#thomas oneshot

[uselesssomebody]

tmr thomas x fem!reader smut where they're a couple, make it to the safe haven and they've been trying to have their first time together but they keep getting interupted until one day when they finally can.

and its just fluffy n stuff

𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕦𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 - thomas (t.m.r.) x reader

complete masterlist | the maze runner masterlist

words || 𝟛.𝟚𝕜

summary || in which the reader and thomas try to have their first time together - but keep getting interrupted

a/n || i have not read/watched the maze runner in forever

➵ i hope you like this @marmar-c it was a fun request and apologies for how long it took to come out

➵ 18+/MDNI content, individual warning below the cut

➵ not edited (yet)

➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff/smut

➵ unprotected p.i.v.

➵ orgasm denial (because of interruptions)

➵ oral (m receiving)

➵ handjob

➵ cum (tell me if i miss anything)

thomas was an early riser - whether it be to get an early head start on the maze in the past, or simply to enjoy the solitude that morning bought when he wasn't bombarded with the onslaught that were the other gladers - their fights, loud voices and boisterous actions.

now, though, he didn't enjoy them alone. instead, he would make the short trek out of his room to the adjacent one of his girlfriend, where he'd always find her sleeping soundly, curled up under her covers, even in warm weather.

he'd close the curtains for her if she'd forgotten, to shield her from the upcoming sunlight, and would choose whichever side she was less splayed across - a feat, as she really enjoyed stretching her body to its limit to fit each crevice of her bed - before slipping in beside her.

he'd take a moment to appreciate the soft, warm feel of her flesh against his own - usually bare or only lightly-clad - chest, wrapping a large hand over her midsection, and pushing her hair away from her pillow gently, greeted by a whiff of a distinctly sweet, almost floral scent.

he wouldn't sleep - he usually couldn't, once he'd already awoken - so, he'd allow his breaths to slow to match hers, he'd allow his muscles to relax against her, and allow his eyes to close, focusing on the effects on his other senses.

she could tell when he'd come, as the skin of her midsection would grow warmer, and she'd feel the back of her calves and feet entangle with another's. she wouldn't allow her eyes to open just yet, but would turn over to face him, wrapping her own arm around him. he felt so hot against her - a goddamn furnace - and she brings her head up so her nose grazes his own.

"hey." he mumbles, a whisper in the space between them

"g'd morning." she mumbles back, not moving her lips much and leaving her words a bit garbled. she brings a hand to her eyes to rub them, willing them open and hoping she didn't look too groggy.

she did, of course, making thomas exhale a laugh.

"you're so cute," she smiles, knowing that he's not being sarcastic.

"why, thank you." it's a jokingly dramatic response, and she finally pulls herself up a little, smoothing her hair and rubbing her eyes, "what time is it?"

"too early," he answers, pulling her back down. she laughs at the aggressive action, pulling away from him just slightly in order to look at him.

he always looked his best like this: still-there bed-hair and that morning calmness that came with no impending responsibilities. it was a good look on him, and she makes this clear, tilting up just slightly in order to bring her lips to his.

it's soft - but only for a moment - before a sense of desperation weaves through the both of them and, suddenly, she's gripping his biceps and he the flimsy material of her sleep-shirt bunched around her waist.

they didn't get many moments alone like this, but that worry that someone may walk in on them had stopped them from going much further than any above-the-clothes touching. besides, their lives had been so hectic until now that the simple pleasures of life were things they hadn't completely learned.

today, though, the throbbing between both of their thighs: her at his firm grip and him at her swallowed moans, had culminated in that lesson being necessary. her hand ventured down his torso, settling on the waistband of his trousers, not even bothering to take them off, and slowly reaching her fingers under them, feeling his warm cock jolt at her touch.

he detached from her, his head thrown back as he attempted to be quiet.

"fuck, baby-" he's got this apprehensive look in his eyes, but she needs this so much, letting her hands gently squeeze and release.

"please? please, lemme make you feel good - i just-" she doesn't finish, cut off by his vigorous agreement. smirking, she uses both her hands to grip his pants, pulling them down just enough to expose his cock to her. she traces her fingers up and down his length, feeling the telltale sign of his arousal on and over his tip. his shaky breaths right by her ears spur her hands to move just that bit faster. she's tempted to slip the covers off of them and go the whole way for the first time, and his lips on her neck to subdue his noises were definitely not deterring her from that plan.

what did deter her, however, was the sharp knock on the door, causing her to wrench her hand away and squeak in shock, as thomas attempts to not lose the friction of her hands, his hips bucking as he tried to chase the feeling.

"is thomas in there?" minho's voice is muffled, but obvious, through the door, as thomas's head tips backwards, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.

"yeah - yeah, minho. s'everything alright?" she says it back, her hand still suspended in the air, embarrassed at being interrupted.

"breakfast's ready - get it while it's hot!" another voice - a female voice - shouts through the door in a way where it's obvious she's walking away - going to eat, presumably. she finally lets her tense muscles relax in the knowledge that it's not an emergency. she's almost inclined to slip her hand back under and finish the job, and when she looks over at her boyfriend, he seems incredibly interested in the idea, but a better plan springs to her head.

"we should get going, baby. they'll get suspicious." it's a meek excuse, but it's solidified by her rising from bed, causing him to groan, and follow her lead, pulling his clothes over himself.

blue balls didn't even begin to describe the tension that coiled in his muscles as he meekly sat down across from minho. he felt as though every sense was heightened, like when he'd jumped at a quiet clatter from inside the kitchen. his friends all watched over his antsy behavior, unsure of the reason for it.

on the other hand, his girlfriend - sat next to him - knew exactly what was wrong, and she used it to her advantage, by being more touchy than usual. a hand on his arm, or around his shoulders, or on his chest as she rose to get some water. it's like she'd left hand-prints in his already warm skin. it came to a head when the hand she'd already precariously been resting on his knee started venturing higher, trailing along the inseam of his pants.

he tries, god, he tries to ignore it, but it's all too much when her finger finally rests over the head of his cock, her palm encompassing him.

he chokes on his sip of water, causing it to spill all over him, and minho's eyebrows immediately furrow.

"you alright, man?" her hand's out from under the table, and is resting on his bicep.

"yeah, babe, are you feeling okay?" he glares at her, jaw clenched and eyes narrow. she looks back up at him innocently, though he can see the ghost of a devilish smile dance on her lips.

"'m'fine. just gonna go change." his food is practically untouched as he raises from his seat, hoping his situation isn't particularly obvious, as he heads back in the direction of his place. minho turns to her, a bit confused by the abrupt nature of his actions.

"'s'he okay?" she shrugs.

"maybe he slept wrong?" she pauses, contemplative, before raising up as well, "i'll go check on him." minho watches as she walks off as well, still a bit confused, before turning to gally, sat a bit away from him, who had an almost sour expression on his face.

"what's wrong?" why was everyone acting so weird today? minho thought, as gally looks at him incredulously, shocked he doesn't realize what was happening between the couple.

"you-? you know what, it's nothing. don't worry about it." it's dismissive, but minho shrugs his shoulders, figuring it was, in face, nothing.

in that time, she's knocking on his door, and, as soon as he realizes who it is he pulls her in, pushing her until she's facing his bed.

"fuck, what're you doing?" she mumbles, and he sighs.

"finishing what you started, baby." she smiles, looking back at him, before turning around.

"well, if you wanna finish, let's start here-" she lowers to her knees in front of him, and his head rolls back at the sight of her in the position. her fingers greedily clutch at his waistband, pulling his pants and boxers down in one motion.

he's aching, she can see it in the way his cock's pulsing, as she takes him in her palm, slowly - tortuously - stroking him as his hands weave through her hair. she can feel the lightest push against her head - to the point where he probably didn't even realize the action - and succumbed to his untold request, moving her head forward to gently wrap her lips around his tip.

"just - shit, just like that, baby." her tongue traces his head, as low moans escape him. she hums around him - something akin to a 'thank you', but all it translates to is increased sensation on his cock. his head tips back at the feeling, and his hand grips her head a little tighter, pushing her down a little further. she lets him, stilling her movements to focus on his guidance. he moves her head up and down his length, her tongue poking out along its underside, languidly lavishing the area, "you're so good - fuck me, you feel really good-"

he doesn't hesitate to continue praising her, before gently tugging her down and holding her there. immediately, her fingers reach up to grip his thighs, feeling the light - and then more serious gag at the sensation. he takes another moment to appreciate the pretty sight in front of - or under - him, before releasing her, letting her off her cock and allowing her to take deep breaths to account for her lack of oxygen.

"get up here for me, baby." he practically orders, taking her by her arms and helping her up, lightly pushing her against the bed, "first time - i'm not finishing in your mouth." she smiles, whole-heartedly agreeing with his plan, as she felt her own core throb with a need for friction.

he pushes her so that she's sitting on the bed, and, just as he goes to lay her down - there's another knock at the door.

"thomas - you said you'd help with fixing that problem on the east side." it's minho - again - calling thomas for, admittedly, a project he had signed up for the previous week, fixing some construction issue or something on the east side of the haven. admittedly, it'd seemed important work - until now, "we needa fix it quick, man - apparently it's gotten worse." thomas is literally stopped in his tracks, until she taps on his thighs, about chest level with her, essentially reminding him to get ready instead of staying still.

"c'mon, baby - go on." she mumbles, as she also rises, pulling her hair back. she waits as he gets ready, leaving the room and greeting minho - with a tone of voice that is a little distraught - making her smile.

on the other side of the door, minho's a little exasperated.

"how long does it take to change?" thomas looks confused, before remembering his lackluster excuse, and coughing.

"i - just tell me what the issue is, yeah?"

over the day, she'd continued with her own work, as thomas had continued with his. of course, both of them had been a bit distracted the whole day - unable to exactly focus when remembering what was waiting for them back home. their states were obviously noticed by the people around them - with both their friends stepping around them with quirked eyebrows or concerned impressions.

finally - believing he might actually be feeling ill - minho simply shrugs, telling thomas that maybe it'd be best he go back to his and sleep the day off. thomas was a little hesitant, but finally agreed - he wasn't exactly the biggest help in this state.

as he headed back, he swung by where she was, muttering a quick greeting to the others also working. she'd been taking a small break to clear her head of - well, the person now standing in front of her. her face lights up at the sight of him, wrapping him in a hug - though he's a little sweaty from his work earlier. one of her friends, in a similar manner to minho, urges her to head on home, and to pick up again the next day - a offer that she almost meekly accepts.

finally, the both of them are walking back towards her place.

she's got a bit of a pep in her step, and it makes him smile, his muscles aching - from his work, or from this morning, he wasn't sure - yet he knows exactly where her energy's coming from. she steps into her place, and he's right on her heels, pushing against her back as she laughs, trying to slip her shoes off as his hands relentlessly wander her body. finally, as she rises, she grabs his loose shirt, pulling him into her, capturing his lips against hers. he smiles into her mouth, and she hums contently - having a distinct feeling that it was the day they'd actually go all the way. her hands trail under his shirt until she pushes off of him for a moment, grabbing the bottom of the shirt and pulling it up and off of him. he smirks at her eagerness, but before he can make a dumb comment, her hands are at his trousers, gently tugging them down his legs. his hands join hers without a second thought, helping her get them the rest of the way down.

she can see him, hard against his boxers, and, after pushing him so he's laying down on her bed, she appreciates the way he looks - a little desperate, a lot pretty. he reaches for her hips, but she steps back, and a strange - almost garbled - whisper of indignation leaves his lips. it makes her lips quirk into a smirk, as she slowly begins taking her clothes off - each with weighty effort and a teasing smile. it doesn't defer him - as his eyes follow her movements greedily - but it definitely piques his excitement much more effectively when she finally places her thighs on either side of him, straddling his own. his hands reach up to grip her hips, guiding them down to rub against him, enjoying the slight buck of her hips, and the small noises leaving her mouth.

finally, she pulls his last article of clothing off, procuring his cock - thick and heavy - in her hand, languidly stroking him, causing his grip to tighten. she smiles against him, contemplating teasing him further but, feeling her own need, she decides against it, choosing to sit up a little higher on her knees instead.

"ready?" she mumbles looking down at his length as she attempts to situate herself correctly. maintaining her balance as she does, he hums in response, nodding as much as he can while keeping his eyes glued to her face. he can see the slight stress occur to her when she feels his cock against her, and he rubs his fingers against her lightly.

"'re you - want me to help?" she thinks he's asking if she needs to be taken care of and - though it wouldn't hurt - she's too desperate to finally feel him inside her to wait much longer.

"n-no, i wanna feel you, now." the admission makes him exhale lowly, appreciating her appreciation, and he lifts her ass up to help her hover over his cock. she can feel his head at her entrance so, taking a deep breath, she sinks down.

she's watching his anticipatory face fall into one of pleasure, and he's watching the same occur on hers - but there's that hint of discomfort that she desperately trying to ignore, stilling as her ass reaches his hips and attempting to adjust.

"'re you okay, baby?" he's massaging the expanse of her thighs and hips, trying to focus on the fucking amazing feeling of her, but also on relieving as much of the pain as he can. she's got a light wince on her face as she nods through gritted teeth.

"yeah - fuck, yeah - just give me a minute." he reassures her with short mumbles and loving phrases, hoping it was doing something to help. after another couple of moments, she breathes deeply, nodding at him lightly, before gently placing her hands against his shoulders.

she pushes up using her thighs, not loving the feeling of emptiness, in that half moment, before she sunk back onto him, releasing a small, gasping moan at the sensation. he looks up at her as she slowly repeats the action, grunting at the feeling of her cunt around him. she looked good like this, situated over him, desperately trying to both make him feel good, as well as to chase the newly-realized sensation she was also experiencing. wanting to return the favor, he grabs the bottoms of her thighs, easing her effort and pulling and pushing her with just that bit of fervor that forced him deeper inside her. she could feel him brushing against something that was making her twitch, her head falling back at the sensation as she tries to muffle her moans with one of her hands. unable to comprehend the feeling alongside moving her thighs, she slows her pace, but he didn't.

he pulls her to be situated with her face over his, hands more tightly clutching his shoulders, before he begins thrusting up into her with the newfound space. he keenly watches her face fall into a shocked pleasure, a loud moan falling from her lips at the newfound intensity and speed.

"oh my god - baby - fuck -" she's mumbling into the small space between them, desperately trying to explain how good he was making her feel, but the words escaped her, as her mind blanked at the sensation. it's spurring his thrusts on - moving that much faster, that much harder to make her fucked out nature more pronounced. it worked, as evidenced by her loud noises - ones she couldn't even think about trying to keep contained when he was making her feel like this. she can feel the feeling in her core begin to yearn for some sort of release, and she attempts to communicate this to him. it's not a great explanation, but it's more than enough for him.

"please - god, please, cum for me, baby - i want-" he wants to feel her orgasm as much as she does - anticipating the way her body would still, her face would contort, and her cunt would feel around him. she nods desperately, feeling the knot snap as the sensation of her orgasm washes over her, making her cry out over him.

he watches her, and it's as pretty as he thought it'd be: her mouth falling open and brows furrowing, her muscles tensing, and her cunt fluttering around his cock.

the feeling prompts his own orgasm as, after a few thrusts, he's pulling out of her, his cum glazing her stomach as a low groan escapes him. she gently sits back against his thighs, taking a moment to collect herself and catch her breath, as he does the same.

finally, she pushes off of him, reaching the bathroom to take a shower. he follows her after a moment, gently placing a kiss to her head.

"that was - was good." she hums in agreement, letting the water run behind them.

they both failed to realize the acoustics of the area, not realizing that the noises of their coupling had reached some of the others - maybe most notably, minho.

he sits, red faced, eyes wide. when gally notices his expression, he laughs.

"see what i mean?"

#tmr thomas #tmr thomas oneshot #thomas x reader #thomas oneshot #thomas imagine #thomas smut #thomas fluff #the maze runner #the maze runner oneshot #dylan o'brien #interruptions

[heliads]

Hello hey can you do some fluff with Thomas ? 🥰please

when they are talking in the safe heaven they was mutual pinning for them since the glade. She was all ways there for him and vice versa. They are a balancing personality. She was pessimistic and he was optimistic. But they have matching energy: one day he make a stupid joke and she says «  why I’m in love with you remind me «  but she didn’t mean to, and Thomas was surprised because they were in love it was obvious and didn’t stop teasing her for it.

Ps : Newt and Teresa are alive

i believe in newt and teresa being alive

masterlist

There is no such thing as winning over Y/N. That’s one of the very first lessons Thomas learned upon entering the Glade, along with the other crucial ones such as ‘don’t pick a fight with Gally,’ and ‘for goodness’ sake, Greenie, stop trying to go in the Maze.’ Still, he’s not inclined to give up yet. On any of those topics, actually. 

Thomas is not prone to surrender. He is a fighter, always has been. Or, he’d like to say that, if he had any idea what he ‘always has been’ in his life. There is Thomas now, Thomas when he first came up in the Box, and then a great expanse of nothingness before and after that. Blank emptiness is his past, unknowable odds his future. There is only Thomas in the present moment, so capable of changing his future that he doesn’t even know his past.

The nothingness makes it easier to remember the lessons. He has so few concrete memories in his head that the day-to-day events stand out in bright highlighter neon. Thomas can remember the sensation of a pen but never what brand he liked best nor what he might have written with it. Thomas does not know if he has ever worked in a garden growing up, but he knows what seeds can become and that he hates being a Track-Hoe, so he focuses on the last bit instead.

It makes him lie awake at night, spending hours staring up at a sky utterly foreign to him in the hopes of remembering any more of it. The constellation over his nose could have been his favorite, once upon a time, it could have been taught to him by a mother or father, but now it is just a broad handful of stars somewhere beyond his reach.

With so little to fill his head except fear and paranoia of the day before, Thomas is forced to conjure up something better worth his imagination, and more often than not, that happy thing becomes Y/N. Y/N is probably what Thomas will become sooner or later, once the initial rush of finding himself in the Glade wears off and he just grows sick of everything in sight.

Y/N has been here longer than most everyone here. The only rivals she has in terms of tenure would be Alby or the dead boys lying in a grave somewhere in the Deadheads. All that time stuck in these stone walls, and it taught her the importance of never getting your hopes up. Thomas met her the first time and thought that he might make it his goal to get her to smile.

He reached that after a few days, but that didn’t stop him from trying again and again. So what if Y/N is a realist who’s given up on dreaming of a way to get out of here, Thomas has enough heart for both of them and he’ll wield it just the same. Thomas sidles up to her at meals and tells terrible jokes until she has to sip at her water to hide a smile. He listens to her talk about everything that goes wrong in the Glade and intersperses recollections of what went well that day as well.

Slowly, surely, Thomas swears that she’s coming over to his side. He can win her friendship like a battle, a round of cards, anything he can make his own with enough dumb luck and a good few twists of fate. He’s come closer than anyone else, so that surely should count for something, right?

Thomas knows he’s getting there when the other kids start intervening. Minho takes it upon himself to tell Thomas that this whole thing is a lost cause. Been there, done that, Minho says one day while they’re out mapping a sector of the Glade, you’re going to have to give up eventually, and you know that. Y/N doesn’t want to suddenly become an optimist. It’s not going to happen.

I don’t want her to suddenly become an optimist, Thomas argues back, I just want her to like being around me even if I’m one.

Later that day, while they were taking one of their few much-needed breaks, Thomas had dared to ask Minho more in between desperate sips of water.

You knew her at the start, didn’t you? What was she like? He’d prompted.

Minho had sighed, stared at the water in his hands. She was like you. I never thought she’d give up on the hope that we’d get of here, and then she did.

Thomas had pushed for more details on just what had happened to change Y/N’s mind, but he hadn’t been able to get any additional facts out of Minho other than a recollection of several Gladers lost without any monumental change in their slow slog towards getting answers out of the Maze.

Mainly, though, what had done Y/N in was time. She’s spent three years here now, three years without any sign that they’ll ever leave. Fine, then, Thomas decides. If Y/N can’t see a world in which they ever get out of here, he’ll forge a new one just to make her eyes light up again.

He’s good on his word, too. When Thomas finds the way out, when their entire way of life goes awry and Gally tries to exert his control over the Glade, Thomas fights his way out with his friends. He shows Y/N the door out of the Maze, and he takes her through it.

Thomas doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget the look on her face when they step out into the sunlight for the first time. The sun was still there in the Glade, obviously, but it isn’t the same when you can feel the shadows of the Maze walls on your back with every other breath. Out there in the real world, though, that was something else altogether.

It was good, even when they were fighting for their lives in the Scorch. They spent their days terrified of Crank activity, but when the sun sank beneath the horizon and they were finally able to rest in whatever meager shelter that crossed their path, Thomas looked at Y/N and he knew that her hope was back. It was enough to make him keep fighting for a better life. It was enough to make him feel infallible.

And they did it, didn’t they? They found their way out. Thomas is reminiscing about old, worse times from his hut in the Safe Haven, far away from harm. Cranks cannot reach them here, nor WICKED, nor anyone else. He is here with his friends and Y/N, and he could not want for anyone else.

The final fights were the worst of Thomas’ life. He lost allies, but he saved some, too. Thomas doesn’t know that he’ll ever experience a fear quite like the one ricocheting through his chest when Newt was bitten. For a few horrific minutes there, Thomas had thought that he might lose him, the one friend he’d had from the very start. 

Minho had made it back in time with the cure, though, and then Newt was blinking up at him with shocked eyes and asking what had happened. Thomas hadn’t been able to answer him, not for a while. He remembers standing there, clutching Y/N for support, knowing that without her there he might have collapsed to the ground by Newt’s side.

That was Y/N for him, Thomas supposes. Whenever he was low, she was high. They complemented each other perfectly. He held out hope when she couldn’t, and when he was in danger of losing himself, Y/N pulled him back from the brink. Survival does horrible things to us all, but sometimes it gives you salvation in the form of people. Y/N is his people. Y/N is all he has ever needed.

Y/N was the one Thomas was thinking about when he was fleeing Janson through a burning city. Y/N was the name on his mind when Thomas caught Teresa just before the roof caved in. When the explosion hit him too hard and Thomas passed out on the Berg carrying them away, her face was the last one that flashed through his head.

It is all okay, though. They have lived through the horrors, the desolation, the grief. All that is left for them now is a quiet sort of ending, an epilogue in which the heroes win and the villains are forgotten. Thomas rises with the sun and goes to bed with the moon, and slowly, carefully, he heals.

They do that together, too. Thomas hands over leadership duties of the new settlement to the others; he wants no part of that now, no forced maturity of any kind, and he runs away to the one person who will always want him now. It’s funny, looking back on the Glade, how Thomas had always operated with this slight fear that Y/N was just humoring him because they were both stuck in the same place. He knows now for a fact that was never the case.

She’s told him as much, both directly and through the little things. He picks a wildflower out of surprise that such a colorful thing could idly grow on the side of the road and she tucks it behind her ear for the rest of the day. He wakes with nightmares and she holds him until the dreams become just that, just dreams, just memories which can no longer touch him.

Thomas thinks for the first time that growing old sounds like something that he can finally ignore. In the Glade and Scorch, the thought of making it to infirmity was something of a dream, an impossibility he would never reach. Right now, though, Thomas wants all the time he can get his hands on. He’s desperate for it, greedy and drunk on every moment. He loves the little things. He is enchanted by the big events. All of it is his, and all of it is beautiful.

He finds Y/N in the mornings, the evenings, the afternoons. They walk until their feet ache and sleep until the sun has climbed far too high in the sky, laugh and cry and live. It is nothing like what he thought growing up would be like, but then again, he never thought he’d make it far enough to judge. Right now, he is happy.

Very happy. He turns to Y/N as they’re sitting by the edge of the water and tells some sort of stupid joke. He’s been prone to them recently, like some inner comedian has suddenly remembered it exists and dusted itself off for its fair share in his personality. Maybe the Thomas before the Maze liked being funny. He’s never had enough time to figure out who that was at all.

Thomas waits for Y/N to say what she usually says in response to his attempts at being funny:  laugh along, maybe, or swat him on the shoulder, or come up with an even better joke just to make fun of him.

Instead, she rolls her eyes fondly. “That was awful.”

“Great,” Thomas corrects, “I think you mean it was great.”

“I certainly do not,” she says, smiling, “Remind me again why I love you?”

It’s late in the evening, maybe she’s tired, maybe that’s why she slips up and says something like that. Neither of them have been willing in any way to put a name on what they have or what they feel, but it occurs to Thomas that he wants that label more than anything he’s ever wanted before.

Y/N’s face looks tight, as if the skin has been yanked up on her bones to expose the skeleton beneath. She starts talking about something else quickly, the words tumbling out in an attempt to hide what had been said before. It doesn’t matter, though, Thomas knows what he heard and he adores it.

“I love you too,” he says. He feels like shouting it.

Y/N stares at him. “What?”

“I love you,” he answers her. “I love you. And you totally knew that, by the way. You’ve known that all along, so you do not get to just pretend like that didn’t happen. I know what you said. Also, I want it remembered from here on out that you said ‘I love you first.’”

Y/N gives him a look, but she can’t stop her lips from twisting up into a grin, so even her fiercest glares can’t weather him in the slightest. “Why does the order of who said what first even matter?”

“Who knows?” Thomas says, shrugging as casually as he can, “Probably that you’re just, you know, obsessed with me or something. I wouldn’t blame you.”

This time Y/N does swat him, but she kisses him too, so Thomas supposes she could be forgiven. He already has. He’d do it in a heartbeat, even if she was stabbing him through the chest instead of toying with him. He loves her. He loves her, and he won’t do anything else but that.

requested by @hope92100, i hope you enjoy!

tmr taglist: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope, @fadedver

#thomas #thomas imagines #thomas x reader #thomas oneshot #tmr #tmr imagines #tmr x reader #tmr oneshot #maze runner #maze runner imagines #maze runner x reader #maze runner oneshot #tmr thomas #tmr thomas imagines #tmr thomas x reader #tmr thomas oneshot #maze runner thomas #maze runner thomas x reader #maze runner thomas oneshot

[itsliaaahsoneshots]

Erased Memories

(find the complete version on my whattpad @yoongsproperty)- Tell me if you want me to publish the whole oneshot on here or if you have any oneshot/short scene request.

𝕿he young, little Y/n slightly opened her eyes only to abruptly close them again due to the sudden light coming from a plain, white ceiling. Her lids felt heavy and her head was pounding as if she had been listening to high-volume music for an entire day.

She put her tiny hand on her forehead to prevent the light to blind her once again as her lively eyes caught a glimpse of something hanging on her forearm.

That is when she noticed that something similar to a needle connected to a small transparent bag was inserted right into her left wrist, piercing into her soft skin. A blueish liquid was flowing from the tube connected to her forearm at a regular speed. Her brows furrowed in confusion.

What was that place and why was she there?

Her gaze wandered around the room and examined every single inch of it. Nor that it would take that long anyway, given the rather simple design of the room.

As she took in her surroundings, she found herself to be laying down on a simple bed, similar to a hospital one, in an almost empty room devoid of personal touches, filled with cold metal surfaces and bright lights. No windows.

She woke up feeling disoriented and confused by the sudden change in surroundings that was indeed jarring for a seven years old kid. She felt like a fish out of the water. She was struggling to remember how she ended up in such a minimal, sterile, and clinical environment.

The only thing she was sure about, was that she was completely separated from her family. She had tried to cling onto her mother's fabric t-shirt but to no use, as she was violently jerked away by soldiers wearing a sleek, brown uniform and sturdy brown helmets.

That memory contributed to her feelings of vulnerability and uncertainty. Her initial confusion got replaced by her heartache and longing for her family. Thoughts of their faces would haunt her, becoming overwhelming. She felt a deep sense of loss and desperation, as she yearned to be reunited with her parents and younger siblings.

She stood up, removing the needle from her wrist, causing the small hole to bleed. She realized she was barefoot only when the cold white floor tiles met her warm skin.

She took some rapid steps, running to the closest door, in the hope to find a way out of that place.

