#i have so many questions about this storyline
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…vampire!jason thoughts… you must provide them im desperate…. -🐞
(ik you probably expected #real smut, honestly i did too but this ended up turning into a whole bunch of lore/headcanons/whatever tf. i'm so sorry bae cw: talks of consuming blood)
you ask, you shall receive. i've been thinking about jason and dick as vampires in relation to each other, so this'll be a post about both of them just for the sake of comparisons. also, in my mind, this au takes place during the 19th century because i've conflated vampirism with the victorian era, and it's also no capes in regards to vigilantism bc vampires do love a good cape.
in this victorian era, vampire au dick would be either a nobleman or straight up royalty. he's got status, money, and a pretty face, and he uses them all to his advantage when it comes to feeding. you know in the originals or itwtv when they host an event that's actually a cover for them finding their next meal? yeah, he does that. he flirts with all of the ladies, plays into his charms, and sweeps women off their feet. and at the end of the night (sometimes even mid-ball), he coaxes them upstairs and ravishes them, sometimes in more ways than one.
i think for dick feeding is something he can have fun with, knowing that he holds such a high ranking in society that when bodies of people he's been seen with show up around town, people turn a blind eye. and even when someone does try to investigate, the wayne family checking account talks enough to shut down anything beyond a questioning.
in many pieces of media surrounding vampires, there are people who know about vampires and choose to feed them their blood. there's a bunch of lore that explores the idea that a vampire bite is almost orgasmic and kind of addictive, which is why some people are more than willing to put themselves in harm's way by either being employed by vampires or by straight up just throwing themselves into a vampires line of sight with open wounds.
with that being said, i think dick grayson likes the chase. i think that even if his father (bruce, who is also a vampire in this au because vampire families are just superior) has people on his payroll to provide blood for them, he's going to go out on his own to flirt a bit, get laid, and then have his fill.
which brings me to my next point; while feeding, like sex, is an intimate act, it's far from necessary for dick to need an emotional connection with a person he feeds off of or even a physical one. sex and feeding are related but not totally synonymous, and if he needs to just feed or just get his rocks off, he can. is it preferred? maybe not. i believe he does like the mess that comes with doing both at the same time.
ok so for jason, ugh so obsessed with him as a vampire because i think it's so in line with his canon story. in a lot of vampire lore, to become a vampire, you have to consume the blood of a vampire and either die or be on the brink of death, which is just so. it's so jason dying and being revived by the lazarus pit coded. and even the way he inevitable that he will spill blood post-revival in both this vampire au and his canon storyline…it's almost prophetic.
anyway, jason's approach to vampirism is quite different. i think he struggles with it no matter how long he's been one. he can't fully grasp that he's immortal; he looks in the mirror and sees that he hasn't aged a day and he feels sick. being a vampire for him feels like a curse and he only continues living because he's scared to die (again).
he doesn't stay anywhere too long, typically hopping from town to town in the middle of the night when less people are around. he believes himself to be out of place amongst normal people and he's paranoid that people can smell the iron on his breath when he talks to them so he makes it a point to have minimal interaction with people.
it's crippling, he drives himself mad with the solitude, but i feel like another reason why he continues to stay alive is to spite his creator, whoever that may be. he's most definitely got an agenda, in true jason fashion. i just don't know what it is yet.
he feeds only when he needs to but tries not to let the hunger get too intense because i do feel like when he loses control, he's the stefan salvitore type. a ripper. but he's pretty good about it and is almost polite when he's feeding? like he finds a victim and says i'm sorry before just absolutely tearing into their jugular.
i just really think he grapples with his own mortality, or lack thereof, and how it exists at the expense of others. so he is genuinely ashamed of who he is and what he's become. so, while blood drinking is something he needs to survive, it holds a lot of weight for him, which is why i think drinking blood and sex are pretty equal for him when it comes to intimacy level.
that brings me to my MAIN point (which isn't really a main point because it's being reduced to a small paragraph at the end of this post), all of that was background for this, eek. the act of drinking blood during sex is so. big. for him, it's eye-opening, life-changing. the amount of trust required on both ends for this to happen…at that point, it's basically end game for you two. and it's so funny because that's just a normal tuesday for dick.
anyway, i do have more thoughts and more lore, but this got really long, so i'll cut it off here
#★ dirty laundry ★#vampire!jason#vampire!dick#jason todd#dick grayson#red hood#nightwing#jason todd headcanons#red hood headcanons#jason todd imagine#dick grayson imagine#red hood imagine#nightwing imagine
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I have a few comments and questions for you! All good I promise! :)
1. First of all I love your page! I joined this fandom about a month ago and I’ve followed some pages and they are so toxic if you don’t follow what they are pushing (both ships)
2. The access Hollywood interview. There wasn’t a real reason for it tbt (I’m obviously grateful for it) they couldn’t spoil anything coming up in the final two episodes. If they were doing a PR thing why not do an interview after the first kiss? Personally, the real reason for the interview was to promote Lou joining the show in season 8. However not officially announced yet. The only awkward part was when they brought up Lou’s dad and Oliver stepping in to ease the tension! Oliver is such a good person!
3. Tim Minear. I’m pretty sure it was said in multiple interviews from different cast members that he specifically reached out to Lou to come back for bucks bisexual awakening. Clearly Tim truly believes in Lou and wanted him to join the show again. If he didn’t believe in Lou, tim and the show could have just hired another actor for those scenes and introduced the storyline.
4. Lou being included on posts on the official IG page. The video posted today it could have just been the cast who has been on the show from the beginning. Also why follow Lou if he was going to be gone after a few episodes? From what I’ve seen and read that page never followed any of bucks love interests. So it’s a good sign!!
Awww, thank you! And welcome to the fandom! You have to be careful with some blogs, I'm not sure why some people here seem so pushy, but, eh, to each their own, I suppose.
And I agree with you about the access interview! I also think it was to help ease Lou into interviews. He doesn't seem to do very many, and it's pretty clear our chaotic yapper has had the "PR talk" so putting him in an interview with Oliver, who is his onscreen LI plus very well trained in PR, was the perfect scenario for him.
I expect to see more interviews with Oliver and Lou in the future.
And yesss! Tim did reach out to Lou specifically for this storyline. Tim even told Lou that he was a fan of his! Here's an excerpt from a Lou interview:
And to your last point... yep yes YEAH!
The 911 on ABC Instagram page follows him, as does Jihane, who works in the camera department, and she's responsible for most of the bts content we get!
(Also, you sent this a few days ago and last night, we got ANOTHER cast video with Lou included... soooo yep.)
Long story, short... Lou is here to stay for an extended amount of time. 🩵
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Well here we are at the end. It feels incredibly weird and surreal that this is the last time I'll be doing a reaction post after an episode. I think it will really sink in months from now when the show really doesn't come back but honestly I'm feeling so many different emotions right now and it's because of the episode and also just because of knowing this is the last of everything.
I feel like this finale episode really summed up my whole experience with this show. They'll do some things really well and some things that really just make you question why on earth did they think that was the right choice. Stuff that makes you so frustrated because they just get in their own way and could be doing things that isn't wasting the potential of real magic.
It feels like Maya and Carina were never able to really shine and be highlighted in the way they could have been. They shied away from the true chemistry and connection and love story that they had instead of embracing it. As soon as they would get some focus, they had to give it to someone else or insert someone else into the storyline. It was like they couldn't give the queer women too much for whatever reason. This has been a pattern since their relationship started so I'm sadly not surprised it ended the same way.
I get they had a lot to fit in so I wasn't expecting everything to happen like I envisioned. But they really didn't pay off the cliffhanger in any way. All this speculation about Maya quitting her job, all this worry about how she'd be freaking out about being near death and realizing she could lose the family that she finally has, all these possibilities about her getting injured, having some smoke inhalation, Carina being worried tat she'd have to raise their children alone and practically none of it gets addressed? Carina doesn't even find out that Maya was in that situation? We don't get to see them hug in relief as soon as they see each other? Maya doesn't even make a comment about how she thought she was going to die and lose everything she finally has? Again, didn't expect all of this, but not even a little of it?
And then instead of Maya being the one to collapse from smoke inhalation after being surrounded by an insane amount of flames, it's Andy...because of course Andy would have to be the focus. She's Captain, it's her station, they all had to come together to rally around her. Because it was already too much for them to worry about Maya for the first two minutes of the episode. We couldn't have Carina even come across Maya while she was in the field (what exactly was the point of that then? Delivering babies is a Maya and Carina thing)
I enjoyed the scene of Carina telling Maya she was pregnant. I love that it paralleled their proposal scene and we got the great camera spinning kiss like in 4x14. But again it's like we just have to be satisfied with the bare minimum and that's it. That was our only glimpse really of present Marina in the last episode. The way they did the flashforward scenes was super confusing and choppy in my opinion, not really knowing if it was the real thing at first or just what these characters were envisioning. (And don't get me started on how Maya and Carina's visions only included becoming mothers).
I don't know how to feel about Maya being Captain of 19 again honestly. Andy being Chief was...an interesting twist because I wasn't expecting that either but it always felt like 19 was Andy's station so why did they get away from that already? The whole series led up to that moment. Why couldn't Maya have her own station? I do love that her shirt had Deluca-Bishop on it though.
Will always be grateful that the show gave us Maya and Carina. What Danielle and Stefania did with these characters both separately and together will always be special. But part of me will also always feel a little sad and bitter about what could have been if they really embraced Marina as the main couple of the show and didn't let double standards get in the way and just let them be the bisexual loving wives that they are. So many missed opportunities and it's a shame.
Sending love to everyone feeling all types of things after that. It was a lot and I'm here for anyone who needs to vent. ❤️
#station 19#station 19 spoilers#carina x maya#this all feels so weird i can't believe its the end#now off to make gifs for the last time after an episode...crazy
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Benedict Bridgerton & Freedom: A Character Study
I think many would agree that Benedict Bridgerton's storyline in season 3 so far has been rather stagnant, potentially deja-vu-inducing. Benedict pursuing an unconventional love interest is nothing we have not already seen from the series. But despite the cyclical nature of Ben's plot, it could suggest more about his characterization (more specifically, his subconscious desperation) than what first meets the eye.
Art & Societal Detachment
Much of Benedict's plot in seasons 1 and 2 revolved around his relationship with art. Symbolically, art is a means of escape from the real world, just as it is a means of interpreting that world or one's place within it. Since both Colin and Benedict struggle with society (in similar, yet still different, ways), it only feels right that Colin feels a personal connection with writing while Benedict expresses himself through art.
It goes without saying that Benedict has poured his soul into his artistic pursuits; it is a part of him, and so naturally the revelation that Anthony bought his place in art school is a massive blow to his self-confidence. Colin experiences something similar: it's as if both brothers are struggling with this question of what it means to be themselves, not merely "Bridgertons" (side note, but the series title is interesting to me in that it calls upon the family's reputation, despite that reputation creating conflict in so many of the characters' stories).
Benedict makes several comments throughout the show that serve other characters' plots, but they speak so much to how he sees the world. For example, in S2 he tells Anthony:
"Poetry is the art of revealing precious truth with words."
By suggesting that poetry "reveals" something else, Benedict is implying that the world is made up of concealed truths. In other words, art is a means of seeing the world (and society at large) more clearly. Which brings me to...
Freedom (& Tilley Arnold)
Season 3 Benedict feels purposeless. The promotional material has indicated as much, and we saw it early when his only means of fulfillment (performing Anthony's Viscount duties while he was away on honeymoon) was taken away.
Season 3 Colin rejects society internally but tries to embrace it outwardly. Benedict has played the part himself before, but he's never pretended to enjoy it (see: his dancing at balls this season).
Ben is a rake, but he's not the kind that chases women to build his reputation. Colin was a rake to fit in, but Benedict is a rake because...well, because he wants to be. An important distinction. The similarity with Colin, however, is revealed through a conversation between Benedict and Mondrich.
Benedict views society as a cage outside of marriage. Once one becomes married, they become free. He even uses that word (a season 4 hint, perhaps? Could Ben's next pursuit of 'freedom' be finding the love of his life?).
We know Benedict hates these imposed restrictions. The most fascinating thing is that even when he has lost a huge part of his identity, Ben is still inherently searching for something, someone, to represent that detachment from society that he so craves. It's why he seems so disinterested in courting--why he runs anytime he is forced into the "societal" box. He is subconsciously searching for anything that removes him from this box...and who better than a bold, unconforming widow?
In my eyes, if Benedict falls in love with Tilley Arnold, that ultimately says more about him psychologically than any true bond between them. It is the idea of her that he falls back on so strongly after the blow he's suffered losing his art, the one thing that made him feel whole. She's temporarily filling a void.
Masquerade
Last point--the symbolism of masquerades. It's an interesting contradiction that concealing one's physical identity is actually exposing one's inner identity. That is to say, the writers have a chance to play with these ideas--self-expression, freedom, facades, escapism, etc.--at the masquerade ball (whenever we see it). It's such a poetic representation of what Benedict is searching for. I'd argue it's almost all subconscious at this point. Benedict seemed so sure of himself when he had art, but now the tables have turned on him--he's like Colin in S2: purposeless. The brothers' stories mirror each other, but the resolution of their problems is unique.
Here's hoping the showrunners/writers take advantage of the opportunity to do something more with Benedict's character in the second half of season 3. And fingers crossed this is all gearing up for Benedict as S4's lead. Seeing Colin in the spotlight in S3 presents a nice comparison with Benedict's own struggles.
#bridgerton#bridgerton season 3#bridgerton s3#benedict bridgerton#benedict#colin bridgerton#Bridgerton meta#benophie#luke thompson#luke newton#bridgerton season3#meta#bridgerton s3 spoilers#benedict x sophie#bridgerton series#bridgerton meta#bridgerton analysis
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Missed Opportunity: Jotch edition 4
Henry and Jack becoming friends
Such a big missed opportunity!
JJ and Hotch often bonded over being parents but it would have been so sweet to explore that connection outside of the workplace.
There could have been so much potential future storylines with the boys being included.
I have so many questions specially about the season 11 finale as well, such as:
How long were the Jareau/Hotchners carpooling?
Did Henry and Jack go to the same school?
Were they spending time outside of school together?
Was it just comics that the boys bonded over?
They both obviously felt comfortable in a group together, where else/when did they spend time together?
