#grantchester fan fic

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hi I’d like to request Abraham with a breeding kink. They’ve already got twin boys and another boy but Abraham wants a girl like her mother, so he puts reader in a mating press and fucks her stupid till his cums taken root

Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Semi-arranged marriage. Ideals that might seem sexist but are quite typical for Romani communities, especially in a 1950s setting. Mention of loss of virginity. Breeding kink. Smut. Word count: ~2k

Author's note: I did a lot of research into Romani culture to ensure I got this right, but if there's anything that is incorrect or handled insensitively, please let me know. Abraham doesn't have a surname, a he's such a minor character, for the purpose of this fic I've given him one - it's Lee - quite a common Romani surname in the UK. I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She has spent her whole life dreaming of her wedding day, her thoughts filled with what her husband will be like and how many children they’ll have. 

She idolises her mother. Growing up, she helps her to care for her siblings and to keep a clean home. She learns how to cook, how to sew, all of the skills that will shape her into the perfect Romani wife. 

She hopes for a union that will strengthen her and her future husband’s familial ties and contribute towards their small community of travellers. 

It’s with excitement when she turns eighteen that she learns that a man within their community wishes to marry her, but she is nervous when she finally gets to meet him. 

Abraham; she knows of him, though they have never properly spoken. She finds him intimidating. He’s tall, has sharply chiseled features, slicked back hair and piercing blue eyes, tattoos litter his forearms. He is undeniably handsome, but there’s something about his smirk that suggests an element of danger. She’s uncertain of whether it frightens or excites her, the feeling that flutters in her lower belly when she looks at him is unfamiliar to her.

Her fate is sealed when Abraham gifts one of his prized thoroughbreds to her parents as his bride price. It’s a massive horse, with a shiny chestnut coat that he has clearly cared well for. He could sell it into racing and earn thousands, so the fact that he is prepared to part ways with it in exchange for her hand in marriage is more than enough to convince her mother and father. She cannot deny the way her heart flutters at the gesture either, it’s exciting to know that a man of his reputation is so eager to be wed to her.

Their wedding day feels like a dream come true, with both their families coming together to celebrate the happy couple. Yet despite the jubilant atmosphere and effort everyone has gone to to ensure the day is perfect, nerves swirl like butterflies within her. Their courtship has never allowed them any real time alone together and she is anxious for what will happen on their wedding night when it’s finally just the two of them.

As they join hands, Abraham’s blue eyes gazing deeply into hers with a tenderness she didn’t know he was capable of, her stomach does flips, but this time anxiety is not the cause.

When his lips press against hers for their first kiss, she is taken aback by their remarkable softness. He treats her with such reverence and care, as though he is handling something precious and fragile.

She trembles like a leaf as his steady hands help her out of her wedding dress to lay her down upon their marital bed. His calloused palms stroke across her skin, soothing her and she is once more surprised at his gentleness, a stark juxtaposition to his rugged appearance.

He takes his time with her, his kisses and caresses are unhurried, causing her to melt with pleasure, so that when he does push inside of her for the first time she feels only the faintest of stings.

As soon as she relaxes, her breathing growing heavier, her hips chasing the movement of his, it’s as though a switch is flipped inside of him.

He slings one of her legs over his shoulder, his thrusts becoming harder and faster, his forehead pressed against hers against as his eyes stare into hers.

“Been fuckin’ obsessed wi’ ya since I first laid eyes on ya,” he rasps, “Knew I had to have ya. You’re gonna look so pretty when I knock you up.”

She gasps at his words, tightening involuntarily around him, and it’s not long before he’s spilling inside of her as her own climax sends her sensitive inner walls into spasms.

Abraham’s appetite for her is insatiable and he has her on every available surface of their shared caravan, at every opportunity. She grows to love him. He has a mean streak, though it is never directed towards her; he treats her with utter adoration and is fiercely protective of her. It is only when they are intimate that his temperament towards her darkens, becoming possessive, spilling forth confessions of his desires for her to fall pregnant. She doesn't mind this, however; on the contrary, it excites her. When they aren’t together, he works hard with the horses, while she takes care of their home, and their married life is a happy one.

When she learns she’s expecting, he’s ecstatic, his large hand cradling her abdomen as he smiles down at her. She gives birth to healthy twin boys, Noah and Elijah, and six months later she discovers she’s pregnant again.

She is overjoyed when her third baby boy, Logan, is placed into her arms, though there is a small part of her that feels disappointment that he’s not a girl.

Over the next five years, their home is filled with love and laughter as the boys grow and Abraham dotes on all of them. The male energy within their home can feel stifling at times for her, and when their sons excitedly accompany Abraham to the stables each day, she feels lonely, missing the connection she had with her mother.

She longs for a daughter, someone she can teach to cook and look after a home, much like her mother did for her. But with three noisy boys keeping them occupied, there is rarely time for them to try again.

Wistfully, she thinks back on the days of when Abraham thrust into her on every surface, a memory that now seems unrealistic when they’re battling against endless shouts of “I’m hungry!” and “he’s hitting me!”

The sun has barely begun to rise as she slips out of bed, unable to sleep. Her hands cup around the steaming mug of tea as she stares out of the caravan window at the horizon, a sense of longing settling into her as she thinks about how soon her husband and the boys would be awake, leaving her alone again for the day.

She is startled out of her thoughts when she feels Abraham’s sturdy arms wrap around her waist, his chest against her back as he leans over her shoulder. The cleft of his nose presses into her hair, inhaling deeply before dragging lightly across her cheekbone.

“You’re up early, Mrs. Lee,” he whispers.

She hums in acknowledgement, leaning back against him. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“You alright, love?” Concern tinges his voice, his hand raising to cup her jaw, tilting her face to look at him.

“It’s stupid, don’t worry,” she says, moving away to place her mug in the washing up bowl on the kitchenette side.

“Oi,” he chides, grabbing her arm and pulling her back to him. “Less of that. Tell me.”

She sighs, pressing her palms flat against the solid expanse of his chest, before sliding them upwards to rest on his shoulders. “I just…I get lonely with you and the boys gone all day. I’ve just always wanted–”

“A girl?” Abraham cuts her off with a smirk.

“Yeah…” She says, lowering her gaze, feeling her skin heat up with embarrassment.

“What’s to stop us trying?” He asks, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Fat chance of that when we’ve got a caravan full of screaming kids already.”

He nods his head, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Well, how about we send the boys to Cora’s for a bit tonight? Once I’m finished with the horses today, it’ll be just you and me for the evening.”

Her eyes light up and she grins excitedly, the thought of some alone time with her husband for the first time in five years making her feel giddy. “Oh, I’d love that!”

When Abraham and the boys are ready to leave for the stables later that morning, he leans in to whisper to her as he kisses her cheek. “Hope you’re ready for all the things I’m gonna do to you later.”

A shiver of excitement shoots up her spine and she spends the rest of the day filled with nervous energy, unable to concentrate properly on anything.

In spite of her restless excitement, she ensures the caravan is spotless and bakes Abraham his favourite steak and kidney pie for dinner.

When he steps through the door later that evening, he’s unaccompanied by their sons, and is holding a bunch of wildflowers, which she recognises from the fields that surround his walk to and from the stables. She smiles at the thought that he’d gone to the effort to pick them for her, taking them from him with a peck on the lips as thanks.

“Made your favourite for dinner,” she tells him, as he backs her up towards the bedroom with a predatory glint in his eye.

“Smells good,” he tells her, hands moving to encircle her waist, “but maybe we can start with pudding?”

He dips his head, capturing her lips with his own and kisses her slowly, yet the hand that moves to cradle the back of her head serves as a quiet reminder that he’s in control.

“Clothes off, Mrs. Lee”, he instructs quietly, pushing her gently back on to the bed.

Her breathing comes in quick, shallow pants of eagerness, as she works to unbutton her blouse with shaky fingers. 

Abraham watches her intently, his hands slowly unbuckling his belt as she bares herself to him. He makes quick work of the rest of his clothes once she’s completely undressed, and covers her body with his own, all lithe, lean muscle and tattoos.

“You gonna let me taste you?” He murmurs against the shell of her ear.

She shivers, her voice coming out in a whine. “Please, I’ve waited for you all day, I don’t need that, just want you.”

“So desperate,” he chuckles, dipping a hand between her legs.

She gasps as he swipes his fingers through her folds, collecting the arousal that’s gathered there.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re soaked.”

She lets out a quiet mewl in response, her body arching against his.

He smirks, gripping the base of his cock and sliding the head through her wetness, causing her to emit a needy sigh.

“Abe, please…”

He answers by sheathing himself fully inside of her in one fluid thrust, causing her to cry out.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commands quietly, “wanna make sure I’m nice and deep.”

She does as she’s told, tipping her head back at the sensation of how far inside the change in angle pulls him.

Abraham grunts, pulling his hips back before slamming them forward once more. The pace he sets is relentless, fucking her into the mattress with urgency.

“Gonna fill you up,” he murmurs to her, “you look so fuckin’ good when you’re pregnant, love, can’t wait to see it again.”

She moans, walls fluttering around him at his filthy words, every drag of him inside of her pushes and pulls against a spot that has her toes curling and her voice raising an octave.

His brow furrows with exertion, full lips parted as he pants for breath, his grip on her thighs near bruising. He releases one of them, pressing his palm flat against her lower belly.

“Wanna make sure it goes all the way in here, love” he grits out, pace never faltering.

The combination of what he’s telling her and the way he uses her so forcefully nudges her closer to the edge and she tenses, feeling her peak begin to build inside of her.

Abraham’s gaze darkens as he senses this. “Nearly there, aren’t ya? Come on, give it to me.”

He slides the hand on her belly downwards, stopping when he reaches her pearl and circles pressured strokes against it with his thumb.

The added stimulus causes the already near unbearable pressure to build, until finally it reaches its boiling point, and she falls apart as waves of white hot pleasure roll through her body.

Abraham stills with a grunt, pushing himself as deep as he can possibly go, pulsating as he spills inside of her.

He collapses against her, breathless and sweaty, and she wraps her arms around him, breathing in the comforting scent of him.

“When’s Cora dropping the boys back off?” She asks quietly, after a few moments of satisfied silence.