But before she could have reached the metal door, she realized that there was no knob. As she examined the door, she got startled by the sudden lateral opening of the latter that was right in front of her.

An elegant and sophisticated woman joined her in the room, missing her by mere inches.

She had fair skin and well-groomed, blonde, styled hair, enhancing her professional appearance. Her facial features were elegant and refined. She had a defined jawline and high cheekbones, giving her a distinct and strong presence. Her eyes were sharp and piercing, reflecting her intelligence and determination. She was wearing a formal white lab coat.

The mysterious woman stopped in her tracks as soon as she met Y/n's eyes. She glanced at her bleeding wrist. The little one took a few steps backward, taking some distance from the unknown woman.

"Oh, I see that you are awake," she said "Nice to meet you, my name is Dr. Ava Paige, and I work here at W.C.K.D. You can call me Dr. Ava if you'd like. I'm here to help you and all the other special children like you."

"What is WCKD?" Y/n asked while tilting her head slightly to the side, still with a defensive demeanor.

"That's a great question! WCKD stands for World Catastrophe Killzone Department," the little kid questioned the relatively frightening meaning of each word that composed the acronym. "...but don't let the name scare you. Our goal at WCKD is to find a way to protect everyone from a dangerous virus called the Flare. We're looking for a cure so that no one else gets sick." Ava smiled kindly at her, hoping to reassure her. She knew that the little one was scared, but the woman knew how to do her job better than anyone else.

"Why am I here?" she glared at Dr.Paige. "You're here because you're very special. You have something called immunity, which means you're naturally protected from the Flare. We want to understand why some people are immune, so we can learn how to help others, and you want to help others, right?". Y/n's eyes softened as she seemed to be thinking about the answer for a while.

"Can I see my family?" she innocently asked. "I know it can be tough to be away from your family, but right now, we need your help to find a way to make the world a better and safer place. We'll do everything we can to make sure you feel comfortable and loved while you're here. You might see your family again at the end of our project." She concluded.

The little kid felt every bit of her hope fading away. Still, she was determined to reunite with her family, therefore, she would have had to end that project as soon as she could.

"From now on, you will be staying here, helping us with something really important that could save the life of many people. We will be your new family". Dr. Paige adopted a gentle and reassuring tone, focusing on the child's importance and the shared goal of finding a cure for the Flare.

She aimed to establish trust and provide a sense of safety and care, emphasizing Y/n's role in the greater mission. The child was quite smart for her age, and she already knew that the only way to get out of there was to collaborate with them, giving W.C.K.D. what they needed. Or more simply, to just pretend to be helping them.

"Come with me, I'll take you to meet another special kid like you" She offered her hand for the child to take.

[...]

Tags:

#maze runner thomas oneshot #thomas oneshot #tmr thomas #tmr newt #maze runner minho oneshot #maze runner newt oneshot #tmr #tmr series #the death cure #the scorch trials #maze runner #the maze runner #thomas x Y/n

[ikinremu]

if you could do like a dumbification reader and thomas shelby i’d die happy please and thank u :)

Hi anon, thank u sm for requesting!! Hope you like it <3

Think Straight

Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

! Smut Warning !

Tags: Dumbificiation, P in V, Unprotected Sex, Cream Pie

"You just couldn't think of anything else, could you?"  Tommy scoffed, wooden door rattling shut behind the pair of you. 

Your linen coated back pressed up to the wood, a familiar set of eyes honing in on your own.

"Wanted me to fuck you, is that it?" He spoke, raising one complacent brow. His hands immediately found your waist, drawing your eager bodies closer to one and other.

An intense arousal simmered between your legs, triumphant in the knowledge you'd be getting what you'd longed for. You could resist sporting a smile, nodding softly in response.

"Tommy," You began, unsure where you'd even take the sentence, though before you had time to contemplate the matter, Tommy slid a single finger into your mouth.

"Shh," He hushed, "I've heard enough from you."

Your eyes widened momentarily, feeling the callous pad of his thumb roll onto your tongue.

Using the unoccupied hand to lower the waistband of his trousers, he released his hard length with a low, relieved groan, feeling you whimper slightly against his thumb.

You reached out a hand, impatient to have him against your palm, though he dismissed it with a hint of a smirk, "So eager, eh?"

Tommy wasn't wrong; you were. Despite his presence being right before you, it wasn't enough. It wouldn't be until he was inside you.

Sliding one vacant hand beneath your skirt, he pulled the sodden cotton of your panties aside, completely baring you to his touch. "Fuck," He uttered, "You're soaking."

You murmured something practically unintelligible against his thumb as it lay against your tongue.

"Do what you're good for a spread those legs for me." Tommy commanded, a blatantly clear sense of amusement laced in his tone. And it was driving you beyond wild.

You hastily obeyed, parting your thighs, curious eyes flitting directly to the piercing pair before you.

He seized his thick, bare length within his hand, angling his tip with your drenched, welcoming cunt. With a deep, gruff groan, Tommy slid right past your drenched walls, stretching your tight cunt.

Tenderly, you moaned against his thumb once again as he filled you so flawlessly. Your heavy lids screwed together with nothing but sheer pleasure as he planted his first thrust, rocking you against the door. You instinctively swung your legs round his pelvis, desperate to feel him further.

"Gonna fuck all the thoughts out that pretty little head, eh?" Tommy assured, the pulse of his tip hitting tauntingly in your soaked pussy as his hips bucked up.

Your lips sealed as his thumb slithered from the warmth of your mouth, grabbing handfuls of your behind with both large, splayed hands. Your head lolled back, finding rest against the door, teeth sinking ferociously into your lower lip. You clenched around him, squeezing his length as his hips jerked erratically, lips curving into a slight smirk at your noises.

"Poor thing." Tommy mock frowned, "Can't think straight can you?"

You whined with broken breaths, shaking your head less than subtly, mouth falling open as his thick tip striking your g spot in a perfect rhythm. You writhed a little as he gave your ass another squeeze, arousal spiking even higher.

"That's it, all you can do is take it, hm?" He teased, greedily pulling your heat against him with each escalating thrust, "Making a pretty little mess of yourself on my cock, eh?""

His words merely fuelled the sultry fog in your head, sopping cunt twitching around his shaft,

"F-fuck.." You practically babbled out, "So good.."

"I know," Tommy chuckled in acknowledgment, switching one hand to gently cup the flush of your cheek, "Making that perfect cunt feel so good, isn't that right?"

Suddenly, the very same hand was shifting between your legs, fingertips toying with the drastic swell of your clit, only enhancing your pleasure.

Your eyes couldn't resist but flutter shut, back hollowing an arch against the door.

"Look at that.. all fucked out." He taunted, entirely unable to do anything except lust over the sight of you, watching wildly as his cock brought you closer and closer.

His skilful digits didn't relent upon playing with your swollen clit, drawing the most intoxicating moans from your throat. His bare length twitched inside you with each following thrust, evidently losing composure.

"You want me to fill this sweet little cunt?" Tommy grunted, edging nearer and nearer as your walls spasmed around him, "Give you something to think about for once?"

Nodding, you uttered trails of quiet, messy 'pleases' between your shallow panting, feeling an euphorically familiar knot become apparent in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter as you were so fulfillingly stretched around Tommy's cock.

As the pressure of his fingers quickened against your sensitive cunt, the knot so suddenly snapped, body shaking as you were hit by the ferocity of your orgasm.

Your now over-responsive pussy quivered weakly, a loud moan escaping you, Tommy doing the same. With one faulty rock of his hips, a familiarly warm burst found your cunt.

Chest rising and falling rather dramatically, your breaths gradually grew steadier.

Tommy studied you intently, offering a proud smile as he snaked a hand upwards, gently tapping the side of your head, tutting, "Nothing going on up there, hm love?"

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to use the requests/asks feature on my page - it’d be so greatly appreciated!

#smut #smutty #drabbles #oneshot #peaky blinders #peaky blinders smut #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader

[ptersparkers]

reckless (aaron hotchner)

summary: After two years with the BAU, you get the feeling that Aaron Hotchner isn’t your biggest fan. That’s too bad, because you really like him.

notes: hello. this is singlehandedly the longest fic i’ve ever written (like 21.7K words). i didn’t intend for it to be this long and i tried to see where i could break it up, but i think it flows better if it’s in one piece. happy reading! x 

(edit: adding in that the reader is fem)

a huge thank you to @hotchsdoormat​ for being the best person alive and for listening to me rant about this piece. love u forever.

warnings: typical criminal minds speak, kidnapping and mentions of broken arms and ribs and typos, probably. 

***

Years of dreaming of becoming a federal agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit led to the beginning of an illustrious career solving crimes and traveling across the country. It had only taken guest lectures by none other than the BAU themselves for the idea of catching killers and outsmarting them to do so to seep its way to the back of your mind.

You just wish you liked your job.

You like your work. You like walking into the office with a sense of purpose and you like profiling bad people and saving the good ones. You even like the shitty coffee that never seems to run out and you don’t mind the early call times and the sudden departures. 

What you don’t like, however, is your boss. But you know that’s just because he doesn’t like you. 

In your two years with the BAU, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Aaron throw a smile in your direction if it wasn’t meant for someone standing next to you. Two years of Aaron being dismissive and choosing to sit farthest from you in the conference room and on the jet. Two years of watching him foster friendships with your coworkers without sparing you a second glance. But work is work.

You’re an outsider. It’s almost what you expected. 

Emily’s the first one to tell you that you don’t need to take it personally. Her rocky start with the BAU and stories of learning that trust takes time eased your worries for a while, but Aaron never seemed to give you the time of day aside collaborating with the rest of the team. Everyone says he’s notorious for being stoic and intimidating, but you don’t see it that way. In your mind, he loathes you. 

Which is unfortunate, because you liked Aaron the most.

The guest lecture had sent you into a spiral of researching recently closed BAU cases and watching hours of press conferences led by Aaron. You appreciated the way he spoke about his work. He spoke about it like it was his due diligence and you liked that he treated each victim and their loved ones with grace and kindness. 

It kills you to know that he doesn’t trust you despite doing your best in the field. Your six month review approached and you passed with flying colors, earning a short-lived celebration from Erin Strauss before she exited Aaron’s office. But he kept quiet the entire examination, aside from putting his own input with how you acted in the field. He said you were diligent, followed orders well enough, and could listen to directions. It was the most you’d ever heard Aaron speak about you, but the swell of pride didn’t last long.

Sometimes people compare the two of you when it comes to your worth ethic. Last ones to leave, can’t be bothered when focused, and the need to excel in your career field while downplaying your contribution. Perhaps the need to do good in the world catapulted you into considering a role where you’d be actively helping others instead of a career where it would be too late. 

But every time you sit at your desk, opposite of Aaron’s office, you find yourself frowning. The blinds are always closed and you always wondered if Aaron could feel you staring at the emblem on his door when you wondered how you managed to keep your job. 

“I can hear your brain all the way from here,” Derek says, leaning against the stall of your desk. You avert your eyes from the door to his voice. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you say.

Derek gives you a look. “I know it’s not nothing, sweetness.”

“Just tired,” you lie, “I slept poorly last night.”

Your gaze focuses on the files in front of you and Derek looks between you and Aaron’s office. He does his best not to let you know it’s been affecting him too; everyone’s noticed how Aaron’s been giving you the short end of the stick and that his wavering trust hasn’t disappeared like it had for the rest of them. It doesn’t do any good for team morale. 

For a moment in the beginning of your time with the BAU, you think he’s asking you to prove yourself. You’re new, you need to get used to team dynamics, and you need to prove yourself capable before he can trust that you’d have everyone’s back. You understand that. 

What you don’t understand, however, is why he treats you like a first-day agent after your contributions. 

“Alright,” Derek says, knowing better than to pry you out of your work. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

He leaves you momentarily when Aaron steps out of his office. You try not to look up, but it’s hard to ignore him when your desk is pointed in front of his door. He’s wearing a classic black suit with a red tie, belt and shoes to match. You know what the look on his face means–there’s a case. 

“Everyone in the conference room,” Aaron pointedly says.

Derek finishes pouring two cups of coffee and brings it over to the room where he sees you sitting in front of the screen. You thank him for the cup as he sits beside you and Reid gives you a small ‘good morning’ before everyone files into the conference room and their attentions are focused on the faces on the screen. 

“Two children have gone missing in Los Angeles, California,” Penelope begins. “Gracie and Olivia McCormack, four and six respectively, were last seen in their shared bedroom last night and LAPD has contacted us to help find them.”

“Looks like the mother reported going into their bedroom to wake them up, only to find them missing,” you say, frowning. 

“Is the father in the picture?” JJ asks. 

“Jaqueline, the mother, divorced Scott McCormack before her youngest was born,” Penelope informs.

“New flame?” Emily wonders. 

“Yes ma’am. Logan James.” Penelope presses a few buttons and Jaqueline and Logan appear on the screen. “This is where it gets tricky.”

“It looks like both Scott and Logan were abusive towards Jaqueline during their marriages,” David reads from the file. 

“Jaqueline’s pretty familiar with the local hospital,” you mutter. 

“We can talk about the file and start to strategize on our way to LA,” Aaron says, packing his file in his go-bag, which is already in hand. “Wheels up in thirty.” 

***

The six hour plane ride doesn’t feel as nauseating as you had predicted. Your second cup of coffee sits on the table in front of you as your file is displayed on the surface, along with everyone else. Departure wasn’t terrible, mild turbulence followed but nothing you couldn’t handle. The armrest becomes your best friend on these flights. 

“Did Scott kidnap Gracie and Olivia because he wants his kids?” Derek says aloud. 

“Most likely,” Reid adds. “Scott’s a migrant construction worker. I can’t imagine anyone letting him raise two children without a steady home or income, though.”

“So he’s angry at the loss of his children and wants them back,” Aaron says. “Garcia, does Scott have any background of domestic abuse prior to his marriage with Jaqueline?”  

“One count of domestic battery with a former girlfriend, but his childhood tells us a whole different story.”

“What is it, babygirl?” Derek beckons. 

“Scott was born to heroin addicts and they’d leave him in hotel rooms for days while they tried to rob local convenience stores for money, presumably for their next high. Poor kid, he never stood a chance.”

“Damn,” Derek says, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine growing up like that.”

“He was put into the care of his grandparents on his mother’s side until he was six and–oh, ouch–he apparently caused too much trouble for himself that his grandparents gave him to the foster care system.”

“I can imagine that abandonment took a toll on Scott,” JJ says.

“Take the kids away from Jacqueline as punishment,” adds Rossi. “Makes sense, especially when Jacqueline was the one to file for divorce.”

“What about Jaqueline’s marriage with Logan? Haven’t we established that Logan was abusive during their marriage?” you ask. 

Aaron raises his eyebrow. “What about it?” 

“I think it’s important to consider him in all of this, Sir. If Logan was abusive to Jaqueline throughout their marriage, maybe Scott sees this kidnapping as some sort of effort to save them from harm.”

All eyes are on you now. It makes your skin crawl and you hope you don’t say the wrong thing.

“Go on.”

“If Scott really did take his kids, I don’t know if he did it to get back at her by kidnapping them. It makes more sense that Scott would want to save his children from an abuser. I mean, he knows what it’s like to live with abusive and absent parents. What if Scott wants to protect his children from suffering what he went through?” 

“Interesting,” Dave hums. “You’re theorizing that Scott considers this kidnapping as rescuing?”

You nod. “It makes sense. Maybe he has some animosity towards Jaqueline for letting Logan into their lives and retaliates by taking his children away from her because he thinks he’s saving them.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Aaron says pointedly. 

“I’m just spitballing,” you say. “I’m not trying to step on anyone’s toes.”

“Well, let’s keep it that way.”

You shut your mouth and revert your eyes back to the file that’s in your lap, desperate for any minute distraction it can give you. The rest of the team is stunned in silence and Spencer tries his best to fill in the awkward silence by reviewing all of the facts that have been listed in the report. 

At this moment, you feel small. Aaron’s dismissive attitude makes you feel somewhat inadequate at your job and you find it difficult to remind yourself of all the cases you’ve helped close when your boss has just undermined your work in front of your colleagues. 

His coldness towards you is what you don’t get. Aaron has a reputation for maintaining professionalism, which you can appreciate, but it seems like his stoic tendencies extend far beyond keeping it civil in the workplace. It feels like you’ve been isolated and boxed out from day one and despite having gotten to know the rest of the team on a deeper level, you still walk on eggshells around Aaron. It makes you wonder why he hired you at all.

From the other side of the plane, Aaron takes a seat in an empty chair and looks out the window pensively. He knows he’s being hard on you and he knows it’s unfair that he’s treating you much harsher than the others, but Aaron knows that it’s for the best. 

When you walked into his office for your initial interview, there was no doubt that you were the perfect candidate to fill in the role as a new profiler. Your past experiences had clued you into profiling and he promised Strauss that your addition to the team would benefit the BAU as a whole. 

And Aaron was right. Cases were closing at a higher rate than previously, your quick thinking and problem solving skills aided the capture of many prolific criminals, and it almost felt like you’d been with the team since the beginning. 

What Aaron didn’t account for, however, was developing feelings for you. 

All it took was a simple undercover operation to see you in a completely different light. The unsub had targeted women who looked like you and you were more than ready to step up to the plate to catch him. It took seeing you in a sleek black dress to make Aaron’s heart lurch out of his chest and make him feel like he was a teenager in love all over again, and he hated it. 

He hated feeling this way towards his coworker. For weeks, his mind bounced around the idea of what it might cost the team; your respective positions might cause an interference because of the dating policy set in place and how it would look from the outside. Aaron didn’t want to jeopardize your career by making it seem like you were providing unprofessional favors if news were to come out that you were romantically linked with him. He didn’t want your career to be damaged just because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. 

Moreover, Aaron hadn’t felt like this towards anyone since marrying Haley.

He had dated casually but never thought about the possibility of anything serious coming out of it. Aaron thought he might’ve come close to it when he had dated Beth for a while, but her career taking her across the country made him realize how unstable his life already was. Dating became a question of who gets along with Jack and the rest of his family and who is able to handle his frequent absences. His marriage to Haley showed Aaron the downside of traveling all the time and he’d be damned if he made that mistake again.

The idea of liking you in any capacity that wasn’t professional scared Aaron to death. He hates that he’s willing to find any excuse to walk by your desk or strike up a conversation with you if time permitted. He hates that his mind often wanders to a life of domesticity with you. The only logical possibility for him to combat his feelings for you is to keep you at arms length and treat you like he would any of his coworkers, which means keeping your personal lives separate and maintaining professionalism at all times.

It works a little too well and Aaron doesn’t realize it. He misplaces his anger—the frustration of knowing he can’t have you the way he wants you—and you’re at the receiving end. Aaron thinks he’s doing his best by delegating and separating you from him in the field, but he doesn’t realize that it’s causing professional tension because you constantly think you aren’t doing enough to help the team solve cases and catch criminals. 

Aaron spends the rest of the flight looking over reports the precinct sent over before the plane lands in Los Angeles. You elect to keep your nose buried in your reports for the fear of looking like you aren’t working hard enough.

***

The Los Angeles weather has cooled down when you land and Aaron has ordered everyone to head to the precinct first thing after touching down. The detectives are kind enough to reserve a room for all of you to work out of and you waste no time setting up the white board with the missing girls and timeline of the abduction. 

The stakes are high and you can feel the tension in the room. You aren’t a stranger to cases like these and you know that everyone is trying their best to keep themselves together for the sake of the department and the family of the victims. You try not to read into Aaron’s coldness to you too much. You’ve convinced yourself enough times that it’s the stress of the job and being away from his home that keeps him running on pure stress and adrenaline to prevent you from overthinking your position on his team. 

Aaron has you and Spencer stay behind in the precinct to work on the profile and piece together a timeline of the abduction, and you’re more than grateful you don’t have to spend time in the field with him. The relaxation enters your body the section you see him step out of the precinct and Spencer can’t help but pry. 

“You okay?” he asks.

You turn around from the white board and your sleeve smudges the freshly written text. The annoyance bubbles up in your chest and you hastily erase the mess you created and rewrite it before turning your attention back to Spencer.

“Stressed out, but otherwise I’m good.”

He pauses. “You’ve seemed that lately, though.”

“Can you blame me?” you ask defensively. “Our job isn’t exactly low-stress.”

“It’s just that every time Hotch enters the room, you stiffen up and you seem to lose your voice, and you play with your nails. It’s your biggest tell, actually.”

You give Spencer a pointed look. “Reid, I did not ask to be profiled.”

“Sorry,” he relents. “I just…look, I care about you and I hate seeing that you feel like you can’t share your ideas with us. Is something bothering you?”

You know Spencer knows. You’re sure the team knows why you’re apprehensive about your work and second guess yourself every time you bring forth a new theory or concept. But it’s hard to admit it out loud when all you’ve done is complain about him in your head and push your feelings aside for the sake of solving cases. 

But you know Spencer has always looked out for you after the first time you took a bullet for him a week into the job after barely getting to know each other. It’s the same way that he looks out for you in the field, protecting your cover and being the first to volunteer partnering with you when Aaron asks. He’s keen and perceptive, and you know you can’t hide your feelings from him unless you want to jeopardize another relationship with your coworker.

“I feel like Hotch doesn’t like me,” you say earnestly. “And I mean it in a way that seems almost personal.”

“He’s been pretty distant,” Spencer adds.

You shake your head. “It feels like he doesn’t trust my judgment or values what I have to say unless one of you backs me up. I can’t really tell you when I started to feel this way, but I’ve always felt like I have to walk on eggshells around him or else he’ll fire me.”

“No one’s going to fire you,” Spencer reassures. “You have an exceptional skill at finding unsubs and getting into their heads. It’s quite impressive how you’re able to put yourself in their shoes.”

“Thanks, I think,” you say with a laugh. “But you saw what happened on the plane. Hotch shot down my theory and told me not to jump to any conclusions even though I was just theorizing. I feel like he doesn’t want to listen to what I have to say because he doesn’t think there’s any value in it.” 

Spencer pauses. He sees your grip on the dry erase pen and knows how frustrated you feel. He knows you, the way you think, your work ethic, and just how badly you want to save these girls. He also knows how to distract you from your own feelings.

“Then tell me about your theory,” Spencer chides. 

“Scott might’ve taken his children as a form of punishment against Jaqueline. Sure, I think that’s a plausible theory to go off of, considering she was the one who filed for divorce. But he was never abusive towards the girls, whereas Logan was abusive to all three of them.”

He smiles when he knows it’s working.

“So you’re thinking that Scott is trying to rescue Gracie and Olivia from further abuse?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “As a parent, I can’t imagine tolerating a stranger abusing your kids. Maybe in Scott’s mind, Jaqueline was allowing Logan to abuse them without realizing he was doing the same to her.”

“The wife had full custody of the kids too,” Spencer adds, opening a case file. “He was only allowed supervised visits with a social worker present if she allowed it to happen and in the time they’ve been divorced, she hadn’t let Scott see them since she and Logan got together.”

“Okay, so Scott had enough and wanted to take matters into his own hands. If his ex-wife won’t take care of the kids and neither will her new husband, it’s up to him to take care of the girls.” 

“It looks like Scott’s had a problem with authoritative figures his entire life,” he says, frowning. Spencer turns the case file towards you. “His grandparents were physically and emotionally abusive and social workers did nothing about it. Looks like he was also a truant during his time in foster care.” 

“Get this. He’s been fired from multiple construction sites because he couldn’t follow orders,” you read. 

“Jacqueline was also the breadwinner of their relationship. I think Scott resents people who hold authority.”

“Scott wants to raise his kids,” you say, snapping your fingers. “It’s a rescue mission because he thinks he can raise them better than she can.”

Spencer grabs his phone and dials Aaron.

“What is it, Spencer?”

“Y/N and I talked more about her theory on the abduction. I think she’s right.”

Aaron doesn’t say anything. You’re almost sure he’s going to tell you to change the profile.

“We’ll meet you at the precinct in fifteen.”

***

You consider yourself lucky that Spencer backs your theory with claims and evidence. Your voice wavers multiple times when Aaron asks you to make your case, and the way he’s looking at you makes you doubt yourself. 

But everyone comes to the realization that you’re right. A few conversations with Jacqueline and an interrogation with Logan convinces Aaron that your theory had been the correct one all along. You should feel happy, but you don’t. 

You feel like you have to piggyback off of your coworkers and get them to support you before you can make your case heard. You feel like the smallest person in the room when you stand next to seasoned profilers who you’re sure Aaron values more than you. The weight of the world is on your shoulders and you carry it with you every time you formulate new ideas you want to share with the team. 

But you don’t dwell on this too long. 

Aaron has Spencer comb through security footage of local gas stations while Emily and David talk to Scott’s most recent employer. Derek and JJ are searching his last known whereabouts and searching for the girls, which leaves you and Aaron.

You’re barely able to hear his command. He wants you to talk to Jacqueline and try to coax more information out of her while he connects with Penelope about financial records and possible places he’s hiding the girls. She’s your age and he figures you might connect with her better than JJ did.

Jaqueline is understandably crying when you walk into the room. You hand her a box of tissues upon entering and she doesn’t say anything. She starts to open up after you tell her about yourself, your nieces and nephews, and you show her photos of them to prove yourself. You let her know you’re not a mother and can’t imagine the immense pain she’s going through, but you know what it’s like to care for people and how much it hurts when something bad happens to them.

Slowly, Jaqueline begins to talk. You ask her about her relationship with Scott and Logan, and all the important places that hold significance between the two marriages. She lists off a few and you make a note of it for later. Aaron calls you from the interview when Jaqueline has started to close herself in. He lets her go and gives her his business card in case she wants to talk, but tells her they’ll be in contact soon.

He doesn’t say a word about the interrogation. He just tells you to see if Derek and JJ need help canvassing more area. 

Two days later and the team is nowhere near finding Jaqueline’s children. Scott’s previous employer had less than stellar things to say about him and you’re beginning to panic at the thought of your ability to catch him and save the girls. Penelope calls with a development and thinks one of two locations is where Scott might be hiding the children. His trailer in East LA or a small house a friend of his owns. 

Aaron dispatches Dave, Emily, and JJ to the trailer while he commands you, Derek, and Spencer to follow him to the house. It’s located off of the freeway off the beaten path and you have a bad feeling about what’s about to happen.

Aaron’s driving like he knows something you don’t. You’ve taken a seat in the back with Spencer and listen as Derek points Aaron in the direction of the house. It’s getting dark outside, the sun is just barely above the horizon, and you know everyone has to be quick in order to save the girls if they’re in the house. 

LAPD officers drive behind the SUV. Aaron pulls over and you can hear the gravel underneath the tire. You swing the door open with all your might and draw your gun out as the rest of the team does, following Aaron’s orders to follow behind him as they explore the house. 

It’s quiet. Too quiet. 

The floorboards creak underneath you and Aaron tells you he’s going to clear the back of the house while you take the front. Everyone calls a distinctive ‘clear’ and you’re about to breathe out of frustration and ask Aaron if they’ve found the girls at Scott’s trailer when you hear the faint sound of someone crying from behind you. 

You’re careful not to step too loudly despite the hardwood floors. Derek finds you and calls out your name but you put your finger to your lips and he silences himself. The sound of feet shuffling sounds incredibly quiet, but you swear you can hear footsteps somewhere behind you. 

Spencer and Aaron join the two of you after hearing silence despite calling your names. Derek tells both men to silence themselves as you walk about the room, unsure of what you’re looking for. For the most part, nothing looks out of place. That is, until your hand falls on a set of books that feels much too hollow to contain any pages. 

“What is it?” Derek asks from behind you.

“I don’t know…I think this is a false backing.” 

And you’re right. You pull the books to reveal a small hidden entryway that’s dark, and it looks like it doesn’t lead to anything. Aaron’s halfway through telling you to let another police officer look through the crawl space because you have to take off your vest and gun to fit, but you’re not hearing it. 

