A Shoulder To Lean On

Scared to Dance Alone

Sevika x Reader (f!reader) (fluff & angst) SFW!

You get hurt on a mission and Sevika feels her worst fears come to life.

One second, you have the sole of your boot pressed menacingly onto the back of a brawler’s neck, one that had been protecting the newest chem-baron Silco had sent you after. Sevika is on the other side of the room, her metal claws pierced into another man’s abdomen as she interrogates him harshly. The next second, there’s an agonizing pain that splits across your skull and your world begins to spin as you collapse to the ground, body thudding loudly against the splintering wood. 

You feel your head knock against the floor before the lights go out, leaving you limp. You lie on the floor, completely unaware of the bustling commotion around you as Sevika is quite literally tearing those men apart, sparing them no mercy as she sends their bodies through the tables. She hauls you up, keeping an arm tucked beneath your knees and the other around your waist. She shakes your body gently so that your head lolls over onto her shoulder, providing as much support as she can.

She treads through the streets, keeping an angered expression on her face. Bulldozing through the crowds, shoulder-checking people left and right as she runs as fast as her body will take her through the smoked-out streets. She keeps her arms tight on you, but her hold is as gentle as possible. She crashes through the door of your shared apartment, kicking it shut as she steps inside. Unfortunately, unless you were bleeding out, no shitty medical center in all of Zaun would be able to take you in. 

She opts for gently laying you down on the bed and peeling your jacket away from your knocked-out form. She grabs a rag and dampens it and snatches the make-shift first aid kit from the bathroom before rushing back towards you. She pulls a rickety chair to the edge of the bed and sits down on it, loud boot clanking against one of the legs. She grits her teeth as she swipes the wet cloth over your rosy cheeks with an uncharacteristic gentleness, washing away the dried blood and dust.

Her hands move swiftly as they rub at the injuries and grime, pushing your baby hairs away from your sweaty forehead. She leans forward to press her lips against your forehead and mumbles a quiet “I’m sorry,” against your skin. “I really need you to wake up for me, yeah? I really fucking need you to get up,” She continues, desperation lacing it’s way into her voice. “I can’t do this shit without you, c’mon,” She pleads, sniffling as she swallows back the tears that threaten to break free. 

Long, horrific, silent minutes pass as she stares down at your unconscious form, tracing the back of her knuckles across your features. She keeps a wary smile on her face as she simply just watches you, encapsulated by your beauty. “Please, just fucking wake up,” She repeats, finally letting out a soft cry as the tears slowly roll down her cheeks. She reaches up to wipe the stray tear from her cheek, ultimately smearing the blood spat that was already on her face.

You’ve both gotten scuffed up plenty of times, gotten your fair share of punches and blows that knock your bodies over; (more so you than her). However, she has never seen you like this. This lifeless, this hurt, this broken. She has watched you take on armies of men, put down countless guards and goons. But she has never seen you so… withered, before. 

It’s as if her worst fears have crawled from the depths of her brain and painted themselves right before her eyes. She feels like a failure, that she had one job to do and she fucked it up. She always manages to, right? People get too close, then they get hurt, and then she does the one thing she knows she can do. She fixes it, and she will fix it over, and over, and over, until her fingers bleed and she can’t stand upright anymore.

You stir slightly at her movements, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks. You hum out quietly and reach for her hand, weakly grabbing onto it. “Vika?” You say quietly, lazily prying your eyes open. She immediately tightens her fingers around yours and sits up straighter, eyes lighting up at the sound of your breaking voice. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” She murmurs, stroking her thumb over the backs of your bloody knuckles. “Can’t keep letting me do all the work, you know that I hate dancing alone.” She continues, soothing the cloth over your hand. You chuckle quietly at her poor attempt of lightening the mood, which quickly falls into a weak cough. “Easy, easy,” She comments, smoothing her hand over your chest. 

“How are you feeling?” She asks, watching your behavior closely as she looks for any signs of discomfort. “Mm… I’m okay, other than my head,” you reply, giving her a weak smile. She nods at your words and strokes her fingers through your hair gently. “Can you stay awake for me while I go get you some ice?” She questions sweetly. Once you nod, she presses another kiss to your forehead and departs for the kitchen. 

You really do have to fight to keep your consciousness, clinging onto anything and everything you can until she returns. Once she does, she gently pulls you up by the back of your head and places an ice-pack wrapped in a rag onto your pillow. She lowers your head back onto it, soothing her thumb over your temple.

“Had me real scared, y’know that?” She says, sitting on the edge of the bed as she pulls her boots off. You listen as they thud against the floor, keeping your heavy eyes on her. “I didn’t mean to,” You reply, staring up at her with big eyes as she crawls onto the bed next to you. “I know, baby, it’s not your fault.” She responds, settling on her side, scooping you up into her arms. 

She holds the ice-pack against your head with her mechanical arm, using her flesh arm to push your shirt up and softly stroke her fingers over your bruised back. “Just stay with me, let me take care of you.” She says, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips. Her lips feel like a ghost against yours as she remains mindful of the cut on your lip. 

“I love you, so much,” She whispers, and your breath hitches at the words. It’s not rare for her to say it, but it’s not common. She finds vulnerability in general very, very hard, but she will always show you in other ways. She does it mainly through action, whether it’s buying you an outfit you saw and just had to have, or by dropping off the newest pound of gold that you both had stolen off of one Silco’s rivals. You grin at the scowl on his face, chuckling as his lips curl into a snarl at your boastful behavior.

Her love and devotion to you is violently undeniable, no matter how hard she tries to hide it. Anyone with half-decent eyesight, or none at all, could never miss the way her eyes almost sparkle as she looks at you with a reverence no one, or nothing else would ever receive. The love she feels for you is unprecedented, something that could never be replicated. You softened the heart of the most feared woman in the entire city, you have completely undone her. 

