times, especially with The Shining references and the guy outside selling nothing but 500 bottles of Sunset Sarsaparilla. But you should give it a try anyway.

Legion Quests

Haven't done a Legion run not because you don't like being a bad guy, but because the Legion route feels lacking? Try some of these.

Legion Quests Expanded - Adds more Legion quests and expands several vanilla quests.

A Golden Opportunity - Legion El Dorado Quest - A quest where the Legion goes in and shuts down the NCR's El Dorado station.

Five Card Ante - A Legion Quest Mod - A quest parallel to Three Card Bounty in which you get to eliminate the NCR's First Recon.

Yes I Would Actually - A Legion Quest Mod - You know how Bitter Springs has three quests you can do for the NCR? Well, now you can do them for the Legion instead. You can even recruit help from the Great Khans to fuck the NCR's shit up.

#fnv #fonv #fnv quests #fnv mods #fnv modlist

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Well damn… can I request an Abraham imagine where he’s super possessive of the reader and sees her innocently just talking with a man so he just walks up them, slaps her on the ass and drags her to his place to have rough sex? Spitting and choking included if possible?

Sorry this has taken me so long. I hope it's to your liking!

Warnings: Discriminatory language, typical 1950s social etiquette and attitudes, spitting, choking, smut. Word count: ~1000

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

“Just one more week, Mr. Ruskin, and we’ll be off your land, I promise.” She says, keeping her tone saccharine as she lays a lingering touch upon the farmer’s arm.

Truthfully, he makes her nauseated. She sees the lecherous way his eyes linger upon her and the other women within the camp, she’s overheard the vulgar names that he and his wife use to refer to the Romani people when he thinks they’re out of earshot. However, she needs to keep him sweet, they’ve more than outstayed their welcome in his field, but have yet to secure another location to move onto. She has no intentions of sleeping with him, but if she continues to make him believe it’s a possibility then maybe, just maybe, she can convince him to allow them to stay a bit longer.

The older man scoffs, cocking an eyebrow at her. “That’s what you said last week, and the week before. I need that field for cattle, can’t very well have my cows wandering around your caravans now, can I?”

“Just one more week, please?” She moves her hand further up his bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze as she does her best to flutter her eyelashes.

The darkened look that forms in his eye turns her stomach, his breath is sour upon her face as he leans in, thick, calloused fingers stroking her cheek. “Perhaps you could make it worth my while?”

“Oi! Get away from my girl!”

Shit.

Mr. Ruskin pulls hurriedly back from her as Abraham advances towards them, his axe clutched tightly in both hands. He looks between the weapon and the angry expression he currently wears, then turns and retreats back to his farmhouse.

“You’ve got twenty-four hours to vacate, gypsy scum, or I’m calling the police!” He calls over his shoulder.

She rounds on Abraham, fury causing her cheeks to blaze as she glares at him. “What did you do that for, you bloody idiot?! You’ve just cost us our place to stay!”

“You let me worry about that.” He snaps, placing the axe over his shoulder as his free hand moves to grab her by the arm and hurry her back towards the camp.

“Nothing would have happened, Abe, I was just trying to convince him to let us stay!” She protests as he marches them back towards their caravan, pushing her inside and slamming the door behind them.

“Oh really?” He sets the axe down by the door, shrugging out of his coat and untying his neckerchief. “‘Cause from where I was stood, looked like his hands were all fuckin’ over you!”

She wants to scream with frustration. She understands Abraham is the jealous type, he always has been. His ex-fiancée having an affair has made it difficult for him to trust anyone else romantically. But she needs him to understand she would never betray him like that.

“I was just trying to help. Ruskin’s been trying to turf us out for weeks.”

“That’s for me and Pal to sort. I don’t want you flirting with anyone else, you’re mine.”

She sighs, fixing her gaze upon the softness of his blue eyes. “I’m not Luella. I know I’m yours.”

He advances upon her, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look up at him. “Say it again.”

Heat pools between her legs as she stares up at him, taking in the sight of his pupils blown wide with lust. “I’m yours.” She whispers.

His lips descend upon hers, hot and rough and possessive as he releases her chin to bury his hand in the hair at the back of her head, the other moves to grip her hip, maneuvering her back towards the fold out bed they share.

He lays her back, his tongue sliding against her own and she feels the growing hardness of him pressing against her through his trousers as he settles on top of her. He finally breaks away from the kiss, hands frantically unfastening his belt and zip.

She is transfixed by the sight for a moment, before hurrying her own movements to ruck up her skirt and rid herself of her tights and knickers. Propping herself up on her elbows, she watches as he spits into his palm, stroking it along the length of himself.

“Lay back.” He orders huskily.

He hovers over her once she complies and she lets out a gasp at the stretch as he pushes himself inside of her. He stills once he has bottomed out, the only sounds in the caravan are their combined heavy breaths.

“Say it again.” He murmurs against the shell of her ear.

“I-I’m yours.” She breathes out.

The snarl that Abraham emits is almost feral sounding as he begins to snap his hips against hers, each bruising thrust causing the tip of his cock to nudge against the spongy spot inside of her, making her whimper and writhe beneath him.