“Hotch, I’m the only one who’s small enough to fit through here,” you say. “I’m shorter than the rest of you and all of you are men. I don’t think Gracie or Olivia want to see someone who looks like their dad.”

“She’s right,” Spencer mumbles. You don’t wait for Aaron’s approval, venturing into the crawlspace. 

Gracie and Olivia are understandably scared until you tell them their mother’s waiting for them at the police station. You help them out of the small room they’ve been kept in and notice how relatively furnished it is–a mattress, blankets, pillows, and coloring material–and make note of how your profile was right. 

You don’t spare a glance at Aaron, too invested in making sure the children are safe with EMTs while they’re being checked for harm. Olivia asks you to stay with them and holds your hand, and you don’t bring yourself to leave them. When the EMTs let you know they aren’t injured and can visit the police station without going to the hospital, Aaron reluctantly lets you accompany both of them back to the precinct. 

It’s well after dark by the time both children leave with Jaqueline. JJ and Emily have worked out a deal with local police to keep them under surveillance and protection until Scott has been captured and are instructed not to let Logan near the three of them for the time being. 

You aren’t able to say goodbye to the three of them, instead recounting your story to the local detective who needs your statement for the paperwork while it’s fresh in your memory. You’re on a high after seeing the two girls reunite with their mother and the entire team congratulates you on a job well done when Aaron storms into the office, angry.

“Y/N, go back to the hotel.” 

Aaron stands tall, his hands on his hips and his mouth etched in an angry frown. His voice is low and you can’t believe the words you’re hearing. 

“To the hotel? Hotch, you can’t be serious.”

“You made a reckless decision to abandon your gun and vest. That could have gotten you killed,” Aaron says. “You are not capable of working under pressure.”

“You told the entire team to use our instincts and that’s exactly what I did. I saved two little girls, for God’s sake.”

“You are hot headed and have this overwhelming urge to prove yourself when nobody cares how well you perform,” Aaron says angrily. “The entire time you’ve been with the BAU, you’ve barely contributed aside from piggybacking off of someone else to reach a conclusion.”

That, you know, is a lie. Aaron just wants to hurt you.

“At this very moment, you are incompetent and can’t hold yourself together for the sake of the victims and their families.”

“We have to catch Scott.”

“You can’t do your job, go back to the hotel.” 

“That’s not fair.”

“I don’t have to be.”

“Hotch.”

“I want you gone, Y/N,” Aaron says firmly. “Go back to the hotel or hand in your badge.” 

Unbelievable. 

You don’t spare Aaron another glance. Your feet carry you out to the lobby and your breath is so uneven that you need to step aside into an empty interrogation room to calm yourself down. Your jaw clenches and you ball your fists to gather some sort of relief, but you don’t find it. Instead, your nails dig into your palm until it turns white and you let go, exiting the room without another word.

The keys to the SUV are still in your pocket. You don’t necessarily care that the team will have to squeeze into the remaining vehicles and you don’t care enough to let one of them know you’ve made it outside. 

Your hands shake when you reach into your pocket. The warmth of the metal is familiar and your hand pulls it out when a stray tear falls from your face and splashes onto your cheek. Hastily, you enter the car and slam the door shut and lock it when you feel yourself overcome with sadness and anxiety. 

The tears fall freely at this point and you bow your head to the steering wheel, your breaths hot and mouth wet from crying. The back of your sleeves are soaked as you try to wipe away your tears to no avail and your vision becomes too blurry to drive. 

You allow yourself a few minutes to cry. The sound of your gasps echo throughout the care and your shoulders feel heavy with every sob. The weight of the world is truly on your shoulders now and you aren’t sure if you have a job when you go back to Quantico. 

But you pull yourself together and drive back to the hotel. It feels much longer than it needs to be and you sit in the driver’s seat for a moment when you park the car. You hate that you feel incapable of being a member of the team without Aaron breathing down your neck. You hate that you can’t live up to his expectations and that you try to in the first place. Working at the BAU wasn’t supposed to be a nightmare. 

You exit the car and lock it behind you, another stray tear escaping. You feverishly rid yourself of the tear and walk to the entrance of the hotel when you feel someone grabbing you from behind and an acute sense of pain at the base of your neck. 

It’s black after that. 

Back in the station, the local police have distracted themselves with their case files and other happenings while the rest of the team looks at Aaron in shock. Spencer's looking at the empty space where you stood and Emily is looking at Aaron like he’s grown a second head. 

“Are you serious?” she begins. “Hotch, we need everyone on this. We need Y/N.”

“She’s too hot headed,” Aaron replies. 

“Oh yeah?” Derek chimes in. “And how about you?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“You know damn well that Y/N adds as much value to this team as the rest of her. Two years with the BAU and stellar reviews from the board has proven that. Why are you still treating her like a first-day agent?”

“Y/N needs to learn to let go of her ego,” Aaron retaliates. “I don’t need to explain myself to any of you.”

“You’re wrong about her not contributing anything,” Spencer says. It surprises Aaron to hear Reid defy him on your behalf. “For the cases that we’ve worked on with her, she’s been the one to take lead on the preliminary profiles for most of them. Some of our biggest leads have come from her.” 

Aaron breathes and doesn’t say a thing. He looks at his team and knows they don’t approve of his choice to send you back to the hotel, but he stands by it. David looks at him like he’s almost disappointed in him and JJ holds his stare. 

He knows why he’s being extra hard on you. He knows he’s pushing you to your limit by keeping you at arm’s length. Aaron doesn’t want to admit that he sees you as anything other than his subordinate and coworker, but he does. He doesn’t want to be the reason why you don’t advance within the bureau and why there might be a future workplace ban on relationships. Even if he disagrees with how you handled things tonight.

Aaron doesn’t communicate any of this with the team while he stares them down. Instead, he fixes his posture and clears his throat. 

“Get back to work.”

***

When you come to, you’re acutely aware of the handcuffs around your wrist. 

The air is cold and you realize you’re bound to a pole in a barn, and you’re not sure where you are. Everything is suddenly hazy and your vision blurs until you blink rapidly with the hope that you’ll regain full consciousness.

The first thing you can feel is a headache. Your head’s pounding viciously and you wince at the pain, inadvertently tugging in your wrist and against the handcuffs. The metal is cold and it sends a chill up your spine when you realize you’re alone. You try your best to recite what you can sense over and over again in your mind.

The air is cold. You’re sitting on a hard floor with straw and other debris around you. The air smells like manure and hay. You can hear crickets and wind blowing just outside of the barn, and you can see hardware tools towards the back of the building.

The influx of emotions that creep into your chest is enough to make any person an anxiety-ridden mess. Your heart feels like it’s going to lurch out of your chest with every second that passes by because your reality becomes more real; this isn’t a nightmare you’re desperately hoping to wake up from. 

“Look who’s awake.”

It’s Scott. 

He flickers the lights on and that’s when you realize he’s holding a gun. 

“You took quite a while to wake up, actually. I’ve been waiting here for two hours wondering when you’d return to the land of the living.”

Scott dons a smirk that you wish you could wipe off with both of your fists. His right hand grips the gun haphazardly and he waves it around as he gestures while speaking, and the fear of dying has finally crept into the forefront of your mind.

“Where are we?” you ask. 

“South of Los Angeles,” Scott replies. “Far enough that your little team won’t find this patch of land.”

“Why’s that?”

His smirk widens when you stay quiet.

“You know, Agent, I find you interesting.”

“There’s nothing remotely interesting about me,” you say. You try your best to remember the profile and give him what he wants. He hates authority and between the two of you, you legally have all of it. So, you downplay yourself, 

“I beg to differ,” he laughs. Scott takes a step towards you and you recoil. “I’ve been watching this investigation unfold because I need to keep tabs on what’s happening so that I don’t get caught. It’s worked so far, but you were just lucky to have found my little girls.” 

“We found them because you made a mistake,” you chide. “You slipped up.”

Scott’s smirk turns into anger, and he takes another step towards you. 

“I made a mistake because I wasn’t thinking far ahead, Agent.” 

He takes another step and he’s by your thigh. Scott bends down to your level and you’re aware of how close his gun is to your abdomen, and you pray that you don’t say the wrong thing.

“I wasn’t thinking far ahead because I couldn’t see the bigger picture. But it came to me a few nights ago when I realized that you and I are people that don’t naturally get to be in the spotlight.” 

Scott caresses your cheek and you shudder underneath his fingertips. He retracts and stands up, pacing back and forth in front of you. 

“See, you and I are people who don’t get enough credit for our work. All it took was one moment watching your horrendous boss dismiss you for your work. I knew you’d be the key in getting my girls back to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Scott leans forward. “You’re smart enough to figure it out.”

Unfortunately, it comes to you quickly.

The team had gathered around the house that Jaqueline and Scott had lived in when they were married. Penelope had clued the team in on this location. A new couple lived in that house with no connection to Jaqueline and Scott but you thought it was worth checking out.

Aaron disagreed. That house hadn’t been occupied by either of them for years since they got a divorce but your gut had been telling you to visit the property to look around for extra clues that might’ve turned up. Your insistence angered him, who accused you of disobeying orders, and it was David who had to intervene and remind Aaron never to leave any stone unturned.

Reluctantly, Aaron ordered the team to the house and you successfully convinced the new owners to let you look through their property with the promise that nothing would be disturbed. Two hours into searching and Aaron was ready to write your mishappenings in the file report when he returned to Quantico, but your sudden interest in the backyard piqued everyone’s interest.

You had discovered a well-hidden doorway to an underground room. The new family would’ve never seen it, as it was tucked away with roots and other invasive plants that covered the wooden doorway. When you and Morgan entered the space, it was clear that Scott had been there recently.

Unbeknownst to you, Scott has been hiding out a few houses down watching everything unfold, including the way Aaron distrusted your judgment. He’d been using that bunker as a living space, careful to work around the new family so as to not get caught. It was far enough that they couldn’t see him from where the windows were placed unless they were out in the backyard the same as he was.

“Remember now?” he asks.

You nod, complying. “You watched my boss reprimand me for wasting everyone’s time.”

He nods. “You and I are overworked and underappreciated. We don’t get credit or recognition even though we deserve it.”

“You knew we’d find Gracie and Olivia.”

Scott’s jaw locks but he agrees.

“I knew there was no way I’d be able to get to my girls in time to move them someplace else. So, I let you find them because I knew that I’d have no other chance to get them back if you arrested me.

“Then I followed you all the way back to the precinct so I could keep tabs on you and see where you were staying. It was just my luck that I happened to hear your boss yelling at you because of an open window. I knew my chance was when he ordered you to go back to the hotel.”

“How do I fit into all of this?” you ask.

“You, Agent, are going to help me get my kids back from Jaqueline and cover for me.”

“No chance in hell.” 

Scott doesn’t like that answer. He lunges towards you and tugs on your hair, enough to make your scalp feel like it’s being set on fire. 

“You don’t have a choice. I want my kids back and you aren’t in the position to make any demands.” 

He doesn’t say much after that. Scott looks into your eyes with a murderous expression before letting you go. Your head hits the pole behind you because he pushed you away with enough force that it makes you dizzy again.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Scott says from the barn’s entrance. “I need some sleep and so do you.”

He doesn’t uncuff you and you’re left wondering how you can sleep when you’re being held captive.

***

When the team leaves the precinct, everyone is too drained to continue talking about the case on the ride back. They’d only been there two hours after you left but Aaron gets the feeling that the rest of them aren’t happy with him dismissing you. 

The ride is silent and everyone retreats to their rooms respectively. He tries to forget the aching feeling in his chest and goes to sleep. 

He wakes up to a cold sweat. 

Aaron’s still not happy what perspired last night. He nearly made the choice to knock on your door and apologize for being harsh in front of the team and the local police, but he doesn’t. It’s better to put distance. It’s how he rationalizes how he’s treating you because he’ll fall apart if he imagines the consequences of being in a relationship with you. 

You’re the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up. He’s surprised he didn’t hear you knocking on his door to give him a piece of your mind, but he was too tired to consider that you didn’t. 

His clock reads six A.M. and he’s sure the rest of the team is waking up and heading to the police station like he is. Aaron feels more tired with each day passing and it feels like his body is on autopilot mode with how fast he’s able to change and get to the precinct. 

The team trickles in one by one and everyone makes their coffee before picking up where they left off last night. Penelope had sent the team a list of possible places that Scott might be and Aaron wants to cover as much ground as possible.

When he’s more awake, he mentally groups the team and the other police officers to search each property. 

He stops when he realizes you’re not in the precinct. 

At first, Aaron feels annoyed because he thinks you’re late. It isn’t completely out of character for you, as he’s watched you stumble into the office a few minutes before debriefing. Still, he prays that you’ll show up so everyone can move on with their day. 

But you don’t come in. Every person that walks through the door isn’t you and Aaron’s annoyance becomes a question of curiosity with fear at the end of it. 

“Where’s L/N?” Morgan asks from beside him. 

“Probably slept in,” JJ snorts. “She sleeps like a brick.” 

Everyone laughs at her comment in good fun because they know it’s true. You’re a heavy sleeper. But Aaron isn’t convinced. Something doesn’t feel right to him but he can’t quite place what it is. 

He gives it another ten minutes. Aaron’s bouncing from leg to leg, anticipating your arrival. He’s waiting for you to hastily apologize about not hearing your alarm and he’s waiting for you to jump right where you left off because of your tardiness.

But you never walk through the door.

“Something’s wrong,” Aaron mutters. Spencer nods at his disheveled expression from where he sits and Emily looks down at her phone.

“I know she’s a heavy sleeper but there’s no way she’d be twenty minutes late with the stakes this high,” Emily points out. 

JJ walks out of the room the BAU is occupying and inquires with everyone outside if they’ve seen you come in, but all of them say they haven’t seen you since last night. JJ walks back into the room with shaking hands and she’s almost reluctant to tell Aaron that nobody has seen you yet.

Emily tries to call your cell phone one more time with no luck. Aaron sends Derek to check on you at the hotel and doesn't bother to respect the speed limit on the ten minute drive to the hotel from the station. The receptionist is more than willing to give him a key to your room when you don’t answer your phone. 

When he walks in, he notices that you aren’t sleeping in the bed. Your room is clean. The bed is made and there’s no indication that you slept in it last night. Your go-bag is perched on the table and a few clothes are haphazardly thrown on the chair beside it. Nothing seems out of place. 

It’s when he walks back outside to return to the station that he hears a phone ringing from the bushes. Derek walks towards the sound and his breath catches in his throat when he realizes the phone is yours. He curses and picks up the phone to see Emily’s contact.

“L/N?”

“It’s me,” Derek says through your phone. “L/N’s not here and her phone was tossed in the bushes.” Metal catches Derek’s eye. “Wait a minute.” 

He walks forward with caution and his heart drops when he realizes it’s a discarded needle and your gun right next to it. 

“What is it?” Emily asks from the other line. She hears Derek sigh and she knows it can’t be good. 

“It’s a needle and her gun, Prentiss. L/N not showing up to the precinct and her belongings being discarded can’t be a coincidence.” 

From the police station, Emily panics. She hangs up when Derek lets her know he’s coming back and her panic rises when she sees her teammates looking at her quizzically. The lump in her throat grows when she realizes everyone is looking at her for an answer. 

“Did you find her?” JJ asks. Emily doesn’t speak for a second. 

“Morgan found her cell phone in the bushes by the front of the hotel,” Emily explains. “He also found a discarded needle...and her gun.” 

Aaron’s attention shifts from the file he’s holding to Emily, who’s fidgeting with her hands. 

“Her gun?” Dave asks for clarification. “Found outside of the hotel room?” 

Emily nods. “Morgan picked up L/N’s phone and said he found it tossed aside.”

“And none of us saw her when she left the precinct?”

Nobody says anything. 

“I think she’s been kidnapped,” Reid says abruptly. “None of us saw her when we got back to the hotel nor when we arrived at the precinct. Scott must know Y/N was the one who rescued his daughters and he’s either kidnapped her out of revenge or because he wants them back.”

Aaron doesn’t like that answer. 

His hands feel warm and his heart is racing too quickly for his liking. Aaron can feel his exterior start to wither away with the realization that you’ve been kidnapped and he doesn’t second guess himself when he calls Penelope and asks her to track Scott’s cell phone and to triangulate his last known location.

This is now a rescue mission and he hates that you’re the victim. 

The team doesn’t spare a second in finding a third location he could’ve taken you too. Penelope foregoes any of her other responsibilities to find you and Aaron can hear the frantic pace of her keyboard typing as she speaks. Derek and Spencer are visiting locations that hold significance to Scott in the event that he’s returned, but Aaron's doubtful that he’d make that mistake. 

It’s when JJ explains what’s happening to the lead detective does Aaron feel like his world is crumbling around him. He’s put himself at arm’s length so much as to push you away from him and right into the arms of the unsub, and he feels like he might pass out in the middle of the precinct. 

Emily and Dave pick up how quiet Aaron’s been ever since Penelope hung up. He’s too busy staring at the white board and it doesn’t help that your handwriting is all over it. Aaron’s throat is dry and he’s a second away from starting to blame himself for your disappearance, but he knows that he doesn’t have enough time to feel sorry for himself if he wants to find you.

When Derek comes back and tells the team there’s been no luck in finding you, Aaron’s heart sinks. He’s running out of options and he knows his head isn’t where it should be, but he can’t help it. Aaron does his best to keep himself composed when Spencer tries to piece together your timeline and he hates that they’re treating you like a abduction victim because you should be in this room with them. Instead, you’re God knows where and Aaron doesn’t bring himself to imagine that you might be dead already. 

It’s Spencer who makes the connection between you and his children. He theorizes that Scott must’ve been present when you had rescued the children and kidnapped you for one of two reasons: to exact revenge or to force you to help him get his children back. JJ suspects that it’s the latter because of your profile. Scott wants to get his children back and he’d do anything to do it. 

Dave wonders why Scott would risk kidnapping a federal agent and how he knew you’d be at the precinct or the hotel, and Spencer doesn’t hold his tongue when he said the only common link between the two of you is the way you’d both been treated by your superiors. 

The room goes quiet and Spencer thinks he’s overstepped, but he doesn’t regret his choice of words. 

Everyone looks at Aaron, who’s been silent the entire time. He thinks about how angry you were last night and how he convinced himself he didn’t see you shed a tear as you passed him. The guilt of sending you home and not checking in on you when he got back to the hotel is eating him alive because you’ve been missing for twelve hours and nobody knew about it. 

“Reid’s right,” Aaron says. He feels his voice start to break. “We know why he’s taken L/N but now we need to understand how he’s going to use her in order to get his children back.” 

Aaron’s phone rings and he’s grateful for the distraction. Penelope informs them of a house that was paid in all cash and purchased under a false identity a few months ago, and confirms that it was Scott who paid for the property after speaking with the realtor and showing her a photo. Aaron wastes no time ordering the team to head to the house and he feels like he’s running out of time when Penelope says the property is seventy miles from the precinct. 

The ride to the property is agonizing. Aaron’s grip on the steering wheel is lethal and he’s swerving between every car with the hopes that he’ll reach you in time. Emily’s sitting in the passenger seat and she knows there’s nothing either of them can do except hope that you’re alive and well.

“We’ll find her,” she says after a long period of silence. “You know L/N. She’s strong and won’t go down without a fight.”

Aaron hesitates to speak. He gulps and he feels like his mouth is far too dry to hold a decent conversation because while he knows that Emily’s right, he can’t help but feel utterly hopeless on the freeway while you’re being held hostage by Scott. 

“I shouldn’t have told her to go to the hotel,” Aaron says. “I should’ve left it at reprimanding her for going in alone. We could’ve avoided all of this.”

“You of all people know you couldn’t have predicted that Scott would’ve done,” Emily said. “It wasn’t in the profile. Neither of us could’ve predicted that he’d kidnap L/N.”

“I know.” Aaron signals and passes three cars who are driving far too slow for his liking. 

He’s silent again, which doesn’t surprise Emily. Aaron sits in the driver’s seat, a million thoughts racing to the front of his head but he can’t seem to choose the right words to speak. He knows how unfair he’s been to you and all the anger and frustration about not being able to be with you has transpired into this mess he’s found himself in. He should’ve never let his feelings get to this point nor let his frustration shift from the forbidden relationship onto you. 

“I’ve been unfair to her,” Aaron croaks. He hears the crack in his voice as it starts to falter, but he keeps talking because he thinks he might go insane if they sit in any more silence. “I’ve pushed her aside and made her second guess herself as an agent of this team all because I couldn’t keep my feelings in check.” 

“What do you mean?” Emily asks. Aaron sighs and he grips his steering wheel, embarrassed that he’s been an unfair leader and that he’s admitting it to one of his colleagues. 

“L/N is an exceptional agent and it’s no wonder why I fell for her.” 

Emily’s quiet and Aaron’s sure he’s made a mistake by confessing that to her. He wishes he could take it back and lie instead of being honest with his friend, but he can’t take back the words he’s said. And he stands by it. 

“I’ve been so busy trying to pretend like I don’t have feelings for her but every day I’m scared that something like this could happen to her. I hate it when she’s reckless and disobeys orders because I’m afraid that it’ll get her killed.

“I know what it looks like on the outside to see me and my subordinate in a romantic relationship. She’s young, career-driven, and I’d hate to stand in the way of whatever’s next for her. I don’t know how to act around her and I thought that pushing all of this down would help me lose feelings for her, but I haven’t.”

“You sound like a teenager,” Emily says. It shocks him and when he looks at her quizzically, Emily chuckles. “What, you think I couldn't see how hopeless you were when it came to L/N? Hotch, you’re like a kid in a candy store when she’s around. The rest of us were ready to start placing bets on you two until you started giving her the short end of the stick.”

He feels awful. Aaron’s guilt causes him to flex and rev the engine. 

“I never meant to hurt her,” he confesses. “But that doesn’t matter now.”

“What matters is that we’re on our way to rescue her and there’s nowhere else she could be,” Emily reassures. “Scott wants his kids back and he knows they’re in LA county. There’s no way he would risk taking her somewhere else when he doesn’t have Gracie and Olivia.” 

“Right,” Aaron says, clearing his throat. Neither he nor Emily need to chide him for how he’s been treating you. He knows he’s wrong and Emily knows it too. 

“L/N is the strongest out of all of us. She’ll make it through this.”

Aaron has a sneaking suspicion that Emily’s trying to convince herself, but he doesn’t say anything. 

When the team reaches the property, it’s notably quiet. The next neighbor is two miles down the road and Derek’s ready to search the house when Aaron steps out of his vehicle. 

“More backup’s two minutes out,” Aaron explains, “but we’ve got enough people to start the search. Reid and JJ, check the backyard. Prentiss and Rossi, check the house. Morgan, you’re with me. We’re checking the garage.” 

Aaron orders the police officers to check elsewhere before he and Morgan make their way to the garage. With his gun and flashlight in his hands, he approaches the enclosed space with caution and his heart spikes with anxiety. Before he can think about the worst that could happen, two police officers manage to open the garage door as he and Derek search the place. 

It’s empty. 

Aaron curses under his breath as they check the confined space but find nothing out of the ordinary. The rest of the team relates the same information and Aaron feels like he’s losing hope because he doesn't know where else you could possibly be. 

“Guys, there’s a barn across the landing,” comes JJ’s voice from the communications line. “There’s a truck parked outside and I’m willing to bet it’s Scott’s.”

Aaron’s heart stops beating for a moment. 

“We need to search that barn,” Aaron commands. “Everyone pull your resources and let’s head out.” 

It feels like slow motion to him, the way he diverts his attention to the barn that JJ pointed out. He feels like he’s watching the scene unfold in front of him from another person’s perspective and desperately prays that you’re in there, safe and alive. The grip on his gun is falling from how his hands are trembling but he reminds himself that he has a job to do. 

Dave touches the hood of the car and says it’s warm, which means Scott is most likely inside of the barn. The lead detective is ordering his team to secure the back entrance and surround the building so that Scott has no place to run and Aaron instructs his team to do the same at the front. Under hushed voices, he can almost make out the faint scout of scuffling coming from behind the large wooden doors and feels his throat close. 

Then he hears a gunshot. 

Everyone rushes inside and he’s overcome with dread when he walks inside. Aaron’s heart is racing; he can feel the grip of his gun slipping because of how unsteady his hands are and he’s nearly tripping from all the hay that he’s stepping on. He fears the worst when he enters and does his best to prepare himself to see your lifeless body.

But you’re laying on your stomach with a gun in your hands. 

You don’t process the ringing in your ears until Aaron moves beside you to reach for the gun in your hands. He’s tossed it aside and maneuvers you to check for any injuries. Aaron glances at your face and notices a deep bruise forming on your left temple with scratches and smaller bruises adorning your face, and he hates it. 

He hates that your body and face is covered in Scott’s blood. He hates that your hands are still shaking with fear. He hates that there’s nothing he can say or do that will make everything better for you. 

The shirt you’re wearing is covered in Scott’s blood spatter and you’re barely able to process that you’ve most likely broken a few ribs. You don’t say anything. The overwhelming urge to cry resurfaces and this time, you don’t stop yourself. 

Aaron catches you before you hit your head onto the ground and moves his body to sit behind you. You’re stationed between his legs, your back pressed against his chest as you slump over and grab his arm for support as your tears wet his dress shirt. Aaron foregoes all standard procedure and lets you cry in his arms instead of calling for the EMT to whisk you away from the hospital. 

You don’t care that your cries are almost louder than the ambulance sirens. Your adrenaline makes the blood pump loudly in your ears and you grip onto Aaron like you’re afraid Scott will come back to life and kill you if you let go. 

His free arm is secured around you. Aaron’s eyes become glossy as each second passes by and his heart breaks in two when he hears your continual cries.

“You did so good,” Aaron whispers. “So good. You’re safe now.” 

Aaron doesn’t let the EMT get close to you when you’re trembling in his arms. He tells them to wait a moment and they try to argue with him, but they relent when they see Aaron’s stern expression. His voice cracks when he tries to speak upon hearing your soft whimpers. Your eyes are screwed shut and Aaron strokes your hair as you bury yourself further deeper into him.

Dave and Spencer canvas the scene and look around for anything out of the ordinary to report. Derek's speaking with the EMTs while JJ and Emily are patiently waiting with blankets and bottles of water for you. But you don’t get up. Your legs feel numb from sitting down and Aaron’s grip on you is so tight that you feel like you’ll fall back down if you try to stand up.

Your sobs have turned quiet and you almost feel like you’re at peace. But then you remember your bruises and the blood still on your body. You remember Scott’s body and find yourself crying even harder.

“Let’s get you to a hospital,” Aaron says in your ear. “We can get you cleaned up and on your way home. Does that sound good?”

His voice is like honey. Sweet.

You nod and you try your best to sit up to no avail. Aaron tries to help you up and the EMTs catch you before you can fall back onto the ground. He reluctantly lets the EMTs take you to the ambulance where JJ and Emily are waiting. He watches as they drape a blanket over you and as you’re wheeled up into the vehicle. Emily offers to follow you to the hospital and JJ steps away, letting the ambulance drive off.

Aaron doesn’t process anything. He doesn’t hear the sirens, the police chatter, or Dave approach him with a concerned look.

“She’s gonna be okay, Aaron.”

Dave’s voice is nothing but a hollow shell to Aaron. It feels like an empty promise even though he knows you’re going to make it out alive. Still, Aaron doesn’t say a word.

“Let’s go meet her at the hospital.”

***

The doctor explains that you’ve suffered a concussion, a couple of bruised ribs, a broken arm, and a grazed bullet wound. You’ll be relatively fine, but Aaron’s heart is racing and can't get past seeing you covered in blood to pay attention to anything the doctor is saying. He hasn’t had time to beat himself up for sending you back to the hotel without accompaniment and he hates that the guilt is crashing in on him when you need him the most.

Aaron looks down at his sleeves and they’re covered in blood, dirt, and your mascara. He stares down in shock and his mind flashes to the barn, and he realizes it’s the first time he’s ever seen you cry before. It breaks him.