“I love you, too,” You repeat, brushing your lips together gently. You pull away to hold her jaw, pressing your foreheads together, “Thank you for everything, for always bringing me back home,” You continue, tucking your body closer to hers as you chase the comforting warmth. “We also need to get you into the shower, you’re filthy.” You chuckle, reaching for the discarded cloth behind you, gently working it over her bloody cheek. 

- 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝐒𝐇𝐄/𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋

.ೃ࿐

𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀t personal fav

request: open

~~

— important!¡

English is not my first language, if I make I mistake please correct me but always with respect 💗

themes that I’m familiar with;

• arcane (my favorite)

• the umbrella academy

• house of the dragon

request are open!! (but I don’t make them very quick)

read before you do a request!!!

- I usually write about everything but there are some things that I rather not to

- English is not my first language so if I make I mistake with your order o you can give as much as detail as you can it makes my writing easier

- I’m not fast at doing request (I have to study)

- smut (not good at it)

- I don’t feel comfortable writing boyxboy (but I can do a reader without pronouns) , just because I’m not very used to it, neither butch4butch (same thing) and things like asking me to make the reader have autism or some specific stuff, I don’t now about many of this subjects and I rather not to write about them so I don’t make anybody uncomfortable (hope everybody understands this)

- sex no consensual, r4pe, ped0, discrimination, incest etc.. immediately banned

pornstar vi

cw. angst minors dni

vi loves you so much. it hurts her so fucking much to go out and fuck other girls..she's cheating that's all she thinks while shes there entertaining the media with another girls pussy. sucking her up, cumming all over her with a camera to show all the good stuff. but it's her job. it's how she lives. it's how she can manage to support you too.

she comes home guilty, and tired. showers the dirtiness that really never leaves and then goes and lays in bed with you, she often wonders if you think of it as an audacity.

she knows it hurts you. you hide it very well, but it comes out in sighs when she's too tired to pleasure you. it comes out in whimpers she can hear coming from you under the sheets, pretending to be asleep. but you still smile at her and kiss her good morning.

you're perfect. beautiful, smart, loving, everything she could ever want. so why are you with her ? you're obviously not okay with what she's doing, hell, she's not okay with what she's doing. but you still stay around.

today vi had sex with another woman. a camera pointing at her fingers sliding in and out of her pussy..eventually her strap, but..fuck she was beautiful, i mean— all the girls she's with are pretty but dammit shes gorgeous, ethereal even. probably, no, she could say the most beautiful girl she's ever seen—...what ? what the fuck did she just say ? no fucking way. you're the most beautiful girl she's ever laid her eyes on, you're the most loving, caring, amazing girl she's ever been with..

so why is she enjoying this ? why isn't she faking moans ? why is she messing up her lines to say different ones she usually says to you ?

why was she having sex with this woman?

vi’s cheating.

her hair was shoulder length. blue. blue eyes she was making roll into her skull. pink lips with a pink clit and moans like it's all she can do.

she gave the blue haired girl her number, lips twisting as she confesses that all those moans were real, confessed she thought she was gorgeous. vi gave the note to her manager, letting her know she wanted to work with her again and went home. went home to see you.

she walked in and immediately got hit with the smell of dinner and your arms around her, lips on hers that she reached for comfort but now was wondering if you could taste the cupcake of the girls chapstick.

she loved you so much. it hurts her so fucking much that she is slowly fading from you, slowly pushing herself away as fans gawk and love the duo of vi and caitlyn, making more and more pornos of them come out. I'm cheating. that's all she knows as her intercourse is 100% intimate with cait. sucking her up, cumming all over her without a camera to show all the good stuff, her eyes is all she needs.

she knows you're catching on. vi can only hope that you find out soon, slap her, cry and scream at her because it's what she deserves. she knows it. she aches for it. but not as much as she aches for caitlyn.

masterlist

𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠⠀ׁ⠀ㅤ  𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐥, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 . ⠀ ༊·˚ 𓊇ྀི

bounded by business (2)

part one here!

peaky blinders x fem!reader, thomas shelby x fem!reader

type: fluff/angst(?)/smut(ish)

summary: a second class powerful gang in the south of london reaches out too a strong working class gang in the south east of birmingham for a union. Whilst the wedding takes place, unwanted guests break in, causing the newly wedded couple to panic.

timeline: preferably at the start of season 2, maybe even before, but after grace’s betrayal. (Arthur is not married to Linda yet.)

warnings: swearing, gang talk, arranged marriage, weapons, kissing, toxic uncle(?), mention of cheating bf, violence, mentions of blood, reader getting sh, mentions of slight sexual interaction, smoking, drinking, brief mentions of guests getting high,

note: guys i apologise if the wedding isn’t correctly done as i am brown, and i don’t often go to weddings outside my culture, however, i have tried my hardest by following how weddings within the show went including some research. i highly apologise! thank you💗

masterlist.

requests are open❗️

Three days have passed since the meeting with the Peaky Blinders. It’s rather late and you’re at one of the posh pubs your family owns, drinking away the sorrows for the next day. Tomorrow’s the day you’re dreading. Oh how you’d rather get thrown in the cut than marrying some man that threatens to cut people with razor blades - a man you barely know.

“It’ll be alright,” you hear your best friend say, placing her drink down, snapping you out of your little daydream, offering comfort by giving you a little side hug. “He’s probably not as scary as you think.”

“(best friend’s name), He’s feared by the whole of Birmingham.” you speak in an obvious tone, turning your head to face her, raising your brows.

She, smiles, clearly amused. Whilst pressing her lips against the glass of wine, she teases, “Looks like you’ve done your research on your soon-to-be-husband.”

That earned her a wack on her waist.