His large hand wraps around her throat, squeezing gently as he leans down to kiss her sloppily.

“Open.” He mutters against her lips and then pulls away.

In spite of the restricted blood flow caused by his hand, she giggles, opening her mouth obediently and sticking her tongue out.

He smirks, gathering saliva in his mouth and letting it drip slowly from his lips onto her waiting tongue. He groans as he watches her swallow it, and she feels him twitch inside of her, his pace faltering as he nears his release.

“Mine.” He grunts, tightening his hold on her throat and brutally rutting into her, before spilling inside of her with a low moan.

The pulsation of him reaching his peak inside of her is the final nudge she needs to reach her own and she clenches around him with a desperate cry.

He lets go of her throat, collapsing against her and she strokes her fingers through his perfectly coiffed hair, something he is sure to gripe at her for later.

“Yours.” She utters one final time, kissing him on the temple.

He gives her a reassuring squeeze, his voice distorted by the crook of her neck. “Don’t worry, love, I’ll burn this fucking field before I let him kick us out of it. I look after what’s mine.”

#abraham #grantchester #ewan mitchell #abraham smut #abraham grantchester #abraham fan fiction #abraham fanfiction #abraham fanfic #abraham fan fic #grantchester fanfiction #grantchester fan fiction #grantchester fan fic #grantchester fanfic #grantchester smut

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Nine

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: You’re invited to stay the night at the Delphi camp. Despite the the way you feel after your reading, Tommy urges you not to cause trouble and to pretend like everything’s okay until you leave in the morning. Easier said than done…

Warning: language, alcohol, harassment, ethnic slur, almost smut

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter Nine: Dancing in the Moonlight

We like our fun and we never fight. You can't dance and stay uptight, it's a supernatural delight. Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight.  — Dancing in the Moonlight, King Harvest

You were not a light weight. 

Working in a bar for many years and having learned quite a few drinking games in college, your tolerance for alcohol had grown to an impressive height. 

At least, that’s what you thought. 

The thing was, having traveled back a hundred years, the food and drinks were a completely different animal. 

For starters, just the simple access to food was something that, even to this day, you were still getting adjusted to. For the first month, you didn’t think you’d ever go a day when the subtle ache in your stomach from hunger would subside. It felt like a permanent fixture of your daily routine at that point. 

You seriously could not wait until home refrigerators became an affordable thing. Or non-mice-infested pantries. 

The hunger began to ease once your friendship with Ada deepened and your job with the Shelbys became routine. You weren’t sure if Polly could instinctively sense your in-neediness, or if it was just part of her caretaker character after looking after her niece and nephews for most of their lives — but either way, Polly was always shoving a plate or cup of something in front of you when you found yourself sitting in the family kitchen or the sitting room. 

You thought it was odd at first, especially at the beginning when you didn’t think she liked you at all. But eventually you came to understand, and appreciate.

That appreciation bloomed tenfold when the boys came back and you stopped going over to the Shelby house for a couple weeks. Especially on the days when you were so busy and worked at the pub for such long hours, you’d get home and realized you hadn’t had a bite to eat at all since you woke up that morning. 

You didn’t let yourself have too many of those days before you got smart, thinking ahead to stash some food in the pub office to eat on a break or when you got off work. 

Thankfully, the night you’d played your drinking game with Tommy had been one of those days when you’d remembered to eat. 

Today, you were beginning to realize, had not been one of those days. 

After you and Tommy left Madam Despoina’s caravan, Johnny Dogs led you both to a bon fire and a blur of people shoved a plate of something in your right hand and a cup of something else in your left. 

Not giving a flying fuck in the world about what was in the cup, you knew it had to be alcohol and you were desperate for some kind of solace from the absolute madness that you’d just had to endure. 

So you downed the cup. And an instant later, someone was refilling it and you graciously downed it again without even so much as looking at your plate. 

How did they expect you to eat after everything that’d just happened? How did Tommy expect you to just hang out with these people like their leader hadn’t just mind fucked the hell out of you? How were you supposed to act normal, like nothing happened, when you couldn’t even understand how your feet were moving under your body at this very moment? 

Your cup was full again. By the time you felt a pair of hands grab your waist and pull you toward a seat by the fire, it was empty. 

Without even looking to see who’s hands were on you, you knew it was Tommy. You should have been over analyzing the way your body had grown so comfortable with these small touches so quickly, but your brain was fritzing too much to appreciate again. 

“You need to relax,” you heard softly, the vibrate of his voice against your ear and body heat against your side made you shutter. 

Someone came over to refill your glass again, but before you could raise it to your lips, Tommy relinquished the drink from your grasp. Your brow furrowed as you looked over at him, noticing him give a pointed look at the refiller before meeting your eyes. 

His brow lifted at your confusion and nodded toward the still untouched plate in your other hand. “Not ‘nother sip until you eat.” 

You pouted slightly, missing the way his stern expression turned into amusement by your disappointment as you started to dig into the meat.

“If you expect me to relax and be sober tonight after what just happened, you’re crazy —“ 

“What I expect is for you to not cause trouble, to play merry guest to our hosts so that we get out of here unscathed in the morning,” his deep low voice vibrated through you once more at his closeness, and it made you shiver again. 