The doctor explains that they needed to sedate you because of your sudden adrenaline rush. Your shock had caused you to lash out when a nurse had grabbed your wrist, and through your clouded judgment, you’d swung at him with all of your might. Your fretful apologies made you uncontrollably sob afterwards and the nurse could only look at you with sympathy. 

Two hours later, the team was still waiting in the waiting room. Under the guise of wanting to get you something to eat other than stale hospital food, Aaron leaves to buy you a meal. But he needs to get ou and get fresh air before he suffocates. 

Aaron’s guilt eats him alive. He walks aimlessly towards a deli and scolds himself over and over again for making you drive to the hotel unsupervised. In hindsight, Aaron knows his personal feelings came into play when he berated you for your recklessness. He knows he was unfair to you because he would’ve done the same thing if he were in your position.

When he returns, Dave’s looking at him like he knows what he’s thinking, but doesn’t say anything. Aaron appreciates his friend’s concern but the guilt doesn’t relent. He fidgets in his seat and tries to calm his spiking anxiety but nothing seems to work. His mind retracts to the moment he found you covered in Scott’s blood and your cries are enough to make Aaron feel like he might shed a tear in front of his teammates.

His thoughts are disrupted when he sees your doctor approach the group. 

“She’s a little out of it,” says the doctor, “but she’s conscious. You’re all welcome to say hello, but only for a few minutes.” 

When the doctor directs the team to your room, she explains what happened after you reached the hospital. Aaron can’t process anything she’s saying. His ears are ringing and he feels like everyone around him is talking too loudly for him to be able to hear anything the doctor is saying. All he can pick up is “dehydrated” and “concussed.” 

Everyone hastily walks to the room you’re in. JJ files into the room first. It takes Aaron a few breaths to find the courage to step inside of the room and he’s sure Emily’s the one who helped him take the first step.

“What’s the prognosis?” your croaked voice asks. JJ sniffles and laughs at the same time, and the rest of the group watch you try to prop yourself up.

“How you’re able to joke at a time like this is beyond me,” JJ gushes. She takes a pillow from the bed and helps you sit up.

“What, a few broken ribs and a concussion? I’m lucky the bullet only grazed me.”

Nobody laughs but you can tell they’re trying their best.

Aaron towers over everybody easily and he’s in between trying to catch your gaze and trying to avoid it. Emily hands you the sandwich from the local deli and you waste no time, opening the wrapper and letting the aioli slide down the side of your mouth.

It’s easily the most adorable and most heartbreaking thing Aaron has ever seen.

“Slow down, Tiger,” says Derek. He grabs a nearby napkin and wipes the sauce away while you smile sheepishly.

“Sorry,” you mutter, taking slower bites. Spencer’s next to hug you and you welcome the way he refuses to let you go.

Everyone looks at you under the harsh lights of the hospital room and you feel like you’re being observed. The sedative you’d been given is enough to make you feel somewhat normal because no matter how hard you try to panic over the last few hours, you can’t. 

You feel like you’re numb to your experiences and the pain Scott inflicted. Staring at your team feels eerily normal and you almost forget that you’re sitting in a hospital gown with enough injuries to put you out of the field for a few months. 

“You broke my heart, kiddo,” Dave chimes in. He grabs your free hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, accompanied by a kiss to the back of your hand. JJ pulls you into a mother-like embrace, kissing the crown of your head. You lean into her touch and Aaron wishes he were the one comforting you.

“I feel like shit,” you confess. “I woke up feeling groggy and I feel like I’m about to pass out.”

“We’re so glad you’re okay, Y/N,” Emily says. 

“Thanks, Em,” you say. You take another bite. “This sandwich is good.”

“Aaron bought it,” Emily speaks.

You look at him. It’s the first time you’ve acknowledged his presence since he walked into the room.

“Thanks,” you mumble behind the sandwich. “I could eat five of these.” 

“I don’t want to deal with you puking on us,” Spencer jokes, and it makes you feel somewhat normal.

You don’t like feeling as though you’re a delicate piece of glass that’s close to being dropped. You hate feeling useless and pitied. Everyone’s looking at you with sad eyes and it makes you feel like you’ve let your colleagues down, even though you know there’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent what transpired.

“I’m really sleepy,” you say, haphazardly throwing the wrapper on the table next to you. It isn’t a lie, but you say it with the hopes of being alone.

“We’ll be back in the morning,” JJ says. She looks at the clock in front of her and doesn’t realize that it’s four in the morning. You squeeze her hand when her eyes well up. JJ wipes her eyes and blinks her tears back and you lean against her side.

Aaron can’t help but stare. You look so vulnerable at this moment and you’re doing your best to keep yourself awake, but the sedatives are making you drowsy. The team says their goodbyes and reluctantly trek back to the hotel, but Aaron can’t bring himself to walk into the building once he’s parked.

“Get changed,” Dave says after a brief moment of silence. Aaron looks at him in confusion. “Take a shower, eat something from the vending machine, and go back to the hospital.”

“She doesn't want me there,” he says slowly. 

“She’s asleep,” Dave dismisses. “She’s not going to know you’re there and I’m sure she’ll want to see a familiar face when she wakes up.”

“I’m not sure I’m the person she wants to see.”

“You were the first person she reached for when we entered the barn,” Dave explains, “and I know you won’t be sleeping a wink tonight unless you’re by L/N’s side. Go get changed and get back to the hospital, Aaron.”

“I just–”

“I know you feel guilty. Whatever feelings you have towards her never went away and that’s why you’ve been so hard on her.” Aaron’s not surprised that he’s picked up on this habit. “I don’t have to agree with how you handled it, but what matters is that she’s alive and she’s resting. We got her back, Aaron. She’s here and Scott isn’t.” 

Aaron knows Dave is right. He thanks him for being a good friend and trudges back into his hotel room, hastily freshening himself up before returning back to the hospital.

***

You wake up later in the morning with little to no recollection of how you got there. You feel extremely out of it, like someone removed a ton of bricks from your chest after keeping it there for a fortnight. You look to your left and see a window that shows you a gloomy D.C. morning. You look to your right and see Aaron Hotchner slumped over in a seat, asleep. 

This wakes you up. You’re blinking the sleep out of your eyes when you realize he’s snoring. It’s soft and unassuming, but you don’t remember the last time you’ve ever seen him sleep. 

The chairs must be uncomfortable, too. You do your best to sit up—which is when you notice the sling on your arm—and manage to prop yourself up on the pillows until you’re sitting upright. Aaron stirs in his sleep at the sound but he’s still asleep.

You’re not close enough to reach him and wake him up. You aren’t sure that you want to either, for the fear that he might start telling you a laundry list of all the things you did wrong throughout the case. 

The doctor from last night walks in and knocks on your door, which shifts your focus. Aaron’s still asleep and the doctor, who reintroduces herself as Dr. Aguta, gently walks around Aaron and to your bedside.

“How are you feeling?” she asks you while holding a clipboard. You notice her colorful print skirt first and it’s a contrast to how grey it is outside. 

“My head hurts,” you say with a croak. It’s the first thing you’ve said since you woke up. “And I realized my arm’s broken. But other than that, I feel fine.” 

Dr. Aguta gives you a pleasant smile. “I’m glad to hear that you’re doing okay. The sedatives we gave you last night seemed to help ease your pain, though I’ll be giving you a prescription for the rest of the month when it wears off.”

She hesitated before speaking again.

“Do you remember why you’re here?”

Unfortunately, you do. You remember Scott, the gun, and Aaron coaxing you to go with the EMTs. It’s mostly a blur and you can’t remember the details but you remember enough. The softened expression is a dead giveaway and Dr. Aguta doesn’t press any further.

She sees your gaze shift to Aaron, who still hasn’t woken up.

“He came last night and insisted on staying with you,” Dr. Aguta informs. “Typically I’d only let immediate family stay overnight, but your boss seemed extremely worried about you.” 

“He did?” you ask. It’s news to you.

She nods. “When I saw him for the first time last night, I could tell he’s a man of few words and the leader of your team. But last night he was a stuttering mess and I let him stay overnight with the condition that he doesn’t wake you.”

You don’t say anything. Aaron’s mouth is partly ajar and you know he’s going to wake up with a lot of back pain from how he’s positioned. Dr. Aguta performs a routine check up on you and lets you know that you’ll be discharged from the hospital the following day. You thank her profusely and she can only give you a reassuring smile. You ask her to wake Aaron up for you just before she leaves.

Aaron blinks and remembers he’s not in the hotel. Dr. Aguta excuses herself to give the both of you privacy and he sits upright, stretching his back unpleasantly. 

“Morning,” he says, clearing this throat. “How do you feel?”

You’re getting tired of answering this question but you humor him.

“Better,” you say honestly. “Aside from my broken arm and concussion.” Aaron’s gaze shifts to your arm and he almost winces.

“Did you sleep well?” 

“For the most part, but I think the sedatives had more to do with it than anything.”

“Good, I’m glad.” 

An awkward silence falls over the both of you. Aaron desperately tried to pull himself together by waking himself up and you’re fiddling with your hands. You noticed he’s changed since you saw him last night, now in slacks and a quarter zip, and you don’t remember the last time you’ve ever seen him look so casual.

Aaron’s trying to think of the right words to say. As your boss, he wants to tell you that none of this was your fault and there’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent it from happening. He wants to tell you he shouldn’t have ordered you back to the hotel, not without anyone accompanying you.

But as someone who has deep feelings for you, Aaron wants to say he was scared to death and thought he might lose another person he cares for. His anxiety skyrocketed through the roof when he saw what you had done to Scott and he wishes that you didn’t have to work through this trauma.

But he doesn’t say anything. You watch as he swallows and you know his brain is working overtime by how often he pulls his eyebrows together. You don’t have it in you to be angry at him like you were the night he sent you away. The sedatives, along with your exhaustion, leaves little room for anger. 

“I’m getting hungry,” you say to break the silence. 

“I can get something from the cafeteria,” he offers immediately, touching his pocket to make sure his wallet didn’t fall out. 

“That would be nice.” You’d be lying if you said you weren’t touched by the offer.

Aaron leaves for a short while and you try your best to process what just happened. He chose to stay with you overnight. He offered to buy you breakfast. You didn’t think Aaron would care for you like that.

He comes back a while later and apologizes for both the sandwich (that looks haphazardly made) and the time it took, as there was a long line. You thank him politely and eat the meal, and you’re grateful that you have anything to eat at all.

Aaron watches you and feels like he’s invading your personal time. He bought himself a fruit cup, knowing Dave would reprimand him for not eating if he were able to buy something. 

“I shouldn’t have told you to go back,” Aaron says softly. You almost didn’t hear him say it. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you. I did the wrong thing and it got you kidnapped.”

You don’t tell him that it’s okay, because quite frankly he’s right. He shouldn’t have sent you home, but you know it’s not his fault that you were abducted. 

“It’s not your fault that Scott took me,” you say matter-of-factly. Aaron can sense what you’re trying to say and his eyes hang in shame. “But I’m alive. I’m going to have one hell of a transition back to work, but I’m alive. I’m here. That is, if I still have my job.”

Aaron’s eyes snap to you.

“The job is yours for however long you want it,” he says immediately, and he means it. “What you did was reckless but I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same thing.”

This makes you smile a little and Aaron soars when he sees it. 

“I didn’t mean what I said back at the precinct either, Y/N. You’re a fantastic agent and we’re lucky to have you.”

There are a million things you want to ask him. Why have you been second guessing me? Is my work not satisfactory enough? Why did you stay in the hospital with me? 

But you don’t. There are too many things you want to say to Aaron that it ends up turning into a frustrating mess every time you think of the right question to ask. Aaron doesn’t seem to notice your lack of conversation. Or if he does, you think he’s trying to fill the awkward silence like you are.

“I don’t mean to be a burden,” is what you settle on. “I don’t purposely challenge your authority or how the team operates. I know I haven’t been here as long as everyone else but I like to think I make enough contributions.”

“You do,” Aaron says. “You aren’t a burden.”

You don’t believe him. “I just…lately I feel like I've been getting in the way of things.”

“You haven’t.” Aaron means that honestly but you don’t pick up on it. “You’ve shown immense critical thinking and problem solving skills. This case alone has proven that.”

You don’t disagree with him, but your mind reverts back to Scott and you start to deflate. 

Aaron knows he needs to apologize for how he’s been acting towards you. The abduction and his guilt is eating him alive and it forced him to be truthful with himself about how harsh he’s been treating you upon realizing he likes you more than a colleague should. But he doesn’t know whether this moment is appropriate or not. Ever the professional.

Both of you are saved by Dave showing up unannounced. He’s dressed casually too, with jeans and a sweater for an unusually cloudy day in Southern California. His knocking brings both you and Aaron out of your heads.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dave laments. He enters the room after you beckon him in and gives you a gentle hug on the side that doesn’t have your sling. “I won’t ask how you’re feeling because I’m sure you’re tired of that.”

“Thank you.”

“But I did want to check up on you,” Dave continues. “The rest of the team are slowly waking up, I imagine.” He turns to Aaron. “I assume we’re grounded here until Y/N can fly back.”

“That’s right,” Aaron says. “Tell the team they have the rest of the week off. I don’t think Strauss wants us spending more of our budget on flights.”

“Already done,” Dave says with a smile. “You had us worried for a while there.” 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, even though you know you have nothing to be sorry for. “I didn’t mean to make any of you worry about me.”

“We always worry about you, kid. It’s our job.”

“Are the girls okay?” you ask him. 

“Safe and sound. That’s actually why I came to visit, other than to check up on you.” 

You blink out of confusion.

“Jaqueline called the precinct and asked to speak with you,” Dave explains. “Long story short, she got in contact with me and wanted to know if you’d be willing to speak with her. She wants to thank you in person.”

The thought never crossed your mind. Saving her children had always been your first priority, even when Scott threatened to kill you if you didn’t help him. You’re not a mother by any means, but Jaqueline is around your age and you have plenty of nieces and nephews to get an understanding of how difficult this whole ordeal was for her.

And if you were being honest with yourself, you wanted to make sure Jaqueline would be okay. 

“Absolutely,” you say immediately. 

“Y/N, are you sure?” Aaron asks. “You just got to the hospital.”

“I’m sure,” you confirm, turning your attention back to Dave. “They can come visit me here if they’re willing to. I don’t think I have it in me to go to the precinct.”

“Of course,” Dave says with a small grin. It’s almost like he knows this will heal the both of you. He leaves the room and tells you he’ll be back later this afternoon.

Aaron sits in silence and he’s in awe of your resilience. He’s sure it’s the shock and sedatives talking, but he’s always known you to be someone who puts other people first. 

“I should call Strauss and let her know the situation,” Aaron says. “I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, and you’re strangely reluctant to let him go. But you do anyway and he walks out of the hospital room, leaving you with your thoughts. 

***

Dave lets you know Jaqueline is here with the girls a few hours later. 

“Agent Y/L/N?” a voice says from beside you. The young mother knocks on the door as two children hide behind her legs. You beckon them inside, with Aaron and Emily supervising from beyond the threshold.

“Jaqueline,” you say, propping yourself up to seem more presentable. “Hi. It’s great to see you.” 

“I’m sorry for barging in like this,” she apologizes, but you’re already waving her off when you see the two children emerge from behind her. “I wanted to thank you in person. For saving my kids.”

“It’s no problem,” you downplay. 

But Jaqueline shakes her head and rushes to grab your hand. She pulls away when she thinks she’s crossed a line, but your grip is devastatingly tight when you squeeze hers. Jaqueline looks at you and tears slip from her eyes, and her children hug her legs like they know something’s wrong.

Jacqueline composes herself and brings Gracie and Olivia in front of her, who each have hand-decorated thank you cards made of colorful cardstock paper, stickers, and glitter. Your heart swells at the gesture and you will yourself not to alarm the family in front of you with your tears, so you promise yourself you’d cry when they leave.

“Hi, Munchkins,” you greet. “What’s all this?”

The girls shyly give you the cards, the eldest taking initiative to put them in your hands.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “Mommy says you were very brave and saved us.”

“We drew these last night!” the younger one exclaims. “Mommy let us stay up late because we couldn’t sleep, so we made these for you.”

“They’re beautiful,” you compliment, looking at the colors below you. Jaqueline hasn’t let go of your hand. “You girls are very talented.”

“Thank you,” the young one says bashfully. “I hope you get better soon.”

Your heart swells and Jacqueline squeezes your hand again before letting go. You watch her lips flutter and as her children become preoccupied with their dresses, Jaqueline surprises you again.

“Would it be alright if I called you from time to time?” she asks. “To let you know how we’re doing. That we’re okay.” You reach for her one more time.

“I’d love that,” you say honestly.

Jaqueline doesn’t say another word, but the look of gratitude and her quivering lips is enough to make all the hurt from the past few days disappear.

You watch as they leave the room and as the young girls save goodbye. David escorts them to the front of the hospital, which leaves Aaron awkwardly standing in the threshold with his body leaning against the doorframe.

Aaron watches you. Your eyes glaze over and the cards in your hand are slipping through your fingertips, and your lips move as if you’re trying to find the right words to say. But nothing comes out. Aaron listens as your breathing becomes shallow and watches a stray tear slip from the corner of your eyes.

Before he can think, he rushes by your side and envelopes you in his arms.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, somewhere between wanting to give you enough space and wanting to pull you against him. Your fingers are tight on his forearms when he hears your labored breathing become erratic and as your tears soak the fabric of his t-shirt.

Aaron takes the liberty of moving you in front of him, his back against the pillows you were sleeping on. He looks at your frail body in front of him; you always carry yourself as a strong-willed, independent agent on the field, and now he sees that he mistook your brazen character as recklessness when it was false bravado.

His heart aches when your grip on him tightens. Aaron reaches out to move the cards to the side table and pulls you against his chest, thankful that this bed is barely enough to fit the both of you. Aaron notices your craned neck, bringing the hand that isn’t wrapped around your frail figure to your head and gently moves your head to his chest.

Your soft whimpers are enough to make Aaron’s heart break all over again.

“You’re an amazing person,” Aaron says. “You are selfless, caring, and generous.” His words compel you to cry even harder and Aaron lets you weep in his arms until your eyes are dry and you’re hiccuping. 

Aaron doesn’t let you, not for a second, feel embarrassed about breaking down in front of him. His thumbs are drawing soothing circles on your arm and he’s wiping away your tears with a tissue, allowing you to unravel before him. 

Your dry heaving doesn’t bother Aaron, but he coos into your ear and tells you he’s going to get you a bottle of water when you grip his arm. He pries your fingers off of him and melts when you snuggle your head closer to him, but he knows you’re thirsty and the best thing he can do for you is keep you healthy. 

“I’ll be back in two minutes,” he promises. “I’m all yours after that.” 

You nod reluctantly and let him go. The bed feels empty when he leaves and you feel pathetic for hanging onto him like he’s your lifeline, but you don’t care. You just want to be held.

True to his word, Aaron comes back a few minutes later and uncaps the bottle for you. A soft ‘up’ utters from his lips and you sit up straight. He brings the bottle to your lips and tilts your head back enough to let the water slide down your throat. 

Aaron puts it aside when you’ve signaled that you’re done and slides into the spot next to you once again. He puts his arm around your shoulder and brings you to his chest again. 

You don’t tell him, but you feel his heartbeat. It’s irrationally fast and you don’t know what to make of it. You tighten your hold on him as you start to fall asleep and you miss the way Aaron rocks you to sleep. 

***

When it’s time for your discharge, you’re feeling better than you did a few days ago. The team welcomes you back on board once you’ve been cleared to fly and it feels like nothing’s out of place. 

JJ bought a bunch of pastries from a local cafe and everyone (save for Aaron because he was with you the entire time) has written little messages on a decorated card. It’s Spencer who frets over you the most, bringing you cups of tea and asking if there’s anything he can do to ease your pain. You’re quite touched. 

You know you’re in no shape to drive home when you land. Your dominant hand is broken and your car sits in its designated spot, no doubt gathering dust and debris. The team is tired from the trip and everyone checks in on you one by one before leaving, and you don’t know how you’ll get home until you realize your car keys are still in your desk drawer.

Aaron watches you for a moment. He notices your apprehensiveness and the way you look at your car keys, and he puts two and two together. Before he can register what he’s doing, Aaron’s making his way to you and offering to drive you. You start to tell him you don’t need a chauffeur and that he should go home instead, but he’s more worried that you might hurt yourself inadvertently. He persists and you reluctantly say yes because you know he’s right. You could barely open the door to the building, let alone drive home. 

The car ride to your apartment is quiet, save for the sounds of cars passing by on the freeway and the sound of gravel underneath the tires. You look up at your apartment complex when you tell Aaron the code to get into your garage and he parks in the visor spot after you’ve directed him.

The sling on your arm is a nuisance and you already can’t wait to get it off. You’re able to unbuckle yourself with your free hand and you’re surprised that Aaron opens the door for you.

“Thanks,” you mumble. 

“It’s not a problem.” You can tell he means it.

When you get to your apartment, you’re somewhat surprised that you haven’t lost your keys. You struggle to put them into the lock correctly with your non-dominant hand and Aaron can see the quirk of your eyebrow and how you’ve bit your lip out of frustration.

He fears he’s overstepping. He takes the keys out of your hands gently and opens the door for you anyhow. 

When you walk inside, you don’t think you've ever felt happier to see your small one bedroom apartment. Aaron sets your go-bag on the kitchen counter and you stand still for what seems like an eternity until he brings you out of your haze and encourages you to change out of your clothes and take a shower. 

But you don’t move. You stand in the middle of your living room and stare blankly out of your window, unable to appreciate the breathtaking view of D.C. like you always do. Your throat feels dry and your feet feel like they’re permanently planted on the hardwood floor beneath you.

Aaron comes to stand beside you and he leaves distance between the both of you. He looks at the sight before him and makes a comment about how he’s jealous of your view, but not even that gets a reaction out of you.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you mumble after a long pause. “I-I can’t be by myself right now.”

Aaron knows Jack is at sleepaway camp for a school trip and doesn’t get back for another few days. He doesn’t have to think about keeping you company so you don’t feel alone.

“I can stay with you,” he offers. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You turn to look at him and the offer is enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

Aaron sounds so soft, caring, and unlike himself. Your heart tugs at his caring nature and you’re overwhelmed with the notion that he’s caring for you like he cares for your colleagues.

“Please,” you croak.

Aaron nods. He puts his hands on your arms and ushers you into the hallway and you point him in the direction of your bedroom. He’s acutely aware that this is the first time he’s ever been in your apartment, let alone in the room you sleep in, and tries not to dwell on it for your sake. 

“You should take a shower and sleep,” Aaron suggests. “It’ll help clear your head.”

You follow Aaron’s lead. He guides you to your dresser and you grab an extra change of clothes and he accompanies you to the bathroom next door. 

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, okay?” he says. “Don’t be afraid to get me.”

“Okay,” you say meekly. Your voice is far too dry to speak normally.

Aaron closes the bathroom door and you avoid looking at yourself in the mirror. You’re sure you look like a mess, despite being taken care of in the hospital back in Los Angeles. But you feel sticky from the flight and the sudden change in temperature, and you want nothing more than to cleanse yourself of the memories from LA.

You remove the sling from your arm and try your hardest to take your clothes off but you find it exceptionally difficult with your arm being in a brace. It hurts to lift your arm and you nearly cry out of frustration and exhaustion when you realize you can’t take your shirt off by yourself.

Embarrassed, you contemplate on showering with your clothes on, but ultimately know you’d need to take them off anyway. You open the door and call for Aaron, and you hear his steps as soon as you do.

“Are you okay?” he asks when he realizes you’re still in your clothes.

“I can’t, um, take my clothes off,” you say, clearing your throat. “I can’t bend my right arm and my left one is extremely sore. I can’t take my fucking clothes off.”

Aaron isn’t offended by your defensiveness. He gathers that it’s your coping mechanism because you feel embarrassed, but Aaron doesn’t care. He doesn’t say anything but he nods like he knows what you’re going through and you have a suspicion that he might.

“I’ll close my eyes and take your clothes off for you,” Aaron says. He says it in a way that’s so sincere but it still makes your cheeks redden at the innuendo. Aaron tries to ignore it because he feels a blush coming.

“It’s so pathetic that I can’t do this by myself.”

“It’s not pathetic,” he reassures. “You have a broken arm and your body’s still in pain. Let me help you.” 

You don’t say anything and Aaron takes it as a cue to move closer. True to his word, he puts his arms on your waist and turns his head away from you, careful to not hurt your broken arm. He maneuvers the fabric until it’s free from your body and he’s acutely aware that he’ll need to touch you in order to take the rest of your clothes off.

Aaron’s surprised when you move his hand to the button of your slacks. He clears his throat while you look up at the ceiling and bite your lip, pretending that the situation you’re in is completely normal to keep yourself from blushing too much. Aaron’s fingers work on the button and he’s careful not to put his hands where it’s inappropriate. He almost laughs at the thought, considering he’s your boss and he’s helping you take off your clothes.

You shimmy out of your slacks as Aaron slides it down your legs. He blushes at the thought of what’s to come next and swallows hard. Aaron returns to his stance and finds his neck is sore from craning, so he keeps his eyes closed and faces you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again. “I-I don’t think I can unclasp my bra.” 

You wince at your words, but it’s true. You tried to reach behind you when Aaron worked on taking off your pants, but the ache in your shoulder was too much. 

Aaron doesn’t say anything and you’re afraid that he might leave you. He’s so quiet that you can barely hear his breathing and you look at his closed eyes and see that his jaw is clenched. He mumbles and you’re barely able to catch it. Aaron lifts his hands to find your shoulders and you nearly shiver underneath his warm hands, despite the fact that your body might be just as hot. 

Aaron reaches behind you and searches for your clasp. You can feel his fingers on your back as he feels for it and he’s incredibly aware that your gaze is on him. It takes all of his willpower not to open his eyes. He’s imagined undressing you before, but not like this. Aaron’s fingers find the clasp and he’s slow to undo it, afraid of tangling the metal.

You feel yourself free from its constraints and Aaron slowly moves his fingertips from your shoulders and down your arm. You comply the best you can with your sore arm and your broken one, and your breathing hitches.

Aaron ignores how fast his heart is beating when he hears your bra drop to the floor. His mind is in overdrive and he bends down again, his fingers immediately coming to your waist and gripping them with gentle care. You look down at him and your mouth is wide open with your jaw hanging when you realize he’s on his knees in front of you. Aaron’s fingers hook on the material of your underwear, but you can’t bear to see him take them off.

“Wait,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily. 

Aaron forces himself to keep his eyes closed and he can hear your shallow breathing. His fingers are wrapped around the fabric of your underwear and suddenly he’s aware that it’s an intimate piece of clothing. Aaron’s cheeks redden and he’s desperately hoping you don’t notice.

“I can do it,” you say. Your voice wavers and you aren’t sure that you won’t be in pain when you take them off, but seeing Aaron on his knees with his hands practically down your underwear is too much for you at this moment.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, clearing his throat. His fingers detach themselves and he abruptly stands up. Aaron keeps his eyes closed still.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, and you mean it. “I really appreciate you helping me out…I’m sure this has crossed a lot of boundaries.”

Aaron wants to tell you he doesn’t mind it one bit, but he holds his tongue to refrain from making you uncomfortable. His eyes feel heavy and he stumbles when he stands up but catches himself when he feels the doorknob behind him.

“Like I said, I’m here if you need anything.” 

Aaron stands still for a moment and it feels like the both of you had the air knocked out of your lungs. He doesn’t want to overstep or make it seem like he’s taking advantage of your vulnerable state, so he exits the bathroom and closes the door behind him.

You lock it immediately and pin yourself against the door. Your heartbeat is irrational and you turn the water on, fixing it to your desired temperature. Bending to take your underwear hurts and your shoulders feel like they’re about to pop off, but you manage.