It would have been nice later on, when both boys were older in the later seasons to see them bond over their parents being FBI and away so often. Whether they were aware or not, they’d had a similar experiences as kids.
You’d think with the lack of external families both JJ and Hotch have close by that they’d capitalise on the fact that they have kids not too distant in age and a similar schedule to each other.
When Hotch was still on the show, it would have been interesting to see more aspects to jotch’s dynamic as parents develop as the boys grew older and understood more as well being able to see more of them supporting each other and using their parental skills on cases. Just another one of those missed opportunities.
#criminal minds#jotch#aaron hotchner#jennifer jareau#credit to gif makers#jack hotchner#henry lamontagne
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Source.
#angelo parker#i have so many questions about this storyline#do did he & daddy magic have a falling out for real#they haven't tagged forever#and i don't remember a segment where daddy magic said he was gone as long as ang was with ruby#he just stopped appearing in their segments#and ruby didn't want him to fight z*k kn*ght even though THAT'S LITERALLY HIS JOB -- HE'S A WRESTLER THAT'S WHAT THEY DO#did she want him to keep getting nancy kerrigan'd in the back?#i think i've lost the plot#(someone sure has)#cool hand ang#aew
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BUNGOU STRAY DOGS REALLY DECIDED TO BE LIKE "i'mma murder your delulu asses and then heal it all at once" LIKE HELLO? YOU YOSANO OR SMTH??
Edit: Ignore the tags about the episode thing, this apparently is the finale for season 5. But still. I'm worried about the further plot.
#THEY'RE. ALL. ALIVE.#how the hell is fukuzawa still alive with a stab to the fucking chest i-#BUT THIS HEALED MY TORN HEART MY GOD#especially after the jjk news like-#i feel bad for fyodor stans like for some reason fyodor's storyline seems... unfinished? idk#we never got to see his inner thoughts and that makes me sad#and i wont lie. they didn't explain everything#BUT THE FUKUFUKU SCENES WERE PERFECT.#it still feels like a fairytale#but there's like one more episode#and reading JJK and BSD has made me realize that you can NEVER trust what things look like#also what about the page??#I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS BUT IN A GOOD WAY#DAZAI RETURNING WITH CHUUYA? I THREW MY PHONE THANKFULLY IT FELL ON THE BED#JDBDJSKSHDNSKAKSMD#bungou stray dogs#bsd
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This is the dumbest thing to get mad about…
#basically funny tiktok about JL member questioning bathound#like why does he have a cowl on?#and a comments like ‘it’s so funny how before he was famous and had a prominent mark and now it’s aesthetic’#well actually it’s not funny ppl are writing without reading!#they see bathound and include him and don’t give a fuck!#and this is about the dog but like…it’s happening to EVERYONE it’s so sick#maybe if batfam gets bad enough we’ll collectively move to JLI#actually batstans stay AWAY from JLI!#I promise#how to keep them away…#there’s so many black characters with good storylines there guys u don’t wanna read it I promise <3#there that should do it 🥰🤞🏾#reminder Bruce didn’t even name ace bathound tho#like before ace had a bat dog tag and some nigga they beat up Called him that 😭#every ace drawn without his star mark is an Angel losing its wings <3
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Me at the legacies writers
#and it’s not just Landon/Hope/Handon#it’s all the characters/‘friendships’/storylines#the truly messed up the last two seasons of the show#they would write Hope/Landon occ just for the sake of whatever they wanted to do#they would have these big speeches/moments to show good friendships(panda promise Hope wouldn’t fight alone only for Hope to fight alone)#a whole speech about how Lizzie couldn’t kill Hope to Lizzie trying to kill her the very next episode#talking about how they would never leave a friend behind but would gladly leave them behind if it was convenient for them#I bet the wouldn’t have even tried to save Cleo if they didn’t need her muse powers#and so on#or them foreshadowing something only to make all that foreshadowing for nothing#spending a whole season setting up something only to make it pointless#making a big deal about malivore wanting Cleo to use her muse powers/gave him a vision and did nothing with it#save them with him taking Hope/golem Landon’s hair & ripper Kaleb#OG triad was over before it even began. idk if I can call the god storyline a storyline at all#limbo?? they kept changing limbo like it was nothing/even the ferryman thing made no sense#oh and does anyone else remember before s4 started they said all would be revealed? revealed nothing/gave us more questions#as well as so many other things#I don’t when or if I’ll ever be over what they did to show#bc it truly says something when the show ends with me only liking to characters and wanting justice for them
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TWISTED WONDERLAND'S HOUSEWARDENS WITH A READER, WHO IS INSPIRED BY THE PROTAGONIST FROM THEIR STORIES
A/N: I didn't add Kalim or Jamil, because I feel their storyline is too much Aladdin & Jafar inspired already to do anything else with them.
Riddle Rosehearts. ❤️
— That was definitely a dislike from the first sight. He predicted you to be his future reason of headache as soon as the mirror sent you to the Heartslabyul;
— Riddle sees you as an air-headed fool, who only asks too many unnecessary things, daring to question the wishes of the Red Queen, instead of serving to your dorm as a proper student would do;
— You, from the other side, struggle with understanding what makes Riddle hate you so much. You were nothing but kind towards him, always suggesting to eat some sweets together, and trying to ask him to take a break from his studies to hang out with you or others;
— When he overhears that your signature spell makes you others to tell you the truth, Riddle is... Intimidated. He is afraid that you will use is against him, and so, he starts ignoring you more often.
•
”Housewarden acts like an asshole towards you, though.”
Riddle doesn't even need to think twice to recognise a loud voice of Ace Trappola, another troublemaker in his form. He knows that he should just give him a punishment and leave for a lesson, but instead, he hides in the nearest bush, waiting to hear the rest of the conversation.
”Oh, Ace. You are being rude,” you mutter softly, sighing at your classmate. ”Perhaps, a housewarden doesn't like me, but this feeling is not necessarily mutual.”
Riddle raises his brows in surprise. Why, though? He is aware that his attitude is nothing but awful when it comes to you. He doesn't have a proper reason for that, either.
”You should, really,” Ace rolls his eyes. ”Dude has a problem with you liking white. And what else? Being nice?”
That isn't true. He is fine with you liking white—though, he admittedly got frustrated when you asked him on your first day why painting roses red, if they are prettier when they are white—and being nice. He just considers you too naive for this world.
”I think, you are... Misjudging him.”
That is right, Riddle mutters mentally. Tell him, Y/n.
”I think, the reason why housewarden is so... Let's say, annoyed by me, it is because I am everything he grew up hating and being restricted with. And it is harder, when something you should never be interested in, is nice and interesting. I think, housewarden is just confused.”
He feels his cheeks blushing furiously.
What did you say—
”And I think you are just being delusional,” Ace chuckles, patting your shoulder softly. ”Now, please, let's get out of here. I want to find Deuce.”
Riddle listens to the sound of your rushing steps, but he can't care less about it now. All he can do, is to recite your words, again and again.
Does he really think you as a nice and interesting?
Yes.
Does it make him hate you even more?
No, but he wishes it could work this way.
Until now, though, he merely returns to his studies. Maybe, you can be honest with yourself and everyone, but this kind of thing is not for him at all.
Leona Kingscholar. 💛
— Leona didn't notice you at first. Honestly, never planned too, until you started to cling to him in some idiotic attempts to be... What? Friends?;
— You remind him so much of Cheka, but he actually likes his nephew deep inside. And your presence is absolutely insufferable;
— You are too childish and annoying, and all you do is sway your tail as you try to befriend him, while pretending that you actually like him. Leona knows you have ulterior motives. Stop lying to him!
— He finds it stupid how someone so moronic as you managed to pull out such an interesting signature spell. Manipulating dreams of others? How cruel.
•
”Stop doing that,” Leona hisses, digging in your wrist as you try to touch his hair. ”I am seriously going to kill you, if you keep doing this. Do you hear that?!
A few weeks ago—approximately since you figured out your magic—Leona started saw dreams. Very colourful ones, cheerful even. And each, with the same meaning: he becomes the king, and his family and people adores him.
He hates it.
And he hates you for doing that.
Because, of course, he doesn't need your fucking pity. Your condescension. Your gifts. He doesn't need to be mocked!
”Ah? Leona-sama, what is it?” You blink, confused.
”What is your problem, huh?” He hastily jumps on his legs, towering on you. ”Don't you have anything to do? Go and mind your business, brat!”
Your lostness shifts in sadness. You are not scared of him, you are never are—another proof that you don't take him seriously—but you dare to look at him like that. As a kicked puppy.
”What did I do?”
”Stop sending me these stupid dreams! I don't need your pity, do you hear me?!” He yells, still gripping your wrist tightly. ”Go and dream of your family or something, instead, would you?”
”I... I am sorry,” you mumble, and your eyes dart on the floor.
Leona closes his mouth, when realisation dawns on him. You don't have a family to dream about; you are an orphan. Yours, the previous crown family, were killed by his great predecessors.
He doesn't know why he feels bad, when you picked the fight first.
”I will never bother you again, Leona-sama. I apologise.“ You repeat, and your voice suddenly sounds numb.
That is not the sight of you he, or anyone else, was used to. Not a single emotion on your face. You just snatch your wrist from his hold, before leaving him alone as he asked to.
”You are such a jerk,” Ruggie whistles from behind, appearing almost from nowhere.
”Shut up.”
”You know that they can't send any control dreams, right?” He continues, hands on his hips.
”What?” Leona unwillingly turns head on his vice.
”Dunno, but they only can adjust if it is going to be nightmare or a good dream,” Ruggie yawns. ”They are just a first-year, so... It is your brain that decides where is where for now.”
Fuck.
Leona hisses furiously.
He is so fucked up.
Azul Ashengrotto. 🩵
— Oh, so this is love? He notices you in the crowd of other students, as you flinch from loud voices from dynamics, clearly knowing very little of this world, and he is amused. Someone is clearly more social awkward than he is;
— Azul thinks you don't like him that much, though, because you only wave at him, and when he once tried to speak, you merely nodded and smile all the time without answering him properly;
— It is until twins tell him that you don't have a voice. You were brought to this world completely mute, because of the family curse, and though you hear everything, your only way to communicate with others is writing. Or a sign language;
— But if anything gods blessed you is your magic. Everything you touch turns to gold, and that is actually the main reason why you were kept isolated over years. Azul is over heels for you now...
•
”I am glad that you took time to accept my invitation, Y/n.”
Azul locks his hands together, looking at you with unhidden excitement. He is always too nervous in your company—luckily, you can't read a room—but today is a special day.
You smile at him, instead of answering.
”The reason why I asked you to came here, it is because I have a deal for you,” he continues carefully, weighing his every word. ”Do you see that?”
He points with his finger at the middle of the table. There is very beautiful necklace with pearls and a little seashell, looking quite normal and mundane. You nod again.
”That is something that could break your curse,” he explains, enjoying the way your eyes widen in the poor shock. ”Yes, yes, you heard me right. With that, you could speak easily.”
Azul can't help but soften as you tear up instantly. There is a whole minute, when he fights an urge to give it to you for free, but... He built his reputation too long to break it so easily.
”But, of course, I will need something from you in return.”
You tilt your head in question.
”I...”
I need you to love me.
”...I need you to use your power for my business when it will be required.”
And with that, Azul quickly shoves another contract to you. You blink a few times, but there is no back thoughts in your head. Quickly, as if afraid that he will change his mind, you took the pen, and leave your signature on all places, where it was needed.
Ah... Angelwish, why are you so naive! It kills him! What if he tried to use you? You didn't even read a contract! You really should be glad that Azul loves you so much.
Before he realises that, you are already putting a necklace on yourself.
One second, two. Three.
You are staring at him.
”Well?” He asks, anxiously.
”A... Azul?”
His heart drops.
Your voice is amazing. And hearing you saying his name is even better than he expected. He blushes.
”Azul... Thank you?”
”S-sure.”
Seems, like it is his turn to be speechless...
Vil Schoenheit. 💜
— He originally had nothing against you... Until other students didn't start to call you the most beautiful person in the world, following you everywhere obsessively, and suggesting you to become the next housewarden;
— Vil now officially hates you. Each time you come to him ends up with short anger impulses that he hardly hides from you, and he wishes you could just disappear;
— He is quite... Cruel with you. He wants you to change your dorm, actually, so he desperately pushes you to the edge by giving you impossible tasks to fullfil, and turning others against you;
— And he thinks your signature spell, speaking and controlling animals is another proof that you should leave Pomefiore for Savanaclaw.
•
“I don't think you are stupid, un petit entraîneur.”
Vil narrows his eyes, leaning slightly forward from his balcony. The sight of his vice speaking with you—hunter's interest in you was his another concern—annoys him instantly.
”What do you mean, Rook?” There is a big cat in your lap, clearly another of your minions.
”You know that our dear housewarden wants you out of here,” he murmurs, moving closer to you. ”A fair exchange with Savanaclaw, I would say. He doesn't like you here.”
You sigh.
”I figured it out, trust me. He made it very clear by always putting me in dangerous situations and giving me outdated products for skin, making me look like a fool in front of others.”
You don't mention how he makes you clean dark and messy rooms of other students.
”Yet, you are not willing to give up?” Rook touches the strand of your hair curiously.
”You know, I actually liked him a lot,” you admit suddenly, patting the cat behind its ear. ”Vil was the world for me. I was so amazed by him. By how collected he was, how hard he worked. I was excited to become his student... I wished to show him what he is worthy of. That others see his hard work.”
Vil's breath hitches. He remembers you mentioning that you were his fan, but he punished you for this remark; he didn't need to be so violently degraded. But... Was it a truth, then?
”...It is in the past now. I witnessed his true colours, and I will not tolerate it,” your smile twists in something more vicious, a ghostly fondness leaving your pretty face. ”He doesn't need to be scared of me being better anymore. Because I am going to be so much worse.”
He shudders as he hears that, your voice cold, and eyes gleaming dangerously. And as if Rook addresses him, he sighs suddenly, with the strange excitement in his voice:
”Oh, mon doux karma. What had you done?”
Idia Shroud. 💙
— From the minute you open your mouth in his presence , Idia knows he will hate you desperately... It is not serious, though;
— You are unbelievably loud, and too cheerful, and too proud, and you are so self-centred? Also, a fucking bimbo. Idia has no idea why everyone so into you, and what you are even doing in Ignihyde! Go away!