“Not until tomorrow morning,” he says with a grin, “we’ve got all night.”

Nine months later, when little Esme is placed into her arms, she’s glad that they did.

#abraham #ewan mitchell #abraham x reader #abraham smut #abraham x you #abraham x y/n #abraham grantchester #abraham imagine #abraham fan fiction #abraham fanfiction #abraham fanfic #abraham fan fic #grantchester smut #grantchester fan fiction #grantchester fanfiction #grantchester fanfic #grantchester fan fic #grantchester

[fan-goddess]

Girlish Daydreams

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

Pairing: Abraham x reader

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

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

Chapter One: A child’s dream

Chapter Two: A change of heart

Chapter Three: Before and now

Chapter Four: A new kind of promise

Chapter Five: Loving your husband

The Epilogue: This is a happy house (?/?)

#abraham grantchester #abraham fan fic #abraham x you #abraham fan fiction #abraham fanfic #Abraham #abraham smut #abraham fanfiction #abraham imagine #abraham x reader #ewan mitchell character #Ewan Mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell fanfiction #Ewan nation

[witchofthevale]

↷ september '23 fave fic recs!⋆☂｡☽˚.

Okay, okay here we go! This nearly killed me to make, so you better read them.

I'm kidding... I think.

Gentle reminder that what I consider 'fave' is by my own personal tastes and preferences, and you might not agree with them and that's okay! These are very lovely authors you can peruse on your own to find the right fic for you, and there are always the tags + algo. Just because your favourite fic isn't here doesn't mean it's not good; it could be potentially for a variety of reasons (I haven't read it yet, I have just not this month, I don't vibe with that character, etc).

That's what I love about the individuality in fandom and writers— there will always be that right fic from that right author that just hits all your good spots.

This is mine. For the month of September. If you find your next favourite fix here— I'm glad! If not, that's still swell! Hope you find it!

To the writers— thank you for writing such brilliant fics! I struggled setting this up because of how many I enjoyed 💝.

Anyways...

More quick reminders!

This is set chronologically; both by character name and by fic title.

If you are familiar with my blog, you will mainly see HOTD, some TLK, then random characters.

There may be smut! There may be dark fiction! I support and consume both! Please read trigger warnings actively! You are responsible for your own person! Community Labels ruin fandom ecosystems, stop snitching! Ignore or block at bloody will!

There are no series parts here. That is in a different display post that is still being processed lol.

If you see repeated author names, it can be numerous things— mostly, they're just that good, okay? Okay.

These are only for September 2023. I've read about 500+ on this account alone, and would die if I tried to go back before then, sorry. You can still check them out through tag navigation here!

I've also added some of my works that I enjoyed writing for the month, because why not.

Now that's fucking over, I hope you enjoy!

ABRAHAM (Grantchester)

*Untitled Piece by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

AEGON TARGARYEN II

Ceilings by @sapphire-writes

Lemon Cake To My Tea by @darlingofvalyria

Merciless or Ruthless? by @lovelykhaleesiii

Moan for Me by @st-eve-barnes

AEMOND TARGARYEN

A Mutual Feeling of Hate by @fan-goddess

Gelato by @oneeyedvisenya

Hell Hath No Fury @fromforeigntofamiliarity

His Love by @valeskafics

I'm A Fire, And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm by @randomdragonfires

Revolution by @valeskafics

The Black Stag by @darlingofvalyria

Til Death Do Us Part by @asumofwords

Unnerved by @dulcewrites

*Untitled by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

*Untitled by @missglaskin

Vulnerability by @valeskafics

ALDHELM

My Heart by @silens-oro

BILLY TAYLOR

The Perfect Send Off by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

BILLY WASHINGTON

Lonely This Christmas by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

DAEMON TARGARYEN

Ask, and You Shall Receive by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

A Thousand Words by @arabellasleopardcoat

Capital by @arabellasleopardcoat

Curse of Womanhood by @just-some-random-blogger

*Untitled by @barbiedragon

Valyrian Bride by @cryingforlife

HARALD SIGURDSSON

A Political Arrangement by @valeskafics

JACAERYS VELARYON

In Bastards of Blue, Wager in War by @darlingofvalyria

MAEGOR TARGARYEN

Little Lights by @dreamsofoldvalyria

OSFERTH

Lacnunga, Or, Remedy by @assortedseaglass

SIGTRYGGR IVARSSON

Little Warrior by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

SIHTRIC KJARTANSSON

Hours by @valeskafics

It's Urgent Darling by @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

Take No Wife by @valeskafics

TOM BENNETT

A Good Wife by @valeskafics

Rest by @fidelias

VISERYS TARGARYEN III

*Untitled by @barbiedragon

MULTIPLE CHARACTERS

Conquerors Reborn by @undertheorangetree | Helaena, Aemond x Reader

El Tango De Roxanne by @valeskafics | Jace, Aemond x Reader

Royalty Fucked by @oorhaellaoo | Baelon, Alyssa x Reader

#fanfiction recommendation #hotd x reader #tlk x reader #vikings x reader #abraham x reader #billy washington x reader #asoiaf x reader #tom bennett x reader #2013 💋 Fic Recs #💋 September 2023 #the witch's fic recs 💋

[itslucyhenley]

good day my internet friends, it’s just your friendly neighborhood nerd of many interests humbly inviting you to visit my side blogs should you be interested in or curious about any of these topics —

Greater Stokes Awareness ✨ >>

a Brian Stokes Mitchell appreciation blog dedicated to my favorite Sunshine Baritone ☀️ his singing, his concerts, his broadway shows and all the other places he appears like tv, movies, animated musical shows about centaurs, you know the usual. He’s my favorite human that exists on planet earth and I just think more people should be aware of his talent and wholesomeness. It’s always been my dream to document one of my deep-dive research projects and this blog is the result. The fleeting nature of broadway has me over here basically creating the Brian Stokes Mitchell internet archive and idk I’m proud of it.

Holmes x Watson ✨ >>

a blog mainly concerned with iterations of Victorian Holmes and Watson where I mostly reblog the most beautiful collection of fanart (bless the artists), post pictures of Jeremy Brett (he’s so weird and pretty and i love him like i love nature itself) and reblog tons of Granada & Victorian Holmes related gifs-clips-meta-fanvids-etc, and where I archive my nerd research by highlighting books, fics, and tv/movie adaptations of Holmes and Watson as I encounter them. Recs of all kinds are so so welcome. Feed me Seymour.

Geordie & his vicars ✨ >>

an episode-by-episode highlight reel of DI Geordie Keating from the show Grantchester as played by one of my favorite faces of ever, Mr. Robson Green including gifs, screenshots, and clips. I’m currently on season 5 in my rewatch. I started this page because I did not find what I considered to be a sufficient amount of Geordie love on these internets and I’m secretly hoping that a talented fan vidder will use my chaotic episode guide to make the best fanvid of all time

#i have the sunday scaries and i don’t know how to do proper time management #shrug emoji #me #brian stokes mitchell #broadway #holmes x watson #sherlock holmes #geordie keating #robson green #grantchester

[california-112]

Inktober 2021!

Yes, that’s right, I’m back for this year’s challenge! This year I’ll be writing for six fandoms, more than ever before: Grantchester, Hut 33, The Ter Map (OCs), the Biggles series, The Great Escape, and Lester.

Instead of posting each fic separately, this post will serve as a masterlist, and I’ll update it with a link each day. Happy reading!

Edit: All of these pieces conform to my usual banner of General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | Gen | English

Edit: Fandom masterlists are now here! Grantchester | Hut 33 | The Ter Map | Biggles | The Great Escape | Lester

Crystal - Grantchester - 395 Words

Suit - Hut 33 - 600 Words

Vessel - The Ter Map - 328 Words

Knot - Biggles - 636 Words

Raven - The Great Escape - 606 Words

Spirit - Lester - 559 Words

Fan - Grantchester - 628 Words

Watch - Hut 33 - 254 Words

Pressure - The Ter Map - 631 Words

Pick - Biggles - 1,424 Words

Sour - The Great Escape - 939 Words

Stuck - Lester - 569 Words

Roof - Grantchester - 736 Words

Tick - Hut 33 - 613 Words

Helmet - The Ter Map - 1324 Words

Compass - Biggles - 643 Words

Collide - The Great Escape - 888 Words

Moon - Lester - 100 Words

Loop - Grantchester - 299 Words

Sprout - Hut 33 - 563 Words

Fuzzy - The Ter Map - 380 Words

Open - Biggles - 1294 Words

Leak - The Great Escape - 1117 Words

Extinct - Lester - 513 Words

Splat - Grantchester - 723 Words

Connect - Hut 33 - 720 Words

Spark - The Ter Map - 713 Words

Crispy - Biggles - 869 Words

Patch - The Great Escape - 439 Words

Slither - Lester - 645 Words

Risk - Grantchester - 639 Words

Risk - Hut 33 - 365 Words

Risk - The Ter Map - 747 Words

Risk - Biggles - 1002 Words

Risk - The Great Escape - 1044 Words

Risk - Lester - 294 Words

#the scientist speaks #inktober #inktober 2021 #my fic #itv grantchester #hut 33 #the ter map #biggles #biggles series #the great escape #lester #this is going to be fun! #very much hoping that I finish lol #update i finished!!! #so happy #hope yall had fun reading them #look out for more in the future :)

[ladyaj-13]

ao3 writing tag

tagged by @nickwilding - thank you for giving me the chance to ramble!

name: LadyAJ_13

fandom(s): Endeavour (incl. IM/Lewis), Marvel, Good Omens, Merlin, Life on Mars, Supernatural, Teen Wolf, Ghosts, Grantchester, James Bond, White Collar, DC Arrowverse, Outer Banks, Fantastic Beasts, Castle, Midsomer Murders, Glee, Harry Potter

(posted, that is. Because I start a lot of things I never finish, you could expand that list even further...)

where you post: AO3. Sometimes I’ll post short prompt fills to Tumblr, but I collect them all on AO3 as well.

most popular one shot (by hits): Thin Band of Gold (Merlin, Merthur, 3.6k – Merlin wearing Arthur's clothes is the main thrust of the story :D)

most popular multi-chapter (by hits): I'm Your Biggest Fan (MCU, Stucky, 8.1k – modern no-powers AU where Bucky is a star-struck fanboy)

favourite story you’ve written so far: such a tough question. I reread my stories all the time. I certainly have favourites, but to pick just one...! I'll go with Like Spinning Tops We Stop (Endeavour, Jarse, 21k – Jakes moves back to Oxford with kid in tow).

fic you were nervous to post: Out of Line (Endeavour, Morse/Sam Thursday, 15k). It's a weird pairing – at the time, it was the only story of that pairing in the fandom! (I think now there are two, maybe three). The rarest of rare pairs. But people were so lovely about it :D

how do you choose your titles?: painfully

do you outline?: only occasionally, and only for fics I know will go over 6 or 7k

complete: 126

in progress: 2, both for Endeavour. One of them hasn't been updated in over a year...

coming soon/ not yet started: SO MUCH. I'm terrible for constantly starting new projects. I have like 40 WIPs, most of which probably won't see the light of day. Some that might are a Merthur bed sharing story, a OOQ with competent!Q running rings around everyone, and Morse/Max ficlets across the seasons. I keep rereading them and then getting annoyed at myself when they just stop. Hopefully soon I’ll get so annoyed that I finish them off.