He mistook your body’s reaction to his voice for being cold and wrapped his arm around you, rubbing your shoulder to try and warm you up while ordering you to keep eating. His body felt like a fortress around yours, and your brain began to slow in its spiraling. 

You looked up at Tommy, watching the light from the fire dance across his brilliant blues as they continued to scan your surroundings. A feeling crept up in you as you outlined the profile of his face, focusing on where sharp lines met soft curves until you felt him pull you even closer to him, the arm around you tightening. 

“May we help you?”

For a moment you thought Tommy was talking to you, having been so focused on him that you hadn’t heard anyone else approach the two of you. 

Your head finally turned and your eyes adjusted until they landed on the man who escorted the three of you into the camp standing in front of you. His eyes were moving between you and Tommy, lingering longer on you, which caused Tommy’s grip to tighten again. 

“Just wanted to see if the lady wanted to dance,” the man replied, sounding innocent enough as he stepped aside and gestured to the group of people dancing next to the fire. Music was playing somewhere on the other side and you were surprised that you hadn’t noticed it before. 

“Perhaps later,” Tommy answered for you. “After she’s had a chance to finish eating.”

The plate that was still in your hand suddenly felt heavy at his words, remembering his instructions. 

You were hating that in the last couple days, you felt like your brain was constantly trying to catch up with your surroundings. Usually you prided yourself on your awareness, but ever since Tommy flew into your life it felt like you couldn’t keep up. 

It didn’t help that you were at least moderately buzzed at this point. 

“Dancing would be fun,” you said, mostly to yourself, once the man left.

You felt Tommy sigh as you continued to pick off another piece of the meat.

“Fine,” Tommy said, rising from his seat. You shivered at the quick removal of his body heat from your side as you looked up at him confused. He offered his hand to you, “Let’s dance.”

“Um,” you hesitated, but moved to set down your plate as you took his hand and he pulled you upright. Your eyes scanned the bon fire where the others were dancing as Tommy led you closer, his hand on your back. “I, um — I actually don’t really know how to dance.” 

“Really?” He seemed genuinely surprised at your reveal, pulling you closer to him as you got to the dirt dance floor. “Well, allow me the honor of teachin’ you.” 

He smiled as he faced you, taking your right hand in his and you instinctively placed your left hand on his shoulder. Your eyes continued to scan behind Tommy, trying to take in the motions of those around you to mimic as best you could. You saw Johnny Dogs spinning a woman around, both enjoying themselves to the upbeat tempo. There didn’t seem to be a pattern, but everyone looked like they knew exactly what they were doing. It eerily reminded you of dance clubs back in your time — rhythmic chaos.

“Eyes here,” Tommy’s soft voice snapped your eyes back to his, feeling his hand settle once again at the base of your back, pulling you closer to him. “The dancin’ at a gypsy camp is much different than a ballroom. You’ll find it’s quite difficult to waltz when the mud sticks to your soles.” 

You chuckled at that, still feeling a little insecure as he began to move, taking a step backwards, and then forward, as your bodies began to hop to the beat. It was simple, like walking. But you couldn’t stop your eyes from watching your feet, unsure where Tommy’s lead was going to take you and paranoid that you’d step on his feet. 

“Eyes, Y/N,” Tommy said again, his voice with more authority but still amused as you looked sheepishly back up at him. He chuckled, “If you watch your feet you’re bound to trip. Keep your eyes on your partner and your body will follow.”

“Tell that to your feet later,” you countered, still skeptic in his advice. 

“Everyone can do the foxtrot — even me.”

Your chin nudged to the people beside you, who were dancing much wilder than you and Tommy. “And them? What dance are they doing?” 

Tommy shrugged, “A variety, I suppose. Looks fun, dunnit?” 

At that, Tommy pushed you outward and whipped the hand still holding yours so you’d spin back into him, your arm and his now wrapped around you as your body collided with his. You squealed in surprise, returning back to your original position. Tommy was smiling down at you as he pulled you in closer, moving your bodies faster than previous as the music quickened. 

“It’s not far off from the dancing you do in the Garrison,” he reminded you. Your mouth opened to counter, a flush of embarrassment of him having watched you dance and sing when you thought you were alone in the pub, but he stopped you. “Just have fun with it. Don’t think, just feel.” 

You hushed your original response and squeezed your lips together. Your eyes moved between his, “First horse steering, now dancing. What else can you teach me?” 

He hummed, his cheek rising in amusement as his gaze moved lower to your lips. 

Of course, Johnny Dogs chose that time to approach the two of you, dancing happily and obliviously as he shouted his greeting over the music. 

“Johnny would be a much better teacher of dancing, I’m afraid you’ve exhausted my abilities,” Tommy said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You doubted his words, but Johnny perked up at the compliment and bowed dramatically, offering his hand to you politely. 

You hesitated, not wanting to leave the comfort of Tommy’s embrace. Before you could counter, Tommy was handing you off and taking a step back. You missed the warning look shared between Tommy and Johnny Dogs as the latter pulled you closer to the group. 

You looked behind you as Tommy walked back toward the log you’d previously been sitting at, his hands shoving into his pockets. 