— You annoy him so much, and he actually hates the way you try to befriend him and make him more normie! Stop be like that! You are not welcome!
— Idia is absolutely not impressed that your signature spell is an instant tactics creation. Fuck you, by the way.
•
“You do know, that doors exist, right?” Idia hisses, not even stopping his game to spare you some attention.
”I do!” You say, climbing through the window with a loud thud.
”Then, why don't you use them, idiot?!”
Idia has no the slightest idea why anyone, let alone you of all people—he means, since you genuinely think that it is healthy to spend all your time outside of the room—would want to become his friend. But here you are. Trying to befriend him for a month already.
”Because you never open the door, Idia-sama,” you shrug easily.
”Take a hint, maybe.”
You close the window behind yourself, taking place behind his chair. Putting elbows on it, you hum thoughtfully, glancing from Idia to the screen of the computer, where the game flashes on. Another few minutes, and familiar yelps fill the room:
”Shit!”
Game over.
”Idia-sama,” you frown, ”maybe, I can help you?”
Idia snickers, rubbing his tired eyes. As if.
”Have you ever played this game, even?”
”No,” you murmur shyly, scratching the back of your neck. ”But I am good at tactics. And it is combat game, correct?”
Idia ponders for a while. That is surprising, because... You are actually absolutely correct. For once.
”Sit down, first year,” Idia exclaims, suddenly excited. ”I am going to teach you how to play this game.”
You smile widely, doing as it was told.
Finally, you cracked the code! And they said you weren't for this dorm...
Malleus Draconia. 💚
— Of course, he missed you as the new student at first, since he forgot to arrive at the orientation day. But it is not that long as he starts hearing others praising you, Lilia especially;
— You are quickly becoming the part of the school life as everyone loves you, and calling you ’the heart of the school’. And while Malleus wants to befriend you, too... He also can't help but feel envious of how easy it is for you. The socialization;
— You are quick to fall asleep everywhere, much like Silver. And since Malleus can't find courage to speak to you, he wanders around, when you are asleep at the strangest places, instead;
— When the first overblot incident happens, your signature spell kicks in. To everyone's horror, it is absolutely terrifying. Your magic is about thorns. Thorns, that wrap around Riddle's weakened body, when he touches you. He almost dies. And the same thing happens with Ace, who accidentally brushes your skin. Now... Everyone shun you away.
•
”Hello, Malleus-sama,” you mutter, eyes sleepy as you look around. ”I apologise.”
Malleus doesn't quite mind you falling asleep in the class, where his gargoyle's researches are going currently. He is the only member, anyway. But he nods.
”I had never seen you here before,” he notices in a poor attempt of the small talk.
You shrug.
”There is no other students here. And it is better for me not to show up around them.”
What a familiar thinking process... Somehow, he finds it easier: to approach you know, when you are not everyone's favourite anymore.
”I see. You can stay, then. I am not welcomed by them either, so no one is going to enter this classroom.”
You offer him a smile. It is short, strained at the edges, but still sweet. Malleus thinks he understands how you so easily charmed others in the last months; you are much like sunshine, when you are happy. It is a shame you are not, anymore.
”You know, Malleus-sama, I always wanted to become your friend,” you admit suddenly, making him open his eyes in surprise. ”And, I think, you wanted to be mine friend, too.”
You? Why would someone like you want to have him as your friend?
”And why would you think that?”
You fold arms on your chest slowly.
”You are always here, when I am sleeping,” Malleus feels blush touching the tips of his pointy ears. You elaborate. ”I am not sure people realise, but I sleep too much not only because I am lazy, but also because I feel surroundings better like this. I remember everything I hear in my sleep, and I do feel if someone is around.”
Ah. So, that is the secret of yours. And he wondered how you master in all your classes, when you sleep all the time...
”...I see,” Malleus mutters, ashamed. ”I apologise, then.”
He reminiscences of how often he whispered you some nonsense when you slept—childish complaints about how he hates you for being so easily loved by others, random poems that came to his mind as he sat down by your side, stories from his childhood—and feels like disappearing in the shame wouldn't be that bad.
”You know, Malleus-sama, you and I... We are not so different. We both do what we have to do to keep our loved ones to ourselves,” you sit down on the couch beside him slowly. ”But it leads only to one thing.”
Malleus gazes at you curiously as you suddenly curl on his lap, much like a cat. Your eyes met as he helps you to settle more comfortably.
”To destiny?” He asks aloud, tilting his head.
”To pain.”
There is a beat of silence in which your smile suddenly appears to be more bitter, less serene. Malleus doesn't know what happened with you in details, and how awfully these changes in your reputation affected on you, but he can say that it was hard.
”Now, if you don't mind, and I believe, you don't, Malleus-sama, I would like to dream a little bit.” You warn him, already closing your eyes, not really waiting for the answer.
Still, Malleus nods. Though that is not something you can see.
”Sleep, then... Beastie,” he sighs, patting your hair gently.
You snicker, before your breath slows down, alarming that you completely drifted off.
Malleus stares at you openly now.
Ah, who would've thought? He had finally made a friend.
Part two with Leona & Vil is here.
#twisted wonderland#twst wonderland#leona kingscholar#malleus draconia#leona kingscholar x reader#malleus x reader#vil schoenheit#riddle rosehearts#azul ashengrotto#idia shroud x reader#idia shroud#malleus draconia x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#riddle rosehearts x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader
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hiii I love ur fics <3 I am OBSESSED with the prompt “can you come get me?” bc h/c makes me 💥💥💥 so I was thinking:
reader has been kidnapped by the latest unsub and the team is trying their hardest to find her but all the leads keep coming up empty until one day Spencer gets a call from her and the first thing she says is “can you come get me?” she sounds extremely upset and afraid so Spencer and Hotch leave to go find her. when they get there, she looks like she’s been through hell so they rush her to the hospital to be checked out, all the while they can’t seem to get any info out of her about what happened.
Spencer & reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you like. (also I was thinking maybe hotchner!reader ? if that wouldn’t be too many things to ask for lol)
I love how you do angst and h/c, so keep up the good work and have a wonderful day <3
can you come get me? | S.R.
who? spencer reid x fem!reader
category: angst
content warnings: kidnapping, hospitals, stitches, blood draws, catatonia, disassociation, brief mention of sa, ohio mentioned, general cm violence (let me know if i missed any)
word count: 4.56k
a/n: i have no idea how this got so long but i love the plot of it so much that i couldn't cut any of it! i'm such a slut for the "you came"/"you called" trope that i couldn't help myself! i wrote this with the idea that it would be in place of the m*eve storyline (which means our lord and savior blake is here)!! anyways anon i hope you enjoy this - i love you!
Any external sound was completely ignored as Spencer flipped through the same file for the eighteenth time that day. In his periphery, he saw JJ and Rossi nod at each other before Rossi split away, walking up the ramp to where Hotch’s office was.
It took him a moment to realize JJ had made herself comfortable by sitting on the edge of his desk. She had her jacket neatly folded in her arms as she eyed the file he had, grief filling her eyes as she registered what he was looking at. “What are you doing tonight?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.
The question was entirely pointless, she knew exactly what he was doing tonight, but in an attempt to get her to leave him alone, Spencer humored her, “I’m working late tonight,” he answered simply.
JJ’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she shook her head, “You’ve been working late all week, what if you come over tonight? Will’s making dinner. Garcia’s coming after she finishes her system update,” the attempt to get him out of the office didn’t go over his head, but it wasn’t going to work. “Henry would love to see you – maybe you could teach him a new magic trick.”
Peeling his eyes off of the paperwork, he looked up at the blonde, “You know I can’t.” He felt so close to an answer, he couldn’t possibly leave.
“Look, Reid, I get it, but you’ve been working crazy hours for the past month. Maybe taking a night off would be good. You can start fresh in the morning,” she tried to coax him into leaving the case be.
It hadn’t been a full month; it had been twenty-seven days. Almost four full weeks since you were taken. It had been one week since Section Chief Cruz had told Hotch that the BAU needed to start taking new cases, as the trail to you had run cold.
Considering you were Hotch’s daughter, that discussion had gone rather poorly. Cruz had been able to give the team leeway. Both Spencer and Hotch had fully intended on taking advantage of that leeway, and the rest of the team helped when they had the capacity.
Turning back to your file, Spencer shook his head, “I’ll go if Hotch goes.” He knew there was no way Hotch would be leaving the office tonight, the only reason Hotch went home anymore was for Jack, and he was at a sleepover tonight.
JJ’s shoulders slumped in abject disappointment as her eyes followed Dave as he exited Hotch’s office, the slamming of the door enough to make the lingering BAU agents flinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, defeated.
Rossi wagged a finger at Spencer, “Go home at some point tonight, kid,” he instructed.
Waving a quick goodbye, Spencer resumed making notes in the margins of the papers that were making a permanent home on his desk. He looked up when Hotch exited his office, eyes following him as he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. The two of them acknowledged each other with a nod before continuing on with the hunt.
Both of them knew the odds, that you had been gone this long and there was a good chance that they’d never see you again. Despite that, Spencer would head up to Hotch’s office in about an hour, and the two of them would confer.
Eventually, the sun set, and a thunderstorm rolled in, the flashes of light coming in through the windows as he began to consider going for another cup of coffee.
Wiping a hand down his face, he inwardly groaned as his phone started to ring. Half expecting it to be JJ, he was surprised to find that it was an unknown caller. Clicking the answer button, he lifted the phone to his ear, “Hello, this is Dr. Reid.”
There was an eerie silence on the other end of the call, if he strained his ears, he could hear the pattering of rain. He tried to greet the other person again, but when there was no answer, he started to lower the phone to hang up.
“Can you come get me?” Your quiet voice came through the receiver, effectively knocking the wind out of Spencer’s lungs.
Fiddling with his belongings, Spencer gripped your file, “Where are you?” He asked urgently.
You sniffled, “I don’t know. A payphone off of twenty-eight.” If he strained his ears, he could listen to the rain. Spencer wondered if he could calculate how far away you were by the sound of the thunder where you were compared to where he was.
His chest ached at the exhaustion in your tone, imagining you had gotten approximately as much sleep as he had recently. That is to say, little to none. Pulling the phone slightly away from his face, he called out for Hotch, getting his attention and waving him over. “Y/N, can you see any mile markers or exit signs anywhere?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.
“I can’t see much of anything,” you admitted. That made sense, your glasses had been recovered at your abduction scene. Spencer kept them in his bag with the rest of your belongings that had been released from evidence. “I feel lucky enough that I was able to find a pay phone,” you said, and for the first time, he noticed that you were whispering.
Glancing at the inside of his wrist, Spencer checked the time. JJ had mentioned something about Garcia staying in her office for a system update – what were the odds the tech analyst was still there? Stalking out of the bullpen, he made his way to her office, Hotch hot on his heels.
After knocking on the door, her voice rang out, “Enter, mere mortal.” Once she had recognized who it was, she greeted Spencer directly, “Ah, Dr. Reid, did you need a ride to JJ’s?”
“Can you locate a payphone based on the phone number?” He asked hurriedly, the longer you stood out there in the rain, the more danger you might be in.
A confused look was plastered on her face, but she turned back to her screens and started click-clacking away. “Most def, boy genius. Run me the digits,” she responded, pulling up some sort of database that Spencer didn’t recognize – probably for the best.
She typed the phone number just as quickly as he recited it, turning around and telling him that the pay phone in question was approximately thirty minutes away. You had only been thirty minutes away this entire time. “Send the coordinates to Hotch’s phone,” Spencer instructed, stepping toward the door. “Tell the rest of the team to come in,” he continued, “it’s Y/N.”
Each stage of grief flashed across Penelope’s face as she nodded assuredly, scrambling for her phone as she took care of notifications.
Impatiently, Hotch held the elevator door open as Spencer entered, keeping the phone up to his ear, “Stay on the phone,” he told you.
A desperate whimper came from your end of the call, “I don’t have any change. I found a few quarters on the ground, but I don’t have anything on me.”
“Stay on as long as you can, angel,” Spencer amended. “We’re on our way.”
The rain was worse than he had initially thought, but Mother Nature was no match for Aaron Hotchner. They were only about five minutes from the coordinates that Garcia had shared, and the phone call had dropped off before they were even on the main highway. The dropped call certainly didn’t help the rising tension in the SUV.
“Did she sound scared?” Hotch had asked for the nth time.
Not taking his eyes off of the map, Spencer nodded, “She sounded like she was stranded in the middle of the woods in Virginia, in a thunderstorm, and was using a pay phone as a lifeline.” His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy as they sped down the road, “but she’s alive.”
He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. You being alive would have to be enough of a comfort to the both of them for now, but Spencer knew what your life meant to your father.
“There it is,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts with the recognition of a phone booth on the side of the road, in front of a seemingly abandoned gas station. In a moment of uncharacteristic recklessness, Spencer clambered out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, an umbrella and jacket in tow.
Hesitantly, he approached the crumpled heap of limbs underneath the pay phone. It wasn’t a full booth, it had just enough coverage to prevent the payphone from short-circuiting. You had jammed yourself underneath it, trying to keep yourself as dry as possible.
Kneeling in front of you, he swept his sopping-wet hair from his face, “Y/N.” His voice was no more than a breath, he didn’t dare reach out to touch you — lest you not want to be touched. A strike of lightning lit your surroundings enough for him to note the bruise that had bloomed on your cheek.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched as your lips parted in recognition, “You came,” you whispered.
He nodded, “You called.” His heart soared as you shuffled yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap the FBI-issued jacket around your rain-soaked frame. “Let’s get you out of this rain, alright?”
Standing up on shaky legs, Spencer helped you walk to the SUV where your dad was waiting, shining a flashlight to help guide you to the vehicle. Based on how heavily you were leaning on him, he could tell that your left leg was injured. Despite your injury, you stepped away from Spencer to hug your father.
For a moment, Spencer felt like he was intruding on a family moment, but he recalled all of the times he had been invited to join in Hotchner festivities these last few years and allowed his eyes to meet Hotch’s.
The two of them shared an understanding look as Hotch pulled away, “We should get you to a hospital,” he said, cupping your face with parental gentleness.