Anyone who sees this, please feel free to pick it up and say I tagged you!

#aj rambles #tag game #fanfic

[georgefancys]

Endeavour Fandom Meme

alright @bryndeavour tagged me in this literally five seconds ago but i wanna gush about endeavour immediately so

- Top 5 Episodes

Trove, Neverland, Prey, Canticle, Confection. Changes all the time tho (Icarus is not included bc while i really like it, it makes me genuinely depressed when i watch it. rip me)

- Seasons in Order of Preference

S2, S1, S5, S6, S4, S7, S3. Right so: season 2 interests me the most thematically and with the plot arc. Season 1 is just rlly consistently good even though it hasn’t produced any of my top 5, and same with season 5 - i think both of them are just consistently good without any standouts for me? Season 6 i think has a really cool vibe. season 4 is very good except i don’t particularly love Game - i would have said i disliked Harvest too, but I watched it recently for only like the second time and LOVED it so idk what was going on there. Season 7 i honestly think is really good, though i found a lot of problems with it in retrospect (treatment of women and the resolution of Ludo and Violetta’s storyline). Season 3 is WEIRD, because i LOVE Prey and quite like Arcadia. Now im gonna be controversial here: i’m not the BIGGEST fan of Ride. I didn’t like it the first time i watched it, then, since then every time i watched it i liked it more until the last time i watched it when i went back to not particularly loving it...? And i straight up don’t like Coda lmao, after the previous episode had a literal tiger, a shittily-executed bank heist that lasts for half the episode doesn’t really do it for me?

- Favourite Scene(s)

Tiger scene. Sorry to be cliche but tiger scene. The scene where Morse tries to get with Rosalind in Overture. Morse’s father’s death in Home. The ‘you’re not yellow, you’re just blue’ scene in Trove. The scene between Morse in Nick Wilding in Canticle. The LSD scene in Canticle (it’s just so fucking funny). The water-throwing scene in Muse. The fight scene in Passenger. The minefield scene in Colours. The ‘have you eaten?’ ‘of course’ ‘today?’ scene in Quartet. Morse and Isla’s kiss in Confection. The entire finale of Deguello. The scene between Morse and Ludo in Morse’s house in Oracle. Where Strange gets stabbed in Zenana. And my favourite scene in the whole show: the scene where Morse and Thursday are talking to Benny and Clyde in Neverland. Chills the whole time.

- Favourite Musical Piece or Moment

Miserere Mei, Deus in... i think Pylon - i love that piece of music. Jennifer Sometimes in Canticle is a bop. Hard Times from Lewis being in Passenger is a really nice callback. Dies Irae in Harvest is fun. Also, if it counts, i love All Along the Watchtower in the season 5 trailer (and i think it might be in Colours too?)

-  Favourite Cinematography/Imagery (season, ep, whatever)

The entirety of Harvest and Canticle. Arcadia is cool - the lovely typical supermarket, House Beautiful, it all fits with the theme of the episode.

- Favourite Ensemble Character that isn’t Morse

oooooof... probably Shirley and George?? Strange is close, esp. in season 7.

- Favourite One episode Character

Eve Thorne. i would die for her. I like Anthony Donn but honestly he doesn’t have much to do in Ride and half of my love for him is cos of his actor, Samuel Barnett. Also Ellie Bagshot in Quartet - for the Foyle’s War crossover.

- Favourite Morse Look (season, ep, whatever)

The red sweater thing in season 3. The weird boiler suit in season 7. The schoolmaster look in Icarus.

- Biggest disappointment

It’s horrendously un-diverse. They should have got another main female character after Shirley left. And it doesn’t treat the women it has amazingly, either - especially Violetta in Zenana. And it wouldn’t hurt to have some more gay rep - a fair few of the episodes have a gay side character, usually one where you only find their sexuality out in one scene late-on. But there should be a gay main character. Grantchester managed it in its second episode! Even Lewis gave us extremely good fodder for bisexual Hathaway. I really thought Ludo would deliver - i was a fool in man’s shoes. Also, Coda - nothing could top the tiger for me, seemingly.

- Provide some Spicy Takes (on canon, fandom, anything)

MORSESTACHE RIGHTS

I’ve already said it twice but, my dislike for Coda. Also, i know this Riles Up some people (cough cough) but there needs to be more canon gay rep, like there just needs to be.

ALSO - i’ll say this now - i love this fandom because there is never ever drama, and i want it to stay that way, but some of us just wanna watch Endeavour for the vibes, some of us wanna enjoy the wider universe, and both are okay and good! But what we shouldnt do is push people in the former group to watch IM or whatever and it can come across slightly as elitism. But enough of that.

- Free Space! (make up something - anything - you want to share or say)

I write fic - https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexpls/works you may be interested in a Morse/Max or a Morse/Anthony Donn, and one of these days i will get that bi Morse casefic and that gay Fancy fic done.

I ship Fancy/Trewlove to death, but i also love them both being gay and being each others’ wingmen.

Tagging: @petersjakes @fitzrove @jasmiinitee @lieutenantmalcolmreed(ik youve been tagged by ange but i love yall) @endeavourous @endeavourmors @melbows

#tag games #endeavour

[ohstardust]

Gone Is the Emptiness

REQUEST: from @lokigoddess

Hey! Can you do one where you are a die-hard fan of James Norton (Andrei in War and Peace) and when Jack finds out about your love for him he arranges a meeting with James and you like… almost die? Little bit of jealous Jack, please! A/N: I’m not overly happy with what I wrote because I couldn’t get it to flow properly, and I kept re-writing bits until I had to force myself to leave it alone. I hope it was okay for you though because I love Jack & James. Although the female lead is a bit of a muppet. Title: Incomplete by James Bay My Jack playlist can be found on Spotify (this is what I listen to when I write about him and songs that are featured in fics about him) (x)

Jack rued the day he allowed his long-standing girlfriend anywhere near James Norton and his ridiculously attractive face, charming charisma and gentlemanly ways. He’d been sulking since the day she’d mentioned her incy-wincy-teeny-tiny infatuation with the English actor and he really ought to have known better about introducing them at their London wrap party for War & Peace. But he loved her and who was he to stand in the way of her meeting someone she adored? As soon as she caught sight of James in the venue, the girl had turned to mush. His jaw was so angular, his frame so tall and his presence seemed so welcoming that she had to grab hold of Jack’s arm to steady her.

Jack’s head whipped round to face her as he grabbed his drink from the bar top, confused and concerned by what had his partner gripping his forearm so tightly, “What? What happened?” Her eyes were wide and mouth slightly agape, “That’s James Bloody Norton.” Jack caught sight of her eyeline and huffed, “Pretty sure it’s just James Norton.” She looked at the Scot and rolled her eyes, not interested in his humour at present, too busy internally, and externally, fangirling over someone who wasn’t her boyfriend. Perhaps she ought to have felt a little guilty about that. “Sweetheart, I know you think you’re really funny, and that you’re endearing as fuck, but sometimes you’re really not,” she rolled her eyes and patted his shoulder, taking a sip of her drink for something to do. He snorted into his drink but abruptly stopped as she continued to speak, “God he’s so pretty,” the woman whined, swooning as she watched him move between different members of the cast and crew, “I can’t cope knowing he’s that talented and attractive all in one.” Jack looked perplexed and frowned, his brows furrowing and his mouth opening and closing, “And what am I? Bloody chopped liver?” “Stop trying to be cute,” his lips childishly pouted as he mumbled into his glass, thought I was cute actually, or so you used to say. Jack grabbed Jessie as she was headed towards the bar, hugging his onscreen lover and left his girlfriend in a world of her own. He may have also childishly left out that Jessie and James had recently started dating, so he hoped that Y/N would stay quiet about her ridiculous crush to avoid any embarrassment for the three of them. “James! Come and join us,” the woman called out, piquing the interest of Y/N who paled at the man turning and smiling with a wave, excusing himself from the crew he was conversing with and heading in their direction. She couldn’t resist smacking Jack’s arm as she saw the smirk spreading across his face, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist and his fingers dug into her hip, “Ouch, watch it,” she hissed. “Jack, mate, so good to see you,” James smiled, pulling Jack in for a hug before stepping back, eyes sweeping over Y/N, “and who might this be?” “James, Jessie, this is Y/N, my sometimes nice girlfriend.” “He’s wretched, ignore him,” the other actors laughed, the Scot secretly pinched her hip causing her to let out a small yelp and he smirked more at her annoyed glare. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, this one here wouldn’t stop talking about you,” Jessie smiled fondly at the pair and Y/N felt her heart swell a little because no matter what, she did really love Jack. But inside she was still hyperventilating over James flippin’ Norton standing right in front of her. All those hours of bingeing on Grantchester & Happy Valley could not have prepared her for this. And no, she absolutely would not faint or do something as equally as mortifying. At least she hoped she wouldn’t.