Some time passed (ten minutes, an hour, you had no idea) and you were learning that Johnny Dogs was an excellent distraction from your own intrusive thoughts. That, and the drink that kept appearing in your hands. By the fourth or fifth time Johnny Dogs had you spinning with his hand over your head, you found yourself thinking less about the circumstances of where you were and why, and even less about your out-of-time dancing skills, and actually began to relax. 

And though you missed the intimacy of Tommy’s dancing, you found that Johnny Dogs was wonderful company. He was a good-time-Charlie if you’d ever seen one, and kept you smiling and laughing with every hop, skip, and beat. 

You were spinning again, giggling as you kept your eyes closed before your body collided into another. The person grabbed your waist, and for a moment you thought it was Tommy finally coming back to join you. 

But you quickly realized that the touch wasn’t the same, and turned until you faced the man who’d asked you to dance earlier. 

You still didn’t know his name, but he smiled and pulled you in closer, taking your right hand into his left and sliding his right hand around to your back. He held you like he knew you, and all your instincts told you to pull away. But you couldn’t help but hear Tommy’s voice in the back of your mind telling you to behave, play nice until morning. 

“Finally let you off his leash, did’he?” The man said with a wicked grin as he pulled you closer to him. 

You narrowed your eyes at the implication that you were some kind of dog, and was about to say so when he continued. 

“Madam Despoina told us you were someone special,” he went on, his eyes scanning your face, “said to be on our best behavior and to leave ya be. We were placing bets on who ya were. My guess was the missing princess.”

Your brow creased at that, for a moment forgetting the creepy grip and focusing on his words. “Missing princess?”

He chuckled, “Aye. Many a royal blood ‘as come to our camp or requested the Madam’s presence. You’d be surprised how many queens and princesses I’ve seen since joining the camp. They’re never as pretty as you expect them to be. You on the other hand—“

His finger ran down the side of your face before you shrugged away, his hand still around your waist. 

“I was wrong though. No way you’re the missing princess. I’ve ‘eard Russians before, and they sound nothin’ like ya.”

Russian princess? You thought, trying to filter through your rolodex of historical royals. The obvious came to mind. 

“Anastasia? Really?” your voice was less humorous and more ‘are you an idiot’ sounding than you’d meant. 

The infliction didn’t go unnoticed. The man’s smiling face hardened slightly and his grip around your hand tightened. You immediately regretted your tone and looked over your shoulder to where Tommy had been sitting, but the log was empty. 

“He’s gone,” the man said, knowing who you were looking for. “Went to get his own fortune told, no doubt. Men will pay or do anything for an audience with the Pythia.”

It seemed the old woman carried on the tradition of her ancestors. You wondered if this man was right and tried to discretely look around the camp for him, or even Johnny Dogs. Anyone to keep you from doing something that you’d later get in trouble for. 

“Come on, doll face. What, are ya not having fun with me?” he asked, his voice back to what it’d been previously. It reminded you of every guy who’d never taken no for an answer back in your day. 

“I’m just tired,” you finally mustered, trying to pull away from his grip. “I want to go find my friends.”

“Tired, huh? I can find you a place to lay down—”

“I don’t think so,” your voice stronger, your resolve to behave quickly starting to crack with the way this guy wouldn’t let go of you. “Please, let go of me.”

“But you’re drunk, love. Wouldn’t want’ya to fall. That face is so pretty. The Madam wouldn’t forgive me if I let anything happen to ya.” His grip tightened enough to pull your body close against him, this time without the pretense of dancing. He lifted his hand and moved your hair behind your ear, your skin flinching at his touch as you tried to shrug away again. 

You looked around to see if anyone else was noticing the harassment, but during your dance he’d managed to pull far enough from the fire where no one was paying the two of you any mind. 

“I doubt she’d be happy with you pushing yourself on her guest,” you tried to bite out, still trying to maintain some kind of politeness even though you were two seconds away from kicking the guy in the balls and running. 

His eyes narrowed and smile began to fall as his hand grabbed the side of your head, his fingers forcing your face to look up at him while his thumb spread harshly along your cheek. “She said you were important. That you had a gift. Know what that says to me? That you can make someone a lot of money, eh?”

“Get the fuck off me,” you finally spit, balling up the man’s shirt in your fists that were sandwiched between your bodies as you tried to push him away. 

But his grip tightened as his head began to move closer to your face. You thought for sure he was going to try and force himself on you, and you were already prepping to slam your head into his face before his lips could even try and touch yours. 

You didn’t get the chance to. Suddenly, the man was being pulled backwards and Tommy’s face appeared over his shoulder. 

“Mind tellin’ me what you’re doing?” Tommy asked the man, surprisingly calm. 

The man shoved out of his grasp and shook his shoulders. “We were just dancin’!”

You scoffed, “Yeah, and I’ll dance my foot in your ass the next time you grab me like that!”

The man growled, taking a step forward toward you before Tommy grabbed him by the collar, fist full of shirt as he pivoted himself between the two of you and pulled him closer to his face. 

“Do you know who I am?”

The man tried to shove away, but Tommy’s grip was strong and moved to his throat. The creep looked between his captor and then to you, as if you could save him. As if you’d even try. He finally coughed and nodded. 