Spencer helped you into the SUV, unable to put any pressure on your leg, you depended on the handles to pull yourself up. As you maneuvered yourself, he tried to determine what your injuries were. His eyes scanned your body until he made his way back to your face, “Angel, keep your eyes open.” He felt as if he was asking a lot of you, but he didn’t know if you had taken a hit to the head. Falling asleep could do more damage. “Hey, Y/N?” He said, watching as your eyes fell shut and your head slumped forward. “Hotch,” Reid said urgently from the backseat.
Understanding perfectly, Hotch hit the lights on the SUV and turned on the siren. Flashes of red and blue signaled to other drivers that there was an emergency.
You were silent.
As soon as they had gotten you to the emergency room, your entire demeanor had changed. Spencer guessed that you had been in fight or flight when they had picked you up from the phone booth, and now that you were getting the help that you needed, all of the fight had vacated your being.
In the white fluorescence of the hospital, he could see how drained you looked. Once the doctors got their hands on you, you refused to let him or your dad near you.
Hotch was in the hallway, talking on the phone with your Aunt Jessica while he tried to arrange childcare for Jack so he could stay with you - the leader of your care team estimated you’d be in the hospital for at least a few days.
While you had been mobile when they came to get you, your energy had left along with your adrenaline, and eventually, the best course of action was to just let you sleep. That was how Spencer ended up sitting cross-legged in a stiff hospital chair, watching over you as you slept.
Respectful of your wishes, he kept a fair distance from you, but you’d be hard-pressed to convince him to let you out of his sight. There were tubes and wires going every which way from your body, oxygen, an IV, and electrodes monitored your life. Boiling you down to a collection of numbers that showed Spencer just how alive you were.
The doctors suspected you had bacterial pneumonia, but they were still waiting on the results of your chest X-ray to make a formal diagnosis. Your presumed leg injury had turned out to be a bruised hip bone – part of a sickening pattern that reflected that of someone who had been thrown down a flight of stairs.
A knock on the window to your hospital room caught his attention, causing him to turn his head and come face to face with Rossi and Blake. Opening the blinds so that he’d be able to keep an eye on you from the hallway, Spencer stood up and joined his colleagues in the corridor.
“What’s the report?” Rossi asked, nodding in the direction of your room, and placing his hands on his hips.
Spencer rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “The doctor said that all things considered, she’s in good shape, but…” Shaking his head to wake himself up, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s sick and was beaten. Right now, she’s sleeping. We have no idea she was running in the woods, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted.”
He continued on to list other maladies that the doctors had provided, dehydration, malnutrition, one cut on your arm that needed to be stitched, and that was just scratching the surface. Dave nodded understandingly, “but the sooner we get to ask her questions, the better.”
Shrugging, Spencer looked over at your father, and then back to you, “When she wakes up on her own,” he murmured, watching as a nurse checked on your IV. He didn’t want to risk waking you up or asking too much too soon of you. “Can I ask you a quick question?” He lifted a finger inquisitively to the nurse who was walking out of your room, scribbling something on your chart.
The nurse hummed in response, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to ask.
“Do you think the infection has anything to do with her silence? She might be hurting so she isn’t talking?” He asked, it wasn’t unheard of, when people were in a lot of pain, sometimes they coped with silence.
While the nurse might have an excellent bedside manner, the three profilers took note of the concern in her eyes. “The silence might have more to do with her psychological well-being than her physical well-being,” she responded, it was a healthcare way of trying to appease them. Really, they didn’t know much better than the members of the BAU did.
Blake’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, “Could it be catatonia?”
“In order to diagnose catatonia, she’d need to display three of twelve symptoms. Those are stupor, catalepsy, waxy flexibility, mutism, negativism, posturing, mannerism, stereotypy, agitation, grimacing, echolalia, and echopraxia. So far, she really only meets one of twelve,” Spencer answered.
Shrugging, the nurse pointed at Spencer with her pen, “What he said.” She looked down at the chart before continuing, “Her care team leader called for a psych consult, but we won’t really know one way or the other until she wakes up.”
Nodding, Rossi nodded in acknowledgment, “What else could it be?”
Pursing her lips, the nurse tilted her head to the side, “Peritraumatic disassociation is another possibility, but again, we won’t know until she wakes up.”
The waiting game began. As luck would have it, an FBI agent being abducted created a lot of paperwork, so Hotch was holed up in a conference room while Rossi and Blake worked on the profile. JJ and Morgan stayed back at Quantico with Garcia to look back at what information Hotch and Spencer had been gathering over the past twenty-seven – now twenty-eight – days.
Spencer stayed with you, tucking your blanket around you when he watched goosebumps sprout along your arms. He paid close attention to everything that the doctors and nurses said about your condition, relaying everything to Hotch via text message. They ran a kit on you, and the only solace was that there was a chance that they could DNA match whoever did this to you.
He left that last part out of his message to your father.
As soon as you started waking up, Spencer had to leave the room, watching from the hallway as medical personnel flurried around your bed. At first, he had assumed your aversion to himself and your dad was an overall aversion to men, but you didn’t flinch when it came to the male doctor who was checking your vitals manually.
A nurse peeked out from the door, “Are you Dave?”
Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer cocked his head back in confusion, “No? I’m not – why?” He asked, gaze flickering back into your room as you scrawled something on the piece of paper that a nurse had handed you.
“She said she’d talk to Dave,” the inquiring nurse shrugged, turning back into your room, and adjusting your pillow beneath your head.
Still confused, Spencer slipped his phone out of his pocket, nimbly typing a message to Rossi before returning the phone to its home in his slacks. Trying to respect your peace, Spencer remained in the hallway, leaning back against the wall as he heard the familiar sound of Italian leather boots turning the corner. “Are you sure she didn’t mean Aaron?”
Spencer shook his head, mirroring the older man’s confusion, “She physically wrote your name out. She’ll only speak to you,” he answered, trying to hide his own pain for the sake of ridding you of yours. If you wouldn’t talk to your father or himself, it made the most sense that you’d talk to Rossi. You’ve known him the entire time your father worked in the BAU.
Shrugging, Rossi walked into your room and approached you with the care of a man approaching a deer. He remained this way until he made it to your bed, and Spencer watched as he smoothed your hair away from your face affectionately.
You leaned into his touch, and Spencer didn’t miss the cue. When was the last time anyone had touched you with love in their heart?
He had kissed you goodbye before you went on your run, just thirty minutes before your location turned off and your usual Thursday route turned into a hunting ground. With what you did for work, you switched paths frequently, but someone had been watching you, or at least, that was the conclusion the team had drawn.
Watching as Rossi spoke with you, Spencer noticed one anomaly – you weren’t speaking to him. Instead, all of his questions were answered with blinks or scribbling on paper.
The two of you went until a nurse came in, telling the both of you that they needed to run a few more tests. Taking his leave, Rossi told you something that Reid couldn’t quite make out and rejoined him in the hallway.
“What did you say to her? Just now?” Spencer asked, his need for any sort of contact with you becoming so desperate that he’d now accept it secondhand.
Frowning, Rossi placed both of his hands on his hips, “I called her piccolina, I used to call her that all the time when she was just a little thing running around the old BAU bunker.” Taking a moment, Rossi pulled out his little notebook and read through it. “White male, late twenties to early thirties, sometimes gone for days on end citing ‘work,’ but she never figured out what he did for work.”
Spencer’s eyes burned at the realization that you had been working your own case while being victimized, he peered in through the window as a nurse drew your blood.
“She said he drove a dark American sedan, making it either blue or black,” Rossi continued to list off, eyes following Blake as she approached the two of you. “Y/N said the car was filthy like he had been living out of it when he couldn’t get to her in the woods. The car had an Ohio party plate on it with expired tags.”
Blake arched a brow at the new information, “Party plate?” She said quizzically, looking at Spencer for clarification.
Nodding, Spencer looked over at his friend, “That’s the colloquial name for restricted license places. They’re given to people who are convicted of DUIs, which is actually called an OVI in Ohio. In Ohio, they’re yellow with red print, and the only state to have something similar is Minnesota where they call them whiskey plates because they all start with the letter W.”
“Well, he’s confident. Maybe too confident, driving around with expired tags and a license plate that already puts a spotlight on him,” Blake said thoughtfully, adding to the profile in her mind. “We should get this information to Garcia, maybe look for people who recently relocated from Ohio with those plates,” she suggested to Rossi.
Rossi nodded, skillfully flipping the cover back over his notepad and gesturing for Blake to follow him to the conference room, effectively leading Spencer to his own devices. When the nurse left to bring the vials of blood to the lab, he returned to your room, taking his seat on the edge of the room – as far away as he could get while keeping his eyes on you.
He looked up to your bed, catching you staring at him. As soon as you knew you had been caught, you turned your head to the other side, averting your gaze toward the window.
Every thirty minutes or so, Spencer moved the chair approximately five inches closer to you, by four in the morning, he had closed half of the space between you. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had that crease between your eyebrows that told him you were thinking too hard, and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching it as if he could soothe all of your bad thoughts.
In the doorway, Rossi had appeared, garnering your attention as you propped yourself up on the flat hospital pillows. “We got him,” Rossi announced to the room, a reserved smile on his face.
Spencer watched as you visibly relaxed on the bed, your face softened as your eyebrows relaxed. Rossi explained some next steps, but he was only half listening, he could only focus on you.
Once Dave was gone, Spencer took a leap of faith and shuffled the chair to your bedside, “How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, taking up a muted tone.
You stared at him, blinking at him until, eventually, your face crumpled, and you leaned toward him.
Not missing a beat, Spencer stood up from his chair so that he could sit on the edge of your bed, meeting you in the middle, he gently wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small, soothing circles along your back with the flat of his hand.
In the past twenty-eight days, Spencer thought that being reunited with you could fix all of the hurt in his chest, but this, right here, was a different kind of pain. Tears sept through the fabric of his shirt just as soon as they fell from your eyes, and all of the hurt that he had felt before just morphed into a different kind of suffering.
His heart ached at the sight of you in this much pain, so much emotional turmoil that you had silenced yourself. What was he supposed to say in order to comfort you? ‘You’re okay,’ was wholly false, and ‘it’s alright’ felt like a cruel joke. You very clearly weren’t okay, and none of this was alright.
“I’m here,” he reassured you, his voice no more than a croak as he tried to swallow his own emotions. “I’m right here,” he repeated, continuing his ministrations on your back until you had cried yourself to sleep.
With your body in its weakened state, Spencer carefully adjusted you onto the bed, making sure none of your tubes or wires were kinked before settling back down in his chair and taking your hand in his.
Around the time the sun came up, your care team came through for morning rounds and woke you up to thoroughly inspect your status. Once they left you to your own devices – with the promise of food in half an hour – Spencer focused all of his attention on trying to coax you into speaking to him.
Tenderly, he dragged a finger across your forehead before continuing down the bridge of your nose, “I’d really like to hear your voice, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, maintaining a subdued tone in the early hours of the morning.
He watched as you sighed, deflating all of the air in your lungs as you tipped your head to the side, interrupting his movements. “I asked him to do it,” you murmured, voice raspy from lack of use.
“To do what?” Spencer asked, heart beating a little faster at the sound of your voice. He watched how you nervously gripped a fistful of sheets and looked at him. Only you weren’t looking at him, it was more like you were looking through him.
You took a deep, shuddering breath before you answered, “To kill me.”
The confession weighed heavy on his shoulders, but it wasn’t regarding anything against you. It was in the realization that you had been in so much physical and emotional turmoil while in captivity that you had asked for your own death. That even for a moment, you sat in front of a killer and asked for him to end your life as an act of mercy.
Noting Spencer’s lack of response, you continued speaking, “That’s why he let me go. I begged him to just end it and that took away any appeal for him.”
Last night. You had pleaded on behalf of your own demise last night. Carefully considering his next words, Spencer met your eyes and replied, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage.”
You faltered for a moment, evidently not having expected those words from him, “What are you talking about?”
It made sense to him now, why you wouldn’t talk to him or your dad. He felt like such a fool. You had been ashamed because you felt like your abductor had diminished your worth by breaking you down. Spencer knew better, “You stood your ground. You faced your own death, and you chose that over further suffering. Dying isn’t an undignified act, no matter how it comes upon you,” he reminded you, smoothing your hair away from your face as he watched your lip quiver.
“Thank you for staying,” you croaked as emotion closed your throat.