“Ow!”

“Shush.” you remark, smirking lightly, watching her playfully glare at you from the corner of your eye, whilst sipping on your wine.

“I am NOT doing this!” you yell out, pushing away from your uncle and mother who are practically dragging you into the church.

“y/n you’re marrying him whether you like it or not!” your uncle growls out harshly, anger fueling his eyes, grabbing onto your arm again, harder than before.

“Mum!” you whine out, moving your pissed gaze from your uncle towards your mother.

“y/n, darling, just do this for your dad, you know how bad he wanted you to get married.” she calmly and sympathetically answers with, unlike what your uncle is doing. Your father died in the war, by an unexpected bombing attack from the German troops.

Trying to resist your uncle’s harsh grip, who’s attempting to get you into the church without messing your gorgeous white gown, flawless makeup and hair, you snap a light remark towards your mum, “I’m sure he would have actually wanted me to marry someone I love, not some wannabe gangster who waves his razor around.”

“Well that ‘wannabe gangster who waves his razor around’ provides you protection.” your uncle interrupts your mum from speaking, mocking your words, raising his voice towards you, “My brother- your father, would rather have wanted a man who’d protect you till his last breath than a guy who cheats on his girlfriend with a whore!”

You want to say something back, but the mention of Andrew stung, you thought you’ve drank the pain away, but of course, it’s still there.

“Now you’re going to fucking go into that church and marry him.” he yells in fury, pushing you towards the church harshly, each word being spat with anger, there’d be no surprise if the people inside the church heard, “I don’t want you causing any of your fucking scenes in there, you understand? No fights, no arguments, i don’t want any of that shit!”

When he hears no response, he snaps, scaring you,

“Do you understand?!”

Your mum shoots you a warning look, both of you knowing that if you don’t respond, he’d drag you in by your hair that has been curled gracefully by your older sister.

“I understand.” you softly mutter through gritted teeth.

“Now get in.” he pulls your arm, dragging you towards the church, your mother following behind.

“Tommy there’s still time y’know,” John mutters to his older brother, who’s stood at the alter, “You barely even know the woman! Who knows, she could probably one of those fuckin’ pointless activists?”

“John, listen to me, yeah? We might not know what she’s like, but are we going to drop a really fucking good deal over some woman, aye?” Thomas raises his brows at his younger brother.

“But Tommy-” John starts, however getting stopped when he notices you beginning to walk down the aisle. The younger Shelby sighs, cursing under his breathe, moving himself away from Thomas and towards Esme.

As the ceremony begins, everyone hushes down, watching you and your uncle, who’s masked his irritation, walking down the aisle, your veil coving your face, disguising your fury which you’re trying to stop from releasing, for the sake of the wedding. You keep your eyes low, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Now stood infront of the Altar, your uncle passes you to the feared brummie gangster you’re forced to marry, you feel his thick, calloused hands taking your slimmer soft ones carefully, as if you’re glass that can be easily shattered. Those same hands now lift your veil up, revealing your neatly done makeup which is applied onto your soft, pretty, gorgeous face. His piercing blue eyes study you, yet keeping a stern expression, making you feel interrogated. Your gaze can’t help but lightly examine Thomas in return, noticing the way his expensive suit decorates his muscular build.

Breaking away from your gaze, both you and Thomas now turn, facing Jeremiah Jesus - a close friend of the Shelby’s.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join together in holy matrimony, Thomas Michael Shelby and (reader’s full name).” Jeremiah speaks aloud, “Thomas Micheal Shelby and (reader’s full name), have you come here to enter into a marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?”

“I have.” Tommy replies, beside you, in his usual raspy tone. Jeremiah’s eyes now land on you, as you haven’t said your confirmation.

“I have.” you mutter carelessly, looking away.

Jeremiah then lightly nods, “Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and to honor eachother for as long as you both shall live?”

“I am.” you both now say, you now wanting to get this shit over with.

“Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church.” Jeremiah continues, watching how both you and Tommy hold hands.

“I, Thomas Micheal Shelby, take you, (reader’s full name), to be my wife. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. To love you and to honor you all the days of my life.” Tommy states his vows, repeating after Jeremiah, in a stern, cold tone, with his usual brummie accent, staring down at you, his piercing blue eyes glued onto you.

“I, (reader’s full name), take you, Thomas Micheal Shelby, to be my husband. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. To love you and to honor you all the days of my life.” the vows come out your mouth, unwillingly, not wanting to have come out of your plump lips. You return his stern look he gives you.

Jeremiah then continues on with his speech, finishing off with 'Amen'. He then sprinkles the wedding rings, that bound you with Thomas, with holy water, handing one to you and to Thomas.

“(reader’s full name), receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father and the Son, and the holy spirit.” the feared Birmingham gangster announces the vows Jeremiah indicates him to say, as he places the wedding band onto your left, ring finger, sliding it on.

“Thomas Micheal Shelby, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father and the Son, and the holy spirit.” you repeat the words, failing to hide your light annoyance as you place the wedding band onto Thomas’ left, ring finger.

“Now let us humbly invoke God's blessing upon this bride and groom, that in his kindness he may favor with his help those on whom he has bestowed the Sacrament of Matrimony.” Jeremiah states to everyone within the church, “In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife. The husband may now kiss the bride!”

As Jeremiah speaks the last sentence, your now husband, carefully cups your face, bringing his face closer towards yours, pressing a kiss onto your lips, instantly melting into it, you hesitantly place your hands onto the nape of his neck, closing your eyes, the kiss now turning quite intimate. Cheers erupt.