She lapped up every word that James spoke, enamoured by the way he could seem so awkward one minute, but also hold the attention of so many people as they all gathered round the group to join in. Jack kept interjecting into James’ set stories and everyone was in fits of laughter, the pair bounced off one another and her smile was positively beaming. “Okay, but really you should have introduced us sooner because he’s just a lush guy,” she whispered, leaning into Jack’s side, eyes still on the other man. ‘Really? I’m your boyfriend and you’re talking about how good looking he is? Are you kidding me?” his face was a picture of hilarity; his lips had turned themselves into a dramatic pout and her face cracked as she put a hand over his face and playfully pushed him away to shush him so she could listen to James. “A don’t know why I put up with you.” “Because I’m a swell woman and you’d be lost without me, now be quiet and look pretty,” she squeezed his hand for good measure, trying to reassure him that she was just teasing.

As the night progressed she noticed the light dimming in her boyfriend, his humour had waned, his grip was either too tight or too loose on her, and he seemed less like himself than she’d seen him in quite some time. “Babe, is everything okay?” Jack sighed, finishing the rest of his drink before setting the glass on the bar, his fingers plucking at the loose thread on the belt lop of his jeans, “Not too sure really, feel like I should probably leave you to it and go home now.” Y/N looked taken aback at his words, confused by his change in attitude before her brain slowly caught up and suddenly she was all too aware, “Please tell me you’re not honestly feeling insecure and jealous right now?” “Tell me how you’d feel if I started talking about another girl like you were talking about him. Of course I feel a bit insecure now.” There was no venom or anger, he sounded more defeated and like a lost boy, so much younger than his twenty-seven years. Her heart dropped and she felt terrible, she hadn’t anticipated Jack would take it so seriously. She cupped his face in her hands and all but forced him to meet her eyes, “I’m so sorry, you know I was just being silly, yeah?” “Were you though?” the doubt in his voice and on his face had her reacting more tenderly, she’d never seen Jack so down before, at least not because of her. “Of course I was you big goof. I love you and I’m not going anywhere. ‘sides, you’re the most handsome and talented man I’ve ever met, not him. You’re my biggest crush.” He let out a small breathy laugh, his smile widening showing her his little cute teeth that she adored so much, “and you’re ridiculous and cheesy.” She was determined to never let him doubt their relationship, or himself, ever again. She didn’t realise how much she’d upset him, all over a stupid actor crush on one of his co-stars. “But we make a good team, yeah?” “Just us two?” “Just us.”

#jack lowden imagine #jack lowden #jack lowden x reader #war and peace imagine #james norton imagine #james norton #jessie buckley #dunkirk imagine #dunkirk cast #dunkirk imagines

[carterhaughs]

2016 fandom meme

thanks for tagging me @cassanabaratheon !

1. Your main fandom of the year? Preacher! Wrote more analysis of it than just about anything I’ve ever written analysis for, changed my url for it, wrote fic, started a podcast based around it (which I’m going to continue this week as my partner freed up some time)...it’s been a wild ride and I can’t wait for season 2

2. Your favorite film watched this year? Hard to pick just one as they’re from such different genres so - Rogue One (doesn’t pull any punches or balk at moral ambiguity but ultimately conveys a message of hope), A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (a stunningly beautiful mediation on femininity and female suffering that is only romanticized in the right ways), and Belle (a gorgeous film that doesn’t shy away from any and all racial and socioeconomic issues of the day in which it is set and the great sisterly relationship and the romance are the cherries on top)

3. Your favorite book read this year? I loved Longbourn by Jo Baker, which I’m rereading now. It’s a retelling of Pride & Prejudice from the servants’ perspectives (and focuses mostly on their lives with the plot of the original book on the margins) and stylistically, it’s got some of the most beautiful prose I’ve ever read! I highly recommend it. 

4. Your favorite TV show of the year? Preacher again. A sadly timely and darkly humorous look at the deficiencies and ugly realities of the American dream and what it means to deal with the Jungian shadow that hovers over so much of this country - on an individual as well as a collective level. Also filled with tons of well-sketched, memorable characters with poignant, carefully-constructed arcs - these characters are deeply damaged, and the narrative acknowledges it. 

5. Your favorite online fandom community of the year? The friends I made in the Preacher, Poldark, and Rogue One fandoms, to be sure. Can’t pick just one bc I made so many good friends in all of them!

6. Your best new fandom discovery of the year? Fleabag doesn’t really have a fandom but I wish it did! My favorite comedy (which is also very much a drama) in a long while. Also greatly enjoying Mozart in the Jungle, which I finally got around to watching. 

7. Your biggest fandom disappointment of the year? The Poldark fandom is truly one of the most annoying fandoms on the planet for so many reasons I won’t get into here but mainly gatekeeping. It’s a small but very cliqueish fandom that’s very good at making people feel unwelcome if they don’t think a certain way. The racism in a lot of people’s interpretations of Tulip O’Hare as well as the way in which she was so frequently sidelined - in fan-based as well as press-based analysis of Preacher - was also awful. 

8. Your TV boyfriend of the year? Proinsias Cassidy from Preacher, George Warleggan from Poldark, Sidney Chambers from Grantchester, and Jamie Fraser from Outlander

9. Your TV girlfriend of the year? My url’s namesake - Tulip O’Hare from Preacher! Also Elizabeth Warleggan from Poldark.

10. Your biggest squee moment of the year? Sidney and Amanda finally kissing on Grantchester! Elizabeth tending George’s wounds on Poldark! Basically the entirety of Rogue One, even the (many, many) parts that had me in tears. And I did a lot of writing this year - more fic than I’m usually able to come up with that is better than anything I’ve written previously probably and an obscene amount of analysis. Now that I’m back in law school I’ll have less time to write but I feel like I’m more creatively inspired than I’ve ever been in my whole life, so I’ll make room for it.

11. The most missed of your old fandoms? I miss The Walking Dead bc I haven’t been participating as much given that the last few seasons really wore me down...I’ll probably go back at the end of season 7 and watch it, but I’m never watching that awful season premiere. I also miss chatting about the MCU fandom with my MCU friends about certain unpopular pairings but there will be a time for that again soon enough. 

12. The fandom you haven’t tried yet, but want to? I’m sort of on the margins of the SW fandom...I’ve made good friends within it and written some analysis (mostly for the Knights of the Old Republic games and Rogue One and a tiny bit for TFA), but I’d like to contribute fic at some point.

13. Your biggest fan anticipations for 2017? The new seasons of Preacher, Poldark, and Grantchester, the new Star Wars movie, and the new Alien movie, as well as American Gods and Emerald City. There’s probably a lot of interesting stuff coming up soon that I’m not aware of though.

I’m tagging​ @customerservicebotdolores @chocksawaychaps and anyone else who wants to do it! 

#I didn't want to tag a lot of people bc this is a long meme that requires a lot of thought but I really enjoyed it #tagged in

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Sweet Nothings

Pairing: Abraham (Grantchester) x f!reader Warnings: Dirty talk, smut. Word count: ~1.4k

Summary: They had agreed to call it quits when Abraham's community moved on from Grantchester, however, the urge to keep in touch is too powerful for either of them to resist.

Author's note: Day five of the Smuffmas prompts - "letters and lingerie". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Abraham had kissed her fiercely, his lips pressed tightly to hers as though he meant to steal the very breath from her lungs. He’d kissed her like it was the last time he ever would, because the reality of it was just that - he was moving on, this would be the last time their mouths would meet with such passion.

She had always known that this was coming; six weeks prior when they had begun their little tryst, they had agreed when his time in Grantchester came to an end, so too would their relationship.

That doesn’t stop the ache in her heart when that day finally arrives though, but she does her best to hold back her tears as she watches him walk away, not wanting to make this any more difficult than it already is. She swears when he looks back she sees a hint of regret cast back at her in the blueness of his gaze. Perhaps that is just her seeing what she wants to see though.

Two weeks pass, and she does her best to carry on as normal, despite the void that Abraham has left behind in her life.

That is until the day a letter passes through the letterbox, landing softly on the doormat. It’s addressed to her, though she doesn’t recognise the handwriting. Tearing it open, a warmth spreads through her chest, recognising the sender as she reads it.

Darling,

I know we said that this is it, but I can’t stop thinking about you. The pillow on my bed that you laid your pretty head upon still smells like you. I miss the warmth of you, the way your body fits against mine. I can still picture your smile, still hear your laugh, and I think I’m going crazy without you.

I’m sorry if hearing from me is upsetting for you, I just can’t stand the idea that some other bloke will make you smile, make you laugh, make you moan like I used to. I don’t expect you to write back, but I’d be over the moon if you did. We’re camped up at a place called Yaxley, just outside of Peterborough. If you do decide to write back, address it to the Yaxley post office, and I’ll pick it up. I’ll check every day to see if you’ve written.

Yours, always,

Abraham

The penmanship is a barely legible scrawl, and the letter is riddled with spelling errors, yet she can’t deny it makes her pulse race to know that he’s missing her, so she snatches up a pen and paper and writes back straight away.

Over the following weeks they write to each other frequently, talking about their days, professing their yearning for each other, and with every exchange their words grow more heated and passionate.

She gets an idea when one of his letters states that he is “missing the pretty little pink thing” she used to wear for him, knowing exactly the lingerie set he’s hinting at.

Slipping on the satin French knickers and matching brassiere, the material feels silky soft against her skin. Butterflies flutter in her belly remembering how the last time she’d worn this, Abraham had peeled it off her, his bright eyes following the path of it as it had fallen away from her body.

Setting up the polaroid camera, she takes several photos of herself in various provocative poses - ones she knows will make his blood run hot - jutting out her hip, pushing out her chest, arching her back, accentuating her curves and all of his favourite places to touch her.

Once she is satisfied that she has an adequately arousing selection, she settles down to write.

Abe,

Enclosed are pictures of that “pretty little pink thing” you love so much. I hope it satisfies your longing, though it does little to sate mine. I ache for the feel of your big, strong hands against my body, and I’m saddened that when this comes off once more it won’t be you that’s removing it.

Remember the last time I wore this? I do. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the weight of you on top of me, the feel of your lips against my skin, the wonderful ache between my legs as you moved against me.

I’d give anything for just one more night with you. I fear you have ruined me for all other men.

Yours forever.

The envelope she drops into the postbox the next day is thicker and heavier than usual, and she grins excitedly, imagining the smile on Abraham’s face when he eventually opens it.