“So you know what I do. I give you this chance because we are guests of Madam Despoina and we’re not here to make enemies. But I’ll promise you this, there will not be another chance. The next time you lay a finger on her, my blade goes through your fucking throat.”

Tommy let go of him, nearly shoving him to the ground in the process. While the man tried to catch his breath, Tommy reached behind him until your hand was safely in his own. He pulled you to his side, his eyes finally leaving the other man as you both walked back toward the fire. 

Johnny Dogs was running your way, his eyes reading the situation as he looked behind you and began an apology. 

“Save it,” Tommy spat. “Just make sure the horses are ready by dawn. We’re going to the caravan.”

Johnny nodded and you gave him an apologetic look. It wasn’t his fault that the creep had led you away. You weren’t a child and he wasn’t a baby sitter. But you doubted Tommy wasn’t thinking that way. 

He brought you to another wagon similar to the one Johnny Dogs had been driving, parked along the outskirts of the campsite. There was a small fire just outside, and a rope tied from the wagon to the nearby tree. 

You were about to walk in, the drunk part of your brain (who was trying to detach from the traumatic experience you’d just been a part of) eager to see what the inside of this caravan looked like, when Tommy stopped you. 

His grip made you jump, pulling away from it quickly, your defensive guard still sensitive after what had just happened. Tommy held up his hands, obviously reading the situation and silently apologizing. 

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his hand reaching up to gently touch your face as his eyes scanned you over. 

You breathed out a humorless chuckle at his calmness, “How are you always so— god, you nearly killed that man after he tried to—“ your voice was surprisingly weak as the words died in your throat. 

It wasn’t the first time a man had been grabby with you. Even before your trip to the past, working in a bar and just the everyday life of a girl who enjoyed the occasional night out with her friends. You’d had guys grab you, push themselves against you, even forcibly kiss you. Thankfully, you’d never had anything go further than that. After a time that came too close with a boy you thought was a good friend, you took some self defense classes with your girl friends and started integrating kick-boxing into your workout routine. Since then, you’d only had to use your new skills a handful of times, and luckily each time you’d been able to get away or have the man back off. Even now, in the 20th century, you’d only had to physically fight off one man at the pub, and you’d been lucky to have Harry as backup. But you knew not to let your guard down, especially when you walked the streets after dark. 

What happened to you just now, well it felt much different. It wasn’t a drunkard trying to cop a feel. This man felt like he wanted to own you, control you. And you hated feeling like you couldn’t fight back, all because of whatever social standard bullshit this was supposed to be. 

Suddenly, you were angry at Tommy for having put you in that position in the first place. 

“It took everything for me not to slice his fuckin’ neck open the minute I saw his hands on you,” Tommy replied, his eyes revealing the silent rage behind them. “But that would have spawned a vendetta and a bullet with my name on it by the Delphi family.”

“That what Madam Despoina told you would happen?” you asked, deciding to test the creep’s theory. 

Tommy’s brow creased at your query, his mouth tightened and you already knew your answer. 

“I had to settle payment for our visit,” he explained evenly. “This wasn’t exactly a favor.”

Your anger evaporated as the realities of the situation came into view through your slightly more sober stupor. “How much? Whatever it was, I’ll pay you. Take it out of my paycheck, whatever you need to do.”

Tommy huffed, shaking his head before he started messing with the fire. “Drop it, Y/N—“

“I’m not a hand out, Tommy. And I’m not a doll to be played with at the will of everyone around me,” your voice was harsher than you meant it to be, obviously still affected by the days events. 

It was more than that, even. Your mother, the time jump, being a woman in the 1910s — you were constantly feeling like you were at the mercy of everyone else controlling your life, your future. 

Tommy stood up and cautiously approached you, still sensitive to what you’d just gone through. You suddenly felt dizzy — the alcohol, the adrenaline, the lack of food all in your system. Your knees buckled slightly like a scene out of a cheesy rom-com and Tommy caught you, pulling you against him to stabilize you. 

Your body froze, for a moment feeling like it was in danger again. But you immediately recognized the familiarity of Tommy’s grip and found yourself relaxing into it, trusting his hold on you. 

“You’re a strong woman,” he mused softly, lifting your head up to look at him. “I know you were holding yourself back for my sake. Next time, don’t.”

You all but growled, “You told me to behave.”

“Aye. And I behaved enough for leaving him uncut. But I’d rather face the curse of a fuckin’ angry gypsy than have someone even come close to threatening you again.”

Tommy blinked at his words, obviously surprising himself with them along with you. You didn’t know the first thing about Romani curses, but you knew enough to realize that what Tommy had just said meant something serious. 

He cleared his throat, his grip still holding onto you. “I’ll find out from Johnny Dogs who he is in the mornin’. Whoever he is, he’s high enough to be given escort duties. Believe me, I’ll make sure his actions don’t go unnoticed.”

You nodded, surprisingly okay with letting him take the reigns in how to handle this situation. 

“Go on now,” he nudged you toward the caravan. “The clothes we packed are inside. Change, and I’ll hang up your dress on the line so the mud dries by morning.”