You’re acutely aware that Aaron’s in your living room, no doubt trying to rid himself of the awkwardness. You aren’t sure if you’re grateful at what transpired because while it’s enough to help you forget about Los Angeles, it makes your cheeks flare into a hot mess and you feel uncomfortably turned on.

Aaron, too, feels the same way. He feels filthy sitting on your couch and results in pacing around the room. His shoes are discarded by the door and it feels all too domestic. Aaron’s tie is suddenly too tight so he tugs on the knot to loosen it. He rids himself of his suit jacket and places it neatly on the arm of the couch, and thinks about anything but you, naked in the shower. His slacks feel a little too tight, so he takes out his phone to check his email. It works for a while,

A while later, Aaron realizes you’ve walked out of the bathroom and you’ve managed to change without his assistance. You comment about how the shower loosened your muscles and you were able to get your clothes in relatively painlessly, but all he can think about is how cute you look in an oversized shirt and sweatpants.

He’s too preoccupied admiring how undone you look because it’s the complete opposite from how he sees you at work. In Quantico, you’re somewhat put together, always wearing appropriate office attire and taking your caseload with grace while the rest of the team complains to no end about the amount of paperwork that needs to be filed.

Now, you’re standing in front of him with wet hair and an old shirt that has lost some lettering. It’s domestic and Aaron loves it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about offering you the bathroom,” you say timidly. 

It’s nerve wracking for you to be in Aaron’s presence because of what happened a few moments ago and because you’re not sure why he’s been so nice to you. It’s fresh and strange at the same time, as you’re used to him looking over your shoulder.

But you don’t feel like he’s being domineering. 

“I’ve got a few shirts that might be your size,” you announce. “And a bunch of sweatpants too.”

Aaron’s heart flutters at how welcoming you are considering all that happened to you, but he’s also found himself standing with jealousy when you mention that you have men’s clothing. Are you dating someone? Does he know he’s there?

“I love thrifting and sleeping in big shirts,” you explain, overcompensating for how awkward you feel to be standing in front of your boss looking like a disheveled mess. “I tend to thrift for clothes in the men's section because you guys have really good clothes for dirt cheap.”

Aaron’s worries are quelled and he doesn’t know why he feels so relieved to know you aren’t seeing anyone. 

“That would be great,” Aaron says. 

You nearly skip to your room and huff at your awkward demeanor, pulling out a large shirt from your dresser and a pair of sweatpants you hope is big enough. When you walk back to the living room, Aaron is still standing in the same spot and you’re somewhat touched that he’s nervous to be in your apartment.

“You can change in the bathroom,” you instruct. “Take as long as you need. There’s an extra toothbrush on the counter and a towel on the rack.” 

Grateful, Aaron scurries into the bathroom and you walk away before you can think of imagining him getting undressed. Instead, you busy yourself by fetching extra blankets and pillows for him. There’s an extra thick blanket in your closet and you pull two pillows from your bed, unsure if Aaron’s the type of guy to care about his pillow count. You find yourself stumped for a moment, each hand two with pillows as you debate on how many to give him, before you realize how idiotic you must seem if someone were to take a peek inside your head.

You settle with two pillows. 

You’re fixing a cup of tea for the both of you when Aaron walks out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later. You know he likes to drink chamomile tea on the plane when you’re coming back from a case late at night. You’ve seen him make it a million times. It feels weird to be making him a cup, but you figure it’s the least you could do after he helped you change out of your clothes. 

“I made you tea,” you say lamely, setting the cup down on the opposite side of the kitchen counter. Aaron walks towards you and he feels the hardfloor beneath him and how hot the mug is when he touches it. Thinking about this distracts him from your broken arm and the swell of guilt he has in his chest. 

“Thank you,” Aaron says. 

“I put in a little bit of honey. I hope it’s not too much.”

Aaron raises his eyebrow. “How’d you know I liked honey in my tea?”

“You drink it a lot on the plane,” you explain. “I see you make it a lot. You always scold Spencer every time he puts too much of it in.”

He can’t help but smile, but he hides it behind the cup.

Neither of you say anything. You don’t know what more you can say. The words cause you to choke every time you think about what happened back in Los Angeles. Realistically, you know there’s no way Scott can hurt you anymore, but it doesn’t stop you from panicking at the thought of being alone in your apartment. 

But you look at Aaron, who’s looking at you, and you’re able to let your guard down for a little while. 

“Thank you,” you muster. “For taking care of me back at the hospital and back at the barn. It…it meant a lot that you stayed.” 

“Of course,” he says a little too quickly. “You’re a member of this team and your safety is my top priority.”

Your gaze drops to the floor. You aren’t sure what you were expecting. An apology? A confession? Truthfully, you don’t know what you want to hear from Aaron but it hurts knowing that he views you as just another colleague.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t made you feel that way in a long time,” Aaron starts when he realizes you’ve grown quiet. “A member of the team, I mean.” 

“I-I just felt like I should’ve been doing more,” you confess. 

“You’re doing everything right, Y/N. You’re an exceptional agent and an outstanding person. Any part of the bureau would be lucky to have you.”

“Yeah?” you ask quietly. 

“Absolutely.” Aaron means in.

You finish your tea and it all becomes too much for you. The pain of your arm is quelled by the medication your doctor prescribed and Aaron helps you open the bottle. It makes you feel silly that you need someone else’s help to do something so simple and you feel your frustration get the better of you. 

“I’ll be out here if you need anything, okay?” Aaron reassures. “Please don’t hesitate to wake me up.”

“I promise,” you say and it’s one you’re planning on keeping.

You close the door behind you and turn off the lights. It feels weird to be in your apartment because you feel like everything should be back to normal, but it isn’t. In your years with the BAU, nothing as serious as this kidnapping has ever happened to you. You’ve been trained to deal with kidnappings before and how to talk to the victims and to the survivors, but you’ve never thought you’d have to deal with the aftermath yourself. 

You can’t sleep on your side because of your cast and your body feels like it’s constantly being run over by a stampede. The soft mattress is a contrast of how stiff your body feels and it all feels like it’s too much. 

Aaron can’t sleep either. He’s been staring at the door for the past thirty minutes as he tries to fall asleep. His phone is plugged into the wall behind him and he checks in with Dave, who texted him as he drove you back to your apartment. Aaron briefly thinks about Jack and his heart softens for a moment, but then he hears your soft cries from the room.

Aaron lies completely still and hears your whimpers. He hears you sniffle, blow your nose twice, and he’s acutely aware of the fact that he has no idea what to do. He has half a mind of barging into your room to comfort you until you’re asleep, but he doesn’t want to overstep his welcome more than he already has. Aaron feels frozen on the couch and doesn’t know if you’re too nervous to ask him for comfort.

He’s surprised when you walk outside. You don’t turn the lights on and he can barely make your face when you step into the moonlight. But you look frail, broken, and like you’ve been tormented by your memories. Aaron hates that.

“Aaron?” you call out. Your voice is small and his heart cracks. “Can you keep me company?”

Aaron doesn’t need to be told twice. 

He lifts the blankets from his legs and follows you into the bedroom. You sit on the edge of the bed and sniffle. Aaron sits next to you and carefully puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

It’s comforting and it aches. The pain of trauma and knowing that your life will never be the same again makes it seem like you’re never going to recover. Aaron doesn’t say anything, letting you cry into his shoulder and ignores the way your tear stains have soaked through the fabric. 

He’s imagined being in your apartment before; he often wonders what your decor looks like and how often you spend time here. He’s imagined cooking breakfast for you before you wake up, making you cups of your favorite tea, making the bed after you’ve both woken up, and kissing you goodbye when you walk out the door. Being in your bedroom like this feels too intimate, but if he was being honest with himself, Aaron doesn’t really mind it. He likes that he’s the person you choose to lean on. He feels like this is the first step in holding himself accountable for how he’s treated you in the past. 

Your shoulders are shaking and Aaron does everything he can think of to coax you through your sadness. He whispers praise and allows you to cry when you keep apologizing for your behavior, and he keeps telling you that he’s not going anywhere. 

When you manage to calm down, you’re tired. Aaron lets you climb underneath the covers and tucks the blanket under your chin. His hand brushes your skin and he blushes, though he’s sure you can’t tell because of how dark it is. Aaron bids you goodnight and starts to walk back to the living room but you reach out for his hand before he gets the chance to leave. He turns around and feels your soft grip on him. 

“Could you sleep with me?” you ask. “Or at least stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course,” Aaron says. He throws all caution in the wind and starts to walk to the other side of the bed and he’s surprised when you open the covers for him.

Your mattress is soft and your blankets smell like you. He tries not to think about it and leaves space between the both of you.

“Did you know I joined the BAU because of you?” you ask in the darkness.

“What?” Aaron says of shock.

You laugh lamely. “You guys held a few seminars at my alma mater and I knew then what I wanted to do with my life. I applied to the academy the next fall.”

Aaron doesn’t know what to say. His cheeks are hot and you’ve rendered him utterly speechless. In your tired state, you push yourself as comfortably as you can until the back of your head is leaning on Aaron’s chest, mindful of your broken arm. 

Aaron’s stunned and his body stiffens. But he thinks of all the times he’s thought about laying beside you like this and decides that he’ll cherish it as much as he can. His arm snakes itself underneath you as he tugs you closer, and he whispers a soft goodnight.

***

D.C. is a little cloudy when you wake up. The light peeks through your blinds and you’re made aware of the man sleeping beside you when you realize your face is buried in his chest. Your good arm is beneath you while the other is on top of the blanket. Aaron’s arms are encircled around you and when you feel his warmth. 

You don’t rush to wake him up. Being here with him somehow feels right despite the part of your brain telling you he’s your boss and nothing more. But Aaron wouldn’t stay with you if he didn’t want to, right? 

Part of you thinks he’s doing it just because he feels guilty. You know that there’s some truth to that, but you wonder if it’s the only reason he elected to take care of you. But you decide it’s too early to think about this. Instead, you close your eyes and bask in Aaron’s warmth, and fall asleep again. 

This time, Aaron wakes you up twenty minutes after you fall back asleep. His arms are numb from your weight and he feels like he might try to kiss you if he doesn’t wake you up. 

Your eyes flutter open and you bury your head in his neck. Aaron doesn’t bring himself to push you off of him. He pulls you against him and the both of you lay in silence for what feels like an eternity. 

Eventually, Aaron has to leave because Jack’s coming home from a sleep away camping trip. He apologizes a thousand times over because he knows he said he wasn’t going anywhere, but you tell him that Jack is more important. An unrecognizable expression flashes across his face before he’s out the door, promising you that he’ll call to check in once Jack’s home.

And he does. Aaron calls you a few hours later when Jack’s in the shower and asks you how you’re feeling, if you’ve taken your medication, and if he needs to do anything for you. You decline for his help despite desperately wanting him back in your apartment.

When night falls, Aaron lets Jack stay up an hour later than usual. They’re watching cartoons from the nineties when Aaron gets a sudden idea. He pauses the television and turns to Jack.

“Do you remember Y/N?” Aaron asks his son.

“Of course I do,” Jack says. “She’s the one who buys me snacks when I come to visit you.” 

“That’s right, buddy.” Truthfully, Aaron didn’t know you’ve continuously done that for Jack. But he rolls with it. 

“Is she okay?”

Aaron knows Jack can tell something’s up.

“Not really,” Aaron replies honestly. “She got hurt real bad in our last case and broke her arm.”

Jack opens his mouth in surprise. “Oh no. Do you think she’ll get better soon?”

“I hope so. She needs a lot of help right now because she lives alone.”

“Well she can stay with us until her arm is better,” Jack says as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world. Aaron can’t help but smile through his shock. 

“I’ve gotta ask her first, but I think that’s a great idea. That’s actually what I wanted to ask you.”

“It’ll be fun!” Jack exclaims. “Me and Y/N can watch cartoons while you’re at work and she can help me with my homework. She’s nice like that.” 

“Yes she is,” Aaron says, nodding. 

“Do you think I should make her a card so she feels welcomed in our home? I think I have leftover paper and glitter. Girls love glitter.”

“Y/N would love that. I’m going to talk to her first and if she agrees to stay over, you can make her a card.”

“Yay! This is gonna be the best sleepover ever.” 

Aaron’s ecstatic that Jack’s receptive to the idea. He calls you the next morning and proposes the idea of staying at his place until your cast comes off. When you lament how long that’ll be from now, he insists and tells you Jack was the one who came up with the idea.

You can’t say no to Jack. 

Aaron helps you gather belongings from your apartment and tells you that he’ll drive you back here or pick you up any time you want or need to. You double check that you’ve packed enough clothes for a week.

It’s a gradual and awkward start. You feel out of place as you try to navigate his apartment and where he keeps everything, not wanting to feel like you’re already welcomed in his home. But Aaron keeps reminding you that his home is your home and you don’t need permission since you’ll be here for a while.

Jack is sweet, too. He helps you by telling you where everything is stored and goes so far as to hold your hand while doing so. He insisted on tucking you in while you slept in the guest bedroom just to make sure you were comfortable on your first night, and you thought you might start crying in front of him.

At first, you walk on eggshells. You tiptoe around the boys and feel like a burden when Aaron brings home dinner for three or when he buys extra groceries, especially when he refuses to let you chip in. Jack tries to ease your worries after sensing your discomfort by asking you to build legos with him and you do your best despite the pain in your arms.

Aaron reminds you of your medication (and in turn, Jack asks you if you’ve taken your pills), cooks your favorite comfort meals, and drives you to mandated therapy sessions whenever he has the time. It warms your heart at how helpful he’s been since you know how busy he is typically, and you’re not sure what to make of your emotions. 

Time passes by and suddenly staying with Aaron feels somewhat normal. You’re off of work until your arm is healed and you’ve seen your therapist a number of times, and you know you have a couple of months of doing whatever you want until you go back into the field. Against the advice of Strauss, you continue to help with cases and the paperwork load so Aaron can spend more time with Jack.

Gradually, you start to feel comfortable when you’re alone. You use his kitchen, clean his dishes, and busy yourself with tidying Jack’s messes. You explore his neighborhood and have found a few cafes and restaurants you’d like to try out. You feel more comfortable lounging on his couch instead of keeping yourself in the guest bedroom.   

It feels domestic and you can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing. There’s still so much left unsaid, including how you’ve felt being his subordinate prior to your abduction. Aaron’s apologized over and over again, has given you time to heal from it and chooses not to ask for forgiveness in lieu of letting you find it yourself. It means a lot. Deep down, you know Aaron isn’t a bad person. You just wish you knew why you were different.

A week turns into two, then into three, and soon enough you find yourself caring after Jack. You feel useless if you sleep in and start waking up early to make breakfast as best you can for everyone (limited to cold breakfasts until you start to feel confident using your dominant arm when it’s out of the sling). Aaron walks into the kitchen to see you making oatmeal one day and you’re worried that you’ve overstepped, but he thanks you profusely.

Jack waddles in and he takes the oatmeal without question and asks if you can put brown sugar and fruit in it. You look around and see apples and blueberries, and Jack chooses the blueberries. He watches as you fix him a bowl and eats his breakfast in silence.

It becomes a routine for you after growing tired of doing nothing all day. Helping Aaron’s around the house as best you can, working remotely on cases, and spending time in his neighborhood feels like you’re recording.

Jessica, Jack’s aunt, has been informed of your stay by Aaron. You’ve met her before in passing but have never spoken to her in depth before staying with Aaron. She picks him up and drops him off, making small talk with you about her life and about your work. It goes so far as coffee dates when she’s available and it feels like your life is getting back on track.

Meanwhile, Aaron realizes he’s bit off more than he can chew when he sees you every morning. He hears your morning voice and finds himself wanting to wake up to it every day. He sees the way you are with Jack, how thoughtful and helpful you’ve been, and thinks it’s where you belong.

And it hurts. It hurts to know that all of his suppressed feelings are suddenly coming to the surface.

Your cast is coming off later today and you’re due for another mandated therapy session and a psychological evaluation before you’re able to return to work. He’s elated, but that means you’re okay to return to your apartment and he’ll have to get used to the house being empty.

Aaron’s parked his car at Quantico and he glances at you in the passenger seat. Your arm sling and cast are gone and you look as good as new, but he’s reluctant to step out of the car. You look back at him, hands fiddling in your lap.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you begin. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and Jack.”

“You’d be just fine,” Aaron assures. “But it was nice seeing you recover. Is your arm doing okay?”

“It’s like I never had a broken arm.” You flex it in front of him for emphasis. “My shoulder’s still a bit sore but I think my physical therapist has expedited the healing process.”

Aaron smiles. “Good. I’m glad.” 

A brief moment of silence falls between the two of you before you both get out of the car. Your therapist had asked you whether or not you were ready to integrate yourself back with the team and was scheduled to supervise your initial day back in the office. You’re apprehensive, however, because you know that you never perform well if you’re being watched closely. 

JJ’s the first to greet you when you walk through the doors. The office smells the same and it looks the same, but it doesn’t feel the same. You spend a few extra seconds embracing JJ and gather that she needs this hug more than you do.

Everyone files in and it’s barely eight in the morning. David congratulates you on recovery, Derek and Penelope bombard you with jokes that make your stomach hurt, Emily shows you photos of Sergio upon your request, and Spencer gives you a side hug and tells you he’s glad you’re doing better.

The therapist arrives soon after and you’re on your best behavior without making it seem like you’re trying to be. 

In the end, she permits you to return back to the BAU with the promise of continuing therapy. She refers to you to a few others and tells you that you should try to go in at least once a week, or however frequently your job lets you. You’re clear to fly, yield your gun, and you’re reinstated as a profiler with the BAU.

Aaron drives you back to his place to pick up your belongings before he drives you back to your apartment. He and Dave had been kind enough to drive your car back to your place, where it’s been sitting untouched.

The ride is filled with music from the eighties and you’re so elated from your first day back at work that you don’t mind singing in front of Aaron and pretending you’re shredding on an electric guitar. He takes his time getting home, taking the long way instead of the direct route, and he doesn’t think you notice. Aaron hopes you don’t.

But he arrives at his place and Jessica’s greeting you at the front door, happy to see you’ve recovered before she goes home. The sun has barely set and Jack walks out behind his aunt, asking you what’s for dinner.

You’re stunned for a moment as the realization that this all ends tonight. Staying with Aaron, falling into a life of balancing work and domesticity comes to an end when he drops you off at your apartment. Jack’s tugging on your elbow and Aaron scolds him because you might still be in a little bit of pain. He apologizes sweetly.

Aaron beckons you inside where you've started to pack your belongings. The luggage you've brought seems smaller than when you brought it, as you find it difficult to pack everything. You make the bed and set the room as you found it (to the best of your recollection), and you’re ready to put your shoes on when Aaron rounds the corner.

“I was thinking we could have one last meal here.” He clears his throat. “To celebrate your recovery.”

You don’t hesitate. “I would love that. I finally get to show you my cooking skills.” 

Aaron smiles and Jack runs to your legs, beckoning you to the kitchen. You settle on making oven baked chicken with mashed potatoes and honey glazed carrots, all of which Aaron had in his refrigerator. Jack asks how he can help and you’re touched when he brings a stool to perch on, and you tell him he can help you by rinsing the potatoes. 

Aaron offers to help and you look at him with a silly grin, letting him prepare the carrots while you prepare everything else. Halfway through the process, Jack becomes somewhat irritable because of hunger and because the entire kitchen smells like a Thanksgiving feast. But he relents and waits for the meal to be done when you tell him the food always tastes better when it’s cooked longer.

You almost forget it’s your last time with Aaron and Jack when you eat your meal together. You forget it when Jack insists on ice cream for dessert and when Aaron makes you a cup of tea just the way you like it. You forget about it until Jack asks his father if he can be there when he drops you off at your apartment. 

Your heart breaks a little. Aaron agrees and lets you grab your belongings while he buckles Jack in the car. Your luggage is in the trunk by the time Aaron is done and he opens the passenger door for you before getting in the car himself. Jack talks the entire ride, thanking you for dinner and lamenting how much he loved spending time with you. Aaron’s grip on the steering wheel is tight and he doesn’t think his heart could swell any bigger.

Eventually, the boys walk you up to your floor and Jack lunges at your abdomen after the three of you have walked into your living room. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” Jack mumbles in your sweater.

“You’ll see her around, buddy. She’s not leaving the team,” says Aaron.

“But I’ll miss Y/N at home. I like spending time with her there.” 

You and Aaron share a look. You can’t tell what he’s thinking but you know you’re unable to control the influx of emotions that will eventually spill out of you when they leave. 

“Me too,” Aaron says quietly. 

They leave soon after that.

You spend an hour crying in your living room and you haven’t unpacked your suitcase. Living with Aaron and being so close to him made you realize how your feelings for him, albeit complicated, have always been there. 

You love him. You love his generous nature. You love the adoration he has for Jack and for his team. You love how he knows your beverages of choice and how gentle he’s been with you. You love the way he says your name and you love that you feel right at home with him.

It’s ten o’clock when you grab your phone and you know Jack’s been asleep for at least an hour. You dial Aaron’s contact and in your anxious state of mind, nearly regret your actions. But he picks up and you hear the sweet melody of his voice through the phone. Your voice falters at first, but you push through them anyway. You’re sure Aaron can hear your voice post-crying because of how raspy your voice is, but you don’t care.

You tell him you think you love him and it’s not because he’s been taking care of you. You pour your heart and soul into this speech and you panic when he doesn’t say anything.

“This’ll be one hell of a story we tell Strauss.”

And you laugh. You laugh because you know Aaron feels the same and you laugh because facing paperwork and recounting this conversation to Strauss doesn’t seem like the most frightening thing in the world anymore.

But just for good measure, Aaron tells you he loves you too. 

***

AAAND WE’RE DONE X 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner blurbs #aaron hotchner sceanrios #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner oneshots #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x oc #criminal minds x you #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner #SSA aaron hotchner #criminal minds #thomas gibson #my writing #reckless #yall if no one reads this im gonna scream ok bye enjoy #fem reader

[dandelionprints]

Don't Be Late

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N (lil bit of fluff, angst, tormented Tommy and comfort)

Summary: When Tommy makes a promise to his wife he could never imagine that breaking it could potentially cost Y/N her life.

Warnings: bad language, a couple of slur words as used in the show *not words that I myself deem acceptable!*, a lot of violence, mentions of injuries, blood and death. Reader discretion is advised, do not read if you feel uncomfortable with this kind of content

Word Count: This is a long one coming in at 6,800k

A/N: It's been a while since I've written a full blown fic but I was on a roll so I just went with it! I hope you enjoy, please do like, reblog and/or comment your thoughts on it, I really appreciate the feedback x

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"It's been three days, Pol. Why won't she wake up?"

He leant forwards in his chair, a hand gently grasping  Y/N's as she lay motionless on her hospital bed. Her body was battered with violent purple bruises and cuts covering what seemed to be every inch of her body.

The last three days had been hell, with a mixture of so many emotions running through him  that he didn't know where to put and the not knowing. Worry, anger, sadness. Guilt. So much guilt, it consumed him. 

Tommy wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to forgive himself for not being there to protect her. It could be said that it was a case of "wrong person, wrong time", but that did nothing to subside the sense of dread that filled his stomach whenever he thought about the brutality his wife had been through, all because of him. How scared she must have been on her own waiting for him to come and save her, but he came too late.

"Give her time, Tom. She's been through a lot, her body’s trying to heal, we can't rush these things. Besides, the doctor said this morning that the swelling and bleeding has started to go down so she is getting better. Slowly. We just have to be patient", Aunt Polly delicately placed her hand on his shoulder, softly stroking her thumb back and forth over the newly clean shirt. 

Polly had brought a clean set of clothes to the hospital after seeing that Tommy was too terrifed to leave Y/N at the hospital alone for even a second, leaving him wearing blood soaked clothes for the first day. Y/N's blood.

"I should've been there Pol. None of this would've happened if I hadn't gotten too cocky and dragged John and Arthur down to London to Sabini's club. All this for a fucking business expansion"

He lowered his head and brought his free hand to his forehead, pinching at the sides as if to relieve some of the stress growing with tension there.

"Fuck!", he shouted before quickly covering his face with his hand.

Tommy could feel tears springing to his eyes as he glared down between the gaps in his fingers at the speckled hospital floor. He was so tired of crying in the presence of anyone that wasn't Y/N since the night this whole shit show happened, it made him feel weak knowing other people could see that in fact, yes, Tommy Shelby does have emotions. Y/N  was the only one he'd been able to willingly show any kind of vulnerable emotion to since he'd returned from the war.

The sound of a lighter flicking open followed by the quick sizzle of a cigarette being lit came from behind him as Polly took a drag, before holding it within Tommy's line of vision. 

"Here, take this".

He hesitated for a moment, making sure that no tears would fall, then slowly lifted his head and reached for the now softly glowing cigarette bringing it to his lips and taking a long pull, exhaling the smoke as if it were the stress partially releasing from his body.

Aunt Pol watched him carefully, almost as if she were waiting to see if he was going to explode like a ticking time bomb or finally let his shoulders relax and sink into the chair. She was thankful when he chose the latter, slowly leaning back against the wooden frame, still holding onto Y/N's hand.

"You should go back to the house, Tom. Get some rest. I'll stay with her until you come back", she spoke softly, her own eyes tired from the constant secret worrying she'd been doing as well as sitting with Tommy next to Y/N's bed the last three days.

"No. I won't leave her, Pol. I can't leave her, it's my fault she ended up like this, I can't risk them coming back or the risk of her...", he stopped his words in their tracks as a lump formed in his throat. The tears that had only just subsided now came back, threatening to spill over, "Of her dying. Alone. Without me here letting her know she's safe, that I'm sorry. So fucking sorry"

Polly's face grew empathetic as she saw the pain etched all over Tommy's, the vacant glassiness of his eyes that had only grown darker over the past few days.

"She's not going to die..."

"She might, Pol!", his anger exploded then, the ticking time bomb she'd been waiting for had finally gone off.

The chair scraped on the floor as he stood, letting go of Y/N's hand, before turning to face his aunt who remained seated, not taking her eyes off him.

"How can you be so sure that she's gonna live, eh? How can you be so sure that she's ever going to open her eyes again?"

There was less accusation in his words than it seemed, more like a plead for some kind of reassurance or promise that the love of his life would be okay, that she'd return to the real world again.

Polly stood, then, calm and collected. 

"Because I know Y/N Shelby, and so do you. She's a tough girl, it'll take more than Sabini and the fuckers who did this to take her down. Now, go home and get some sleep. I'll stay here with her, give her a wash and read some of your poetry outloud. The nurses say she can still hear what's going on around her, that she may even end up dreaming of things that are being said so we'll be having no more talk of death. John said he'll take the next shift of watching the door so tell him when you get back to come here. You know he won't let those bastards go anywhere near her if they so much as step foot near the hospital"

Polly’s eyes remained on him like a mother scolding her child until they did what they were told. She knew that he was still reluctatant to leave Y/N's bedside but felt relief when he subtly nodded to her, stubbing out his cigarette and picking up his coat before leaning over Y/N to place a kiss on her head, being careful to avoid the purpling bruise that was forming there.

"I'll be back in two hours, Pol, then you can go home and get some sleep", he said simply, making his way over to the door.

"Not two, six. You need a proper sleep"

He narrowed his eyes at her without saying anything, his lips twitching as if ready to disagree with what his aunt had said.

"I'd say eight but I know you won't be able to stay away for that long. What good are you to her if your eyes can't even focus on what the gun is aiming at? Go. Get some sleep"

Three days earlier

They'd agreed that they would meet at 8pm later that evening, after Tommy finished up with business for the day, where the family car was stored in the garage near the Shelby family home.

"Don't keep me waiting too long", she giggled, stroking his face with the palm of her hand.

"Who says you'll be waiting?", he smiled, taking the hand that was on his cheek and bringing it to his mouth, placing a soft kiss to it.

The Garrison hadn't opened for the day yet but the Peaky Boys were starting to gather at the bar, getting in a pint before the days business was about to begin. John and Arthur were already trying to place a bet with Isaiah about who could down the most pints before blacking out with Arthur claiming it to be him.