Spencer hummed thoughtfully, swiping a rogue tear from your cheek, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid angst#criminal minds angst#margot's requests#spencer reid hurt/comfort#criminal minds hurt/comfort
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so, you've been considering getting into hermitcraft.
that's great! welcome! we are an extremely enthusiastic fandom, i admit, but we are very happy to have you watching the hermits! however, with over a decade of existence and twenty-seven current hermits, it can feel very intimidating to get into hermitcraft. luckily, as of the time of this posting--january 31st, 2024--it's also the BEST time to get into hermitcraft, because a new season starts on february 3rd! (and if you're reading this later: don't worry. this is ALSO the best time to get into hermitcraft. don't worry about it i'll get into that.)
the shortest version of this advice is: start wherever you want, with whoever you want. it doesn't matter, you can catch up.
still, it can seem like a lot. so, from someone who's been around since mid season seven, here is a more detailed guide on how to start watching hermitcraft!
what is hermitcraft?
hermitcraft is a collection of people who all play on the same survival multiplayer minecraft server. that server is a mostly vanilla minecraft server; i don't really call hermitcraft "vanilla" anymore, as they rely on a number of largely cosmetic mods, but the things they do on hermitcraft should, broadly, all be possible in vanilla minecraft, and the server still "feels" vanilla, so. vanilla minecraft. they do this in "seasons", which are periods of time between a year and two years, after which they reset and start on a fresh server.
in comparison to something like qsmp or even the life series, hermitcraft leans heavily on the "building cool things and hanging out" side of the spectrum as opposed to the roleplay side. however, at least once a season the hermits like to do a big storyline; sometimes, it's more frequent. many of the storylines are more natural escalations of things like server prank wars or a failing server economy, though, as opposed to things that are clearly in-universe roleplaying. don't worry, though; you'll know a hermitcraft storyline when you see it. by everyone's bad acting. also, by rendog putting on a silly accent.
if your only impression of hermitcraft has been from the fandom, you... probably have a somewhat mistaken impression. my bad. in my defense, i am a horror writer at heart, and in the fandom's defense, a LOT of crossover has happened with the life series fandom, which leads to both sort of leaking into each other. in general, expect things to be on the lighthearted goofy shenanigans side with very few exceptions when you're actually watching hermitcraft, despite the way the fandom tends to be.
where is hermitcraft?
broadly, youtube! hermitcraft is an almost entirely video series, and if you want to watch a hermitcrafter, you will almost certainly need to watch them on youtube. there are only very rarely streamed hermitcraft events, and these are normally announced ahead of time.
what if i prefer twitch?
skip the rest of this and just watch joe hills. i promise i'm not saying that because i'm a joe hills guy; i'm saying it because he's the only hermit that consistently streams from hermitcraft. impulse, tango, cleo, pearl, xisuma, iskall, and hypno all also appear to stream fairly regularly, but it's not always from hermitcraft.
where should i start?
now, that's the real question, isn't it? my answer is simple: start Now. if you're reading this as i post it, that means start this saturday on everyone's episode one. if you're reading this long after i post it, though, just... go ahead and start with whoever you want to watch's latest episode! the nice thing about hermitcraft is that you can GENERALLY jump in wherever you want.
but what about old seasons?
you do not need to watch older seasons of hermitcraft. unless you want to, of course; the world is your oyster and they are very good! however, there's also a LOT of old hermitcraft, and if you want to join in with what hermitcraft is doing now, old seasons aren't necessary. very little carries over from season to season. while sometimes old "lore" or recurring bits can carry references over, and the relationships between hermits will often carry over to some extent (if often not in the same patterns), it is never to an extent that you need the old seasons for context. each season is a clean new slate, and where "lore" carries over, the relevant hermit will almost always explain it to you.
what about helsknight/evil x/hotguy/boatem/convex/some other thing i've been hearing about?
i promise, if they are relevant to this season, they will explain it to you in the relevant episode and/or it will be easy enough to pick up. do not worry about it. each season is a soft reset for a reason, and one of those reasons is to make it easier on new viewers! and if you're here because you WANTED one of those specific things... ask an older fan! they'll be able to direct you to the places they're from.
do i need to watch all the hermits?
absolutely not! in fact, i strongly recommend you don't. there are going to be... hold on let me count... twenty-seven hermits? (i am bad at counting don't quote me on this) in this season alone. keeping up with all those videos is too much for basically anyone! instead, pick a few hermits that you like best, and if you want to keep up with everyone else, go to the hermitcraft recap youtube channel and watch that! it is a vital hermitcraft resource where pixlriffs, zloyxp, and lyarrah all watch every single hermit so that we don't have to. honor their sacrifice and don't try to watch everyone.
but how do i pick someone?
few ways! there exist, if you google, plenty of "choosing your hermit pov" quizzes; if you head over to the hermitcraft subreddit, for example, i'll be SHOCKED if they don't have one, and if you go over to the recap channel, they had one of those for a while too. this is the starting place for many people.
another way is to watch the recap and choose whoever's project interests you most. for early episodes, this may be hard, but since hermits tend to go hard for their first episode, you'll normally at least be able to pick up a sense of pace and build style.
just watching whoever it is your friends are obsessed with is also a tried and true method of finding your first hermit; frequently, like with the recap, this is a good method for then figuring out whose style you like best, and switching to them, if you don't end up clicking with the same people your friends click with.
finally, you can just... click a random hermit's channel! try a few out! maybe you heard about decked out and want to watch tango; maybe there's a storyline you want to start watching because the dash has been rambling about it; maybe you just want to know who this grain character is. clicking around until you find the guy whose editing you click with is a totally valid strategy!
that sounds hard. just pick someone for me.
if you like well-edited shenanigans: grian or mumbo jumbo. (these are also good starter hermits in general, i've found; if you aren't sure where else to start, start with one of them.)
if you like long background noise-type videos: docm77
if you like minigames: tangotek.
if you like a chill video: xbcrafted or, if the texture pack gets you, vintagebeef.
if you like storylines: rendog or grian, again. (i was trying not to double-up, but if you're here from an rp-heavy server, grian remains a great entry point in that regards.)
if you like to see something new and bizarre: zedaph if you prefer highly-edited videos, joe hills if you prefer lightly edited videos.
if you want the best building on hermitcraft: pearlescentmoon or bdoubleo100, special mention to goodtimeswithscar.
if you want someone as new as you: i'll come back and edit in whoever the new hermits are once we know! but them.
if you just want one of my favorites: zombiecleo or iskall85.
thank you! what if i DO want to know what the fandom is always on about?
that, i'm afraid, i don't know how to help you with. you'll just have to watch hermitcraft from here--and maybe read some of the fanworks that have intrigued you--and find out for yourself!
good luck out there, and i hope this has helped someone!
#mcyt#hermitcraft#long post#...a tag i normally resolutely don't use but i don't want this under a cut and it IS very long#ANYWAY HERE IT IS MY THEORETICAL GUIDE!
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False God ✭ Max Verstappen
Summary: Being lost spiritually isn't something you can brag about, but finding a new belief in someone is. From that alluring man in the F1 paddock to finding out he's the Max Verstappen didn't effect you as much as discovering his lips are your new religion even if it's a false god.
Warnings: The use of y/n!! (I used it 2-3 times), unprotected sex (what else could you expect from me?), teasing, reader is a virgin, mirror sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, creampie, praise, and use of names (good girl), also overstimulation and dacyphilia. I don't know if taking a photo of a naked person counts as a warning or spoiler, I guess it's both.
Word Count: 4.5k
A/N: Based off of this request. I would also like to thank @mrsevansxstanxobrien for saving me by giving me a perfect storyline for this. 🧡 And also all everyone who waited for this. I feel like adding more at the end, maybe a part two.
Never would I have ever thought I’d wear this dress. But I’ve been lost, and these girls are helping me become found. I’m not used to the material leaving my shoulders exposed and ending before my knees. Some of my family wouldn’t approve, but I feel… pretty. I would’ve worried that my place in heaven might slowly crumble but now, I don’t know.
I feel so happy and people are looking at me. In my little white dress, the one that hugs my torso and sways around my thighs, loose straps hung above my shoulders.
This feels like heaven. Being in a place I’ve never heard of with my friends as they pull me to different small buildings. “Come on!! We have to find any driver we can. If you see one, tell me!” Lissie smiles, eyes shooting everywhere just like my other two friends.
“I don’t know what any of the drivers look like.” I say my words with worry but chuckles lacing them.
“If you see a good looking guy with people around him, then tell me.” I laugh hearing others agree.
“Oh specifically if they wear red or orange- Ferrari and McLaren drivers, oh even Mercedes which is black.”
“Ok… I’ll try.” Feeling uncertain about this whole thing but I nod. Walking through the paddock and turning my head at every man that would emit a good thought into my head. They looked at me too and I prayed to god hoping it weren't for the wrong reasons.
My friends quickly spotted a driver and we all got photos and signatures, his name was Charles last I recall and now I understand one of the reasons he has so many fans. He signed my paddock pass in record time and then sent us a remarkable smile.
We had to leave him and those dimples to jog the other way for drivers who had just finished FP2, meeting so many as my friends explained to me the whole purpose of this.
Some drivers walked in pairs making it all the more easier for us to capture a second with them.
I was getting one of my friends' hats signed by a driver called George when my eyes left his hand, looking into the crowd all around us. Somehow locking eyes with a stranger, he then looked me up and down a small smirk on his face.
And I could only do the same, my eyes travelled down his body, his jeans that hugged his thick thighs and red bull polo tight around his shoulders then hanging around the rest of his torso. I became flushed and looked away for a second to gain composure but when I looked back he wasn’t there. It was like he was a dream.
“Y/n, you good?” Lissie asked, checking in on me as I hadn’t realised they started walking again. “Oh, um yeah I got distracted. So who else do we have to find?”
“Great question, so I heard that Max is around here somewhere, he might be gone but still keep an eye out for him. And Alex, I love him with my whole heart but our telepathy isn’t telling me where he is.” We both laugh and it feels so good, the afternoon soon reaching the evening. She checks her watch and then looks back at me. “Oh, we have 3 hours until dinner so we can go back to the hotel, do things there, eat, party and then we’ll be back here tomorrow. Sounds good?” I couldn’t say no to that plan so we ended up going back to the hotel.
20 minutes of swimming in the empty hotel pool turned into nearly 2 hours and now we were running a little behind schedule. We rushed to get ready, but oh didn’t we still look good. “We’re gonna meet the other girls there.” Lissie tells me as we get seated in the back of a taxi, adjusting her makeup. I nod, turning my head to look out of the window, I hold the cross around my neck fiddling with it whenever I get too deep into my thoughts.
I cast eyes on many people today but that one guy, from the way he looked at me with a light smirk to the smallest tingling feeling he sent through my body. It was as if he tried to make out my whole personality in one glance, if only I could’ve done the same.
The scenario plays in my head multiple times, each time I react in a different way– my default ways of a smile or being a whole different person by sending him a smirk, or calling him over.
I know I shouldn’t worry about that, if worried is a word close to what I’m experiencing. But my thoughts make the ride shorter and we both hop out of the car, wearing outfits suitable for a restaurant and a dirty club right after. We stood just outside the restaurant waiting for Leah and Milan.
Taxi’s drove past and dropped people off, each one we looked into searching for those two girls. Then suddenly a car made an abrupt stop in front of us. The windows were tinted and it limited our vision inside of the car. Just until the door opened and a partially familiar figure started getting out of the car.
His face came into view and so many emotions ran through me in that second that Lissies scream was the only thing that brought me back. “It’s Max Verstappen! Oh my god! Can I get a photo or a signature or anything?!” She rushes toward him, searching her bag and finding a pen. I was still in shock, he is Max Verstappen?
Next thing I know he’s standing in front of me. “Would you like a photo or signature?” He asks me so kindly, making me wonder if he was the guy whose eyes roamed my body then smirked at me like he knew exactly how I’d react.
“I-um sure. Well I don’t really have anything to sign.” And then a piece of paper is passed to me from Lissie. “Oh, thanks.” I grab it and hold it out to Max, watching as he stares at my face long enough to memorise every inch. He looks away to sign my paper, taking longer than I would’ve thought, but when he gives me that smirk from earlier everything leaves my mind. He then starts walking away, getting interrupted by other fans.
Each step he took further away I wanted to say something even more, call him back, talk to him. But why and what for?
My eyes look down at the paper, his signature, but I see some of the pen ink on the other side, flipping the paper over my breath hitches at what’s written. “Be a good girl” I read, my eyes then following an arrow that points to his number. I lightly squeezed my legs together and tried to force the pink off my cheeks. I couldn’t help but stare at it in disbelief before quickly folding it and shoving it into my bag. “You good?” Lissie asks me.
“Yeah, just surprised.”
“I know, that was really unexpected but luckily we all got something from Max. I got a photo with him as well he looked so fucking good in that suit.”
She was right, he did look so good and that feeling he made me feel, oh it was stronger than before but a small fire between my legs also grew. I just hoped it wasn’t lust, especially for a man I just learnt the name of.
✭
The next morning we were back in the paddock, me being the only one not partially hungover by the drug of alcohol. We started walking past the red bull hospitality, my eyes flickering over to the door praying to see that one man. But my prayer wasn’t answered as FP3 started and I only saw him on a big screen.
Once FP3 finished we stayed in McLaren hospitality for a little while longer waiting to catch a glimpse of the two stars with the fastest lap times. And to our luck both of the Mclaren drivers walked in, but they weren’t the only ones, Max Verstappen walked beside Lando in his dark blue drivers suit. I ran up to them with my friends, letting them congratulate the drivers as I stood back. Not noticing one of the drivers leave until a feather touch of a hand was on my back. “You didn’t call or text me. And I thought you were gonna be my good girl.”
I took a deep breath, somehow knowing exactly whose voice it was.
“It’s gonna take more than that. But tell me… what do you really want?” My voice firmer and somehow trying to gain confidence like his, soon feeling even more flustered when I hear his chuckle beside me. “What do I want? Oh honey, I want you.” My lips part, trying to control my breathing through my mouth. His finger comes beneath my chin and my head is lifted to the side to face him. His fingers trickle down my chin and throat, reaching the cross that sits barely above my cleavage.
“What’s this?”
“It’s um…” I became lost for words, knowing exactly what I would’ve said but I can’t say it to him. He deserves so much more.
“I’m not into this stuff, gods and everything. They don’t really do much for you, but you give them everything.” I shake my head lightly, trying to show my disagreement but not make him want to leave me.
“Oh? My good girl doesn’t believe me?” The fake surprise on his face teases me. “Would your god let me touch you? Would he let me make you cry from my dick?” Max brings his face closer to mine, just enough for his breath to touch my ear. His large hands run down my arms and he grabs a hold of my phone.
“Unlock it.” He commands me, crystal blue eyes hypnotising me. And without a question, I unlocked it.
“Now you have no excuse to not call me.” He shows me his number in which he just typed into my contacts, calling it to watch his phone start ringing. “Now I have yours.” He saves my number, looking back up at me. “Now won’t you tell me your name?”
“Why? You’ll only call me your good girl.” My lips move faster than my mind. Not recognising my own words.
“My good girl, trying to be someone you’re not. Now, tell. Me. Your. Name.”
“Y/n.” I say watching a pleased smile on his perfect lips. And then just like last night he leaves me there, standing thinking about something bigger than the whole world—him.
✭
Up came the race day, the one in which the whole place was filled, park passes, hospitality and grandstands. We came in earlier than usual after the girls all somehow noticed the end of me and Max's last interaction. Going crazy and asking if there’s something between us, what his hands feel like, if I’m his new wag and will I see him after this all.
I thought about that last question longer. I don’t know if god brought us together or maybe he’s something here for something else, but I don’t usually enjoy having no clue what’s going on, so I plan on finding out.
We find a seat in hospitality and when I finally gain the courage to send Max a text I see that he’s beat me to it.
‘You’re not my good girl anymore’
‘Why don’t you come to redbull and I’ll show you what you really are’
I become flushed at his words, squeezing my legs together. Checking the time he sent the message I curse at myself for not seeing it earlier. We have nearly half an hour left until the race and all the drivers are with their teams. I couldn’t possibly go now, so I blame myself for not being able to touch his skin or hear his voice before the race.
So instead I send him a text, replying to the ones he had sent.