“Alright, calm down you both, no need to eat eachother up, you’ve got a whole house to do that shit in!” a deep, joy fall teasing voice erupts behind Thomas, snapping you both out of eachother’s mouths, seeing the owner of the voice, Arthur, smirk. You pull away from him, your brownish pink shaded lipstick now lightly smudged onto his lips, looking away, moving your gaze around, seeing your uncle nod lightly - in approval - his stern facade still remaining. As you look around, your eyes then land on a couple of Spanish lads, rivals of yours,

they surely weren’t on the wedding list.

“Right everyone, let’s get the fuckin’ family photo done!” Arthur yells aloud, snapping you out of your train of thoughts, making everyone get outside the church, where the wedding photo is meant to be taken.

As both yours and Thomas’ family gather around you both, infront of the camera, Arthur bellows for space to be made, guiding the less important guests away from the camera. You then look towards the field on your right, the same group of unknown Spanish men huddled together, seemingly discussing something suspiciously. Unexpectedly, you get pushed, loosing your balance on your heels, you fall into your husband. He quickly reacts by grabbing your waist, letting the cigar be held with his lips, holding you upright as you regain balance.

“Alright?” you hear him ask you, through the cigar, softly, yet his Birmingham accent present, looking down at you.

“Yeah, thanks...” you mutter, your light London accent contrasting his, as you straighten yourself, avoiding to look at him, still stubbornly furious at this wedding.

The rest of both families now finally find places to stand for the photograph. As the photographer announces the photo will be taken, Thomas snakes his arm around your waist, catching you off guard as he pulls you closer to him, your arm unconsciously resting onto his back, hand placed onto your shoulder. The Spanish men depart, moving away from others, you notice and can’t help but feel a hint of panic growing within you, you weren’t aware of their presence being made at the wedding.

As the photographer states that the photo has been taken, both families now disperse, mingling with each other. You notice how John and your younger brother getting along, having a laugh with one another. Yet your mind is still on those group of lads.

Family and friends now gather around you - same with your husband, you feel arms wrap around you in a friendly hug, you then notice it's your best friend, your chosen bridesmaid.

“I told you it'll be alright.” she mutters into your ear.

Unable to hide your light smile, you step back, letting go of her. “Don't get too full of yourself.” you mutter back, teasingly. She now moves to the side, as your mother embrace you. “Your father would be proud.” your mum states, cupping your face, smiling lightly.

You smile very lightly, placing your hands upon your mothers. “For dad.” you mutter.

Time passes, family and friends congratulate the newly weds. Finally, your uncle approaches, patting Thomas on the back, congratulating him and the rest of the Shelby family, the rest of your family following along on bidding their now in-laws a congrats, the Spanish not to be seen.

After a while, the party makes their way to the Arrow House for the reception. Thomas makes his way towards you, placing his hand on the low of your back, guiding you towards the chariot.

“Let's take you to your new home, aye?” he says as he helps you up into the chariot.

“I can get on it myself.” you snap lightly towards him, refusing his help, causing his corner of his lip to curl upwards into a very tiny smirk.

The ride to the Arrow House was silent. As the chariot approaches your new home, you can't help but notice how gorgeous the victorian house is. You look up mesmerised by the beauty. Thomas notices but doesn't say anything, instead he gets off the carriage and puts his hands out to help you down, which at first you refused to take, until you realised your wedding dress weighs you down, giving you a high chance to face plant the floor. Stepping into the house, you look around, captivated by its stunning decor, looking at the paintings with decorate the walls. The wedding party follows behind, cheering and laughing with one another.

“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Shelby.” you hear an older woman say, you turn your head to where the voice was coming from, realising it was a maid.

“Is everything set, Frances?” he mutters, exhaling smoke.

“Yes, Mr. Shelby.” she replies.

Everyone settles in, music erupts in the hall, couples singing and dancing, getting drunk and high. You observe around the room, figuring out where the Spanish lads have wondered off too.

A woman, seeming a couple of years younger smiles at you, “Welcome to the Family.” she passes you a glass of irish whiskey. “I'm Ada, Ada Thorne, Tommy's younger sister.”

You gladly take the whiskey offered to you, taking a long needed sip, “Thanks, Ada, i'm y/n I/n-”

“Shelby.” Ada corrects, a light smirk plastered on her face as she sips on her own glass of whiskey.

“Oh don’t worry, darling, you’ll be hearing ‘Mrs.Shelby’ all the time, it’ll stick.” an older woman speaks, smirking at you, standing next to Ada, sipping on her champagne.

Ada then speaks up, gesturing over to the woman beside her who looks you up and down, “This is Aunt Polly.”

“If Tommy ever lays a finger on you, or even says or does something horrible, you come straight to me.” Aunt Polly added in a strong womanly tone, “I’ll sort the man out.”

You and Ada let out a light chuckle.

“Pol, you’re making him seem like he’s fucking crazy!” Ada states.

As you’re in a commotion with the two shelby’s, drifting the worry caused by the Spanish off your mind, giggling whilst drinking, your older sister and your 5 year old niece, walks over to you. Your niece then smiles up at you, embracing you, you lift her up, and let her nuzzle into you. Your sister leans over and whispers in slight worry into your ear. “y/n, I don’t know where (uncle’s name) is, (younger brother’s name), (older sister’s husband’s name) and (male cousin) is looking for him, Mum’s just told me there’s unwanted guests here, I think it’s the Spanish.”

As she speaks your smile falters, the two Shelby’s notice the change of your dementor and how panicked your older sister seemed. “Is everything alright, loves?” polly asks, her happiness now being replaced with concern.

“I- yeah…” you mutter out, staring at your sister in disbelief, you then look around the hall, downing the rest of the whiskey and putting the glass down, “I saw a couple of them…”

“And you didn’t think of telling us?” your older sister says, in a more lecturing tone, backing up, so she can see your face.

“I-” you try to reason, but judging on the look on her face, you knew there was no point, you look around the room, trying to spot any of the Spanish, or anyone involved with them.