"Eh, lads! No more drinking until business is finished for the day, and Arthur, I could place twenty pound on it being anyone but you who could drink the most", Tommy interrupted, leading to a cackle of ladish jeers. 

Y/N laughed before getting Tommy's attention once again, this time placing a finger beneath his chin and gently pulling his face towards hers.

"I know you, Tommy Shelby. You like to be on time when it's for business but business is also what makes you late to see me"

He felt a pang of guilt hit his stomach at her words, he knew she was right. He'd lost count of how many times he'd come home to find her curled up in front of the fire in his office fast asleep. How many times he'd either carried her up to bed or simply placed a blanket over her while he continued working into the early hours of the morning. 

"I promise, love. I'll be at the garage at 8pm sharp"

This time he leant forward and touched his lips to hers, taking in the sweet flavour of her lips that he loved so much.

"Go on, Pol will be waiting for you"

She paused, "Is it bad to say that I don't believe you?"

"I promise, Y/N"

She wanted to believe the sincerity in his eyes but a tiny part of her knew that she'd more than likely be kept waiting out in the cold while he finished up business for the day. 

"Okay", she half smiled, "I love you, Mr. Shelby"

Tommy kissed her then, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear.

"I love you too, Mrs. Shelby"

---

It was already dark by the time she'd made her way to their meeting point with only the glow from a firepit in the workshop opposite as the main source of light, rain flooding down onto the pavement outside in typical autumnal British fashion creating the sound of pattering on the old tin roof of the garage.

Y/N sighed as she leant against the black Ford Model T, taking a look at her watch. 8:03pm. 

'Well, it's only three minutes late, let's see if he's here before four minutes late', she thought to herself. 

There wasn't much to see in the garage other than old petrol can's and some oiled rags that had been dropped lazily on the floor, not that she could see much anyway with only the fire for her source. In fact, it only stretched as far as half the length of the garage, where unbenownsed to her there were men that were lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting victim. 

"Get 'em!"

The sound of a thick London Italian accent echoed through the cold rickety room and all Y/N could think to do was to cower against the car, waiting to be manhandled in some kind of way, the panic instantly settling into her chest.

It was obvious that the men who now had their fists blowing punches to her face didn't have a clue it was in fact a woman they were beating and not a man, probably due to the fact the fire was doing little to show that she'd wrapped her scarf over her head to stop the rain from ruining her curls. They didn't realise until she mustered enough strength through the continuous punches to let out the loudest scream she could.

It was only then that the men took a step back as the same voice from before bellowed out, "Stop!"

She held her hands up to her face and felt a slick warm liquid quickly covering them, the skin beneath it sore to the touch. Her left eye was blurry from the mixture of what she could only assume to be blood and swelling, but she could just about make out the silhoutte of a slim man with a hat standing near the wall.

The adrenaline was already kicking in helping to keep some of the pain from showing it's full potential, but her fight or flight hadn't seemed to of made an appearance yet. All she could do was stand there, frozen to the spot, her hands still holding her bloodied face.

"You must be Tommy Shelby's missus", spoke the man with the hat, taking a step forward confirming in the dim light that it was who she'd feared it would be. Sabini.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?", he smirked, leering towards her only inches from her face, "Apologies for the misunderstanding, we thought you were Mr. Shelby"

Her heart dropped into her stomach at the thought that this beating was meant for Tommy, that she knew they intended to do more than land a few punches to his face. She spat at the ground infront of Sabini's feet.

"You're lucky it was me and not Tommy, he'd have your eyes the minute you laid your hands on him", she was surprised by how even she managed to keep her voice despite the sheer panic coursing through her. 

Y/N knew it was a lie, that Tommy would be far too outnumbered to take on five of Sabini's men on his own especially without being able to see much.

Sabini laughed, throwing his head back slightly before stopping abruptly and grabbing onto each of her arms.

"You listen here you little princess, I don't think you quite understand the extent of how pissed off I am at your fella. You see, him and his brothers came to my club in London two nights ago. The Eden Club. A well run establishment, I'm sure you've heard of it. Anyway, they caused such a fucking scene that I've had to take matters into my own hands. I was planning on getting to Tommy, show him how scared he should really be about barging into one of my clubs, but it seems I may now have an even better way of sending that message".

Even with the light uneven across his features she could see a sly snarl creep onto Sabini's face, his breath fanning against her skin as he spoke. It was enough to make her want to wretch.

"Right boys, forget about Tommy. I want you to do what you were going to do to Tommy to her"

Her heart flew straight into her throat, threatening to jump out of her mouth at any moment. She wanted to throw up but the best thing she could do now would be to gain as much attention to passers by as she could. She screamed again only to have her mouth covered by Sabini as two men took over the hold on her arms.

"Listen here you little bitch, whether you like it or not, you're getting a beating. If Tommy's not man enough to face me himself and resorts to showing up to one of my clubs instead then this is what happens, someones pretty little face gets smashed in"

"You're a fucking creep! Tommy will be here any minute and I'm sure his brothers will be with him too, you won't know what fucking hit you!", she spat, the venom spewing from her mouth.

Sabini wasted no time in landing a hard slap against her already throbbing cheek making her splutter out whatever saliva she had left. He didn't leave it there though as his gripped both hands around her throat, squeezing as tight as he could.

"We'll be glad to see Tommy and his brothers, we can have a nice little catch up. Those boys couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery no matter how hard they tried so I'm not too worried. Carry on boys"

He let go of her throat leading her to gasp for air, her lungs felt like they were on fire with every harsh breath.

She didn't even have time to brace herself from the punch that was swiftly administered to her stomach, knocking out every bit of air she had managed to gain back, bringing her to the ground with a hard thump. Her head bounced off the ground sending a shockwave of pain running over her skull and down her neck. 

The punches were now followed by the kicks of steel toe capped boots, each kick more painful than the last until she almost felt numb. Where the fuck is Tommy?

She wanted nothing more than to scream out for him, to hear him running towards the men with bullets flying, ready to put an end to this nightmare, but all she could do was sob as the pain coursed through her.

"Boys, hold her up", Sabini's voice cut through the sound of the thumps and thuds, his voice menacing laced with a sneer.

Two men gripped Y/N's arms and yanked her back onto her feet, knees buckling beneath her with one of her ankles too weak to bare any weight. She was pretty sure she had some broken ribs and that her ankle was much the same way but she knew there was nothing she could do about it now. The only thing she could do was let her head loll forwards with sheer exhaustion. 

It was hard to keep her eyes open as her head was pulled up by a harsh grab of her hair, weakness taking over her entire body.

"Look at me. I said look at me!"

Another firm yank of the hair had her gaze just about managing to focus on Sabini, his eyes showing a glint of evil.

"I want you to tell your dirty gypsy husband that I'm coming for him next, if he wants to take over my race tracks then he's gonna have to fight for it"

"You're a fucking pig Sabini", her voice was hoarse as she spoke, her head longing to fall fowards again and let her eyes shut.

"Take my fucking name out of your mouth! 'Ere, Franco, take my name out of this scum's mouth"

She wasn't prepared for what came next as a blade was forced inside her mouth, her cheeks slowly being cut as well as a part of her lip. The taste of the metallic blood filled every tastebud, the only noise she was able to make were muffled groans as the cold metal sliced roughly through her skin.

Her body suddenly dropped to the floor once more, the sound of the mens foot steps starting to fade as they made their way towards the back of the garage and through a hole in the wooden panelling. 

"Don't forget to give your husband my message, if you survive that is", Sabini's spoke, a chuckle following him as he finally left her and made his way out the same way as the other men. 

She had no energy to even cry any more, a numbness enveloping her body and the blood still slowly seeping out of every cut she'd sustained.

She couldn't focus on anything now, the need for sleep becoming too great to keep her eyes open. She didn't even hear Tommy's footsteps quickly approaching the garage a minute later where she lay in a pool of her own blood. All she could do was let her eyelids drop as she slipped into darkness.

—

"Y/N! Oh fuck, Y/N!"

His cries bellowed through the bleak surroundings, the only movement to be seen was the flicker of the flames from the fire in his peripheral. 

“John! Arthur! Where the fuck are you?”, he screamed into the night before turning his attention back to Y/N.

"C'mon Y/N you need to wake up now, c'mon sweetheart", his desperate pleas did nothing as he cradled her head, her blood soaking into his trousers. He could see her chest rising and falling but knew that it was getting slower and slower with every moment that passed by.

It'd only been a minute or so since he'd gotten there but he could've sworn it'd been more like an hour, his heart thumping so hard that he thought it would surely pop out of his chest. 

"John! Arthur!"

Tears were streaming down his face, dripping onto Y/N's blood soaked cheeks, leaving streaks running through the red liquid.

He knew his brothers were meant to be on their way with the promise of a bed at Arrow House for the night. He just hoped that they would be sober enough to help deal with the chaos that was going on.

There was so much blood that he didn't know what to do. Sure, he could leave Y/N and go get help himself, but he didn't want to leave her alone for even a second. He'd already let her down once this evening and he'd be damned if he was going to let her die here alone on the cold stone floor, or have the people who did this to her come back and finish off the job.

John and Arthur came stumbling through the open door of the garage, an arm wrapped over each others shoulders as they laughed about how many women they'd managed to pull that night. As soon as they saw the scene in front of them though, the laughing soon stopped and they both straightened up, their eyes almost not wanting to look at the state before them.

"Who the fuck did this, Tommy? Where the fuck are they? I'll fuckin’ get 'em Tom I fuckin’ promise you, those bastards won't get away with this!" John's hands had grown into fists with his knuckles turning white, the anger twisting his face into pure hatred.

"It doesn't matter right now, John. Just go and get help, call a fucking ambulance!", Tommy looked to Arthur whose expression had turned more into terror than anything else, "Arthur, I need you to get Pol, tell her Y/N's hurt, badly. Tell her I need her here, I need... just get her Arthur, now"

It took a second longer than Tommy would've liked but both brothers soon turned and ran out towards the Shelby family home, their legs wobbling beneath them as they went.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry", Tommy sobbed as he gently stroked her face, pulling her in closer to him. His mind was racing with all the questions he was dying to know the answer to.

He knew he should be worrying about who it was that had done this to her but he was pretty sure he knew the answer to that already, and he wasn't about to waste what time he might have left with his wife thinking about that. No. All that mattered right now was that Y/N was going to live, that her eyes would open and she'd look up at him with that brilliant smile he loved so much to tell him that she was okay, that she was going to survive this.

Flashing lights appeared outside whilst Tommy had his head rested on Y/N's, whispering over and over again how sorry he was and how much he loved her. The pain he felt was all consuming and he knew he'd give anything to be in her position right now, just like it should have been.

Even when the medics came to retrive Y/N he couldn't bare to let her go, he insisted on carrying her into the back of the ambulance and holding her all the way to the hospital. They knew better than to argue with the Shelby man but managed to convince him to allow for her vitals to be monitored on the journey there, her pulse rate rapidly declining.

Polly hadn't arrived at the garage quick enough so Arthur had driven both Polly and John to the hospital at speed, swerving all over the road as they went, the tires slipping on the slick ground beneath them.

When they finally got there they saw Tommy disappearing through the double doors with Y/N still in his arms, a trail of blood on the floor behind him. This was going to be a long night.

—

The doctors had managed to get her heart rate back up to a reasonable pace by the time she was settled into a private hospital room. Fluids were being administered consistently alongside different medicines flowing through the tubes, her wounds now dressed with bandages and a thin blanket covering her black and blue body.

"Mr. Shelby, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal, it's a miracle she's still alive", a tall man with slicked blonde hair and glasses spoke, a clipboard and pen in his hands.

"When will she wake up?", Tommy tried to shake off his annoyance at the doctors statement of the obvious, of course this was a fucking terrible ordeal! Anyone with eyes could see that. He just wanted the facts that mattered most.

"Mr. Shelby, as I said, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal..."

Tommy grimaced, "I fucking know she has, don't you think I can see what's right in front of me? That and the fact I found my wife lying in a pool of her own blood half dead? Just tell me, when will she wake up?"

He was growing tired of not having answers to the main question he had and knew he wouldn't be able to relax until he had a definitive answer.

"The honest answer Mr. Shelby is that we don't know. To be blunt we're not sure if she's going to"

Tommy's heart dropped into his stomach.

"As you know, she's been through...", the doctor paused, not wanting to use the term 'terrible ordeal' again, "A lot. We've taken some images of her brain and we can see that she has some bleeding and swelling. We're not sure that she can recover from something like that, we can only hope that she will. Her injuries are severe, Mr. Shelby. As well as the damage to the brain she also has some internal bleeding, broken ribs, a collapsed lung, brusing to the esophagus, cuts to the inside of her mouth and a broken ankle. We're doing everything we can to ensure that she'll recover from this but it will take time. I'm sorry"

A ringing sounded in Tommy's ears, a noise so defeaning that he couldn't focus on anything right now other than the fact Y/N might not make it through this. His chest tightened and he found himself struggling to breathe, the sheer weight of the words he'd just heard sitting heavy on his chest.

"Are you okay, Mr. Shelby?"

"Leave. Now, please. Leave!"

The doctor wasted no time in carrying out Tommy's order as he scurried out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Tommy fell to the floor, his knee's weak and unable to hold him upright. He clutched his chest as he gasped for the air that seemed to have become so thin in the room. Tears that had gathered in his eyes began to fall and there was nothing more he could do than kneel there on the cold floor as his world came crashing down around him. 

If he'd of been there at the time they'd agreed then this wouldn't have happened, not to Y/N anyway. It would be him laying in the hospital bed in front of him instead of her, or he'd be laying in a ditch somewhere ready for some poor passerby to find when dawn came. 

He knew for a fact that the guilt that was growing in strength would never leave him even if she did make it out of this, that he'd always blame himself for not being on time. 

A small knock on the door brought him shakily back up onto his feet again as he gripped onto the frame of the bed. Tommy managed to wipe away his tears just in time for Polly, John and Arthur to walk into the room. 

He couldn't look at them, only at Y/N laying in the bed. Her lifeless body was slightly sinking into the mattress beneath her, a mess of hair covered in congealed blood surrounded her head.

"Is she going to be okay, Tom?", John's voice quietly cut through the silence like a knife. 

Tommy took a moment before letting out a sigh, the lump in his throat wanting to escape and cause tears to come flooding out. 

"I don't know. The doctor said that she's got bleeding and swelling on the brain amongst other things. They don't know if she's going to wake up".

The room stayed silent with no one wanting to say a word, both for fear of upsetting Tommy further and also because what else was there to say? There was nothing any of them could do to make the situation better or to make light of any of this.

Tommy took a seat next to Y/N's bed side and held her fragile hand, longing for her to wrap her fingers around his, but of course she didn't. Even that alone was enough to make his heart break.

"John. I need you to arrange for the blinders to be on a rotation of a look out. I don't want anybody coming in or out this hospital without us knowing about it. Arthur, take Isaiah and a couple of the blinders with you to London, I need you to find Sabini", Tommy spoke plainly, not taking his eyes off of Y/N.

"Yes, Tom", Arthur nodded, motioning for John to follow his lead out of the room.

"Oh, and Arthur? When you find him", Tommy turned to look at him now, his eyes cold but somehow a fire lit in them, "Bring him to me. Alive"

—

Three days later

As expected, Tommy arrived back at the hospital within four hours instead of the six Aunt Polly had ordered. 

He couldn't sleep. Every time he'd managed to drift off he was soon awoken by nightmares of Y/N's screams as she was repeatedly kicked and punched, the sound each one of the blows made making his stomach churn. He could see her body laying there in a pool of blood with sobs wracking her chest... her calling out his name and him not being able to reach her even though he could see everything that was happening. 

Tommy woke up in a cold sweat, his clothes soaked right through and his hair wet. He decided he was better off admitting defeat than to try going back to sleep, the thought of having to see those images of Y/N whenever he closed his eyes was enough to make his blood run cold. 

His childhood home was quiet when he made his way downstairs. Ada had taken Finn to Arrow House under her watchful eye with Karl, it was better to be in a house that was stocked with firearms than back in London with nothing but a single pistol and where Sabini could be lurking in the shadows. 

John had gone to the hospital to take the next watch and Arthur was somewhere in London seeking out Sabini and his lackeys, waiting to hand him a blow that would make the Italian man wish he'd never come to Birmingham.

Tommy decided on having a bath before putting on clean clothes, taking a look in the mirror before he left. His complexion had almost drained of colour over the past three days with the exception of the dark circles that appeared under his eyes, much darker than usual. 

"God I hope she wakes up soon", he muttered to himself, adorning his peaky cap and reaching for the door handle before stepping out onto the bustling streets of Birmingham, lighting a smoke as he made his way to the hospital.

When he walked through the doors of Y/N's room he noticed something different. Aunt Polly was no longer sitting there with sadness in her eyes, instead she was stood next to the bed holding Y/N's hand, a small smile upon her face.

His eyebrows furrowed with confusion and his pace slowed as he approached her.

"What's happened?" he asked, nervous energy rushing through him.

"She moved, Tom. All on her own, she moved!"

Polly was beaming now, fresh tears sprang to her eyes and she had to resist the urge to hug him.

"What do you mean she moved?"

"I mean, I was reading her one of your poems and holding her hand. Her fingers started to move as if she was trying to tell me she could hear me. She's still in there Tommy"

His heart swelled in his chest although he didn't want to get his hopes up too much, there was nothing worse that breaking your own heart with false hope.

"It might've just been the nerves jumping, Pol. She probably doesnt have control of her body right now", he knew he sounded like dismissive bastard but he couldn't bring himself to believe that Y/N could do that but not open her eyes.

"Stop being so bloody negative Thomas. I'm telling you exactly what I saw with my own two eyes. Read to her yourself, you'll see", Polly scolded him, picking up the pages she'd left on her seat and going to hand them to him.

Tommy said nothing but shook his head towards the pages and instead took a step closer towards Y/N's bed. 

Polly placed Y/N's hand in his and softly spoke, "Y/N love, if you can hear what we're saying then squeeze Tommy's hand, let us know that you're still there".

He held his breath as he waited to see if she'd respond, his eyes watching her fingers like a hawk.

"She's not moving, Pol. You're seeing things with the lack of sleep, go home and get to bed, I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere"

"Don't tell me what you think I may be or may not be seeing and certainly don't tell me what to do. You may be a man now Thomas but I'm still able to lay you across my knee and give you a good hiding", her eyes glared daggers into the side of his head as he continued to stare at Y/N's fingers, unmoving on top of his.

"I'm sorry Pol, I just can't... I just can't stand the thought of having the hope there that she'll show me she's okay if she never actually...", he stopped dead in his tracks.

His mouth dropped open and his gaze widened in shock as Y/N's fingers started to slowly lift upwards before coming back down to rest on top of his fingers, trying to curl themselves around his.

"Y/N? It's okay, I'm here. You're safe", he placed his free hand over hers and leant over to kiss her head, the bruises still prominent, "I'm sorry Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry".

Tommy couldn't hold back the tears that were coming and let them spill out to fall down her cheeks, the overwhelming burst of relief he felt within his soul was like nothing he could explain. 

Polly stood with a hand over her mouth, a smile beneath her fingers. 

"T-T-Tommy?..."

Did she just speak?

His head shot up, eyes wide in disbelief. When he caught the first glimpse of her face he could see that her eyes were slightly open. Her eyeballs had red spots on them where blood vessels had burst, either from the pressure of being strangled or from the numerous hits to the face she'd sustained. He tried to hide the shock that hit him and gently cradled her face with both hands, careful not to press down on the discoloured blotches that lay beneath them.

"You're awake, you're... I-I can't believe it", he stuttered, scanning her face for any kind of expression.

"Y-you... w-w-were... late", she croaked.

It was almost as if he'd taken a stab to the chest as her words met his ears and the guilt came flooding back.

"I know, I'm so, so sorry Y/N, I really am. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for this, not for as long as I live"

He stifled a sniff as his tears continued, a sob escaping his lips as his face screwed up into pure anguish.

"I-it's... okay", she murmered, taking a deep breath, "do-don't be... s-sorry... I-I'm j-just... glad i-it w-wasn't... you"

"No sweetheart, no. It's not okay, none of this is okay. Because of me, you're lying here in a hospital bed, completely black and blue with internal injuries and broken bones, all because I got too cocky and tried to challenge that fucker. I swear to you, Y/N. I'm gonna put a bullet between his eyes for this, he's not going to get away with it".

He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face and she smiled softly, the memory of him doing to same back in The Garrison just before she'd left him that day, just before all of this happened…

"H-he said t-t-to... g-give you a... m-message..."

"No, shh shh, it's okay. You don't need to tell me anything right now, you need to rest and get better. You can hardly speak. Tell me anything you need to when you start to feel better. All I care about right now is that I have you, here, alive. No amount of money nor business could come close to how happy I am right at this very moment"

Two Days Later

She'd been awake more frequently over the next couple of days with each day being better than the last. Her bruises had now started to turn a lighter shade of blue with greens and browns dotted through them and the bleeding and swelling on her brain had improved significantly. 

The doctors were stunned at how well she was doing, they half expected her to die within the first few days she'd arrived at the hospital. 

"How are you feeling today?", Tommy asked as he stroked her hair from his position on the edge of the bed.

"A bit be-tter than yesterday", she softly smiled. She couldn't deny that she still felt like absolute shit and that every time she breathed it felt like she was trying to push air through a straw, but she was just relieved that she'd survived this whole ordeal, "Can you h-help me sit up a b-bit please?"

He instantly stood and gently swooped an arm beneath her legs and the other behind her back, carefully lifting her up before sitting her back down on the bed and repositioning her pillows behind her against the headboard. She winced with the motion but tried her best to hide it. She already knew that Tommy had so much guilt eating him up inside, it almost felt like if she showed him that she was in any kind of pain that it was a reminder of how much he'd fucked up.

"Is that okay?"

She nodded slowly, aware of her aching neck with every slight movement.

"Good, it's nice to see you looking a bit more like yourself", he smiled, his eyes studying every inch of her face.

"Sabini t-told me to tell y-you t-that he's coming for y-you next and that I-if you want to take o-over his race tracks then you're gonna h-have to fight for it... I'm s-scared, Tommy"

Tommy moved his chair closer to the bed, so close that his knees were touching the side of the frame, and took her hand in his.

"I promise you Y/N, you have nothing to be scared about. I know that I broke my promise before about being on time and it cost both of us more than I thought possible, but I swear to you, right here, right now in this moment, I won't let that fucker come near you ever again"

A response to that seemed impossible. Of course she wanted to believe her own husband but when he'd already broken one promise, one that had ultimatley almost led to her death, how could she possibly believe that he'd keep this one?

He could see her thoughts running round her mind, her eyebrows furrowing and mouth twitching like she didn't know what to say.

"Look, I know I fucked up massively. I will never be able to explain to you how sorry I am and I'd understand completely if you didn't want to be with me any more, but please believe that I will do everything in power from here on out to make sure that you're safe"

He was almost scared to hear what she was going to say. Did she want to leave him? Was he destined to lose his wife, not by death this time, but from the sheer fact she didn't think he could keep her safe?

"I-I could n-never leave you, T-Tommy Shelby", she smiled, her lips curving up into her bruised cheeks. 

Tommy stood up and brushed his lips against hers, laying a tender kiss upon them before pulling back slightly, enough to still feel her breath on his face.

"Just p-promise me one m-more thing", she spoke, looking into his eyes.

"Anything"

"Don't ever be l-late again"

He grinned, the twinkle in his eyes that she hadn't seen since waking up returning once more.

"I promise"

———

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Tagged: @peakypoet @moral-terpitude @lyarr24 @cillmequick @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @alasya16 @tommystargirl @elenavampire21 @adaydreamaway08 @slaypussypop-21 (unable to tag) @bluesongbird @zablife @cljordan-imperium @look-at-the-soul @rangerelik @helen06dreamer @cyphah (unable to tag) @boobooquicksilver

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x you #cillian murphy #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby fanfiction

[gotham-daydreams]

Birthday

[Yandere Batfam × Gender Neutral! Reader]

[Warnings: Implied-ish Kidnapping, Reader is Restrained, Yandere Implications (?)]

(Happy birthday to me, and whoever reads this too if it's your birthday :]. Something short and sweet for your troubles! Not proofread or really edited.)

------------------------

When you finally came to, you couldn't see anything at first. You tried to move, but only found yourself bound to something you couldn’t see. All you could tell was that you were sitting, and that your wrists, along with your ankles, were tied down.

Maybe you’d say something, or even call out to see if anyone was around or could help you, but you didn't. Despite the deafening silence and complete darkness, you could've sworn that there are others in the room with you… wherever you are. Even if you couldn't see them or hear them, and honestly you didn't know if that made things better or worse.

You couldn't say how many of them there are, but it was enough for them to surround you - or maybe it was only one or two people whose presence was enough to make you feel surrounded and suffocating. Though, no matter which turned out to be true, that didn't change the reality of the situation.

You were trapped in a dark room with someone, bound to what felt like a chair, and had no means of escape.

Have you been kidnapped? Or were you still in your apartment, just tied to one of your chairs?

… Again, you didn't know what was worse.

The ropes that held your wrists and ankles burned and dug into your skin when you moved even the slightest bit.

However, you didn't have much of a chance to move anymore before you felt someone place their hands on your shoulders, and slowly pulled you to sit back, as if trying to get you comfortable. Yet it only made you tense and straighten your back, but you didn't dare resist nor look back. Their touch was cold, so much so that you could feel it from under your sweater, but you still tried to not make a peep. 

It was only now did you feel your heart begin to pound against your chest, with sweat beginning to form and slowly roll down from your skull. You could feel what felt like countless eyes on you, and though you couldn't help but shrink under their invisible gaze, you didn't dare move, or even make a sound. You don't think you could bear being the first, especially not with someone's hands still on you.

It was only a moment after, did something break the deafening silence. It sounded like clicking, or a flick of some kind before a small little flame spawn from the darkness, coming from what seemed to be the tip of a long lighter, even if you could barely make it out. 

You watched as the little flame moved, before stopping over what seemed to be the tip of a candle, and stayed there before it lit. Not once did you look away as the little flame jumped from candle to candle, before it was suddenly put out once all the candles were lit. It was only now that you could see that the candles were on top of a cake, one you recognized too well and made your heart drop.

“Happy birthday to you~.” A voice began to sing as the cake was lifted, revealing a sort of blue ‘V’, with the ends almost acting as wings for whatever creature it tried to represent.

The figure began to move, the little flames on the candles revealing more of what laid in the darkness, more things that made the dread inside your chest grow.

“Happy birthday to you~.” The person approached you from the right, revealing four more people as they slowly drew close with each little word and step. Your heart began to race, and your dread only continued to grow. 

The first they passed was someone in a black suit that seemed to hold some kind of silver tray by their side. The only thing you noticed about the second was a brown jacket, and the faintest bit of a red symbol, with the third also wearing a red suit with a cape and black straps along the chest, with some kind of gold symbol with bird where the straps intersected right at the center.

The fourth also had a cape with some red on their own suit, but there was some yellow on the inside of the cape, and you could've sworn you could make out the faintest traces of an ‘R’ patch on the uppermost left area of the chest.

The hands on your shoulders felt heavier somehow as you felt another slow, cold bead of sweat roll down from your head, and trail down to your neck.

“Happy birthday~,” The person holding the cake stepped closer, and you could practically feel them beside you as they placed the cake down right in front of you, their arm nearly brushing against your own.

“Dear~,” Suddenly, a sparkler lit at the end of the table, and it came from the left side this time. Whoever was holding it walked down from the left, and very briefly and faintly could you make out three more people. 

The one holding the sparkler had an outline of a bat along their chest in yellow, with the majority of their suit being covered in black. They passed by someone whose suit was prominently purple, with their cloak covering most of their outfit, and showing they were wearing a hood as well. The last was mostly in yellow, and they seemed to be wearing something more akin to armor, with a reflective bat insignia on their chest as well.