For the next week, her gaze is fixed on the letterbox each morning, waiting for his reply to drop through, but nothing arrives and the disappointment she feels mounts by the day, sadness and embarrassment causing a heated feeling in her cheeks and a heaviness in her chest.

She has all but given up on the idea of him ever replying, thinking she has made a fool of herself, or worse still, that her letter has gotten lost, when one evening there’s a knock at her front door.

Strong arms wrap around her, and once more her breath is stolen away, as Abraham’s mouth descends upon hers, backing her up into the living room as he kicks the door closed behind him.

He cups her cheek, keeping her close to him when they eventually part for air, his chest heaving. “Couldn’t find the right words for what those photos made me wanna do to ya, so thought it best I just show you.”

She squeals as he throws her over his shoulder, carrying her towards the bedroom and depositing her onto the bed as though she weighs nothing. Propping herself up on her palms she looks at him in wide eyed excitement as he looms over, his darkened gaze roving over her form before moving to follow her.

He bumps her nose with his as he plants a hand either side of her head. She can feel how hard he is already through his trousers, as he presses himself against her, and it makes her core throb with want.

“First,” he whispers, “I want you naked, no flimsy underwear compares to the feel of you bare against me.”

She gasps, as he all but tears the clothes from her body, the barely audible pop of buttons and seams lost to the desperate need she feels for him as she pulls at his shirt and trousers in turn. Sighing in pleasure at the sensation of his skin against hers once more, she feels a sense of relief. Having him like this is like returning home after a prolonged absence.

He kisses her, and she whines when he pulls away, the gesture all too brief, though she is quick to giggle as his lips trail a path from her neck, all the way down her body until he’s positioned between her legs.

“Then,” he continues, eyes flitting up to meet hers. “I’m gonna taste you, see if you’re sweet as I remember.”

Her head falls back with a moan as he licks a line with the flat of his tongue from her opening to her pearl. The rumble of appreciation that growls within his throat vibrates through her, and she buries her hands in his hair, certain she is ruining the carefully waxed and styled coif, though he is making her feel too good for her to care.

His hands grip her thighs as alternates between lapping at her with quick precise movements, and fucking her with his tongue. As she feels herself on the crest of her pleasure, he pulls away, and she cries out in frustration.

He grins as he moves back up her body, his chin slick and shining with her arousal.

“Now, I wanna feel you squeeze around my cock until you peak,” he murmurs, lining the head of himself up with her and pushing slowly forward.

Her mind goes blank as he presses inwards, only able to focus on the stretch of him inside of her, causing her to arch against him.

“I want every thought to be gone from your mind, every thought but how good it feels when I fuck you,” he continues, keeping his thrusts slow and steady, “So that that’s what you’re thinking of when I leave again and ask you to come with me.” As she feels the pressure begin to build in her lower belly again, she knows there is no way she can say no to him. Letters just won’t be enough anymore after this, she needs all of him.

#abraham x reader #ewan mitchell #abraham grantchester #grantchester abraham #abraham x you #abraham x y/n #abraham imagine #abraham smut #abraham fan fiction #abraham fanfiction #abraham fan fic #abraham fanfic #grantchester fan fiction #grantchester #grantchester fanfiction #grantchester fan fic #grantchester fanfic

[fan-goddess]

Chapter Four: A new kind of promise

Catch up on the fic here!

Authors Note: After weeks of heavy research into Romani weddings traditions, I decided to use a mix of traditional events and my own versions. The questions I’ve been trying to find answers for have come up with little to nothing, so I’m mixing it all up into my own thing. I am sorry if that’s offended people, but I genuinely can’t do much about it. I have tried asking for help, but nothing came through. I’ve used mainly Christian traditions, but am making it my own with as much limited information that I found online weaved in.

Chapter Summary: The wedding day is coming up quickly, and your little conversation with your hopefully soon to be husband has made you think of things more clearly than you before

Taglist: @valeskafics, @omgbrcat @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity @anjelicawrites @lexwolfhale @helaenaluvr @scarletbedlam @tssf-imagines @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @arcielee @targaryenbarbie @ilikechocolatemilkh @tumblin-theworldaway

Warnings: Talks of arranged marriage, literal marriage, most likely incorrect portrayal of a Romani wedding, she/her pronouns mentioned, (if I miss any let me know!)

The wedding is in two days, and the memory of Abrahams body against yours is still unrelenting and clear in your mind as ever. Sticking with you with the same ferocity as a stick of Ivy that’s grown on the side of a house.

Though it were his words that clung to you most adamantly. ‘Because while she may not even be here yet, I already somehow finding myself caring for her. Just as much as I find myself already loving you.’

“What’s got you in such a state my darling?” Your mother says, making you suddenly jump in pure fright as in your thoughts you’d forgotten she was even there in the first place.

You sigh. “Nothing mum. I was just… just thinking of the wedding.”

You’d hate to say anything to inflate her ego, but your mum has been nothing short of a saint, even with her small snide comments every so often. As while you’ve been so caught up on Abraham, she’s been caught up in the making of your wedding. Making sure everything is being set up rightly for the day, and making sure your dress will be made in good time. It seems her bossiness and her attitude is good for something other than nagging you.

She scoffs in disbelief at your answer, but to your relief she seems to let the comment slide. Focusing on making herself a cup of tea, reminding you of your own that whilst you were caught up in your thoughts, turned cold in your hands. Still, you sip at it diligently anyway. Attempting to use it as a very useless distraction that of course does little to help.

The stables are now a place you can’t go to anymore. Too fearful to be put face to face with your soon-to-be husband to go anywhere near that now haunted place. From what you’ve heard from the recent girl talk you’ve been listening too with pricked up ears whenever Abrahams been mentioned, he hasn’t been going there too much recently anyway. Choosing to go either there or mainly out in the woods. He still drops off the wood and the animal carcasses, only with the recent development of the two of yours’ relationship, he only places them at the step of the door, before knocking and leaving soon as he comes. As if he was never there in the first place.

You don’t blame him for acting like this. Especially with how you acted to him after he practically told you he loved you.

You hate yourself for it. As when he uttered those words, you froze. You mumbled incoherent words even to yourself, and ran away like an absolute fucking coward. You left him standing there in that stable, leaning against the wall after he said those personal things to you, and you feel absolutely awful for it.

Your parents had asked what had you in such a rush when you all but sprinted through the door, but you couldn’t dare tell them the reason. Instead, you yelled you needed the loo, and hid in the toilets for a few minutes and cried into your hands like an idiot.

The days that went by after that had all been eerily and dreadfully similar. His words had revealed something within you that made you so fearful of it all that you now cannot do anything but hate yourself, and pray to whatever man or thing that was in the sky that Abraham would still love you, even after what you had done.

To your surprise though, praying to whoever you could seemingly worked, as each night that passed resulted in another day until your wedding. When you’d become his wife and he’d become your husband. It would have been so exhilarating if the days before hadn’t been so awful and hateful.

The anxiety has been killing you, but putting that aside, the dress itself was absolutely beautiful.

It was white, a colour insisted by your mother even though there was a very high chance it’d be dyed a mixture of green and brown by the end of night, and reached around your mid calf. There was even delicate lace hand sewn by your mother. An act you could not dare to deny brought small tears to your eyes that were quickly dried away claiming hay fever, in fear it would somehow spoil the minimal makeup that had been insisted by the other ladies who’d helped you get ready.

Yet as you found yourself walking down the laid out path towards where your fiancé stands, you cannot deny that for once, you felt truly beautiful. That it felt thrilling almost to feel actually wanted and desired by a man who you would soon share your bed with.

Abraham doesn’t turn to look at you until you’re a few steps away. Yet when he does, your heart does somersaults as you see his mouth open slightly, and his eyes quickly move to look over you fully. His eyes widening slightly as he takes you all in, though you feel the need to almost snicker when you see they linger at times specially around your cleavage. An act he stops doing so quickly you could easily blink and miss it.

His reaction calms you though. As it shows he still cares for you in his own way. It shows that he still wants to be wish you. In his own way…

When you get to him, he nods his head in his own way of a greeting, and you nervously nod your own. Your lips already sore and swollen from how much you’ve been biting them in your anxiety the last couple days. Yet when Abrahams eyes trail to look at your lips, a whole new type of ache travels through you.

“May all who are here today sit now!” Pal shouts, his voice loud and asserting as everyone quickly moves to follow his orders. You and Abraham as well moving to face him as he looks at the both of you with a kind smile you cannot help but reciprocate.

“Abraham Lee, is here today to marry this fine woman from our own clan. Her parents are here today to witness the change of her transitioning from their daughter, to Abrahams wife. I understand that Abraham, instead of using typical money, has gifted one of his prized horse to the brides parents as payment. Does the brides parents feel this is a good payment for their daughter?”

You can’t turn back at the moment to look, but you can hear your father’s grunt as he lifts himself onto his feet, and how your mother fusses at him for him to be careful.

“Yes, me and my wife believe the horse that Abraham has provided our family with was a sufficient price to pay for our daughter. We are grateful to welcome him into our home, and are grateful he has taken such a shine to our only child.” Your father chokes, almost sounding on the verge of tears at the end of his words, before another round of grunts begins, signifying he’s finished and has sat back down on his chair again with a sigh.

Pal nods his head in a silent thanks to your parents, and turns to your right to look at Abraham eye to eye.

“Okay then. Now, Abraham Lee. Do you promise to take this romni under your protection? Do you vow to look after her, and be a good husband for her? To allow herself to be shielded by you forever, until the day you die?”

He doesn’t answer straight away, you yourself only hearing him let out a single deep breath, and you quite honestly feel yourself almost die on the spot fearing the worst has happened. That he has realised his mistake and that he’d put the wedding off there and then, shaming you for your actions.

Only whilst you’re worrying, he grunts and begins speaking, and you have to slowly let out the breath you were holding previously in thanks. “Yes, I vow to do all that and more for her.”

Then Pal turns to you, and suddenly you find yourself unable to breath once more. Who knew the whole ordeal would be so friggin stressful?