‘How about you win the race and I’ll be your good girl’
It barely takes a minute for the message to turn from delivered to read. He starts typing then stops, typing again then stopping. He teases me with that for what feels like hours, until I finally receive something.
‘Be ready, once I’m done you won’t be able to say your name.’
I was speechless, leaving his message on read, letting him know he already stole all the words from me. I turn my phone off, watching the last few pre race interviews before I see Max walk past behind a crowd of people. A tiny smirk on his face, I smile knowing it was for me.
My emotions throughout the whole race were a rollercoaster. Watching a crash between 3 drivers had me praying they were all ok and that it would never come across Max. There were battles all over the circuit, Max managing to never be a part of any as he led the race. I was surprised at how fast the race went by, from complaining about the length of them to now letting the time run right past.
My friends pulled me away once the race ended, telling me we had to watch the podium. And I was glad I let them take me. I watched max from below, majestic being the word to explain him. He wore his suit and sweat trickled on him, hair swept to the side like always. His eyes so soft I couldn’t imagine he was the same man that threatened to make me cry from his dick. I’m not complaining but he looked so content, so happy with himself and he never had needed God's validation.
Everything in my head seems to become blurry, Max’s smile the only thing still keeping me here. I manage to find his eyes, remembering the blue of it from the first time. His lips change and I’m certain I see his signature smirk, just for me.
When both of the national anthems finish they start spraying champagne, becoming my queue to escape to the red bull hospitality. I didn’t have any clue where to go so I waited for him outside the building.
His teammate Checo walked past me, giving me a smile like I was any fan and then a crowd of people were making their way here. All following the man himself, Max Verstappen. He sees me standing there, that one smirk arises on his face before he whispers something to the woman beside him, probably his assistant or something, because once they reach me she smiles and then takes me to his driver's room as Max finishes with all the fans.
I take in the surroundings, the room being small but big enough to fit the things he needs. A decent sized bathroom and a mirror being the door of his cupboard filled with redbull polos, which seem to be the only thing he wears.
“You going through my stuff, doll?” I turn at the noise, seeing Max walk into the room and start unzipping his racing suit.
“No, you left me in a room alone, what else am I to do?”
He chuckles and walks closer to me, his suit now hanging around his waist. He comes closer, nearly caging me into the wall with his body. A few strands of his hair fell and now hang between the two of us. I have nowhere to go, not like I’d ever want to leave, but it’s not like he’d let me.
“I won.” He breathes out.
“And now I’m your good girl.” Max shakes his head, chuckling as his arm rests on the wall above my head.
“You’re not a good girl… but I’m gonna make you one.” He moves his head closer to mine, nearly touching my skin with his lips but he doesn’t make contact. Teasing me by going along my face and down my neck. So close I can feel his breath, but he never touches me. Trailing across my collar bone as I try to ease my breathing.
I lightly arch my back, bringing my chest closer to him, trying to force the contact. But then he stops. He grabs my pendant, the one of a cross.
“You’ve been worshipping the same man for years, would it bring you to hell to worship another? Let’s say… me.”
I don’t have time for a reaction as he smashes his lips into mine, taking my breath away. His hands cup either side of my face, holding me in place as he kisses my lips in a way no other person has before. My body writhes against the wall, having no clue what to do but touch him. Try and touch him in a way no person ever has and ever will.
That my religion is his lips.
I lean into his touch when his hand reaches up my shirt, not touching my breasts yet, but caressing the skin of my back and waist. Max groans into my mouth, lighting a fuse between my legs that I tried to keep out.
My nails dig into his shoulders, fireproof still tight along his body. I can’t control my body, wanting to feel every inch of him against and inside me.
“If you wanna be a good girl, then you can wait.” I whine at his words when his lips leave me. My chest still arched and body screamed with need. “I don’t want you to move.” He tells me, eyes a darker shade and voice commanding. I nod my head quickly, hoping the faster I am, he will be. “So needy.” Max chuckles almost as if he’s teasing me of wanting him so much.
He starts closing the gap between us, standing directly in front of me and looking down because of our heights. I grow accustomed to the heat his body spreads and the pink of his post-race cheeks. Falling for his looks before his touch steals my attention. His fingers slide down the side zip of my short skirt, pulling it down my legs until it reaches the floor. He pushes my legs apart with his foot and my pussy pulses with anticipation.
I observe him as his fingers don’t go close to where I need him, instead doing the job of taking my top off of me. I lift my arms up to help him, feeling the cool air of the room brush against my body.
“Take the rest off.” He tells me, standing back to watch my whole body. Eyes skimming me from top to bottom. My skin turned hot, a mix of emotions making me react in different ways. I nod, slowly taking my clothes off. Smiling to myself when I see Max brush a hand against the bulge in his suit.
Once my panties and bra lay on the floor Max finally comes back. Hands gliding down my arms and then intertwining with my fingers. He guides each of my arms above my head, giving him full access to my body. Making me more vulnerable than I’ve ever been.
The pads of his thumbs barely touch my nipples, forcing a whine out of my mouth and my chest to press into him. He pulls away immediately, draining his contact from me. And then he comes again, sliding his fingers over my nipples and I have to force myself to stay still.
Max’s fingers tickle down my bare body, he goes between my cleavage and caresses my breasts with the light touch of his finger tips. Soon going over my stomach and my lower abdomen. He delays the contact to my core and starts tracing my hip bones with each hand, slipping to my backside as he cups my ass with his hands.
“Fuck.” He mutters. Moving his hands from my backside to start lightly touching my thighs. Max advances to the inside of my thighs, spreading my legs a little wider, making it easier for his eyes and fingers. My lips parted long ago and breathing became uneven. Suspense ran through my veins as I felt the heat from his fingers approach my core.
I was certain my arousal was close to dripping on his fingers, and then he finally touched me. Not as firm as I wanted, but his fingers still make contact. Teasing my clit as his eyes are on me, watching as my bottom lip is drawn between my teeth.
The feeling was so new to me, I had never been touched by a man like this. Do I regret it, not really, because that would mean Max wouldn’t be the first.
A loud moan rips the silence of the room, the filthy sound leaving my mouth. His middle finger runs between my folds and I flinch at the feeling, letting the moan leave my mouth freely watching as Max smiles.
My climax surely builds up from his teasing strokes.
I then lose the feeling of his fingers, a cry leaving my mouth. “Be my good girl and show me how you make yourself cum.”
“I thought you were gonna make me a good girl. But I guess you’re not as good as I thought.” I slide my hand down my body, going down the trail between my legs. My eyes firm on Max as many emotions run across his face. I touch my clit and be sure to moan louder and longer than when Max touched me. My eyes were closed that I didn’t see as Max made his way closer, but his loud steps were enough.
My hand his forces off my body and held above my head. Max’s other hand now occupying the job he told me to do myself. He doesn’t take his time now. Thrusting two digits inside of me with force. “I’ll make you cum. Give me a number.”
“Three.” I whine out between each of his thrusts, focusing on the harsh face he gives me.
“Fuck, making it so easy for me. I already made you cum once.” He chuckles at the confusion on my face. Pulling his fingers out of me and showing me my cum that moves down them. I moan at the sight, then once again as he shoves them in his mouth. My eyes stuck on his tongue as he circles each finger. When he pulls them out of his mouth a string of saliva is hanging from his fingertip. I watch as he brings his digits closer to my lips, telling me to open my mouth to get a taste of him.
Max slides his fingers out of my mouth and drags it down my body.
“Let’s do something new” Max says as he goes on his knees. Kneeling in front of me and making my pussy throb. He doesn’t say anymore words as he forces my legs on his shoulders. I clench my pussy as his breath brushes against it in such a way it’s a drug.
The words slow, leisurely and gentle out of his mind as he starts eating me out. Like a starved man and I’m a whole dinner. The sensation of his flat tongue against such a sensitive part of me makes me crazy. My fingers diving into his perfect hair to ruin it.
He toys with my clit and slides his tongue inside of me.
It hadn’t taken long until I was reaching my release. Pulling at his hair with force and whining so loud I’m sure people outside could hear. But that only made it more thrilling.
“So quick. But I’m not done.” Max says against my pussy before going back in. Bringing me to surprise. He licks and sucks all my cum, fingers coming back to ram inside of me as his tongue toys with my swollen clit.
He made tears come to my eyes and a moan mixed with a whine to leave my mouth as I came another time. Even more sensitive.
Max helps me get off his shoulders before standing up to peel every piece of fabric off his body. Once my eyes laid on his skin I could truly say the suit doesn’t give him justice.
My mouth watered at the sight of his cock. Making me question how easily he would fit.
“Come here.” Max demands. And I do, walking up to him just for him to tell me to get on my knees. I grow nervous as his dick now sits in front of my face and as I’m about to grab it Max tells me to do something completely different.
“Go on your hands and knees. And face the mirror.” I quickly do it, seeing myself in the thin mirror. I look further up to observe Max. He grabs my hips, lifting them up so they're in line with his.
I hold my breath as he brings his dick to my entrance. Circling it with his tip and watching me through the mirror. He distracts me with his signature smirk and then rams inside of me. Bottoming out immediately. My mouth opens in an ‘o’ shape as he takes my breath away with his dick. Pulling out and then thrusting back in with more power. His skin slapping against mine and tip viciously hitting my g-spot.
Max leans forward and grabs my hair in a makeshift ponytail, forcing my head up. “I want you to watch as I fuck all the words out of your mouth.”
My vision blurred by the tears, but I make out our figures. My tears fall as Max drives his dick into me once again.
“That’s it. Cry over my dick. So. Fucking. Good.” He grits between his teeth at each thrust. I look at myself, being utterly ruined by a man I met a couple of days ago. He keeps my head up, not daring to let my eyes leave the mirror. His bottom lip is between his teeth and eyebrows furrowed as he keeps in his moans. Letting mine fill the room instead.
I can barely hold up my body as I get closer to my climax. Clenching around Max multiple times before I finally release.
A string of unholy sounds escape my mouth and it’s as if they set off Max, ultimately allowing me to hear him moan just as I had done before.
Max twitches inside of me before he releases. Swearing in dutch before calling me a good fucking girl. His cum fills and distracts me as he pulls out. Demanding me to stay there.
I expect to see him walk out with a cloth, but instead his phone. He angles the camera right behind me, capturing his cum that drips out of me and both our faces in the mirror.
My face holds confusion and he sees it, keeping a straight face.
“People usually have photos of their gods, something to look at when they worship it. And this is mine.”
#f1 smut#f1#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#formula 1#f1 fic#f1 fluff#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen smut#max verstappen#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#mv1#mv1 x reader#mv1 imagine#mv1 smut#mv1 fic#mv33#smut#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 smut#formula one smut#formula 1 fanfic#formula one#f1fic#f1 one shot#f1 x you
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I watched DWD tonight and honestly, I didn’t think harrys acting was as bad as people are making out to be. it wasn’t extraordinary and Florence definitely carried but harry wasn’t too bad.
#cant believe i’m saying this#but also I don’t think he had any intense acting to do#he just screamed and kissed half the time#but like I have so many questions about the storyline#i’m not sure how I feel about the movie in general yet tho#also what accent is he supposed to have bc that was 4 different ones mixed into one
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Hey! I’m wondering if you’d be willing to write a fic where Thomas is intending for John to marry Y/N to unite the Lees and the Shelbys like the show, but when he sees her the first time, he changes his mind on John marrying her. Instead he marries her
Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, altered storyline, Tommy’s a sweety, p in v , oral if you blink, altered storyline, name calling, slight misogyny
thank you for the request, hope you enjoy!
Tommy and John were sat awaiting your arrival, expecting you any moment now. John went on and on about how you were back in grade school, none of that really mattering to Tommy in the slightest.
The door opened, a brisk wind rolling in, pushing your hair in front of your face, your innocent vanilla scent flowing into the booth, as you flipped your hair behind your shoulder.
Tommy shifted uncomfortably at your beauty and grace. Your tone was soft, and a smile as bright as the sun, he couldn’t allow his brother to marry you, not with a face like that.
Dropping your bag near the booth, Tommy couldn’t take his eyes off of you, helping you pick up your belongings from the floor. When you thanked the man for helping, you locked eyes with him, an immediate attraction being drawn to you from those crystal blue eyes.
“Thomas Shelby, pleasure to meet you.” When the handsome, intimidating man spoke, a thrill of attraction and desire rushed through your veins like a hurricane, time suddenly seemed to be irrelevant, along with the man you were arranged to marry.
“Y/N L/N. Likewise.” He motioned for you to sit, offering one of the many cigarettes he carried in his suit. When you declined, mentioning how you don’t smoke Tommy was stunned and intrigued.
Everyone smoked in the garrison, it was hard to find a woman that didn’t.
Taking your seat beside John, you straightened your back, folding your hands gracefully, fully prepared for any questions that may come your way.
John smirked, glancing down at the clear cleavage, your bra barelt holdimg in you breasts, he nodded toward Tommy to take a glance but he’d never disrespect a woman in that manner. He simply began conversation, asking where you lived, went to school, even personal things such as a family matters. He was a fair man, offering the same respect back, his voice brooding but in a good, hospitable way.
“John, do you mind if I take lovely Y/N here to the bar and make her a drink.” John hadn’t barely heard Tommy speak as he was joking around with Finn. Simply waving you both off, they chattered on, making you contemplate on whether or not John was fit to be a husband.
Tommy noticed the quizzical expression on across your face, intending to turn that frown into a smile.
“What’s it going to be my dear? Whiskey? Gin? No, something is telling me you are a rum and coke girl?” His eyebrows raised, furrowing together in curiosity with the expectation and hopefulness that he was right. You couldn’t contain the rose petal blush paint your cheeks, glancing down in embarassment and moving a wild strand of hair behind your ear.
“How’d you know?”
“Just a lucky guess. Some say I’ve been gifted with the ability to read people. You seem like a smart girl Y/N, what type of hobbies do you indulge in, surely everyone has at least one.” Settling your purse down, you watched as he worked effortlessly behind the bar, topping off you drink with a whip cream which surprised you, most people found it odd, never having seen anyone do so yourself.
“Oh I- I enjoy reading, and occasionally shopping, a girl can never have too many clothes.” Tommy chuckled, staying behind the bar and lighting a cigarette, in that moment he knew you were too good for John. He wasn’t a saint himself but he wad far more mature and caring compared to his little, reckless brother.