Just how many people were there?

“Y/n~.” The person finally finished, saying your name right in your ear as the sparkler was placed on the cake. The words ‘Happy Birthday, Y/n! Lot's of love, Your Family ♡’ were written in icing on top of the cake, with a bit of smudged icing on top of the words ‘Your Family’, signifying that they had replaced the name that was originally there, and written over it, with little effort put into them even hiding that fact.

“Happy birthday to you~.” They hummed out with a little chuckle, tone happy-go-lucky and much too light for your liking. Especially when you were in a dark room with several people, tied to a chair with your wrists and ankles tightly bound.

Then, you felt someone's breath against your other ear, and when they spoke, their voice was much deeper and gruffer than the person who sung before.

“Go on, make a wish.” 

Chills shot down your spine, and it was only now did you notice the small little blinking red light on the right side of the table, around where the person in the suit stood.

You glanced at the faint lens you could barely make out in the dark, and back at the cake, silently swallowing before you took in a breath, and blew out the candles.

With that, your fate was sealed, and the cake was cut.

Of course, it was your favorite flavor, and made just how you liked it. 

Just like how she always made it.

— 

Bonus:

One of the candles is a trick candle, and as it relights it sets off a bomb and the room explodes, the end! :]

#yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam #gn reader #platonic yandere #yandere dc #yandere dc x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere x gn reader #oneshot #here's to hoping that i write duke thomas more (even if i don't really know how to write him) #anyways #happy birthday :] #and yeah- this is easily the shortest thing i'll ever write

[cherryskyies]

The slashers w an insecure s/o

Includes: Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt

slowly getting through this major writers block. my writing might be dog shit for a few posts but I'm forcing myself to work through it 🩷

Reader is female

Warnings: descriptions of sex (mostly bo section), praise, low self-esteem.

Masterlist || Navigation || ao3

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent doesn't understand it. 

The moment he laid eyes on you he was in awe, knowing immediately he needed you alive. There wasn't enough wax in the world to sculpt you the ways he desired. 

So to see your hesitance at removing your clothing, he was scared you had changed your mind about him — the thought of you being insecure hadn't crossed his mind until you admitted it.

Your cheeks are hot from embarrassment, apologies slipping off your tongue as you dropped your head against his chest. "I'm sorry Vin, I've never liked my body."

He's quick to silently reassure you that he loves all of you, even the parts he hasn't seen with soft hands roaming your delicate body; finger tips gliding over your curves, stopping to lift your face to his – it's a promise.

Vincent will worship the very ground you walk on, making it his goal to show you your beauty through his gentle touches and precise sculptures. You will fill his work space.

Bo Sinclair

"What'dya mean you don't like your body? You've got the best piece of ass I've seen in my life!" Bo exclaims, genuinely confused at your insecurities. 

There is not a chance he'll fully understand, regardless of his own insecurities. Bo looks at you and sees the perfect woman — so what if you have some imperfections? He might as well be blind because he can't see them.

He is very gentle with you though, thoroughly fucking the insecurities away and praising you every chance he gets.

"Look how beautiful you are, cumming all over my cock," Bo praises, forcing you to watch yourself in the mirror he's placed across the room. "So perfect."

Would definitely make you point out features you like on yourself before you can cum. Just seems like that kind of guy.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas would be so heartbroken to hear you say you don't like your appearance. He'd think it's his fault for not appreciating you enough.

The first time you say it, you're both a nervous wreck. 

"It's not you, Tommy. I just.. I've never liked my appearance," you admit, eyes downcast while your hand holds his at the hem of your shirt.

He whines, nuzzling his face in your neck. It's not fair that you feel this way he thinks, you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. 

But he understands, having his own insecurities; so the two of you make a deal to leave the lights off and keep your shirts on until you are more comfortable — which doesn't take long with the way he worships your body. 

With Thomas your insecurities are a thing of the past. 

#x reader #fluff #angst #oneshot #slashers #thomas hewitt #bo Sinclair #vincent Sinclair #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #slasher fandom #slasher #thomas hewitt headcanon #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #texas chainsaw massacre #horror #bo sinclair headcanons #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #house of wax #vincent sinclair headcanons #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair oneshot #headcanons #drabble #slasher fanfiction #slasher fluff #slasher x you

[imjustagirlinthisworlddd]

Hello:))) been reading ur newt hcs and absolutely adored them YOU WRITE HIM SO SWEET. But i was wondering if you would do newt cuddling hcs with a f!reader please? (I haven’t requested for you before so if this isn't the type of thing you do just delete this lol)

thanks<3

hello anon!! i'm happy you like those!! i think that newt is the type of person that treats their s/o gentle !! i hope you like this:))))

Newt who can't keep his hands to himself when you're both cuddling. Newt who would pull you into his chest with your back against him so he can kiss your neck. Newt who would put his arm around your waist just to touch you. Newt who would be crazy and rambles whenever he sees you wear his shirts to cuddle or sleep (and when you ask him why, he says "you look hot- i mean beautiful, wait i didn't mean it like your not hot, cause you are hot, i mean- your hot- wait that's not the point- but you look bloody amazing with my shirt"). Newt who can't sleep without you in his arms. Newt who would be very clingy and glued to you when both of you are alone (he's starved for your attention and affection). Newt who doesn't have a 'favourite cuddle position' but he loves it so much when you rest your head on his chest and just lay there. Newt who runs his fingers through your hair and leave a bunch of kisses all over your face whenever he gets the chance. Newt who sometimes wander his hands underneath your shirt (with consent of course) and he just trace circles all over your skin. Newt who sometimes would just lay in your arms tiredly because he’s exhaused from doing all work, helping around the glade, and having many meetings with Alby and the runners(he's a busy man). Newt who would smell a little more earthy when you guys are cuddling before shower. Newt who prefers to cuddle after shower because he thinks you'll like him more if he smells 'sweet like a candy' when you're both cuddling (he used your soap and shampoo because he said it made him "smell like sweets and vanilla" lol ). Newt who would sleep with you with hardly any space between each other. Newt who loves it when you bury your face in his neck and when you play with his hair. Newt who will always pull you back onto the bed and back into his arms if you try to leave or stop cuddling. ("Newt we have to get up! Alby will be mad at us-" "2 more minutes, please love? i'm sure Alby will be fine without me" "Newt, you said that 20 minutes ago."). Newt who doesn't mind being a big spoon or the little spoon when you're both cuddling. Newt who likes it when his arms are securely around your waist & his face in your hair when he's being the big spoon. Newt's arms will be the place you wake up every morning. Newt who would ask if he can play with your hair every time you're both cuddling (he wants to make sure you're giving him consent even tho you've reassured him that he doesn't need to ask that). Newt who would randomly compliment you when your almost asleep ("your so beautiful. like really bloody beautiful, love"). Newt who would sometimes talk in his sleeps because he gets nightmares when he's cuddling you ("please stay, please. don't go. stay with me." "i'm not going anywhere love"). Newt who would easily get sleepy when you run your hands through his hair. Newt who would fall asleep on top of you, then wakes up only to ask if you're okay, if he made you uncomfortable, and why didn’t you wake him up in his raspy sleepy voice. Newt who would have a staring contest with you and then make stupid faces so you laugh and he wins the contest (later on he tease you about it). Newt who would stay up with you and just have deep conversations as you both cuddle when you can't sleep ("why do people has to lose the person they love first, to realize they're bloody value and worth? doesn't make sense, what do you think?").

I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY MAKING THIS, IT TURNED OUT SO LONGGGG. I'M SORRY IF THIS IS TOO LONG FOR YOU

#the maze runner #newt the maze runner #newt x reader #newt x y/n #newt x you #maze runner newt #maze runner newt x reader #newt tmr #the maze runner newt x reader #tmr newt #the maze runner headcanons #the maze runner newt smut #the maze runner imagine #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner newt #the death cure #newt #tmr newt x reader #tmr x reader #maze runner x reader #newt maze runner x reader #newt tmr x reader #newt headcanons #newt imagines #newt oneshot #newt x reader imagine #newt the maze runner imagine #thomas brodie sangster #tbs #thomas brodie sangster x reader

[cillianhead]

Give us thigh riding with Cill or Tommy, please 🙏🏻😮‍💨

Thank you nonny for this wonderful request <3

Lazy Sundays || Cillian Murphy x Reader

warnings: Smut, thigh riding, cursing, sort of exhibitionism (Cillian is on the phone while... reader rides his thigh), choking, Cillian being a little rough with reader, degradation, general adult content!!

18+ Minors DNI

The sun had barely risen when you woke up, and Cillian was nowhere to be found, which was unlike him so early in the morning. You frowned as you sat up, rubbing your sleepy eyes, and softly slipped out of bed to find your husband.

You found him at the bottom of the stairs, grumbling on the phone with someone. You assumed it was something work-related. You quietly padded down the stairs and sat down next to him with a gentle smile, still incredibly sleepy and wanting to go back to bed.

"Hey baby," He mouthed to you silently before grumbling something back to whoever was on the phone was. He wrapped an arm around him, pulling you into his side. You curled around his arm and nuzzled your face into his soft sleeve. "Thanks, Gary... bye, mate." Cillian muttered before hanging up the phone.

"Cillian..." You whispered with a pout. "Let's go back to bed... you promised a lazy Sunday today... and it's too early..." You winged.

"Sleepy girl," He chuckled breathily, leaning in and pecking you on the lips. You hummed happily at the little sliver of love he gave you. "Come on, darling... let's go back to bed." He extended a hand out to you as he stood up and you took it gratefully as you yawned dramatically.

Cillian gave you a gentle smack on your ass as you crawled into bed. "Why'd you do that?!" You whined.

"'Cause I can," He snickered, pulling the both of you under the covers and pulling you close to him, conveniently placing his thigh right in between your legs. "You're so beautiful." His voice was low and gravelly; he was still quite groggy from how early it was in the morning, and the low vibrations made you feel so fucking dizzy.

"Cillian..." You whispered as he slipped off his long sleeve shirt and ushered you to take yours off too.

"Morning sex?" Cillian asked as if you would say no. "Please, baby? Fuckin' had the nicest dream about you last night."

"Oh, yeah?" You grinned, the both of you fully topless and Cillian's thumbs rolling easy circles on your exposed nipples. "What happened in it-"

RING! RING!

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Cillian groaned, reluctantly pulling away from you slightly to reach over to his phone that lie on the bedside table. "It's from the same bloke... he's tryin' to arrange a time for an interview." You whined as he started to get out of bed.

"No... stay..." You clung onto him, digging your fingernails into his biceps. "I'll be good... I promise..." You gave him those eyes you knew he couldn't deny.

"Alright, just be quiet..." He said cautiously, laying back down as he brought the phone to his ear. "Hey, Gary... what's up? Somethin' wrong?"

As you zoned out of the conversation, scooting yourself slightly closer to Cillian, trying your best to seem as casual as possible. Cillian hummed as he discussed a time and place and chatted on the phone, not paying mind to the fact your thinly-clothed cunt was beginning to slowly grind itself on his thigh. Biting your lip, keeping in your whines as you looked up at Cillian, feeling incredibly flustered by how nice his thigh felt against your clit. You noticed the stubble that accumulated along his picture-perfect jaw and rolled your eyes into the back of your head as you found the perfect rhythm. He was so perfect; every part of him fit perfectly with you... or inside of you. No one else's thigh could get you off the way his do.

It took Cillian a few moments to realize what was happening, and by then, it was too late to stop you. He raised an eyebrow disapprovingly. You knew he couldn't say anything, which made you smirk. He could just push you off of him, and you'd stop, yet here you were, shuddering with pleasure as he flexed his thigh precisely to enhance the pleasure you were feeling. He kept talking nonchalantly, acting as if his hot wife wasn't fucking herself on his leg, acting as if he didn't have a raging boner that was begging to be touched. The man on the other end of the phone had not even the slightest clue that there was anyone else even in the room with Cillian.

"Sounds good," Cillian hummed. "Alright, yeah... see you then." And when he tossed his phone to the side (not before turning it completely off), he looked at you with a fire blazing in his eyes. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" "I... don't know... what... you're talking about..." You said through tiny gasps.

"Yeah?" He quipped as he jolted his thigh right up into your pussy, causing you to let out a loud mewl. "Why the fuck is there a wet patch on me leg then? Hmmm?"

"Don't know... Cillian..."

He shook his head in disbelief before curling his fingers around your throat and pushing you down into the sheets until he was hovering above you, his hand still choking you firmly. "Such a spoilt whore," Cillian growled as he slipped your soaking panties down until you were entirely bare before him. "You couldn't even wait five minutes for me to get off the bloody phone."

"J-Just... I'm so horny..." You whined, voice high pitched, and your body writhed for any sort of touch as he held your thighs open. Your glistening hole was on display for him. It felt shameful and humiliating the way he was looking at you. Despite the fact he had seen you in every angle there was to be seen and had seen your vagina countless times, it still felt painfully vulnerable when he had you spread out like this. "Please..."

"I know," He soothed, running a finger down the smooth skin of your inner thighs. "You just can't help it..." He cooed, and you smiled at how sweet he was being. "Y'just so dumb and pathetic, aren't you? Can't think about anything except gettin' fucked when I'm around... know you can't help it, yer just a girl..." He whispered into your ear, and you were revelling in his words and gentleness until he placed a harsh and hard smack right on your poor clit.

"Fuck!" You cried, arching your back. "Why'd you do that?!"

"Don't pretend to be innocent, Y/N," Cillian muttered as he switched the position so you were straddled on top of his thigh. "Go on, ride my thigh." He demanded.

"But..." You slid your hands up his other thigh to where his cock fought with his trousers to be free. "I want you... inside of me..." "Too bad, eh?" Cillian smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yer not getting any help either, gonna have to do it all yourself... like a big girl." Cillian leaned back, a smug grin on his hauntingly beautiful face.

So slowly, feeling awfully embarrassed, you pressed your naked sex against his hairy thigh and began rocking yourself in slow motions. You closed your eyes, holding onto Cillian's waist for balance as you picked up the pace, moaning desperately for release.

"Look at the mess you're making," Cillian scolded with a 'tsk tsk', eyes fixed on the way you rubbed yourself on his thigh. "Gushin' all over me leg, you look so cute."

"Let me cum on your thigh..." You whined quietly, head hung low with shame as you felt your impending high coming closer and closer. "Please." "You're gonna cum already?" Cillian laughed condescendingly. "Go on then, give me a show."

You nodded and mumbled a sweet little 'thank you' before grounding your pussy even harder and faster into his sticky thigh until you found yourself trembling on top of him. His hands now reached out to you, guiding your hips along for you while you let yourself be swallowed whole by your orgasm. He knew you were too limp to do it yourself and even once you were done he kept rocking you back and forth with his hands, moving you like a puppet until you were begging for him to stop.

"Please... Cillian..." You cried, trying to raise your hips up to stop the torturous friction. "Please... it's too much." "Nuh-uh... want one more from ya... then I'll consider giving you my cock."

You squeezed your thighs tightly around his, clit aching from the sore friction and how overstimulating it was. Cillian was mesmerized by the way you looked, too busy watching the way his thigh grew wetter and wetter and the way your hips looked in his hands. It was the most beautiful sight to be seen... and with the added sound of your sweet moans of his name... he felt like he could cream his pants without even laying a hand on his cock.

"That's it, angel girl," He praised, bucking his thigh up into you harshly. "You look so pretty, so perfect, getting me all wet."

"Gonna cum... again..." You choked out, eyelids squeezed shut as you began convulsing.

"There we go, give it to me," He cooed, voice low and intoxicating. "Fuckin' hell," He could feel your cum leak out onto his thigh, it was almost a bit ridiculous how wet you got from him and how much of a mess you made. "Good girl... good girl... that's right."

You collapsed on top of him once he finally set you free. You panted, crawling up so your head was by his, and you kissed him gently. "Thank you... thank you... Cillian..." You whispered, all dazed and sleepy since it was still early in the morning.

"Not done with you yet," Cillian whispered, running his lips along your sensitive neck. "I think you've been good enough for a treat."

Your ears perked up at that and suddenly your eyes were no longer drooping. You sat up like an excited dog and looked at him with your head tilted. "What is it?"

"Gonna let you suck me cock," He grunted, slipping the band of his Calvin Klein briefs down until his hard cock laid flat on his stomach, oozing precum from his pinkish head. Your lips parted as you drooled at the sight and wrapped your fingers around his thick shaft. You were practically making heart eyes at it. "Don't act all shy on me now, love... go on... I know you know how to suck me off... now go on and do it, and I'll cum down your pretty throat."

-----

i listened to cry by cigarettes after sex on repeat while listening to this. i hope you enjoyed! it's short but i like it :-)

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #cillian murphy oneshot #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy fanfiction #jackson rippner #raymond leon #jonathan crane

[runnning-outof-time]

Actions Speak Louder | Pre-War!Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - based off of this post by @thomashelbyswife

Pairing: pre-war!Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Tommy’s never one to say sorry…that doesn’t mean that he isn’t though.

Warnings: one bad word

Word Count: 1404

A/N: M, your headcannon immediately sparked this idea. I just had to write it. And I may have gotten a bit carried away. This is the fastest I’ve written something in a long time. Thank you so much for the inspiration!! I hope you like it. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

Tommy knew he’d messed up the second he entered his bedroom to see (Y/N) standing at the bedside with her arms crossed and a sour look on her face. The problem was he didn’t know what he’d done.

“Hey,” he tried, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she made sure he’d caught her look before she went about taking off her jewelry and getting ready for bed. Tommy frowned at her lack of response before he shut the door and walked over to her. He said her name in a soft voice, hoping that it would get her to turn.

She continued with what she was doing, not yet acknowledging him. Tommy sighed in response. He tipped his head to the side in thought, thinking of how he could get her to look at him. It wasn’t hard to notice that she was not happy with him. Words weren’t working, so maybe actions would.

He reached out and took hold of her hips, holding them for a second to test the waters. (Y/N) didn’t resoond. So he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him so that he could tuck his chin into the crook of her neck. “What’s wrong, love?” he queried, attempting to press his lips to her neck, but she titled away from him. This only added to his confusion.

“I can’t believe you, Tommy,” she huffed under her breath, dropping her hands to his firearms and applying pressure to them, hoping he’d get her hint and let go.

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out what her statement meant. Meanwhile she was still pushing down on his forearms. She held the pressure on them until he dropped them from her, allowing her to step away and finally turn to face him.

“What have I done?” he asked after a few moments had passed and his brain-wracking had turned up empty.

(Y/N) scoffed at his question, shaking her head at his answer. “Of course you wouldn’t have remembered.”

“Remembered what?” he was still lost. It only added to her irritation.

“You were supposed to come to dinner with my parents tonight. We were going to go over plans for the wedding. My father was going to give us some money towards it, but now he’s not so sure if he should be letting me marry you at all,” she filled him in on the commitment he’d forgotten while biting on the inside of her cheek in hopes that it’d stop her welled up tears from falling.

Tommy froze upon hearing what he’d missed. His jaw went slack as he wracked his brain in hopes that there’d be some sort of inkling of rememberance of the day’s plans, but there was nothing.

Anger was building up inside (Y/N) with each quiet second that passed. His silence was frustrating her, maybe even more so than his earlier absence was. “Do you have anything to say?” she asked him, her eyebrows raising as she spoke.

“I got caught up at the stables,” he told her, his answer making her scoff and look away as she rolled her eyes. Obviously it wasn’t enough to clear him of his wrongdoings.

Silence fell between them then. A couple beats passed before (Y/N) looked at him again, expectantly this time. It was obvious that she wanted something else from him. But Tommy wasn’t catching onto it. “That’s all you have to say?” she finally questioned him when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to speak unless spoken to.

“Love, I…” the words died on this lips as he then stepped back from her, turning to the armoire as he began undoing the buttons of his waistcoat.

Shock filled (Y/N)’s features as she glared at her fiancé’s back. What are you doing?! she screamed at him in her mind. But nothing was said as she watched him take the waistcoat off and drop the braces from his shoulders. He then worked on taking his boots off, kicking them to sit next to the wardrobe before he finally turned back around. (Y/N) was still glaring at him.

“Are you seri—” the exasperated question got caught in (Y/N)’s throat as Tommy cut the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her frame.

His hug was tight, and he swayed her from side to side as his arms stayed fastened around her waist despite her hands pressing against his shoulders.

“Tommy, you can’t just…whoa!” the direction of her statement changed as he spun them and dropped both of their bodies to the bed.

His arms unraveled from her waist as they were falling so that he wouldn’t crush her with his body weight. They moved up to trap her underneath him. He immediately tucked his face into her neck and began placing kisses to the skin he found there.

“Tommy,” she breathed as she tried to push him off of her, but to no avail. “Tom, you’re not being fair!” she shrieked as his lips connected with the sensitive spot on her neck; a spot that he knew all too well.

His kisses trailed up to her jaw and across her cheek before his lips found the corner of hers. The feeling was now driving (Y/N) wild, slowly making her forget what she’d been upset over as all of her senses became focused on his actions.

He pulled away just slightly so that he could look at her, his eyes traveling over her face; seeing that her look of frustration was slowly slipping away. “Fuck your father’s money. I’ll get what we need to pay for our wedding,” he told her before his lips matched hers, properly this time.

“I can’t believe you,” she breathed when they pulled away, biting on her lip to hide her smile as she took his cheeks into her hands, lifting his face further away from hers. Their eyes met and he cracked a smile, one that made her insides flutter. She tried to act angry, scrunching her nose and eyebrows in hopes that her true feelings didn’t show. Tommy found it adorable.

“What?” he asked her, reaching up to brush a piece of hair from her face.

“You’re trying to get yourself out of this,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Is it working?”

“No.”

Tommy pouted upon hearing her response, and he dropped his head against her chest, burying his face into her sternum and breathing in her intoxicating sent before he let out a whine.

That did (Y/N) in. She tried to hide it, but the shaking of her chest was a dead giveaway that she laughed at his actions. He clocked that immediately, his hands moving to her sides where her shirt had rode up so that he could brush his fingers against her sensitive skin. She shrieked at the feeling, squirming under him as she tried to get him to stop. Now her anger was the furthest thing from her mind.

His actions continued until she managed to grab his hands and remove them from her sides. She then lifted his face again, making him look at her once more as she tried with all of her might to keep a straight face. “You’re ridiculous, Thomas,” she told him, unable to stop the smirk from tugging one corner of her lips upwards.

“Am I forgiven?” he asked with raised eyebrows, waiting on bated breath for her answer. When it didn’t come right away, he jutted his bottom lip outwards, hoping that pouting might help.

(Y/N) sucked in a breath at the sight in front of her. She just couldn’t resist him when he was like this. Somehow, he’d managed to make her mood do a complete flip. His persistence was something that drew her to him, but it was times like these when she hated it. She wanted to stay angry at him, but she really couldn’t. Not when his lips were looking more kissable by the second.

“Hmm?” he asked her, getting antsy with each second she stayed quiet.

(Y/N) bit on her bottom lip, sending him one last glare before giving into him and mumbling a “yes”. Tommy couldn’t even celebrate. She didn’t give him time to. The second she spoke, she pulled his face to hers so that their lips could crash together. It wasn’t like he was going to dispute it though…her kiss told him everything he needed.

Read Part 2 -> HERE

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @dlmlufics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #pre war tommy shelby #pre war tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic

[heliads]

Hello 💕🌸 can you do a Thomas modern au fic when the reader is not well, sad. And Thomas come to her house to shower her «  the boyfriend package » : hug kiss, etc… the reader is adopt sister of Brenda, Teresa is Thomas twin sister. Newt is their best friend (who also had been matchmaker before they dated..) can you do à maximum of fluff please 🥹🥹

'boyfriend checkup' - thomas

masterlist

Being sick is terrible, isn’t it? From the second you felt the first threads of the cold start to clog your throat and nose, you knew it was all over. Mentally, you signed your death certificate: Y/N L/N, passed away today, gone from the most horrific cough known to man. That’s how it felt, at least, yet you’re still expected to get up and act as if nothing was the matter. Those kids with tuberculosis in the Victorian age who got to lie around in bed all day while their parents treated them like royalty didn’t know how good they had it.

Thankfully, you have at least a couple of days to feel better before you really have to be productive. You started feeling poorly on a Friday, barely managing to stumble through class before heading home as quickly as you could. Not wanting to complain and spoil the good mood of everyone excited about their weekend plans, you had tried to tell as few people as possible. Specifically, you hadn’t told your boyfriend, Thomas, but now you’re missing him more than ever.

It’s not like you’re intentionally trying to keep things from him, you just don’t want him giving up whatever fun things he was supposed to do this weekend so he could hover over you. You love your boyfriend more than anything, honestly, but when it took you so long to admit your feelings for him because you were certain he would never like you back, small things like this make it even easier to talk yourself out of thinking he’ll want to know about it. Thomas is the varsity cross country athlete, the popular one. He loves you, and he’ll tell you that as many times as it takes so you believe it, but some part of you will always wonder why.

That’s why you haven’t told him, not yet, although you have a feeling that he’ll find out sooner or later. Your adoptive sister, Brenda, is best friends with Thomas’ twin, Teresa, and they trade gossip like no one you’ve ever seen before. Both of them have repeatedly assured you that Thomas is head over heels for you, but what if he’s not quite infatuated enough to want to drop his weekend plans to take care of an invalid?

As the cold progresses, though, you start to wish that you had bothered him anyway. You’ve shut yourself up in your bedroom with all the lights off, just lying there and reminiscing about the golden days when your nose had worked as it was supposed to. You had taken so much for granted, and now you’re afflicted with a truly terrible fate indeed.

You’re miserable even on a Saturday, which is how you know things have truly taken a turn for the worst. Not even the weekend, the blessed release from work, can lift your spirits. Your best friend Newt was the only one who knew that you were going through it, and he’d made you promise to call him the second you started feeling better so he could plan a friend group movie night or something. Newt’s always the one on top of stuff like that. You doubt any of you could accomplish anything without his work behind the scenes to keep you all organized. He holds all of you together and keeps anyone from straying too far.

You had hoped that Newt would forget that you were feeling down, but it’s half past noon when your phone buzzes with an incoming call from the blond boy. You briefly consider just letting it go to voicemail, but that would alarm him even more than if you admitted that you still aren’t feeling your best.

You end up giving yourself a second or two to put on your best fake smile before answering the call. Thankfully, Newt had elected to go for just a talk over the phone instead of FaceTime, so you only have to disguise your voice and not your expression, too.

Newt’s voice rings over your phone. “What’s up, Y/N? How’re you doing today?”

You’ve never planned on a career as an actress, but when you answer Newt as happily as you can, you start to consider it. You sound chipper and excited, surprising even yourself. “Doing fine, Newt. How about yourself?”

Maybe this is actually doable. Maybe you might be able to convince your friend that you’re fine so he doesn’t do something terrible like try to get involved. Right now, you just want to be left alone to wallow in your dark room until you’re physically forced out of it.

Newt clicks his tongue in disapproval, sending a rush of static crackling over the phone. “Y/N, are you being honest with me?”

You start to sputter in surprise. Hadn’t your ruse been perfect? “What? Of course I am!”

Newt lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Sure thing. We’ve been friends for years, I know when you’re lying. You want to let me know how you’re really feeling?”

“Really, I’m great,” you eke out. “You’re being paranoid, Newt.”

“Am I?” He asks.

“No,” you admit. “I’m still miserable. My head is killing me, and I haven’t left my bed for more than a couple of minutes all day.”

Newt sighs. “That’s what I was worried about. Is there anything I can do? Maybe rally the group to swing by your house to cheer you up?”

“No, honestly. I don’t want to do anything. Hopefully I’ll get better soon, but until then, I don’t want any crowds around.” You tell him.

Newt pauses for a moment, thinking, then asks, “What about just one person?”

You frown. “Are you offering? I thought you were busy all day.”

“I am,” Newt clarifies, “But Thomas isn’t.”