At his words, you lifted up your skirt and felt the heaviness of the wet mud soaked in the fabric. You surprised yourself with how used to the dirt you’d gotten, not even noticing the weight anymore or that your socks were always just slightly damp. 

You climbed up the stairs and sat at the top, leaning forward to unlace your boots and slide off your shoes and sock. He tied the laces of your boots together and hung them and your socks over the line. 

You sent Tommy another look as you stood up at the top of the stairs, half worried that he’d disappear again like he had when he left you to dance. 

He seemed to recognize your look and moved to the doorway. This was the first time you’d ever been taller than Tommy, and you took in the new angle of his face as your fingers itched to reach out. 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, love. Go, get dry and warm. I’ll stand guard right here where you can see me.”

Silently, you nodded as you finally entered the caravan. 

Inside, an oil lamp and a few candles were lit so you could see, and you were surprised at how big the inside was. It was different than the one you’d been in to meet Madam Despoina. It was interesting how much it resembled a modern day sleeping RV — bed palette against the back wall, vanity to your right, even a small stove and fireplace to your left. You ran your hand along the wall and marveled at the beauty of the carvings and ornate decorations that lavished the space. The whole thing was absolutely beautiful and you wanted to meticulously look at every single piece of art that was this caravan. 

Your foot hit the bag Tommy had packed you and you remembered what you were there for, rummaging through and grabbing the nightgown Tommy had shoved in there without you realizing. Luckily, it’d been one of the clean ones, and you sent a quick prayer to whatever god you needed to be thanking for this miracle. Even if you were in the 1910s, you’d still be mortified if you had to share a bed with a man wearing dirty clothes. 

You paused, both realizing and wondering if you actually were going to be sharing this bed with Tommy tonight. On the vanity, there was an empty bowl and pitcher of water. You peeled out of your warm clothes, peeking over your shoulder to double check that the door was still closed while still being able to see Tommy’s silhouette through the stained glass. The cold air hit your skin, and you were suddenly thankful for this centuries insistence on wearing multiple layers of clothing. 

You sacrificed a splash or two of water from the pitcher to give yourself a quick hand wash, focusing on the essentials at the moment — your hands, face, neck, arm pits, under your breasts, and between your legs, even swishing some in your mouth and spitting it into the unlit fireplace. You gave yourself a sniff with semi-satisfaction (not that you trusted your sense of smell at all anymore, though being out of Birmingham and in the outdoors definitely increased the aroma in the air) before finally throwing on the nightgown. 

You appraised yourself in the small vanity mirror, pulling the pins out of your hair and combing it with your fingers until some of the tangles released. In the nightgown, a scene from the movie The Mummy came to mind and you felt like Evie from the boat scene, realizing that in just a few fictional years Brendan Fraser would be battling over the City of the Dead. 

Shaking the frivolous thought from your head, you gathered up your clothes and finally walked back toward the door, knocking on it before opening. Tommy took them from you and secured them on the line before standing back in front of the doorway. His eyes took you in, and you suddenly felt shy, questioning the sheerness of the nightgown with the light illuminating behind you. 

“Oh, you need to change too!” You realized, almost jumping as you tried to figure out where you needed to go in order for him to do that. 

“Hand me the bag, I can change out here.”

Your brow creased. “It’s way too cold out here for you to do that.”

“It’s too cold for you to stand out here in just that as well,” he responded, gesturing toward you. Feeling even more exposed, you found yourself crossing your arms over your chest, as if that could hide anything. 

He took off his jacket, and for the first time you noticed the shoulder holster. He hadn’t had it on the other night, which you found curious, and you were realizing that aside from the blade in his hat, this was the first time you were seeing Tommy Shelby with a weapon.

Your eyes moved with the movement of his hands as he began to unhooked his watch chain before putting it and the watch back in the pocket. He shrugged off the holster, cradling it in the bend of his arm as he started unbuttoning his vest. The motion snapped you out of your gaze as you stood there awkwardly, wondering if you should be turning away to give him his privacy when he handed the contents and his hat to you. “Hang these on the hook inside.”

You moved at his instructions, ready to make yourself busy. Before you could return to the doorway, Tommy was making his way up the steps. You noticed he’d hung up his breeches, socks, and shoes, as well as put out the fire. He stood in the doorway in nothing but his pants, shirt, and shoulder holster, waiting for permission to enter the caravan from you. 

Grabbing the bag that wasn’t yours, you handed it to him and cleared your throat, trying to keep your eyes from staring too long. 

In the past few months since you’d arrived in 1918, you’d been so preoccupied with surviving and trying to figure out what was going on, your love life had been the very last thing on your mind. Even before you time jumped, you’d been going through a dry spell in your dating life.  

Tommy Shelby had reignited something that you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. And despite every reasonable argument you’d had with yourself since the moment you met him, you absolutely couldn’t deny your attraction to him on both an emotional and physical level. 

Suffice it to say, it’d been quite a while since you’d been alone with a man in a bedroom before. And of all the things, there was no way being alone with a 1918’s gangster in his underwear was on your time travel bingo card. 

You were wondering if they had the game bingo yet while Tommy rummaged through the bag, grabbing a pair of socks and handing them to you. 

“These are bound to be much warmer than whatever is in your bag. First rule we learned in France durin’ the winter was to always keep our head and feet warm and dry.”