“Well from my perception, you look very endearing, and well, stop me if this is too much but you’re quite beautiful Y/N, my brother’s very lucky to have you.” You waved him off, giggling like a school girl but Tommy never took his eyes off of you, entranced by your illuminating smile, and adorable laugh. There was a silence for a moment when you realized that perhaps Tommy felt the same way you were feeling. The goosebumps on your skin, the heart beat between your thighs, trying to evade the temptation, the profound want to be in bed with that ever charming smile, and angelic blue eyes, and those lips, those plump, pale lips that you wanted to kiss right there.
How was this powerful man already under your skin in such a small amount of time, was it the way he took interest in your life? The way his subtle gaze seemingly never broke away from you? Or perhaps his way of words, speaking with finesse and confidence, never once stuttering.
John approached the bar breaking the evident friction between you two. Your smile faded when he wrapped his arm behind your shoulders, pulling you in closely to his body heat.
“How’s everything love? He isn’t scaring you is he?” You shook your head no, staying quiet and biting your lip attempting to hold back from laughing when Tommy raised his eyebrows challengingly, playfully as if he wasn’t making you more comfortable than his brother.
“Alright well, Arthur and I are going to go to a few pubs, see what kind of trouble we can get into tonight before the big night, if you know what I mean Tommy.” He winked at his older brother who didn’t seem the least bit impressed. Had he really just said that right in front of you? Reassuring you’d be alright here and be heading home in a little bit, Johnny bid you both goodbye, finishing off your rum and coke on his way out. How rude.
Scoffing, Tommy made you a new drink.
“You’ll have to allow me to apologize for my brother he can be quite- What’s the word I’m looking for? Oblivious sometimes.” A wave of relief washed over you when you were alone with Tommy once more, even the patrons in the bar clearing out for the night.
The palpable tension in the room magnetized when his charismatic eyes remained on you, the heat building beatween your legs, but you weren’t going to be the one to just come out and say it. Like Tommy always did best, he took the initiative, clearing the silence.
“Do you want to fuck me, Y/N?” He raised his eyebrows expectedly, his eyes searing into your soul as he handed you your drink, his fingers grazing over the softness of your fingers.
Stunned by his question, you couldn’t deny the electric current of desire running through your veins. Your eyes searched one another in question, the intensity of his dominance protruding you very being.
“I-I suppose I would but- I must inform you I’ve never really-“
“There’s no need to fret Y/N. I’ll go slow, I wish to spend as much time with you as I can, if you’ll have me that is.” Were you really about to do this? This wasn’t the girl that you were but Tommy was so enticing, and held a clear attraction toward you. You’ve heard many stories of Thomas Shelby, yet you found yourself following him out to the car as he held an umbrella over you, not looking back once.
As soon as the bedroom door closed his lips were on you as he hoisted you up onto the dresser. Hands caressing your bare thighs while your legs wrapped around his torso, melting into his fiery touch. He tasted of whiskey and mint, smelling of a subtle yet timberwood like scent. Your tongues collided with one another in disparity, your nightgown strap sliding down carelessly in the process.
“You are an enchantress, my darling.” You unbuttoned his shirt, pushing yourself up as you walked one another still embraced toward the bed.
Unclasping your bra, Tommy relished in that sight of your bare, nude breasts. They were everything he had imagined, soft, rounded, delectable enough that he couldn’t waste another moment with having his lips on your enlarged nipples. Sucking the sensitive skin, lapping his tongue repeatedly as you moaned from the touch.
“Feels good Tommy. I need more. Please.” Begging already? You felt pathetic but didn’t care and neither did he when he pulled you onto the bed.
“Your wish is my command, love.” He layed you down gently on the white sheets, your hands skimming his muscular chest as he fumbled hastily to take his shirt off before diving back into your lips with a deep desire.
His eyes never left you, drawn into the perfection of your skin, the way your nude body gleamed poetically beneath him in the dim light.
“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to-“
“Yes. Yes I’m sure I don’t want to waste another minute, I need you in me Tommy.” That was all the reassurance he needed to hear. When he undid his belt and tugged his pants down his member popped up, perky and ready. He was long, and rather wide, partially shaven, but that didn’t matter to you. Tommy could see the nervous worry in your eyes when they landed on his cock, but he needed you to understand he wasn’t one to rush such a big, personal decision.
Laying his hand caringly on your cheek, he looked into your eyes, demanding your attention so you knew he wasn’t kidding.
“I know it may seem a bit frightening but I assure you, we go at your pace. If you want me to stop tell me, okay?” You nodded, and then again when he motioned toward your white laced panties. When he slid them down your legs, you turned your head in embarrassment, always holding a tremendous insecurity for your appearance downstairs. Tommy on the other was blown away at the sight of your untouched pussy.
“May I?” You nodded for him to continue, fully trusting him. His tongue glided between your wet lips, devouring your sweet rose, taking you by surprise and shedding the insecurity from your skin. “You have nothing to be ashamed of love. It’s perfect, and tastes exquisite.” You blushed as he continued to eat you, waiting for your nectar to slowly seep out, for him to start prepping you. When his finger entered you there was a slight discomfort, you’d never gone down there yourself but Tommy took his time and focused on your body language. After a few moments he entered a second finger, your tight walls surrounding his digits, coating them with your slick. There was a slight pleasurable feeling from feeling so full. He fingered you for a few minutes until he deemed you ready.
“Are you ready love?” You nodded that i was okay, and he kissed you once more reassuringly. He was slow upon entering, his cock aligned with your gaping, eager hole, the head resting there for a few seconds so you were aware of what was to come. He slowly pushed his head in, protruding your virgin walls, inch by inch. He stopped halfway in when you winced in pain, wanting to give you time to adjust.
“Focus on my voice. The pain will dissipate soon, tell me when you want me to go further.” After a few seconds, you relaxed your muscles, nodding for him to continue. When he was all the way in there was a sharp shot of pain from being stretched from his cock and your cherry now being popped.
Your eye fluttered close as he slowly pumped in and out of you tenderly, taking his time until you were comfortable for him to fasten his pace. The pain slowly subsiding as your inner walls calmed.
“Faster.” When you spoke it was but a whisper, Tommy understood. His shaft fucked into you quickly, the head of his cock slamming into your cervix with each thrust.
“Fuck Tommy! More… Oh fuck.” Your boobs jiggled with each powerful thrust, but you needed to be closer somehow. Sitting up and you straddled his lap never breaking from the bonding of his cock.
Your hands grazed over the muscular tone of his back, wanting, needing to be closer to him. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his lips curling over the wamrth of your bare skin, tongue twirling as he kissed you with profound passion. You continued to ride his cock, hips rotating and grinding, until an unexplainable, euphoric feeling began to build in your pussy.
Tommy knew what was coming and held you close to him, wanting you to know he was right there, riding your orgasm out with you. Holding you caringly and rubbing soothing circles into your back as you crumbled and came undone with one another. After a moment, you lifted your head in a fucked out melody, running your thumb down his bottom lip and staring into his sapphire eyes. In that moment Tommy didn’t know what came over him, but he knew what had to be said. He couldn’t let you go.
“Marry me.”
“What?” You were stunned by his statement but stayed folded against him lazily, your knees to weak to move from out of his lap.
“What about John?”
“He’ll understand. He will, but who would I be as a man be to fuck you and let a pretty girl like you fall from my hands. I can be a good husband if you give me the chance.” As your breathing slowed down, Tommy’s seed flowed from your deflowered pussy, wetting his thigh making you laugh and apologize before giving him answer but it didn’t take you long to think.
“I will marry you, I just ask we let John down gently. I don’t want to be the cause of his pain.” At that moment the door flew open, Tommy was quick to pick the comforter up from the floor and shield your nude body. He was ready to start yelling until he recognized the man standing in the door to be his brother.
“What the fuck is going on here? That’s my fucking wife to be!” John went to rip the blanket from you in a furious rage but Tommy was faster, standing up and pushing his brother back out into the hallway, nothing but a sheet around his waist hiding his cock. John could be heard screaming obscenities, mostly pointed at you as Tommy pushed him into another room.
“She’s a fucking whore! A disgusting tramp who knows no fucking boundaries! And you! You fucked my girl Tommy! You can’t just steal my bride to be. How fucked is that! No- How fucked is it that the people closest to you are the ones who take the knife and twist in your fucking back!” Tommy pulled open a drawer, lighting a cigarette and remaining calm as John continued to yell at him.
“You can have the fucking cunt! Go ahead, see what I care!”
“She wasn’t right for you Johnny. Not with a face like that. Don’t take it personal eh? You’ll marry someone else instead. Besides knowing you as well as I do, you’ll be on to the next one in no time won’t you Johnny boy?” John rolled his eyes, scrunching his nose and closing his fists in anger before he punched a hole in the drywall. Tommy merely stood by the window, not feeling the least bit sorry as he knew his brother and he knew him well. Within a week he’d be passed it, forgotten about you and the betrayal of your short lived relationship. The only thing on Tommy’s mind was returning to you, surely John’s words had upset you immensely.
~
When the big day finally arrived, it was like a scene out of the movies. The reception was held in the backyard, the aisle covered in pebbles, white rose flowered bushes running down the perimeter of the wooden benches, the sun setting poetically behind the silver laced altar.
Friends and families gathered round, coming together for your day since Tommy may or may not have threatened some to be there for you, but he wasn’t going to tell you that. Now here you were seated with Ada while she was finishing up your makeup, and hair.
“What do you suppose the boys are doing right now?” Ada chuckled, whimsically, looking at her work in the mirror, trying to lighten the nerves you were feeling, but that question alone seemed to make you more anxious.
“Getting a long I hope. I do feel sorry for John, I just hope he can forgive us. We didn’t mean to hurt him.” Ada remained friendly, never entering the crossfire of her brother unless absolutely necessary. She could only give you advice, and be there as not a friend but a sister should.
~
Tommy was suited in his formal attire, looking out all the people chatting near the garden when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in.” John entered the room, a delicate expression running over his face, showing he wasn’t here to cause any harm. Tommy nodded toward the desk, sitting in his seat and pouring his brother a glass of whiskey.
“You probably need this more than me.” John chuckled sincerely, not knowing how to start this conversation. Tommy could tell he was uncomfortable, a look of guilt just barely visible in his eyes. Shaking his head, he joined his hands together, motioning toward the ring the bearer still had to come and retreive.
Upon opening the velvet box, John was in shock, the dazzling rock shimmering in the sunlight. The ring itself had to of been far more than John’s own personal cut from the company, which told him Tommy must have taken the time to close deals and make investments. In that moment he understood Tommy cared for you more than he ever did, he would have never spent that amount of money on you, or anyone for that matter.
“She likes diamonds you know?” John shook his head indeed not knowing that small fact about you because he never took the time. He never had any interest or care to ask, to really get to know you. Closing the box, he frowned, reminiscing back to the fight just last week he had with you both. He was ashamed, and knew he could have handled it better.
“I came to apologize Tom. I acted immaturely and I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those terrible things. You guys look happy, she chose the right man.” Tommy chuckled, lighting a cigarette and tossing one to John.
“All is forgiven brother but I’m not the one that requires an apology. You can be a good man John, I believe that I do. But with the right woman.” Tommy left it at that, believing in his brother that he would speak with you before the wedding was to begin. John nodded understandingly, knowing Tommy was right, leaving no room for him to argue. All this hatred, anger, where were these emotions getting him? No where.
Glancing down at his watch, he bid Tommy goodbye, making his way to your dressing room.
-
A knock at the door startled you as you were putting on your heels, worried it was Tommy you sent Ada to the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s John.” Ada turned to face you for answer. When you nodded she opened the door and excused herself from the room.
“Wow.” John was impressed with the workings of Ada, you looked truly breath taking, nothing he’s ever seen before in a woman. Smiling sweetly, you motioned for him to sit.
He twiddled his thumbs, nervously searching for the right words, but he didn’t really know where to start, so he went with the first thought in his mind.
“I’m sorry. I was out of my fucking head speaking about you like that. My brother, he’s a good man, the better man. Besides we never really had a connection did we?” You shook your head no in agreement, thankful John came to apologize, but you also shared your feelings of how you and Tommy should have just sat down with him before anything happened. He accepted your apology, but noticed you were due outside in five minutes. Bidding you farewell, he wished you luck and told you, you’d make a great wife and Tommy is lucky to have you, he needed you.
Ada knocked on the door, informing you it was time. Taking a deep breath you met your father at the patio door, a mixture of happiness and excitement protruding your ever bone.
Family and friends stood up, your mother crying from how beautiful and elegant you appeared. When you reached the alter, a singular tear swam down Tommy’s cheek as he smiled widely when he removed your vail. You were stunning, breathtaking, everything he’s ever dreamed about. John stood by his side as a groomsmen, happy to finally see his older brother smile for once. As the vows were exchanged. The ring beamed with an exquisite beauty, your eyes brimming with tears when Tommy placed the expensive jewelry on your finger, claiming you as his wife.
“Tommy it’s beautiful.” You were hoping and praying your makeup wasn’t running down your cheeks. As vows were exchanged, the man motioned that it was time to kiss the bride. Tommy rested his hands on your cheeks, time stopping when he placed his lips on yours as the man announced you to be Mrs. Tommy Shelby.