“Do you, a daughter of this clan and of the Roma, take Abraham Lee as your husband? Do you understand you will be under his protection, living in his home with him and being with him until his or your last breath? Do you vow to be a good wife to him, looking after him and caring for him back to full health whenever needed? Do you vow to guide him, when it is needed too? Do you vow to do all that and more for him, in exchange for his protection?”

Your breath is shaky as you hold it, and whilst it would be improper to do so, you want so badly to hold Abrahams hand firmly in your own and use his strength for some stability. Still, it is improper, and Abraham still has every right to shove you to the dirt and shame you.

“Yes, clan leader, I vow to do all that and more for him, as he is my husband now and forever more.” The extra words aren’t necessary, but it feels nice to do and makes you feel sort of giddy to see the small smile on Abrahams face in the corner of your eye. His body shifting from side to side as the next part of the ceremony begins.

“May the husband and wife hold each others hands.”

The two of you turn to each other, and you’re pleasantly surprised to see Abraham’s cheeks are an unfamiliar shade of pink. He almost appears bashful, but that would no doubt be an unfamiliar feeling of his.

Still, his hands move to clasp your own, and your thumb begins to rub small shapes on the back of his veiny hand. His own hands though clench slightly round yours, possibly as a warning. It probably wouldn’t be a good look for him or you if he was to begin glaring at you already, not even ten minutes into the ceremony.

“Do the two do you vow to look after each other, stay true to each other, and be good to each other for the rest of yours and theirs’ lives?”

This time, there is no real hesitation from either of you, as both you and Abraham almost manage to say ‘I will’, at the same time as each other.

Though after that, Pal smiles at the two of you, and motions for the bread to be brought out. Which when it gets handed to the two of them, it’s odd, as it’s almost like the both of you don’t want to release each others hands just yet, content in providing the other with a comforting warmth. Still, the both of you split hands anyways, and move to hold your own hands and kneel before Pal who continues to stand, to allow the rest of the ceremony to continue to take place.

“I bless the both of you with this bread, in the hopes it will symbolise the fruitful future the two of you will bring to each other.” You can feel the bread being placed on your knees, and for a slight second, your body recognises that familiar feeling of warmth and comfort as you feel Abraham’s hand on your leg for a quick moment grabbing one of the two chunks of bread. Pal hands him the salt, and he adds an almost amusing amount onto it, you yourself doing the exact same, only with much less.

Abraham brings the bread to your lips, and with a surprising amount of grace you manage to take the break into your mouth, eyes widening as the sudden taste of salt hits you. Your hand moving to cover your mouth as it takes a few seconds for you to be able to swallow. But after that small moment, which you could see brought a smile to Abraham’s face, you place your own piece of bread by his lips, and with much less care for his manners he fully leans forward and places his lips over your fingers, leaving spit to cover your fingertips as you let go of the bread and it falls directly on his waiting tongue.

Pal gives the two of you a minute to swallow, but neither you nor Abraham needs it. And instead, the two of you take the time to admire each other in your respective wedding outfits. Your own eyes focused on the way his body somehow manages to look so good in the clean yet somehow still Abraham looking suit, while his almost can’t seem to focus on one thing. His eyes constantly roaming your body as if he can’t get enough of you.

“Now that that’s been done, the bride and groom, if you can continue to face each other please! It’s time for the last bit of the vows part before we can move onto dancing, which I can say for all is what we’re definitely looking forward too! Or in my case, the booze!”

A small wave of laughter is heard from the guests, and even a small giggle from yourself is heard. A doing which brings a small, barely noticeable smile from the man in front of you.

“Finally, the newly vowed couple of the rom and romni needs to do one final thing. Abraham, my friend, it’s time for you to kiss your new bride!”

Your breath feels like it’s swept away from you as Abraham steps closer to you and takes your head in his hands, before pulling you closer. Your eyes close in delight and you feel yourself so close to letting out some sort of noise of pure happiness when his lips firmly press against your own.

Your heart feels like it’s about to beat from your chest as your hands grasp around Abrahams vest and somehow try to pull him closer to you. You can feel his body heat overwhelming you, and you almost let out something akin to a sad sound when he eventually pulls away from you. Yet that quickly gets forgotten when you see Abrahams red swollen lips up close. And when you find yourself able to tear your eyes away to look properly at him, you can see his own eyes and doing just the same. Unable to look away from your lips.

The both of you are so smitten that you almost don’t hear Pal announcing how it’s time for the celebration dance. Only broken from the trance when Pal places a hand gently against the both of yours’ shoulders and murmurs the instructions to the both of you, choosing to ignore the knowing smirk on his lips as the both of you are lead to where the rest of the nights festivities are being held.

It’s beautiful, for there are various lights that are hung up all around that brighten up the space wonderfully, and many other things that are dotted around that bring a deep sense of fondness deep in your heart. Soon though, music floods the air as you giggle amusingly at the sight of your mother and father dancing wildly as if there was no one else there. As if his injury was never there in the first place.

You look at Abraham, but to your delight you find he is already looking at you with a content smile on his face. It’s strange, to see the once hard working and duty driven man that is Abraham look so soft in your presence. But you must say, it certainly begins to grow on you almost annoyingly quickly.

“Do you, do you want to dance?” You stutter, scared he’d say no to your question. Only to your surprise, he doesn’t. Abraham murmurs his own version of an agreement, and takes your hand in his own, bringing a deep flush to your surprised face.

To your delight, he brings you to the very centre of the makeshift dancing area, and he holds you close to him as he begins to move you in time with his body. His hands clasped firmly against your waist and your hand, his face tucked next to yours.

“I didn’t get the chance to tell you earlier, but you look gorgeous…” Abraham murmurs, his breath tickling your ear sending shivers down your spine. “Made me forget about everything except the fact that you’re mine now. That you belong to me, and the fact that now…” He takes such a deep breath as he pauses that he almost causes the hair tucked behind your ear to fall loose. “That now I’m yours too.”

You can’t help yourself from grinning at his confession, nor can you dare think to stop yourself from kissing his cheek lightly. Showing your own silent appreciation for his words.

The two of you dance for a while. Content in each other arms. Dancing till you’re forced to confess how much your feet are aching in your shoes. Yet even when the two of you sit down, Abraham still keeps his firm hold on you, refusing to let go of your hand from his. The only time he actually let go being when he insisted on getting you some food to eat after the long day, glaring and seemingly harsh when he practically forbade you from standing and getting it for yourself. But as little as you really know your husband, you know he means the best in his words and his actions. As he had said earlier, he protects fiercely what he loves.

You’re so wrapped up in thoughts with a smile that you can’t help but flinch slightly when you feel a hand place itself on your shoulder, yet a brighter smile when you see you father looking down on you with his own tearful smile.

“The two of you looked happy together when you were dancing. I don’t think the poor boy wanted to let go of you!” He grins, sitting down next to you in an empty chair.

“I didn’t either!” You giggle, smiling so fondly you swear you can feel your cheeks begin to hurt.

“I’m glad. I’m so happy for you darling that you’re happy. You know, I just remembered the talking too I gave that boy before this...”

“Oh dad you didn’t!” You gasp with your hands over your mouth, a horrified look on your face as you think of all the worst things as possible that couldn’t happened between them.

“Oh you bet I did! I refused to allow this man one moment of thought that he could get away with hurting my little girl! I told him clearly and firmly, that if he hurt you in any way shape or form, that he’d have me and all the lads making sure he paid for it dearly!”

“Dad!” You groan, embarrassed and horrified as you laid you head in your hands, your cheeks no doubt a bright red right now from the shame.

“It’s true! I may have weak bones, but that doesn’t mean I can’t give him one for sure!” Your father insists, much to your utter horror. It gets even worse when another voice joins in the conversation…

“I agree sir!” Abraham speaks, two plates in his hands as he places one in front of you and one in front of himself as he sits in another empty chair to your left. When you look down to see what he’s gotten you, you’re quite delighted to see a lot of your favourite foods there waiting for you to eat them.

“Thank you.” You say to him, genuinely surprised and grateful for what he’s done for you just now.

“Don’t be,” He grunts, tucking into a sausage roll on his place. “I got your mother to help me. Didn’t want to get you anything you hated or were allergic too or something…”

You don’t respond, choosing what’s best to respond with is a small hum of agreement and nod, before placing your hand on his which lays on the table. You have to try and not let out an audible noise when Abraham seems to instinctively clench his fingers around yours and firmly hold you. Ever the possessive man it seems your husband will be.

Your father looks at the both of you fondly, and he gives you a small smile and a nod of his own before he leaves to most likely go to talk to your mother or some other person.

“Did you enjoy it. Today, I mean.” Abraham grunts again, pausing his movements to look at you so intently you feel your whole body flush.

“Yeah, I really did. Think it’s the best day of my life.” You smile, genuinely feeling almost euphoric seeing his bashful face that he tries to hide with his now free hand. Though to save his embarrassment you move to eat your own food with a smile, staring at the dance floor where Pal has somehow convinced your mother to dance with him, much to your amusement as you begin to giggle at the sight.

Soon though, the night comes to an end as the parents take the little kids home, and the adults who have no children have other adults take them home after getting absolutely shit faced drunk, much to Abrahams amusement who huffs a laugh at them.

Your parents come to the both of you and wish you well, as your belonging have apparently already been moved into Abrahams caravan so you could stay there tonight. And due to them knowing of Abrahams family situation, they wish him the best of luck too. Even giving him a hug which you swear leaves him looking brighter than earlier.

The two of you are the last people to leave the party, but a couple other members of the clan offer to help bring the presents people have given the both of you, which Abraham and you accept gratefully when you see the sheer size of a few of them. Though when you see some familiar wrapping you remember seeing in your mother’s wrapping box you can’t help but laugh slightly in reminiscence of it all.

Abraham and yourself make it to his caravan relatively quickly whilst being followed by those who’d offered to help. They came in and left rather quickly, putting the gifts on a countertop before leaving, saying their own little congratulations while they do. Leaving you and Abraham alone in the room to look at each other.

A strange sort of silence overwhelms you, and it’s with a small gasp you suddenly feel Abrahams hand on your cheek caressing your skin carefully and softly.