“What's going on?” Polly now questions more seriously, Ada now backing her up.

Your sister turns to face your in-laws, “There's uninvited guests here, some of our enemies...”

Polly's face darkens and Ada's brows rise.

Polly then turns her head looking around and then her gaze lands on 3 young lads. She takes a couple of steps across the room.

“Mum?” one of the younger lads, seeming the eldest out the three, furrows his brows up at polly, and then eyes you and the others around you, “Is everything alright?”

“Micheal, I want you to go to Tommy and let him know there's unwanted Spanish guests here, enemies of the l/n foundation.” Aunt Polly states in an authoritative tone, “Isaiah, Finn, just keep an eye out for the Spanish.”

All three boys nod and does as they're told.

The door to Thomas' office gets swung open, revealing a panicked Micheal, “Tommy!”

The Shelby gangster looks up from the paperwork, a string of smoke releasing his lips, he promised to polly that it would take only a couple of minutes, yet has been stuck in his office for half an hour, “Micheal, what's wrong?”

“Tommy, there's unwanted Spanish guests here, enemies of the l/n foundation.” Micheal walks towards his desk, eyeing the paperwork.

Tommy then stands up from his seat, stubbing his cigar out, placing his pistol into his holster, “Make sure everyone stays put, Micheal.”

Thomas leaves the office, Micheal following behind into the hall.

“John, Arthur!” He motions for the two to come over, joining your sister and niece, your mother, your auntie, polly, Isaiah, Finn ada, esme, Micheal and himself.

As the family has all came together, your mother begins to fill the family in on how no one knows where (uncle’s name) is, (younger brother’s name), (older sister’s husband’s name) and (male cousin) are looking for him as well as the fact there are unwanted Spanish enemies here, as guests.

Tommy looks around the group.

“Is everythin' alright?” Arthur asks his younger brother, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Where the fuck's my wife?” he spits out in protectiveness, his gaze darting around the room for his spouse. You're his wife now, you're his woman now, you're his responsibility.

“She was with us a moment ago.” ada blurts out, worry overtaking her body, worried for her sister in law she just grew a strong bond over.

“Where is she now!?”

“Who's that?” Esme states, motioning over towards an older lad, who's walking at a fast paste, across the dance floor, standing out, like a white crayon in a box full of black ones.

Everyone looks at the guy Esme gestures towards.

“John, Arthur, come with me. Everyone else, keep guarded.” Tommy then follows the older man with his two brothers following behind.

“Mum, she'll be fine, she's capable of anything.” your older sister wraps her arms around your mum's shoulders, assuring her you're fine. Polly passes her a glass of whiskey, knowing how the worry feels, as she felt the same when Tommy, John and Arthur went off to war.

“She's a strong woman.” your auntie adds.

“Auntie y/n the best!” your niece butts in, making the family chuckle.

Your fist meets one of the Spanish men's nose, causing him to stumble back into the wall holding onto his broken, bloody nose, a couple of the enemies lay on the floor, dead, blood covering your white wedding gown.

“You bitch!” a strong Spanish accent is heard behind you, causing you to turn and grab the wrist that was aimed at you, pulling the lad forward, putting him into a headlock, “Oh, I'm the bitch?” you sarcastically spit out, facing him towards the other man, him watching as you shoot the man in the headlock, dropping dead.

The guy with the broken nose looks at you in horror, horrified at what such a pretty, naive-looking woman could do, he clearly underestimated you. You're no naive woman, you're a woman with power and intelligence. In your eyes, no msn can own you, snd you'll make sure that Thomas Shelby's well aware of that.

Another bullet releases from your pistol, piercing the heart. He falls dead. As the bullet was shot, you get pushed to the side, harshly against the wall, getting pinned. You groan at the harsh contact. The man lifts his gun up. Unable to react in time, he wacks the gun across your face, face snapping to the right, pain shoots through, a few cuts begin to let out blood. Without being able to process what just happened, he punches you, your face snapping the other direction. You let out a painful grunt.

A cold, metal barrel meets your chin, face now tilting up, looking at him coldly and with deadly eyes, even though he could end your life in seconds.

“I knew you were sexy, but I didn't think that having you under me, with the ability to end your life in seconds could be sexier.” he growls out in a strong Spanish accent, “What should I do hm, darling? You've killed all the others.”

You stare up at the man as he looks you up and down, checking you out in the bloody white wedding gown with the stained veil decorating your head.

He then grinds his hips into yours, causing you to back yourself more into the wall, you've never felt so vulnerable, “Should I fuck you and then kill you, or just kill you, huh? What would your husband think when he sees you dead, my cum traveling down your legs?”

You close your eyes, not wanting to look at the older man, disgusted, “You dirty fucking bastard.” you mutter out, clearly not wanting to admit how you're in a dead end.

That earned another sack across your face, you whine out in pain, the gun barrel retuning to where it first laid. He clearly didn't like your attitude.