Unsure how to respond, you grabbed the socks and followed his orders again. You realized what a militant follower you were when you had no idea what to do with yourself or how to handle your own awkwardness. As you sat on the bed and put on the socks, you watched Tommy start up the fireplace easily, mumbling something about wishing he’d done it earlier. But you were already starting to feel warmer with the door shut, the thicker socks, and the extra body heat within the small space. 

You were trying to convince yourself that it was safe falling asleep in this wooden box with a fire burning when Tommy’s voice grew louder. 

“Right, that’ll do it,” he said when he finished, rising from the floor. 

You were still seated on the edge of the bed when he turned toward you. The air grew thick with a tension you easily recognized but refused to name. 

He cleared his throat, dropping his head as he looked down at his feet. “I’ll take the floor. I grabbed the extra blankets when I brought in our bags.”

Your brow creased as you looked from Tommy to the hard, wooden floor, and then behind you to the bed you still sat on. The palette was easily wide enough to fit the two of you. 

“That’s silly,” you found yourself saying before you could stop yourself. Tommy paused putting together his makeshift bed and his eyes snapped to yours. You forced your heart to slow and tried to appear cool. “There’s no way I’m letting you sleep on the ground when there’s plenty of room on the mattress.”

“I didn’t want to impose,” he said cautiously, not yet moving to join you on the bed but also not continuing to make the spot on the floor. 

“We’re not teenagers. I think we can control ourselves,” you chuckled, trying to convince both Tommy and yourself that this was the only reasonable option. “I can trust you, right?”

You surprised yourself with the vulnerability behind your question. Your voice must have implied the same because Tommy’s throat bobbed as he considered it. 

The truth was, you did trust him. The rational part of your brain was calling you crazy, especially after what had just happened. But there was something deep in your gut that made you irrationally feel safe in Tommy’s company. You’d been alone with this man more than you had been with him in the company of others, you realized, and this was nothing different. 

You’d just be laying in a bed. Alone. In your underwear. 

“Yes,” Tommy answered simply, though the strength in his voice held the weight of the implication. “I’d like to still sleep closest to the door, if you don't mind.”

You shook your head, scooting backwards on the mattress until you hit the back wall. 

“You sure you don’t mind?” Tommy asked as he approached the bed, throwing the blankets at the foot. “The camp may talk.”

Your brow creased. “Don’t they already think that we’re together anyway, since they only offered us the one caravan to stay in?” 

Tommy shrugged, moving to sit at the edge of the bed, leaning against the wall to face you. “Perhaps. But I could have slept in the wagon we came in, or in Johnny’s caravan.”

“I guess,” you replied, leaning back against the opposite wall. “So why didn’t you?”

He breathed out of his nose before reaching to scratch his neck. “I left you alone once tonight. I’m not plannin’ to do that again, not here at least. If you weren’t comfortable with me staying inside the van, I’d spend the entire night sitting against the door. I’d still do that, if you decide to change your mind.”

You felt your face blush slightly, instinctively moved by the protectiveness of his words. A few hours ago you may have protested against needing the bodyguard-like protection, stating that you could take care of yourself just fine. But after the crazy day you’d had — the dream, the reading, the creep — you decided to give in and let him have his way without the usual color commentary. 

Your pride would never let yourself admit it out loud, but in this moment, you welcomed the safety he was offering and tried to not read too much into it. 

“I’m sorry again for that. I shouldn’t have left you.”

You shrugged, trying to rationalize the situation. “It’s no one’s fault. He was determined to get me alone, it would have happened regardless. I’m just glad you got there before I knocked his teeth in. Or something worse.”

You both remained silent for a beat.

“I wish you hadn’t left, though. I was enjoying dancing with you.”

He scoffed, “I saw how much fun you were having with Johnny Dogs. He’s a much better dancer than I am. You were loosening up more with him.”

You shrugged. “I would have gotten there with you, if you’d stayed. You make me nervous, sometimes.”

Tommy hummed, an amused smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “You didn’t seem nervous in the wagon.”

Your eyes met his, searching to see the exact meaning behind his words. He was talking about your move to kiss him, though he hadn’t said it outright. 

“I was. You hesitated,” your voice softer than you intended, your own insecurities prevalent. 

He breathed in as his eyes flashed down to your lips and then back to meet your eyes. “I’m a cautious man, Y/N.”

“And you don’t trust me,” you swallowed, your eyes dropping down to the spot beside him as Tommy’s own words from earlier that morning rang through your head. 

You heard him breath in deeply through his nose before exhaling. At the feel of him pushing himself off the bed, your eyes moved back to him as you watched him walk to your side of the caravan before sitting back down. 

“I’ll admit, that was an oversimplification to our current situation,” he said as he lifted his hand to your face, his eyes watching your reaction. 

You hated how desperate you wanted him to say he trusted you. So much so, your brain began to scramble to find the words to tell him everything right then and there.

“Tommy,” you breathed out, your mouth ghosting against his as your body instinctively leaned forward.

“You have secrets, but no lies. I can accept that and reciprocate.”

“I don’t want secrets,” you managed to say honestly as your eyes moved between his. 