“I think, if it’s alright with you little, we continue what you left me with at the stables…”

#abraham x you #abraham grantchester #abraham fan fic #abraham fan fiction #abraham fanfic #abraham fanfiction #abraham smut #abraham x reader #abraham imagine #abraham #grantchester smut #grantChester #ewan mitchell character #Ewan Mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfiction #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell x reader

[writingwife-83]

So as a fan of Prime Suspect: Tennyson and My Mother and Other Strangers, do you think anyone is going to start writing fic? MMAOS has some fanworks going but so far everyone seems to be ignoring PS:T for some reason. Which is sad because I need an exploration of DS Gibbs and Morgan's friendship, the fact that no one told Jane about Bradfield's family, and literally everything about Jane and Bradfield needs to be discussed now that we know that about him.

Ah what a nice ask to get! Not that I’d mind talking about Sherlock till the cows come home, but I do enjoy discussing some of these other shows as well. :D

Yes, I think those shows (as well as Grantchester though I know you didn’t bring that one up) probably need more fan fic. I’ll say personally that though I really enjoy watching MMAOS, it doesn’t inspire me to actually write anything. PS: T, that I can a bit more easily see myself being inspired to write something for. And as you said, YOOOO that was quite the moment when that bit of truth came out about Bradfield’s fam! I mean it was gut wrenching anyway with what happened to him, but yikes the family thing…someone should have told her! Seems clear that it wasn’t a secret to the rest of the folks at the station, so why didn’t anyone say something?? Like I’d think Kath would have! Ugh, Idk it was all so painful. So many unanswered questions and things I’d want to know!

Thanks again for the ask, anon! Yay for discussing ALL the PBS goodness lol!

#wifey answers things #wifey watches other things #my mother and other strangers #prime suspect tennison #grantchester

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Like Real People Do

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tell him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her mouth turns downwards, her heart sinking.

He’s come to finish what he started.

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

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

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

Tell him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, we’re doing this then?” He asks.

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

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

#abraham x reader #abraham x y/n #abraham x you #abraham imagine #abraham smut #abraham angst #abraham grantchester #ewan mitchell #abraham fan fiction #abraham fanfiction #abraham fan fic #abraham fanfic #grantchester #grantchester abraham #grantchester fan fiction #grantchester fanfiction #grantchester fan fic #grantchester fanfic

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Can I request a Abraham ff inspired by "meet me at the pale moonlight" by Lana del Rey? And maybe some angst cuz Abraham being mean

Hello! Apologies for making you wait for over two months for this. I hope it's to your liking.

Warnings: Angst, allusions to smut but nothing too spicy, mentions of infidelity. Word count: ~950

There’s a chill in the air that hasn’t been there all summer long, it makes her regret not bringing a coat out with her as her skin prickles with gooseflesh. She hadn’t realised Abraham would keep her waiting this long. She always seems to be waiting for him lately.

She shifts from foot to foot, anxiously picking at the red lacquer that coats her fingernails. The same shade of crimson she’d worn the night they’d met, when he’d flashed that cocky smirk of his her way and asked her if she wanted a drink.

That smirk is long gone now as he walks towards her, he seems more like a man being marched towards his execution.

“We haven’t got much time.” He tells her gently, stroking her hair away from her face.

She nods in understanding. He never has time anymore, not like he used to back when the evenings were still light and it was as balmy outside as it was inside. They’d spend hours laughing, talking about their hopes and dreams for the future, their hands tracing paths across each other’s flesh as though they were attempting to commit it to memory as they made love.

He takes her by the hand, leading her towards the barn and she allows her fingers to interlock with his, relishing the contact, giving herself a moment to pretend that he is hers.

“I wish I’d met you first.” He’d told her one night, resting his head upon her chest as they’d laid amongst the hay. She had expected to feel angry when he’d revealed he was engaged to be married, but she didn’t, not when he’d explained to her that it was Romani tradition for marriages to be arranged. He had no feelings for Luella, was just doing what was expected of him. There was an unspoken agreement between them that things would come to an end once he was finally wed, so she resigned herself to this being a summer fling and nothing more.

The feelings that linger between them, however, are more than apparent as he presses his lips to hers, slow and unhurried. There is an overwhelming sense in her heart and mind that he is kissing her like this is the final time he’ll ever get to. She is surprised when he takes the time to carefully lay her down and undress her. A lump forms in her throat as his hands caress her curves, slowly and purposefully. He is committing her to memory.

Alhough he doesn’t care for Luella, his marriage to her is one of great importance to his people. His social standing within the Romani community is hinged upon this union, and so he cannot risk it. Bitter though it is, she accepts it. It is clear to her, though he has never said it, that someone from his camp suspects something. For the past few weeks he has been late to each of their meet ups, their trysts have been hurried fucks against the wall before he has to rush back again. 

Not tonight. Tonight Abraham’s blue eyes lock with hers, his gaze soft and filled with adoration as he thrusts languidly into her. She clings tightly to him, basking in the sensation while it is still hers to experience.

He had almost let the words slip once. They had been seeing each other for around a month and he'd gotten carried away in the heat of the moment.

“I lo-” She pressed her fingers to his lips, silencing him.

“-don’t say that,” She’d said pleadingly. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

This particular moment feels as though it transcends those three little words, as their breaths intermingle and they hold each other close, memorising every soft moan and gentle roll of each other’s hips.

When they are both spent, they lay in each other’s arms and she despises the finality of it all, hating the way her eyes sting with unshed tears. She makes the mistake of looking up at Abraham and her heart clenches painfully as she notices the wetness rimming his own eyes, the plushness of his full lips pulled morosely downwards.

“This is the last time, isn’t it?” She whispers, once she finally finds the courage to speak as they begin to put their clothes back on.

“The wedding’s tomorrow,” He says solemnly. “We’re moving on the day after. I’m sorry.”

She’s always known this was coming, yet it does nothing to soften the blow. It’s as though all the air has left her lungs as she tries her best not to cry. There are a million things she wants to say, she could beg him not to marry Luella, to be with her instead, but what use is it? She cannot expect him to give up his community, his reputation, resign himself to a life that’s static, so she says nothing.

He cups her cheek, his palm warm and calloused against the softness of her face, and looks fondly down at her, though his eyes betray the same devastation she feels. “I really do wish I’d met you first.”

The words topple forth before she can stop them. “I lo-”

“-don’t say that,” He cuts her off. “I won’t be able to walk away if you say that, and I have to.”

She nods, the pain in her chest blooming acrid and heavy, and he kisses her, kisses her like it is the last kiss they’ll ever share, and this time it is.

She can still feel the way his lips move against hers as she watches him walk away and she wonders how long it will be until she no longer remembers what that’s like. It’s only then that she allows the tears to fall. Beneath the pale moonlight she mourns the end of summer and the end of a love that was simply never meant to be.

#abraham #grantchester #ewan mitchell #abraham smut #abraham grantchester #abraham x reader #abraham fanfiction #abraham fan fiction #abraham fan fic #abraham fanfic #grantchester fanfiction #grantchester fanfic #grantchester fan fiction #grantchester fan fic

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Here’s a request for Abraham as I only just found out who he is and I already would let him spit on me. He’s in the pub where he sees a girl with big boobs and a cheeky grin, he follows her out. Maybe she leads him to the stables? And he fucks her good and hard against the hay. However, just as he’s about to pull his pants up. He falls on the ground due to reader and she rides him like a pony. Maybe some dirty talk and against the hay he chokes her but while she’s riding him she chokes him. You decide how to interpret this and where it goes from there. Hope you have fun writing!

Hello! First off I'd like to thank you for your patience - I'm sorry it's taken me over two months to fulfil this request, I am slow and I have a lot to work through. Secondly, this request is absolutely bonkers, but I've done my best to fulfil it in my own style. I hope that you enjoy it.

Warnings: Infidelity, choking, fingering, smut. Word count: ~2.6k

It’s a bright and sunny July afternoon on Grantchester Village Green. The sounds of a brass band playing and children’s laughter float on the breeze, yet she is bored. It’s the Village’s annual church fête and every Grantchester resident has turned up to take part and lend a hand. Mr. Ruskin has lent a donkey from his farm to give rides to the children, there’s a tombola offering up various prizes of assorted chocolates and cuddly toys, and games of boules and cornholing have been laid out across the Green, under reams of brightly coloured bunting. She feels like she could scream from the civility of it all.

“Fetch you some more squash?” Robbie asks with a soft smile, gesturing towards her with his empty paper cup.

“No. I’m alright, thanks, love.” She replies, stiffening uncomfortably as he places a chaste kiss to her cheek before heading off in the direction of the refreshment stand.

It’s all so bland. She can’t stomach another cup of tea, another orange squash, another egg and cress sandwich. Worst of all, she’s not sure how much more of Robbie she can stand. They have been courting for almost a year - the perfect match in every sense - he is the Vicar’s son, polite, gentle, and inoffensive. She is the daughter of the head of the Village committee; pretty, well mannered and kind.

Truthfully, she finds Robbie painfully dull. He isn’t bad looking and doesn’t treat her unkindly, he is just unambitious and set in his ways. She had agreed to go steady with him because it was what was expected of her. He’d taken her by surprise when he’d expressed the desire to sleep with her three months into their relationship, and for the first time in all the years they’d known each other she’d actually found herself excited by him. That was until they did the deed and he’d rutted atop her with all the enthusiasm of a captain going down with his ship.

She’s heard the murmurs around the Village, the rumours that he plans to propose. Robbie hasn’t exactly been subtle about it either, the way he gawks in the window of the jewellers makes dread sink in her stomach like a stone, not just at the idea of him asking her to marry him, but the fact that she knows she’ll say yes. It’s what her father wants for her, and living somewhere so small, where everyone knows everyone and all their business, she doesn’t want the reputation of the girl that broke a good Christian boy’s heart.

A future as Mrs. Robert Chambers, wife of the vicar’s son, Village postmistress, daughter of the head of the Village committee. Boring, boring, boring.

Life in Grantchester had suddenly become more interesting when he had rolled into the village; part of the Romani settlement that had taken refuge in one of Mr. Ruskin’s fields. The locals had treated them with suspicion and hostility, such was the attitude to newcomers, especially travellers. However, something about him intrigued her; his slicked back hair, dazzling blue eyes and cocky smirk made her heart race, worsened by the fact that whenever she’d seen him around he always managed to catch her eye and send her reeling with a wink. 