Bang.

part three coming soon!

dm to be added on the taglist!

taglist: @meadowshelby @iceyyycapsicle @lunxrstellx @jbrownta

THE WORST OF ALL BLESSINGS, THE BEST OF ALL CURSES

read on ao3

content warning(s)!! graphic descriptions of injury, mentions of surgical procedure, heavy angst, hurt/comfort(?)

summary: You are an ambitious young surgeon from the Undercity. When a handsome woman with a severe injury is brought into your care, your medical skills - and emotional capacity - are tested to the extreme. other tags: surgeon!reader x Sevika // canon-compliant // Sevika-centric // character study // slow burn // mutual pining disclaimer: i'm not a doctor or even a med student. apologies for any and all inaccuracies

TABLE OF CONTENTS

i can hear the sound of a heartbeat (before it goes out)

what brings you to the lost and found?

sold your friends like guns for hire

---

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

still waiting for vampire!sevika or vampire!vi 🤠

BECAUSE OF YOU (masterlist)

vi x fem! reader

precis: After leaving to mourn the mysterious death of her sister Jinx, Vi returns to Piltover determined to put the past behind her. That is, until she stumbles across the social media of a girl who may know crucial information to her sister's cold case. With secrets spilling and tensions rising, Vi hopes her sister can be put to rest because of you.

content: modern/social media au, language, lying, betrayal, mentions of death, drama, cheating, all characters are young adults (18-22), most parts are in text but some may be written chapters, perspective will be next to the chapter name

prologue

episode 001 ⎯ "IN THE STREETS OF LA" (v)

episode 002 ⎯ "SOMETHING TO HOLD ON TO" (r)

episode 003 ⎯ "SELFISH AND WILD" (r)

episode 004 ⎯ "IT WAS A MAD WORLD" (r)

episode 005 ⎯ "LOOK AT ME NOW"

episode 006 ⎯ "JUST LIKE I THOUGHT"

episode 007 ⎯ "YOU DID."

epilogue

© silknspice

request for Sevi’s reaction to jealous reader 👀

can be when they’re in a relationship or when they’re just “friends” who have mutual feelings for each other

loveee this

men and minors dni

you thought it was obvious. you and sevika have been flirting for weeks, spending progressively more time together, and tonight, you thought it was all coming to a head.

you thought she'd asked you out on a date.

two nights ago when you were pressed against each other shoulder to thigh on your couch as you shared a bowl of popcorn and watched some stupid slasher, sevika had turned to you and said 'do you wanna go out with me this weekend? to a bar or something?'

you agreed.

you thought it was obvious.

you thought it was a date.

but you've clearly misread the situation, because after chatting and giggling all night (and after you spent an hour stressing about your outfit and losing all your sleep last night from nervous excitement) sevika excused herself from the little booth you two were drinking in to 'get more drinks.'

turns out 'getting more drinks' meant flirting with a girl at the bar, grinning and flexing as some stranger feels her up.

you gulp.

the girl hands sevika a napkin, presumably marked with her number.

your nostrils flare.

sevika turns to come back to your seats, and you down the rest of your drink.

she sits across from you, pushing you your drink, and you chug it.

then you snatch her whiskey out of her hands, drinking that too. sevika gawks at you.

you stand from the booth and leave without a word, storming out of the bar.

you get about fifty feet away before she's running after you, calling your name and grabbing your shoulder.

"fuck's goin' on with you?"

"forget it. it doesn't matter now." you say, holding onto anger so you don't fall into tears.

"what?! i don't understand-- it was all fuckin' fine and i got more drinks... did i get you the wrong thing or something?" she asks. you scoff.

"you can't be that stupid." you say. sevika blinks at you. then a little smirk forms on her lips.

"wait..." she says. the anger in your chest bubbles as you anticipate her next words, "...are you jealous?" she asks. you snarl at her. she grins. "oh my god you're jealous!" she says, gleeful. you turn on your heel and storm away, desperate to get home so you can cry in your pillow.

you don't get far. sevika's grabbing you by your wrist and spinning you around to hold you in her arms. you gasp as her hand comes up to cup your face. you pout, trying to swallow back all the emotions stirring inside you.

"oh my god. i'm a fucking idiot." she whispers. you look away from her. "you -- this whole time. i didn't think you were intrested but -- you've just been waiting for me to make a move, huh?" she asks. you scowl up at her.

"what the fuck makes you think i wouldn't be interested?"

she doesn't answer your question, instead she pulls the napkin with the number out of her pocket, crumbling it and tossing it into the trash can beside the two of you. you grin.

she kisses you like she's been waiting months to do it.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay

HEAR ME OUT, Sevika as a famous ufc boxer 😼😼

Monopoly | Sevika

⤑ Sevika x Hyper!fem reader

⤑ Summary: You were being extra flirty with your clients. Vika's stone glare icing every curved contour of your breasts spilling out of your v-neck,your hips, and your ass… you knew you were in massive shit.

⤑ Warnings: Language, Possessive!Sevika, Jealousy, Prostitute!Reader, Toxic Relationship, Ownership Kink, Smut (+18) mdni, Dark fic, Pleasure dom!Sevika, Thigh riding, Impact Play, Ownership kink, Hard Dom!Sevika, Sub!Reader, Dirty Talk, Needy!Reader, Masochistic !Reader, Sadist!Sevika

Yall remember that fight scene when Cait bit Sev… mhm, yeah…

She was pissed.

More than pissed if such a thing even existed.

"Aren't you overdoing it, just a tad?" When you look over at your co-worker, all you can see warring in her pale grey eyes is nothing but intense fear. Vika has that effect on people.

You try to disassociate.

You wage war with your own consciousness, pretending his hand was hers.

That's the only way you could get through these clients and their slithering hands drifting along your exposed thigh, urging you to have 'just one more drink' so you could be drunk enough to be used for whatever their lascivious little minds could think of.

Your current client, bless his soul, was chatting animatedly to his crooked group of gang members while his hand creeped over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. He didn't feel like her.

He's far too skinny. Such a jagged edge. It is difficult to imagine it was her hardness you are pressing your softness up against.

You are currently knee-deep in your job, keeping a couple of clients company in a neon lit corner of The Last Drop. Your co-worker speaks to you over the thick arm of her own client who uses her as nothing more than a thing to grope, while the gang speaks amongst themselves. Your conversation is subtle enough so as not to disturb the narcissistic man from his tedious, incredibly one-sided conversation.

You lift your cup full of untouched whiskey to your mouth, pretending to take a sip but really using it as a screen to hide your lips when you whisper back, "Overdoing what? My job?"