#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby imagine#tommy shelby imagine#ranaewrites#peaky blinders#requested
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arranged - part 2 [thomas shelby x reader smut]
[ this is part 2 of my first thomas shelby fic, arranged, which you can read through the link. i will say this storyline is a bit heavier in terms of tommy’s tv character, given he can be, well, toxic. also, this fic is like extremely detailed, just as a fair warning. ]
word count - 3.4k
[ summary - months after their wedding night, the reader and tommy experience their first real issue at arthur’s birthday dinner. there’s much more to their relationship than they realize, as they physically prove to each other how deep their affections go. ]
[ warnings - jealousy, accusations of cheating, dirty talk, slight bondage, unprotected & rough sex ]
-
shockingly, the morning after tommy and i first slept together, we grew much closer to each other, so much so that i had a trusted role through the peaky blinders when it came to their finances and arrangement of meetings. tommy was reluctant at first, but given that i was the reason they were five times wealthier and also had much more property now, my points were well made to him and his family.
i wouldn’t say i was bossy, but i knew what i wanted, and despite tommy’s attitude in front of his family, he sure seemed to like it when we were alone. i thoroughly believed i knew him pretty well, even if we had only been married for four months now.
i knew i didn’t want to be the type of woman who stayed back home and let their husband do all the work, but there were days where i was exhausted, wether it was from staying up late working on the money distribution, or making sure tommy’s son was asleep before the sun was up. overall, i wanted to work, and i wanted to have a place in not necessarily the peaky blinders, but his family, because they were now mine too, and truthfully, the only people i had now that my father was gone.
something polly and i agreed to work on together was arthur’s birthday dinner. i wasn’t very close to arthur, which was perfectly fine, but i wanted tommy’s family to know i cared. polly needed the help anyway, given how busy the boys had been lately, so i kept my promise to help her set up, plan the guest list, and get the gifts for arthur. from what tommy told me, he seemed to be having a rough time lately, but a party would probably cheer him up and help him get out of such a negative headspace, even if it was only for a few hours.
after we finished setting out the utensils, i rushed upstairs to get myself ready before tommy came home. part of me was hoping tonight wasn’t all about business for tommy, because while we had grown much more fond of each other lately, his mind was still so enclosed in his work. i knew we weren’t in love, but we had something there - more than just physically.
as i was slipping on my evening gown, i hear the bedroom door creak open, turning around to see tommy, who looked up to me with a drunken smile. my eyes widen a bit, more confused than shocked to see him in such a drunken state so early, as i walk towards him, helping him slip off his jacket onto the hanger next to the door.
“arthur insisted we start the party early. i promise this wasn’t intentional, [y/n]. i don’t want to be in too much trouble so soon with you.” tommy said through a suggestive smile, taking my face in one hand before pulling me into a kiss, the taste and smell of whiskey heavy against his lips.
i return his kiss, but lightly push him off of me, walking back to the dresser to grab my necklace from the jewelry box. tommy walks over and takes it from my hands, brushing my hair off my neck and clasping the metal for me. i smile softly, looking to him through the mirror and shaking my head in disbelief, amazed that he even agreed to get drunk so early in the evening.
“i may have to monitor you tonight, tommy. how many drinks have you had?” i question as i turn around, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss.
i feel his hands slide down my back and to my ass, attempting to lift me onto the dresser before i stop him once again. i shake my head, pecking his lips again before pulling away. “that gives me a pretty clear answer.” i tease, leaning down to slip on my heels. “i didn’t think i’d have to be babysitter tonight, especially for my husband, the most serious man i know.”
“oh, [y/n], you and i both know i can loosen up when i choose to.” he took my hand and walked towards the door, opening it and gesturing for me to walk through first. he snaked his arm around my back, holding me tightly, and protectively, as we walked down the wooden stairs. “who knows, maybe i’ll loosen this tonight too.” he pats my ass, tugging at the fabric of my silk dress, which only made me blush at his suggestion. i roll my eyes and link our arms together, opening the front door to begin our short walk to the brewery.
a fairly large crowd of tommy’s family and friends were already there, surrounding the bar and drinking more alcohol than what i’d ever seen in my life. there was a side of tommy’s family i wasn’t fully exposed to yet, and i knew i’d receive quite the introduction to it tonight.
“there’s some people i’d like you to meet tonight. is that alright?” he asks in a more serious tone, despite his drunken appearance. even with alcohol in his system, tommy still knew how to conduct business, and the room around him.
i nod at his question, to where he then takes me to the bar and gestures me towards several people, business colleagues and family friends, who were all very kind to me, and addressed me never by my first name, only “mrs. shelby”.
i felt someone bump into me, averting my eyes from the woman i was speaking to and to none other than arthur, who was so drunk that i was almost surprised polly wasn’t having a nervous breakdown at the sight of the much more than tipsy birthday boy. i give him a soft smile and shake my head, taking his arm and helping guide him to one of the round tables.
“i think you need water, arthur. let me go get you one.” i say, standing up and staring to walk towards the bar again, before his hand unexpectedly grabs me by the waist, forcing me down onto his lap. my cheeks go red in the matter of a millisecond, immediate discomfort and anxiety rising to the surface.
“stop it, arthur, please. just let me go get you something to drink.”
arthur chuckles, keeping his grip so firm on my waist that i genuinely couldn’t get up without causing a scene. “[y/n], i always thought you were too good for tommy, from the day i met you. change it up a bit, eh? he wouldn’t mind it for a night.”
i scoff, glancing down to the drunk arthur before aggressively pushing myself off of him, taking the drink he was holding in one hand away and setting it on the table across from him.
“fuck off, arthur. you’re his brother. i know it’s your birthday, but i am the last thing you’d be getting as a gift tonight.” i run my hands down my dress to brush off the wrinkles his grip created. “sober up.”
i turn around and walk away with a quickening pace, opening the brewery door and heading back to the house. a part of me was hoping tommy didn’t see that because i knew he’d make a scene, and tonight wasn’t the night to cause any trouble.
i walked into the kitchen and grabbed a cigarette, lighting it the second i sat down at the dining room table, sighing as i blew out the smoke and rested back into the chair. it wouldn’t leave my head, the whole situation. i knew i had to tell tommy because he’d be upset if he found it out from anyone but me, and i knew this was going to be some sort of trust test - if arthur was lying, or if i was. fuck. either way, i had to go back, or they’d be confused as to where i was, and the last thing i wanted tonight was for the attention to be on me.
walking back to the brewery with a cigarette in hand, i opened the door and returned to the reeking smell of alcohol. i wince as it hits my nostrils, forcing myself into the room that now felt so suffocating.
i feel a light tap on my shoulder and glance down to see polly, a frown on her face as she guides me to the corner of the room.
“you know have to tell me what happened, dear. i’ve got arthur in the other room, far away from tommy. i don’t think he’s aware of the whole situation, but arthur didn’t seem to help explain your side.”
i sigh, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall. “of course he didn’t. he tried being suggestive with me and pulled me onto him, made it look like something it definitely was not. i went back to the house to cool off. i don’t want tommy to think it was my doing. i would ne-”
“i know you wouldn’t.” polly gave me a small smile of reassurance. she look my hand and walked me towards the private room in the back, one part of the brewery that was set up more like a meeting room. “tommy’s in there, i think it’s best you go to talk to him. i know you’re being truthful, and i do think he believes you, dear, but he needs to hear it from you. not me.”
i nod, biting at my bottom lip as a pit began to form in my stomach, knowing that this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. while i do think tommy believed me, or i at least hoped so, his image and my own was at stake. people who didn’t know me so well that saw arthur and i’s interaction may take me to be a cheater, and tommy to be carefree towards our marriage, even with his own brother coming into it. the entire situation wasn’t good for anyone.
i creak the wooden door open, meeting tommy’s eyes immediately upon entering the room. i shut it behind me and walk over, standing before the long table he was sitting at, silently. i sigh.
“you know i would never hurt you, tommy. he grabbed me, telling me he wanted me and that i was too good for you. you know i pushed myself off. i wouldn’t do that, ever.” i justify, crossing my arms and looking down at him as he stares at the table. “you, and your entire family, mean a lot to me. i would never want to put this arrangement, or us, in jeopardy.”
tommy sat up, walking towards me and reaching over to hug me softly, where i return his gesture by wrapping my arms around him tightly. i sigh, leaning my head onto his shoulder with relief. after a few seconds, he pulled away, grabbing me by the waist and helping me to sit on the table.
“you know how this looks for me, you, and my family though, right?” tommy begins, sliding up my dress, just enough for it to rest on my lower stomach. “i know you, [y/n], and i trust you, but members of the peaky blinders and others we work with don’t yet. they see you as more a placeholder for the void i haven’t been able to fill in years. do you understand that?”
i frown, looking up to tommy and reaching down to pull my dress back down. “tommy, that’s really not a nice thing to say to me. i don’t think anyone sees-”
“well, they fucking do.” he interrupts, grabbing my hands and setting them on the table.
he loosens his tie and pushes me down on my back, sliding the fabric off and onto my wrists, hastily tying them together above my head before pulling me down, my legs now fully hanging off the table, my heels falling down and onto the floor due to the angle i was laying at.
“you and i both know i don’t care much for what others think, but when it comes to this, to you, i care. you and i aren’t ever going to be perfect, but i think we have something, and i know you agree.” he says, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants down, the sound of the metal clashing against the wooden floor. “we have more than just this,” he says, gesturing to our bodies, “but right now, i’m more focused on those people out there knowing at least apart of us is together.”
i gulp, a rapid heat forming in my core as i watch him undress himself into nothing but his half buttoned dress shirt. he pumps himself in one hand, the other reaching over to rub my clit, causing me to moan loudly upon touch.
he grinned at my response, looking between my legs and watching himself touch me. “you are mine, mrs. shelby. no one else’s. i know you know that, but it seems that i’ll have to prove it to everyone else in the world, too.” he walked closer, grabbing my panties that hung on one leg and slipping the off, before gesturing for me to open my mouth, shoving them inside.
“can you be quiet for just a few minutes, love? i don’t want to fuck you like a whore, but it seems that i have to.” he leaned down to kiss my forehead softly, lips then trailing to my ear. “if you can take it, i’ll let you have your fun with me after, hm? i’ve been so busy lately, we haven’t had much time together. i bet you want my cock inside that pretty mouth of yours, [y/n].”
i nod to my husband, feeling him grab my body and turn me around in response. he helps me to lean against the table, my arms still tied and now laying in front of me as i arch my back, pressing myself against tommy while he aligns himself with my pussy. i feel him slide inside me, moaning through the fabric in my mouth, as tommy does the same, but more freely, of course.
he grabs me by my waist, fucking me like there was no tomorrow for either of us. his hands hold my hips firmly, the sounds of our sweating skin slapping together filling the room, along with the accompaniment of my muffled moans. yet my mouth, being hung open, made my panties to fall out and onto the table, which only caused tommy to slap his hand harshly against my ass, making me yell at his touch.
“you really can’t control yourself, [y/n]? am i going to have to stop?”
“fuck - no, tommy, please don’t stop!” i shout, my hands flat against the table and my face resting on top of them while he rocked my body back and forth. “i-i can put them back, baby, just please don’t stop..”
“this isn’t like you, love, so fucking desperate.. although you always get what you want, so i can’t be surprised. are you getting fucked like you want? you like taking me from the back? it’s not your usual style.” he teases, reaching past me to grab the underwear, tossing them to the floor. “keep talking and they won’t have to go back. i never hear you like this, [y/n]. i like when you beg. i didn’t know you could act like such a slut.”
i shake my head, burying the side of my face into my hands as he only pushes himself deeper, his fast-paced strokes calming down and his rhythm changing into something so much slower, but so much deeper than before. i feel him in my gut, my eyes closing as i savor every thrust he gave me.
“i-i think about it like this, sometimes…” i mutter, leaning my head up and gasping, feeling tommy grab the back of my head with one hand. “you fucking me from behind, so fucking deep, practically torturing me through my orgasm… fuck, tommy, i want it to hurt so much that it feels good.. i want you to make me sore..”
tommy groaned, leaning down to angle himself in a way that he was so deep inside of me that his balls slapped against my clit with each movement. he wiped the sweat off his forehead before moving that hand to my ass, the other holding my waist firmly. “you have a way with words, don’t you, mrs. shelby? i can make it hurt, if that’s what you’d prefer. i can make all those people know how much my wife wants to be treated like a little slut.”
i blush, nodding at his words and resting my chin against the table. “fuck me like you own me, mr. shelby.”
“i think you’re going to have to prove yourself if you want me to do that, love.”
tommy slowly pulls himself out of me, my pussy rapidly pulsating as i adapts to his release, his hands helping assist me into leaning up and onto the floor, where he then laid on his back, erection in the air. i lay on top of him, where he unties the tie and sets it on the ground. he kisses me passionately, taking me by the waist and leaning me up.
“bounce on my cock until you can’t anymore, hm? you wanna hurt, right? this is the best way to do that.” he tilts his head, assisting me into sliding onto his length, causing both of us to heavily moan into the new position, which somehow, brought us both to an even better feeling than before.
“touch yourself for me, love. i wanna see how much you can take.” tommy commands, reaching over to hold both of my breasts, playing with the nipples as i move one hand down to my clit, rubbing the sensitive bud as i grind on top of him, his cock hitting my insides perfectly.
i chew my bottom lip, looking down to tommy as i fuck him, nothing but a plain look that still displayed pleasure on his face, watching me move up and down, my fingers pressing onto my skin while he plays with my tits.
i felt like i was melting, so overstimulated that i wasn’t sure how much longer i could even move. my eyesight was clouded by the sweat on my eyelashes, my entire body drenched in sweat while i fucked my husband through my own touch, my orgasm climbing to the surface and in a matter of seconds, reaching its peak.
“fuck!” i moan, riding it out as i came, my own fluids mixing with tommy’s while he pushed himself up, the two of us thrusting at each other, our bodies clashing through each of our climaxes. i feel tommy fill my insides, my own fluids leaking from between us as he cock blocked anything further.
i pull myself off of him, his orgasm dripping from between my legs as i slowly stand up, holding the table as support, watching tommy walk over to hold me, kissing me gently and leaving love bites across my neck, and chest.
“i’d prefer our motivation to fuck like that not be caused by an outside source the next time, mrs. shelby. if you want to be fucked like a whore, just say it. i think you know i don’t mind.” he grinned, kissing my forehead before walking over to a cart of drinks, grabbing a few towels and sitting me on the table, starting to wipe down my body.
“i don’t think i can be fucked like that for some time, tommy. i don’t think i’d be able to get out of bed in the morning.” i blush, watching him slide the towel down my inner thighs to wipe himself off of me. “we’ve been gone for awhile anyway, don’t you think we should get back to the party?”
“in just a minute, [y/n].” tommy says, setting the towel down before spreading my legs a bit further. he kisses between my thighs, before gently rubbing my clit, causing my back to arch at the touch. “i think my wife needs to cum again, don’t you think?”
i sigh, leaning back against the table and holding the sides of it. “fuck, tommy.” i moan feeling his arms wrap around my thighs, his face now buried between my heated skin. “i think so, too.”
#smut writing#cillian murphy#fanfic#smut#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x reader smut#thomas shelby imagine#peaky blinders#peaky blinders x reader#thomas shelby peaky blinders#peaky blinders x y/n#female#female reader#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby x y/n#thomas shelby smut
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