She’d never dared to speak to him, yet she feels her breath hitch as she notices him and five of the other Romani men approaching the Green.

“Here comes trouble.” She hears her father sigh as he steps forward to approach them.

She gently grabs his arm. “Dad, leave it,” She pleads. “They haven’t done anything.”

“Not yet anyway.” Robbie says as he returns from the refreshment stand with a refilled drink.

“They’ve as much right to be here as anyone else.” She fires back, watching as the group sit themselves on nearby picnic benches.

“I’d like to see what sort of contribution they’ve made to the Church or Village.” Her father mutters darkly.

As if on cue, the eldest of the group stands from the picnic bench and walks over to Mr. Chambers, depositing a handful of coins into the money box he holds. 

“There’s fifty pence from each of us there.” He tells the Vicar.

“Very generous of you, thank you.” Mr. Chambers responds with a bow of his head.

“See?” She says to her father. “Just leave them.”

As the afternoon progresses, the group is rowdier than anyone else at the fête. The sounds of their jeering and raucous laughing drowns out the tuba and trumpets of the band, earning them glares from everyone else in attendance. However, they keep to themselves, doing nothing more scandalous than using the picnic benches to arm wrestle one another.

She’s taking a walk around by herself, watching a group of children toss bean bags at each other with squeals and shrieks when she spots him, leaning against an outbuilding and swigging from a labeless brown glass bottle.

He winks at her when he sees her and she feels her cheeks heat up.

“Having fun?” He asks with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Not really.” She says with a soft laugh.

“Tea and sarnies not your thing then?” He smirks at her and it sets off a fluttering in her lower belly.

“I can’t imagine it’s yours either.” She says with a shrug. “What’s your lot doing here?”

He sniffs, taking another swig from his bottle and offering it to her. Tentatively she takes it from him, a shiver running through her as their fingers brush for the briefest of moments.

“We’re moving on tomorrow. Figured we’d come pay our respects before we push off.”

She is unable to mask her disappointment at this revelation, her eyes widening as her heart sinks. “Tomorrow?! You’re leaving..?”

He leans in, his blue eyes locking with hers. “You gonna miss us?”

She takes a long drink from the bottle in order to avoid having to answer the question, spluttering around the acrid burn of the liquid in her throat.

He chuckles, taking it back from her as she coughs and wipes her mouth. “Pal’s home brew. Put hairs on your chest, that will.”

She whips around when she hears Robbie calling out for her.

“Go on then, run back to your little boyfriend.” She has to suppress a gasp as she feels the hotness of his breath against the shell of her ear, how closely he’s moved behind her in order to lean down and whisper to her.

She swallows thickly, walking away before turning back to him. “I didn’t catch your name…”

“Abraham.” He tells her, with a mock two fingered salute.

“Nice to meet you, Abraham. I’m-”

“-oh I know who you are. Seen you around.” He interrupts, eyes roving over her form appreciatively.

She bites her lip, feeling the heat return to her cheeks and turns back to rejoin Robbie and her father.

The next hour passes uneventfully, until she hears raised voices coming from the area where the donkey rides are being given. Curious, she moves closer to see what’s happening. She’s surprised when she sees Abraham squaring up to Mr. Ruskin.

“It’s my animal, I think I know best how to look after it.” The farmer says angrily.

“And all I’m saying is that if you’re gonna have the poor fucker carting kids back and forth all day, the least you can do is give it a drink!” Abraham spits back.

The two men stare each other down, until eventually Abraham turns around and walks away. She thinks he has left and is bitterly dismayed that she hasn’t had the opportunity to speak to him more, when fifteen minutes later he turns with a bucket of water, setting it down near the donkey’s hay bales.

Mr. Ruskin grumbles at this, telling Abraham to clear off, but makes no moves to take the water away. She smiles at this, she knows nothing about this mysterious man, yet it’s endearing to see how he cares for animals.

She doesn’t see him again for the rest of the day and it’s only as things start to get packed down for the evening that she realises his group has left. The bucket remains where Abraham left it and she decides she’ll return it to him, emptying the water out onto the grass before turning to let her father and Robbie know what she intends to do.

She thinks better of it as she sees the two of them grappling with the hinges of a long folding table, struggling to collapse it. Probably for the best that they don’t know where she’s going. She takes the bucket, heading off in the direction of the farm.

Abraham isn’t hard to find. He stands in a stall of the stable, running a brush along the back of a chestnut coloured thoroughbred. He is bathed in the orange glow of early summer evening, the dying sunlight plays upon the sharpness of his features, making him appear ethereal.

“He’s beautiful.” She says, making sure it’s the horse she nods towards as she approaches.

Abraham grins when he sees her, continuing to brush out the horse’s coat. “He’s alright. Still needs a bit of work, but he’s fast. Should be fit for racing soon.”

“Mr. Ruskin doesn’t mind you keeping your horses in his stables?” 

He laughs drily, tossing the brush to one side and stepping out of the stall. “He told us to. Pitched a fit when he saw the state they were making of his field.”

She nods in understanding, watching as he brushes his hands off on his trousers.

“So what brings you to me?” He asks, leaning against the door of an empty stall and eyeing her closely.

“Oh,” She steps forward, holding out the bucket. “You left this. Thought you might want it back.”

He takes it from her with a smirk. “Right, because Ruskin couldn’t have brought this with him when he brought the donkey back…”

She feels herself grow hot again, opening and closing her mouth as she struggles to formulate a response.

“Why are you really here?” He closes the gap between them, a predatory glint in his eye.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She whispers, feeling arousal seep between her legs, warm and sticky, as he grips her lightly by the tops of her arms, turning her and backing her into the empty stall.

“I think you do.” He says lowly, fingertips tracing her jawline, the pad of his thumb passes slowly across her bottom lip, pulling slightly. “See, I think that little boyfriend of yours isn’t fucking you the way you’d like him to, so you thought you’d come see if I could do a better job.”

“N-no!” She stammers, fighting to keep her composure, as her stomach feels as though it’s doing somersaults.

“Oh?” He cocks his head, the hand not cupping her jaw moves, pushing the skirt of her dress up her thighs. “You a good girl then? Tell me to stop.”

She knows she should, but what she should do and what she wants to do are at direct odds with each other, so she says nothing, her chest rising and falling quickly with the rapidity of her breathing.

“That’s what I thought,” He utters, inhaling sharply as his fingers come to stroke over her clothed centre, feeling the dampness there. “Good girls don’t soak through their knickers like this for boys like me.”

It’s then that he finally presses forward to capture her lips with his own. It’s like no other kiss she’s ever experienced before, as his mouth moves with firmness against her own, parting to slip his tongue alongside hers, it feels like he is staking claim to her. She clings desperately to his shoulders, whimpering as she feels him push her underwear to the side and slowly sink a long finger inside of her.

“So tight…” He mumbles between kisses, moving his mouth to neck to suckle at her pulse point as his digit curls and pumps within her heat.

She allows her head to fall back with a soft thump against the wood of the stall’s wall as he adds a second, the repetitive strokes across a particular spot deep within her cause her muscles to tense as she bucks against his hand, feeling her belly tighten.

“Gonna come for me?” He asks cockily, sounding pleased with himself. His thumb begins to stroke at her pearl in tandem with the push and pull of his middle and forefingers.

The motion causes the tautness in her to finally give way, a wave of warmth rushes over her body from head to toe, and she lets out a strangled cry as she tightens and spasms around him.

She whines, her knees buckling as Abraham slowly retracts his fingers, but he’s quick to hold her in place by her waist. “S’alright, I’ve got you.” He reassures, keeping her steady until her breathing returns to normal.

The haze from her climax lifts slightly when she hears the metallic sound of his belt buckle unfastening, anticipation causing her breath to come in shallow puffs when it has only just recovered.

“You gonna let me inside, pretty girl?” He questions.

It almost makes her want to laugh, after what he’s just done to her, now he’s asking for permission. She nods feebly, her eyes heavy lidded as they take in the sight of his length as he fists it, long and thick. For a brief moment she wonders how he’ll fit.

“Use your words,” He urges. “Tell me what you want.”

“You,” She whispers shakily, “Want you inside of me.”

He smirks, pressing into her with a satisfied groan and she mewls pathetically as he stretches her open, his grip on her thigh as he holds her open to him is sure to leave bruises.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He grits out, once he’s finally sheathed within her.

He smells faintly of sweat, musky and intoxicating as she holds him close to her. She has never felt so full before, and the roughness of the wood against her back through the thin cotton of her dress, combined with the press of Abraham against her is almost overwhelming. 

Her head lolls to the side and she gasps once he finally starts to snap his hips against hers. He places a hand around her throat, giving the sides a gentle squeeze. “Look at me,” He orders. “Look at me when I fuck you.”

She finds that once she meets his eyes, she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. There’s a hunger that burns within those baby blues, commanding and insatiable, that keeps her trapped like an animal beneath the intensity of his gaze.

His pace is relentless. The slap of skin against skin mixed with the cadence of the wanton sounds that fall from her lips is lewd, utterly obscene, yet she is too far gone to care or feel embarrassed.

She knows that Abraham is close when his pace falters. He pulls out with a grunt, stroking himself furiously until ropes of his pearlescent spend coat her thighs and lower belly.

He falls forward, keeping a hand pressed to the wall beside her head to stop himself putting too much of his weight onto her, and rests his forehead against hers.

“Fuck,” He breathes. “We should do that more often.”

“You’re leaving tomorrow.” She says quietly, hoping her voice doesn’t betray the sadness she feels.

“So? Come with me.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, brushing the tip of his nose softly against her cheek.

“I can’t do that!” She huffs incredulously.

“Why?” He asks, stepping away, looking for something to help clean them both up. “What’s stopping you?”

She pauses, her brow furrowing as she struggles to think of an answer. Really, what is stopping her? She grins, her future suddenly seeming much less dull.

#abraham #grantchester #ewan mitchell #abraham smut #abraham grantchester #abraham fan fiction #abraham fanfiction #abraham fan fic #abraham fanfic #grantchester smut #grantchester fan fiction #grantchester fanfiction #grantchester fanfic #grantchester fan fic

[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.”

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