“Aye. Neither do I. But until then,” his voice died as his thumb brushed across your cheek and his pointer lifted your chin the half inch it needed to line your lips up to his. 

There was no hesitation this time. Tommy kissed you with purpose and depth as his hands raked through your hair to cradle your neck. You met his attention with gusto to match, your hands moving from his chest to his back as you pulled yourself closer. 

When he began to pull away, your arms flexed to keep him against you. You felt his mouth smirk as it hovered over yours, your forehead still pressed against his own before your lips met his again. Your kiss demanded to know why he continued to hold himself back. 

His only response was to tilt his head and open his mouth as his thumb stroked the pulse at your neck before wrapping around your waist. Without warning, he lifted you up and pulled you onto his lap, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as your hands held on to his shoulders. Your fingers found purchase in his hair as you leaned his head back to connect your lips again. 

His hands raked across the expanse of your back and up your sides, his thumb ghosting against the swell of your breasts in an aching tease. On instinct, your hips rolled forward, desperate for some kind of friction to the tightly wound tension that’d been building since the minute you’d seen each other down at the Cut. Tommy’s grip tightened as he groaned at the motion, the evidence of his own enjoyment of your body against his clear as your hips moved to repeat. 

A loud bang at the caravan door caused you both to jump, whipping your heads toward the noise as you gasped. For a moment, you were worried it was the man from earlier back for round two. A second knock followed by a voice calling for Tommy determined it was Johnny Dogs. You let out a relieved breath before it turned to annoyance — how did that man always manage to interrupt you both just when things were starting to get good. You huffed, still trying to slow your heart rate as your forehead met Tommy’s again. 

“Jesus fuckin—“ Tommy swore as he sucked in a harsh breath between his teeth at the third loud knock.

He took your face between his hands before kissing you again. A fourth knock finally had him pulling away from you as you crawled off his lap. 

“Someone’d better be dying,” he said under his breath as he ran his hand across his face and walked across the caravan toward the door. He shouted from the inside of the still closed door, “What?”

“It’s Madam Despoina,” Johnny Dogs said from the other side. “She wants a word. Now.” 

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

tag list: @cillixn @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @swordofawriter @sweetmilkshakeluminary @ttae-yong @topstory21 @cole-silas @moral-terpitude @optimisticsandwichgladiator @reallysparklychaos @enrapturedbythemoon @bat-shark-repellant @kpopslur @ilovestrngrthgs @musicsweetie21 @invisiblexcth @lovelydivs @whoisf4yryl0v3r @itscheybaby @laylasbunbunny @lordofthunderthr @luvstylesz @roseanimelover @lostgirl219 @berarenado @akemiixx01 @mulletmcghee @jasminxts @fanfics-that-hit-my-feels @piceous21 @xoprincessmel @invisiblexch @arcanebabe

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x oc #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #time after time #fanfic #mine

[grendel-menz]

i already liked caravan and i started listening to (and have almost finished) girl in space after seeing your fanart do you perhaps have any....other podcasts you might recommend .... (also i love your art)

Aaa thank you!! Also yes, I do! Podcasts are the main things I’m into honestly :,D!

Mirrors: Three women throughout three centuries of time find themselves haunted by ghost. A story about reaching to your family through time to help them live a beautiful life. Sci-Fi, anti capitalism, reality bending, family love.

Alice Isn't Dead: A lesbian trucker drives across the US in search of her wife who she thought was dead. It's a poetic horror about anxiety and distance and state violence. One of my favorites, if you're only ever going to listen to one podcast listen to this one. Horror, grief, making pizza with your wife and trying to forget what she's done to you.

Ars Paradoxica: A genius female physicist creates a time machine and changes the history of the cold war. Scifi. Very clever. The nightmare of war and its effects.

MABEL: a nurse caring for a dying old woman in a strange house. The nurse keeps trying to contact the old woman's missing granddaughter as the old woman becomes worse. CORE LESBIAN PODCAST. Fairy horror. Love that devours.

Limetown: A town built for a small number of scientists suffers a strange but unknown catastrophe. An investigative reporter searches for answers as to why limetown destroyed itself and what exactly was happening there. female narrator. Conspiracy horror. weird weird science.

Unwell: lesbian gig worker visits her small hometown after years away to help out her mother who has spiraling health. Cozy southern gothic horror. gay, ghosts, general creepiness.

Within the Wires: Lesbian podcast about an alternative history after a war where culture and family has been destroyed for humanity's ‘safety’. very unique approach to story telling. every season is a different theme with a different narrator. Scary governments, forbidden love, lots of talk about art.

Old Gods of Appalachia: As a rural person this one is very dear to my heart. It’s a southern gothic horror, but the horror element isn’t just focused on the nightmare monsters alone but the destruction and poverty brought to the Appalachias by companies. Very well researched podcast that tells stories of sex workers and minorities.

The White Vault: A collection of recordings and documents going over strange tragedies and occurrences in cold places. It’s a language rich horror with a complicated story. Snow storms, scientists, people in the wrong places at the wrong times.

That’s all I can think of for now! I have a really soft spot in my heart for women and horror so there’s a lot of that on here :,0.

Here’s some old posters I made as well!