"Chatting these lowlifes up to give them severely underpriced blowjobs was your job. Not anymore." You didn't like the way she said 'was’. You really didn't like the way your client put his hand on your exposed thigh. It seems he had taken your miniskirt as an invitation to press his rough hands against your full, touching thighs. He still speaks to his friends as if you're not a real person, just something there. Something to touch.

"It's still my job, I'm still a whore-"

"Your girlfriend has been glaring at our table since she came in." Her words send an electrifying kind of rattle down your spine, forcing your eyes to briefly meet the dead ones of the woman seated directly across the dance floor. Dead, cold eyes stare at you, have been staring at you since she saw you hard 'at work'. You attempted to evade all eye contact over the course of the night and you had succeeded for the most part.

She didn't get to do that.

She didn't get to claim you and then simultaneously refuse to be seen with you.

Naturally, you would do the same.

"Vika's not my girlfriend," you hated the way you quickly ushered the words out of your mouth, immediately drowning them with whiskey so as to not feel their effects so poignantly.

"Vika?" Your co- worker scoffs in amusement. “I haven't seen a more volatile couple in a while,” She raises her glass to you, “Thanks for the front row seats” While your co-worker’s chuckles carry across the congested bar (what is in actuality, a thinly veiled brothel), Sevika feels her heavy fists clench. She stays in the same spot she's been sitting at. Her legs spread, her elbows resting on her knees. Glaring. Drinking. Glaring some more.

She's far grumpier than usual. Anyone could see it.

Her eyes never leave your table as she downs her nth glass of the strongest whiskey The Last Drop has to offer and she watches how effortlessly you betray her. Just last night, it had been her name tumbling from your trembling lips in drunken spurts as your cunt fought to take every one of her fingers. It had been your drunken, half lidded eyes that had looked up at her like a God, pleading for her to let you cum for umpteenth time as you bucked wildly against her. You came because she allowed you to. Like a loyal dog, you had dutifully accepted everything she gave you.

So why were you being such a brat?

Sevika has had to watch you bat your eyes up at unfamiliar men. All she could think of is dismembering each and every one of those hands groping at you and making you watch as the blood splattered. The thought alone caused a rough sort of groan to rumble from her mouth. She was bloodthirsty and horny and luckily that was your speciality.

Sevika downed the final drops of whiskey that had accumulated from the bottom of the bottle. Wiping her plump, toned lips with the back of her hand, she finally rises, making a direct beeline for your table.

As she nears, your heart hammers, yet still you refuse to look at the woman and her intimidating height or her even more intimidating arms. She wasn't wearing her cloak tonight, so you could see everything. All 185 centimeters of pure strength. Your legs clenched under the table as you looked innocently up at her.

"Move," Sevika gruffs out the very second she stands in front of the table, effectively silencing everyone present. The crass rap song bleeding from unseen speakers continues in the backdrop.

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Your client begins to ask, stunned yet remarkably shaken up. Despite trying to sound gruff, you could feel a slight tremor in his bones. The way his shoulders shrink under Sevika's shadow makes you roll your eyes.

Sevika's voice is calm but menacing. “Look, I get it. She has the body of a goddess and she fucks like she doesn't have a father-”

“H-Hey-” she doesn't spare you a single glance. Continuing to stare down the little man. Never once stumbling over her words.

“If you don't wanna lose your life, I suggest you give her to me.”

“You're dating Sevika?” he asks, very clearly rattled but masking it, albeit terribly.

“I'm not-” you begin but Sevika interrupts once more.

"My whore, please," she says, sounding bored.

"Your whore?” The man who had been on the verge of slipping his hand between your thighs, stops almost abruptly. He watches Sevika with a mixture of confusion and thinly-veneered fear.

"Fucking, Move." She does not expect you to have her say it again. By now, you should have heeded her first command. Very quickly, actually. Very obediently

With your head tucked against your heavy chest.

The fact that you weren't listening to her had her hand aching to grab you by the neck and force the submission out of you.

"I don't really have to do what you say." You cross your arms over your chest, turning your head petulantly. She hated it. She hated how much she fucking loved it.

You lean forward. Not sure where this confidence came from but praying it doesn't abandon you. Confidence is all you have in her presence. Without it, you're defenseless. And Sevika is a shark. She'll smell your weakness and it'll arouse her.

She places her hand on the table, and rests that menacing mechanical weapon there, too. The glasses rattle. She looks dead at you as she says, "If you don't get up right this second, I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill everyone at this table.” By now, the hand that had been inching along your thigh is gone. Almost everyone around you has made a clear point to distance themselves, like you caught some weird disease named Sevika. One that you just could not shake. It pisses you off.

“You're bluffing.” You say.

“Am I?”

She does something.

Something that makes that new mechanical arm of hers steam and hiss like it's begging to be used. The blood drains from not only your face, but from the faces of every patron at the table. The vibe has been ruined. It lay in rubble at Sevika’s feet. ‘She-She's all yours,” your client all but pushes you away from their booth, right into Sevika's good arm.

“Seriously!?”

Her hand immediately wrestles into your hair, pulling your hair tie out while letting your braids rush down.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” She places her hand, warm and fucking menacing, right behind your neck as she steers you to the central stairs. Your eyes are wild and pleading as you attempt to make eye contact with anyone brave enough to save you and stand up to her. All eyes immediately flit away from you, leaving you stranded. You might as well be wearing one long leash, being dragged across the dirty bar floor on all fours as you followed your master wherever she pleased.

You can feel the entire table, probably the entire bar watching you make your humiliating ascension on the wooden staircase. You knew where she was taking you. One of the many doors on the second floor that were left unchartered by normal patrons.

“You're brave,” Sevika's mouth reaches the top of your head and you have to crane your head back at her, “I'll give you that.”

“Vika- I-”

“Oh it's ‘Vika now?” Her voice sounds playful, but behind the bangs falling over her lifeless eyes, her face is stone.

“P-Please,” you stop outside a wooden door. You're not sure what you're whimpering for, probably a sliver of mercy.

Mercy you knew she wasn't in the business of giving. Something like her couldn't give mercy.

“I fucking love to hear you beg,” she groans, before pushing you into the darkened room.

“You should've led with that,” The second you enter the cold, damp room, your back is pressed against the hard wood with a firm, large grip cutting off your oxygen. You're clawing desperately at her fingers, thinking, this is it. She's come to finally kill you. Somehow you always knew you would die at her hands. Whether it's while she's strumming you to a mind-numbing orgasm. You knew she'd end you.

“Who told you to continue selling what's mine?” There is no air, and your vision is collecting black spots. Vika forces you to gaze upon her, that deep frown forever plastered on her face and that incredibly flattering haircut. The fight in you is dying. “You don't get to go anywhere. You don't get to pass out on me, little girl, were just getting started-”

In a splitting, heavenly moment, right when you're about to crash, she unlocks her fist, bringing the air rushing back into your lungs. “Who the fuck said you could just go back to your day job like you don't belong to me?” Her hand, restless and angry slips from your throat, down to your chest. You're not wearing a bra, standard uniform for someone in your sordid line of work. It makes her anger heighten and you wince as she twists your nipples through the thin fabric of your ridiculously tight top. Her eyes rove over every curvy contour, your soft, protruding stomach, and your exposed thighs. “My body is the way I make money, Sev-” a gasp so furious wrenches itself from your throat as Sevika wastes no time pushing her thigh against your legs. She's so tall, you worry for a second as your feet lift slightly off the floor and you're made to straddle her thigh.

Sevika's mechanical arm does away with your top as if it's nothing.

Soon, the clumsy, cheap material lay in pieces on the ground. She does the very same with your skirt. The arm has teeth. Teeth that rip at fabric so easily you fear it might get hungry and bite out a chunk of your skin. But Sevika controls it well. And now you’re completely naked with only a string of cultural beads hanging from your waist. Your chest is completely exposed to her hungry eyes.

She can't take her eyes off them. Your heavy breasts and darkened nipples have her pushing her leg further between your thighs, urging you to ride her.

Despite your soft yet heavy curves she handled you like you were nothing.

“I shouldnt even fucking touch you,” she spits, despite her hand very hungrily squeezing your tit. “You make me fucking sick.”

“So why touch me then?” That tone was back. Sevika cranes your head back with a firm but oppressive grip on your cheek. Your smile is manic, teeth dripping with saliva as you spread your legs for her thigh. Immediately bucking your hips against her.

“If I'm such a filthy fucking whore, why waste your time on me, huh? You that obsessed with me Sev-”

A slap, so hot and scalding bloom across your cheek, tears sting your eyes. You rear your head back, eyes flooded with shock and gratitude because thank God she hadn't used her other arm.

All you see is death in her eyes. The air is quiet as you both contemplate her slap.

“F-Fuck-” the moan oozes out of you until you're slowly starting to rut against her leg once more. She's outrageously intrigued to find you more turned on than you had been a second ago. Her stoney visage cracks at the way your hips move hurriedly against her thigh, she could feel a damp spot forming.

“Being a brat makes you more insatiable than you usually are,” her voice is thick with unmistakable lust. "You’re fucking my thigh- shit-”

Your eyes are rolled back as you focus on humping against her like the insatiable little puppy you were made to feel like, “M'not a brat ‘Vika,” she loved the way you groaned. The way you're trembling little arms move up to secure themselves around her thick shoulders as you use her to milk your own pleasure.

“So just a bitch then?” She asks, panting, as she bends down until your lips are inches apart. She nips at your pouting bottom lip and she doesn't miss the way the word ‘bitch’ has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You nod dumbly, so far gone, “Oh, you are a worthless little bitch huh?” Your hips stutter as a particular wave of pleasure has you humping her faster. “Look at you, you're fucking drenched and you expect me to share you?”

“M-My body is the way I make money.” You repeat. Too far gone to realize your slurring words have become incoherent. “Y-You can't monopolize on that-”

“You're mine-” a smile, evil and lascivious curls at her lips and you immediately lean forward to kiss them but her hand slithers up to keep your neck at bay. “-And you’re gonna cum soon- look at how fucking bad you want it,” She digs her hands into your braids forcing your head downwards. You're forced to watch your hips buck against her thigh. You immediately tweak your own nipples as your orgasm crests. “Shit- Sev, Fuck I'm gonna-”

“Watch that fucking tone..."

“I’m gonna cum- please hit me agai-” the second her palm contacts your skin, she's kissing against your cheek where the pain blooms. You come undone.

“F-Fuck, oh my God.” you ride her thigh like a bitch in heat and somehow Sevika feels accomplished when you use her like this, she feels like she might just cum watching you slip into your own orgasm and it drives her nuts.

Her fist slams against the wall at the side of your head as your hips stutter over your thigh, her breath is warm at your ear. “Fuck-” she hates the way she nearly cums from watching you alone. She hates the thought of anyone else easing this reaction out of you. They wouldn't know how to work your body like she does. They wouldn't know how to get you compliant like she can. And as you're high on the clouds of your orgasm, Sevika clamps a thick metal band around your neck. Aftershocks have your speech slurred and your eyes heavy.

“Wha- what's this? Sev, what the fuck is this-”

“My gift.” she kisses the side of your head, having yet to move her leg between yours.

You swallow thickly as a very real fear sets in.

“A fucking collar?! Sev-”

She kisses away your protests.