You go silent. Newt, always the perceptive one, sighs again. “You haven’t told him that you’ve been feeling under the weather, have you?”

“No,” you admit, “but I didn’t want to bother him, that’s all. There’s nothing Thomas can do about this. I don’t want him to worry about something out of his control. He’s already got enough on his plate already, you know that as well as I do.”

Although this conversation is happening over the phone, you can picture Newt’s look of disappointed consternation anyway. “No, he would be furious with me if you were sick and I didn’t tell him. I’m letting him know immediately.”

“Newt, don’t you dare,” you admonish.

He just chuckles. “Too late. Texting him now. With any luck he’ll be over within the hour.”

“You’ve betrayed my trust. You’re a terrible friend,” you admonish him, but only half heartedly.

Newt laughs openly. “No, I’m a fantastic friend and you know it. Did I not use everything in me to get the two of you together?”

You giggle in spite of yourself. “You did indeed. I remember you bringing that up many times.”

“As I deserve,” Newt grumbles. “The two of you fought me all the way despite supposedly wanting this. He had better make you happy now, I’m not ruining all of my hard work for a bad cold.”

You smile. “Thanks, Newt. I’m very glad that you suffered so much for us.”

“You had better be,” he says, but he’s laughing when he hangs up.

Seconds later, you get a text from Thomas: On my way ASAP. Might be breaking the speed limit.

You grin and text him back. Don’t get pulled over.

Never, he answers, and he’s true to his word, a knock sounding on your front door about five minutes later. The rest of your family is out of the house, so you have no problems creeping down the hall to unlock the door and let him in.

Thomas swoops in immediately, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pulling away so he can get a good look at you. “How are you feeling, Y/N? Dizzy? Feverish? You look alright, if a little tired, but let’s get you back in bed at once.”

You laugh. “I’m not dying of the plague, Thomas. I’ll survive standing up for a few more seconds.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to,” he says. Pausing briefly to leave his shoes at the door, Thomas proves his point by picking you up in bridal style and carrying you back to your room despite your protests, which are admittedly pretty halfhearted.

Once Thomas has gotten you back in bed again, found a glass somewhere to bring you water, insisted on watching you drink all of it, run back downstairs so he could fill it again, and returned, he perches on the side of your bed, gently squeezing your hand.

“Well, Doctor Thomas?” You ask teasingly. “What’s your diagnosis?”

He grins and plays along. “Not terrible. I recommend bed rest, and maybe also letting your boyfriend know when he needs to take care of you.”

This last bit is delivered with increasing passion, and you’re left sheepishly smiling at him. “Alright, maybe I should have told you in the first place, but I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“Worrying is my job,” Thomas says, “I am excellent at it. Also, if I think you’re not telling me when you need extra love, I’ll worry even more than usual. The only way to keep me from worrying is to let me know when you’re sick or hurt. Deal?”

“Deal,” you agree, and smile when he kisses your cheek.

“You should get some rest,” Thomas urges you. “Here, I’ll close the door so the noise from downstairs doesn’t bother you.”

He moves to stand, but you reach for his hand and he freezes at once. “Stay with me?” You ask hopefully.

“Of course,” he smiles, and, careful not to disturb you, climbs into bed next to you, lying down on top of your blankets to keep his street clothes off of the mattress. You curl into him, letting your eyes shut as the steady beat of his heart lulls you to sleep. Once you wake up, you’ll feel better, and be more open to conversation, but for now, both of you are quite content with the silence. Peace is good for both of you.

requested by @hope92100, i hope you enjoy!

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#thomas #thomas imagines #thomas x reader #thomas oneshot #maze runner #maze runner imagines #maze runner x reader #maze runner oneshot #tmr #tmr imagines #tmr x reader #tmr oneshot #tmr thomas #tmr thomas imagines #tmr thomas x reader #tmr thomas oneshot #maze runner modern au #modern au #tmr modern au

[wwwbestgoredotcom]

Slashers with a s/o who owns a bakery

Warnings / murder mentions, fluff, short for most of them, suggestive themes (no smut)

Characters included / Thomas Hewitt, Micheal Myers, Billy lenz, Jason Voorhees, Bo Sinclair, Candyman, Billy Loomis

Genre / fluff

Writing style / headcanons

Thomas Hewitt :

This man LIVES for your baked goods

You and his mother always cook together and he eats that shit up

When he puts you in his lap and you feed him cupcakes or spoonfuls of cake, he never let's you get up from his lap man

(He doesn't care how heavy you are, you are sitting on his lap)

Loves to cook with you

He'd be so greatful if help pay for their needs or feed them using your money

Scratch that bro he'd be BEYOND greatfull

Bandages you up when you burn or hurt yourself while baking

Micheal Myers :

Stands over you just watching you bake

Pushes the spoon away if you try to feed him

But after a couple tries he just accepts it at that point

Can't cook for the life of him

Won't admit it but he loves when you cook for him

Like for his birthday or a special occasion

Looks at you from outside of your shop window

(And nobody sees him for some reason??)

He got blood in batter of some cookies and he learned to never do that again

Billy Lenz :

Nah cuz this guy has the BIGGEST sweet tooth EVER

Begs you to make him sweets

Just pretend here he gets out of the attic

He sits on your lap and makes you feed him

Sits at your job all day until you leave (with him)

He sits on the counter in the kitchen and watches you bake

Gets hurt more than you when you accidently burn yourself

He compares your "sweetness" to your desserts

Ofc he makes it dirty

He steals sweets from you and your bakery all the time

Jason Voorhees :

He and his mom love your cooking so much

You two feed eachother all the time

Cupcakes are his favorite

In the au, your bakery is near the woods you two live in

He doesn't like you going away but he won't complain

Insists on helping you with the dishes after you're done baking

Hugs you from behind when you bake

He would help but he thinks he'll mess it up if he does

After stressing over the trespassers, the only thing that can calm him done is your baking

Bo Sinclair :

He goes to your job and starts flirting with you as if you two aren't dating

Like Billy, he also makes it dirty

"'Stead of 'em pastries ya make everyday, how 'bout I have you fer dessert 'is time" along with a wink

Unlike the others, he laughs at you when you hurt yourself

Then when you cry he actually starts to care

Buys you the products you need

"Why're ya makin' another cake? Ya a'ready got enough in tha back" also followed by a wink and an ass slap

Like I said, makes it dirty

He overall loves you baking

Candyman :

In this au, he lives with you and not in a mirror

Helps you bake everytime

For your birthdays and other occasions, he bakes instead of you

While you two wait for whatever dessert you're making to bake, he showers you in kisses, hugs, and slow dances with you

Praises you every time

If you wear an apron, he ties it for you and when he's done he gives you a neck kiss

Thinks his bees and hook get in the way when you're cooking but you shut that down pretty quickly

He feeds you and kisses you after each bite

Billy Loomis :

He smugges some ingredients (cream, frosting, etc) on your face

He does it so he can kiss/lick it off of you

Visits you at your job

Mainly visits you when it's near your break time

Last time he helped you bake, he burnt the dessert so uh never again

He just sits there lookin pretty watching you bake

One time for his birthday you made him a horror themed cake and when you cut it, red jam spills out the center like blood

He fell in love with you that same day

#thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt fluff #michael myers x reader #micheal myers #billy lenz x reader #billy lenz #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #candyman #daniel robitaille x reader #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #fanfics #oneshot #headcanon #female reader #fluff

[ikinremu]

Sight for sore eyes

Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

! Smut Warning !

Tags: Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Praise, P in V, Unprotected Sex, Cream Pie

It was a rare occurrence for you to find time alone these days, though whenever you found yourself lucky enough - it was typically occupied by the same pastime. Truthfully, you didn't care in the slightest about the others whereabouts, all you were really bothered about was their major lack of being here: the betting shop.

There was no guarantee that the front door wouldn't swing open at quite literally any second - but to be candid, that was a fraction of the thrill. Besides, you were located at the very back of the, otherwise vacated, building. So there you were, the familiar warmth of one soft hand writhing beneath the cotton of your underwear, rubbing supple circles over the swell of your clit.

Slowly, you slipped a single digit inside your slick entrance, teeth helplessly puncturing your lips. You gently eased the tip toward your g-spot, reaching it with a breathy moan. Craving further friction, you trailed the unoccupied hand up your clothed torso, sparsely cupping your left breast through your still fully buttoned shirt.

You trapped your nipple with the hunger of your touch, beginning to roll the stiff peak between your fingers, simultaneously toying with your pulsing clit as your back hollowed out a drastic arch between itself and the wooden chair you were perched upon. You cursed through shallow breaths, sliding another finger inside - instinctively grinding the sopping heat of your cunt against your own hand.

Fingers pumping faster, your eyelids fluttered shut, pace picking up with each whimper from your lips. Waves of uttered profanities spilled from your tongue as you brought yourself closer and closer.

Your body trembled slightly, preparing to revel in the much-anticipated release. As your mouth  hung - almost shamelessly - open, a familiar click rang in your ears. Your heavy lids suddenly snapped open, fingers halting as immediately as you could manage.

The door was shut to its hinges, however Tommy was now leant against it, eyes trained directly to you - his pinkish lips curved into a seemingly amused smirk.

Your heart relentlessly pounded at the wall of your chest, guilty hands firmly tossed to your sides as your cheeks burnt in conflict.

"..Uh," You splutter out, "How much did you see?"

He took a painfully elongated drag of his cigarette, clearly purposeful, gaze dancing over you as he stubbed it out on the nearby, dusty ashtray.

"Enough to want more."

You felt your eyes widen so momentarily, completely unsure if you'd heard the man correctly.

Several seconds passed by, though it processed far longer to your confused state.

Tommy took a step forward. Then another.

"Don't let me stop you." He resumes, voice low, "Just keep doing what you were doing."

This time you offered a response, although it didn't hold much substance at all. 

"What?"

The pure heat of the chuckle that followed trickled down your spine.

"Touch yourself, I want to watch."

The air felt impossibly thick as Tommy parted his lips, stretching another step closer, his large, callous hands tucked tightly into his pockets, striking face looming so torturously near to your own.

"I want you to keep playing with that pretty cunt for me. Can you do that?"

Your breath cracked a small hitch. You ran the idea over in your rather heavily fogged mind,  completely unsuspecting the potency of his effect on you. The vision of him being present, watching as you stroked yourself just how you liked, coming undone in front of him.. You desired it just as much as he appeared to.

"Yes."

Tommy smirked, and for a split second, you could've sworn his bright eyes lit up the way they so rarely did.

"Take those off." His gaze clearly indicated in the direction to the dampened cotton of your underwear, ambling backwards, resuming his propped stance against the door, "Let me see all of you."

The balmy skin beneath your shirt heaved, heartbeat rapid. Every element of your focus lead back to Tommy - the lustful words that left his lips, his unfaltering facade. Pushing your dark, linen trousers from your hips, you dragged your underwear along with them, kicking both garments off at your feet.

"That's a good girl." Tommy praised, seemingly overcome with your willingness. His eyes dropped straight to your newly bared pussy; his jaw ticked and he eagerly wet his lips with his tongue. He sucked in a deep, shaky breath, reluctant to remove his gaze for even a millisecond as you spread your thighs apart ever so slightly.

He was beyond aware of your taunting intentions - and the fact they were successful.

"That cunt is just begging for attention, isn't it?" He murmured. It was evident to you that composure was beginning to evade him.

Peering up at him through glassy eyes, you softly, slowly snaked your palm downwards until you reached your naked pussy, hovering over the familiar warmth.

Tommy watched with an impenetrable interest, as though Atlantis didn't hold a candle to the sight before him. Timid, sultry moans slipped from your mouth as you worked desperately at your clit, fascinated gaze travelling over each and every inch of the man before you, pausing at the growing strain of his trousers.

Upon that, you felt your arousal spike. He craved this just as hopelessly as you.

Surpassing your now sopping folds, you glide a finger inside your opening once more.

A low, pent-up groan escaped him as you did so, making you smile between quickening breaths.

"Tell me what you want." He encouraged as your fingers began pumping faster.

There wasn't a mere trace of hesitation to your whispered reply, "You."

A grin tugged its way across Tommy's sharp face, the thick bulge of his crotch more prominent than ever. "You want my cock inside you, eh? Is that it?"

"Shit," You mewl, your soaked fingertips applying more pressure just where you ached for it, "P-Please, yes.."

Carefully, you eased a second finger alongside the first, working them together at your own perfect pace. Allowing your weighted lids to flicker themselves closed, you began needily grinding against the motions.

Murmured pleas flew from your lips one after the other, core quivering as you pant through gritted teeth - eyelids screwed shut.

"Making a mess over your fingers, so desperate to be fucked, hm?"

Tommy's gruff, taunting voice seeped into your ears, coursing through your body - assisting in bringing you closer and closer to a release. 

"Please, Tommy.." You whined, unintentionally letting his name fall out, coming far more naturally than you would've anticipated.

"That's right," He chuckled, "Beg for my cock." His speech was ragged, breathy. Far more than it'd previously been.

At that, the somewhat restrained rhythm of your hips intensified, eyes shooting open.

And what a sight for sore eyes.

Tommy's dark, costly trousers were messily pooled around his upper thighs, along with his underwear. One callous hand was wrapped loosely around his hard, naked length, consistently pumping up and down as he watched you. His strokes were hard. Hungry. But purposefully not enough to finish him.

It would've been utterly impossible to compress your moans as you soaked up the depraved, carnal image in front of you. Striking veins lay prominent beneath his skin as he fisted his pulsing cock, pre-cum coating his slit.

Your long-awaited orgasm crashed over your entirety, fierce and amplified by Tommy's gruff noises. 

"Good fuckin girl." He worshipped as you softly writhed, riding out the impossibly euphoric wave, tightly-wound knot bursting within your stomach. "Come here."

Almost in an instant, you were on your feet - effectively unable to let another second pass without claiming what was infront of you. Closing the majority of the distance between the two of you, you stood before Tommy, flushed face hovering mere inches from his.

"See this?" He clenched his tight jaw, subtly nodding toward the quick, slick pumps of his fist, "See how fucking hard you've made me just by playing with that pretty little cunt?"

Your body burned almost agonisingly, every part of you aching with the strong, undiluted need to feel him. To feel him pulse in your hand, to feel his withheld noises tickle your neck, your jaw. You needed it more than anything.

Instinctively, you reached one warm, smooth hand to his exposure, but before your fingers could surround his leaking cock, he tossed away your gesture. "No. I need to be inside you. Now."

His rapid hand suddenly abandoned his length, seeking a possessive hold over the chic material covering your waist. Your throat punctured with a brief, keen inhale as the pair of you suddenly rotated, your back meeting the door with a gentle clang. Tommy pressed the heat of his shirt-clad torso against your own, and his soft, ravenous lips began devouring yours. His tongue crept into your mouth, intertwining with yours in a hot, ever-tangled mess.

With great ease, he hoisted your bare thigh to his loosely unclothed hip, running his callous palms across the underside. The broad, flushed trip of his nose brushed with yours as his body-weight pressed against you, kiss deepening.

"I'm gonna give you want you need." His mouth grumbled into yours. A large, solemn hand bunched around his length, Tommy lined his thick, pre-cum coated tip with your drenched cunt, "Ready?"

"Mhm." You nodded. You simply couldn't wait any longer, you wanted all of it. All of him.

With one gentle buck of his hips, his cock was stretching out your tight, dripping entrance with a wavering groan.

"Fuck, that's good.." Tommy murmured, the heat of his breath tickling the intense burning of your own skin.

A bittersweet whine left your lips as he adjusted inside you, planting the first, tantalising thrust. The head of his length slapped your g-spot, forcing a loud moan from your throat.

Your stomach flipped repeatedly, feeling your slick pussy clench around the man, inadvertently pleading, "Please.." You whimpered, "More."

"More, eh?" He chuckled, "Patience." He punctured the demand with another, far-reaching thrust.

Developing a quicker pace, Tommys fingertips dug into the flesh of your thigh, pulling you against him in time.

"Come on," He heaved, planting an encouraging kiss to your lips, savouring your taste, "Put those legs around me."

With one swift toss, your legs locked around his bare pelvis, freeing his hands to roam free. One coursed up the back of your neck, the other tightly gripping your naked behind, desperately grinding you against his twitching cock. His slender digits wound through your hair, and the perfect placement for your own became so suddenly apparent. You tested the limits, grazing your nails over his shirt-clad back.

"Shit." Tommy grunted in response, "That's it. That's my fucking girl." 

The name set sparks alight throughout you as Tommy rocked you against the wooden door. Linking the plush of your lips with his once more, your tongue began to glide with his as your wetness clenched around him. His palm snapped against your ass as he landed a particularly deep thrust. You tossed your head back, his grasp of your hair shielding a clash with the door.

"Right there, hm?" He taunted, a pleased grin playing at his lips, "Tell me."

"Right there- Please.." You uttered between such laboured breaths. You took him further, his pulsing head wrapped by the quivering heat of your pussy, the door rattling against its rusty hinges as the two of you jerked against it, both reeling in the feeling of each other. 

Tommy briskly switched the focus of his touch from your backside to your cunt, fingers so flawlessly toying with the sensitive swell of of your clit, applying the pressure he knew you craved. Your eyes rolled back, falling a willing subject to his skilful fingers as you hurled your own hands over his shirt-covered back. 

"Priceless. Fucking priceless." He exhaled, gaze flitting over the sight of you. 

His muscles tensed as the ridges of your nails raked down his back, helplessly holding onto his body as your legs shook around him, the familiar sensation of a release overpower your senses. 

"Oh my- Fuck. Don't stop." The words spread over Tommy's neck, your head lolling atop his shoulder as you clutched him, wishing you could defy the impossibility of getting any closer than you were, "I'm so close.."

"I know," He slowly stroked over your unruly hair, "Let me feel you cum on my cock."

At that, you simply snapped. The sodden heat of your walls squeezed him mercilessly as your second orgasm hit even harder than the first. 

Tommy groaned once more, gruffer than any previous. Losing control, his pelvis involuntarily bucked, cock twitching inside you as his eyes clasped shut. Warmth spilled from his tip, pooling in your trembling pussy. Quivering, the pair of you took your time in sobering from the incomparable feeling. Tommy's hands caught your weakening legs, softly caressing the skin. Accompanied by unsteady breaths, satisfied smiles cracked on both of your faces. 

Perhaps you were glad to be caught after all.

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to use the requests/asks feature on my page - it’d be so greatly appreciated!

#smut #smutty #drabbles #oneshot #peaky blinders #peaky blinders smut #tommy shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #tommy shelby oneshot #thomas shelby oneshot

[fandom-puff]

Smutty blurb idea:

You’ve been begging for attention all day and Tommy finally gives it to you with facesitting and overstim 🥺

🫡🫡🫡 haven’t written for Tommy in AGES!! Enjoy x this turned into a bit more than a blurb lol

Attention

Warnings: contains overstimulation, light sim/sub dynamics, facesitting, oral sex,fem!reader

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

You had read the same paragraph of your novel about six times now, and ‘read’ was being generous; rather, you had skimmed over the print, the words blurring and muddling as your eyes drifted to your husband, Tommy.

It really wasn’t fair, the way he sat at his desk, shirtless, smoking and sipping his whisky as he scanned over his paperwork.

Watching the way his muscles twitched as he moved, you let out a longing sigh, but Tommy had made it quite clear that he had to sort through his paperwork before giving you any form of attention- and he had warned you not to be a brat. Brats don’t get any attention at all.

As the clock crawled forward another half hour, you closed your book, setting it aside as you admired your husband.

“What?” He said, feeling your gaze burn through him.

“Oh nothing,” you said, leaning forward slightly. “Just admiring my husband, and willing him to hurry up so he can ravish me,”

Tommy cracked a small smirk. “I’m almost done, love,” he said gently, knowing how work often got in the way of pleasure.

**

True to his word, Tommy was pulling you upstairs ten minutes later, and you couldn’t keep the grin off your face.

Entering the bedroom, you made to get on the bed, but tommy grabbed your wrist. “Get undressed,” he told you, his hands already coming to the buttons of your blouse as he pressed kisses to your neck.

Your blouse fluttered to the floor, soon followed by your skirt, stockings, bra, and finally, underwear. “There she is,” Tommy hummed, his knuckle tracing the outline of your body. Goosebumps sprung under his touch, and you leaned into the hot firmness of his chest.

“How do you want me?” You breathed, not caring if he wanted you from the front of from behind, so long as he just took you.

“On top,” Tommy smirked, shucking down to his boxers and laying down, head propped against the plump pillows. You nodded, waiting for him to lay down, before moving to straddle his hips. “Not like that, love,” he said, and you cocked your head to the side. You had tried reverse cowgirl a handful of times, but it wasn’t your go to: Tommy liked to grasp and slap and suck at your tits, and you liked to bury your head into his neck as he lifted your hips up and down. But still, reverse cowgirl gave him the opportunity to pay attention to your arse, slapping and grabbing it. You began turning around, but tommy grabbed onto your hip. “No… up here, YN,” he said, and he grinned at your confusion. “Come sit on my face,”

Your face went from confusion to shock, your mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ shape. Of course, Tommy had licked you out countless times before, and you had sat on his face a few times- but they were mostly so that you could suck his cock at the same time. It had been ages since he had you ride his face.

“Come on, love… thought you’ve been waiting for some attention all day,” you bit your lip for a moment, before shuffling up towards his face, straddling his head.

Tommy groaned lowly at the sight of your cunt, just hovering above his face. Despite your hesitation, it was clear to him that you were desperate for his attention, in more ways than one. Fed up with your hesitation, he grasped your thighs, fingers squeezing at your arse, and pulled you towards his mouth.

As his tongue darted out to lick and suck at your clit, trailing up your slit as he lapped at your wetness. Your hands flew to the headboard as your hips bucked, rutting against his face. Shyness dissipated as hot, addictive pleasure flooded your being, and your cries of pleasure muddled with the lewd slurping between your legs, filling the room as Tommy brought you over the edge.

Your hips jolted and shuddered in his hands as you rode out your high, grinding against his tongue. But Tommy did not relent, and as you began shaking and whimpering and squirming away from him, he grasped your thighs tighter, holding you firmly to his face. He was openly moaning into your cunt now, his nose nudging your oversensitive clit as his tongue prodded into your cunt, drinking in your release like it was his lifeline.

“Tom,” you gasped, “Thomas!” One hand grasped at his hair, your nails scratching into his scalp. “‘S too much,” you moaned, but your body betrayed you, hips continuing to circle against his mouth. “Gonna- tommy-fuck! Gonna come again,” you cried, and tommy moved to suck firmly on your clit, pushing you screaming over the edge once more.

Tommy drew one more orgasm out of your overworked cunt, and if your head wasn’t addled with pleasure, you’d have been embarrassed with how quickly you came. Slowly, almost unwillingly, tommy moved you up from his face, helping you lay down as he moved on top of you. “You okay?” He asked, and you stared up at him, smiling dumbly as you nodded. “Good,” tommy smirked, his hand trailing between your legs, making you squirm. “Because I’m not done yet,”

#tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy Shelby x reader smut #Thomas Shelby x you #tommy Shelby x you #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders smut #request

[cilliansdove]

BLEEDING HEART || tommy shelby oneshot

pairings: tommy shelby x fem!reader

warnings: violence, angst, comfort,

summary: Y/n had been struggling with her husband distancing himself from her. In the heat of the moment, tommy breaks down and tells her what’s going on.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow through the silk of the curtains. Tommy still hadn’t come to bed, which wasn’t odd- just…lonesome. Again.

I tugged on the material of my nightgown as I stared at myself through the mirror. I felt useless without Tommy. Didn’t know what to do with myself.

And every time I tried to communicate with him, he’d push me away as though I meant nothing to him.

I thought about trying again tonight…

With a hard knock, I waited outside the door to his office.

I heard his gruff voice answer back, “Come in.”

My heavy feet dragged me to the front of his desk, and I could already feel the tears in my eyes.

Tommy blew out the smoke from his mouth and looked up at me through his glasses.

“What’s the matter, Love?” A frown appeared on his face.

I took a deep breath in, “Did I do something…?”

“What’d you mean, Love?” He looked at me with a frown and nodded at his lap, “C’mere, Doll.”

I made my way over to his lap and sat comfortably on it, whilst I leant my head on his shoulder and played with my fingers.

I felt his hands in my hair, stroking soothingly, making me hum.

Slowly, I looked up at him through my lashes, “Are you…okay, Tom?” I asked nervously.

“What makes you ask, hmm?”

I pulled myself up and placed my legs on either side of his waist, “Feels like you’re distancing yourself from me,” I tucked my face into his neck, “Have I done something?”

Tommy coughed slightly, “No, Doll, you haven’t done anything. But you should’ve told me how you felt sooner.”

I lifted my head from his shoulder and looked at him intently, “I didn’t want to say anything, because I didn’t know how you’d react…I didn’t want to upset you,” I whispered the last part, and brushed my nose against his.

In response, Tommy closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, “There’s things going on, Doll. Bad things. Things your pretty little head doesn’t need to get worked up over.”

I rolled my eyes and got off his lap. In frustration my voice raises, “But this is what I mean! You just- you just completely shut me out! Why?!”

Tommy stood up immediately and paced over, grabbing my shoulders, “You’ll do as you’re told, Y/n, that’s the end of it.”

My heart ached in my chest, I could feel the pain engulfing me, but I couldn’t say anything about it- no.

“Tommy I…I just want to help you.”

His wrath burst and he threw a glass at the wall, “I don’t need your help!!”

I flinched in fear, watching the glass shatter across the floorboards. I looked back at him, with wide eyes and my mouth hung open.

“Y/n...just go to bed,” he rubbed his face with his hand and turned away from me.

I stared up at the ceiling, pushing the tears back in so they wouldn’t all flood out. I sorted myself out and then took a deep breath in.

“Where would you like me to sleep?” I asked softly.

Tommy scoffed, “In our bedroom.”

I nodded. However for some reason, my feet wouldn’t carry me back out.

Tommy had caught onto the fact I was still there, and he turned around harshly to face me.

“Get out, Y/n.”

I took a step forward till my chest met his, “Talk to me.” I shook my head but looked at him with a pleading look in my eyes.

He sighed and leant his head on mine.

“It’s not something I need to discuss with you. Now go.”

His tone was soft but stern. He sounded…exhausted?

In response, I nodded- just once, and then left.

I didn’t go to bed though.

Quietly, I went downstairs and sat myself on the sofa, with a glass of whiskey. I don’t know how long I had sat there for, speaking muffled words to myself.

The heavy steps that came down the stairs alerted me, and I stood up, plotting my glass on the centre table.

Tommy’s figure curled around the doorframe, and he frowned, placing his rough hands in his pockets.

“I told you to go to bed.”

“Well, I didn’t,” I snapped back.

He paced towards me and out of fear I  stepped backwards until my back had hit the bookshelf. A single book fell to the floor, which made my breath hitch.

Tommy gripped my shoulders tightly and stared at me with a harsh look in his eye.

I swallowed down my fear and bit down hard on my cheeks.

“I’m not going to tell you again, eh? Go. To. Bed.” His words came out like venom on his tongue, and I gaped at him intensely.

I writhed out of his grip and pushed him away.

"Why are you being like this?!"

My words came out strained and I felt the pain in my throat rise.

Tommy took a deep breath and then sighed through his nose, "Because...I'm scared, okay?"

My mouth hung open agape as I stared at him with teary eyes, "Tom..."

"Don't. I don't want your sympathy."

I walked steadily toward him and grabbed his tensed hand, "Tommy look at me."

His shame filled eyes met mine and I tilted my head at him, "It's okay to be scared, yeah? I don't expect perfect from you all the time, but hiding the way you're feeling is causing you to be more stressed. And I don't like it."

Tommy leant down to plant a kiss on my temple. In response, I let out a soft hum of content.

His hands trailed down to my hips, making soft circles on them. I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his torso whilst I buried my face in the warmth of his chest.

It wrapped me in comfort. I hadn't been this close to him in so long.

"Stop shutting me out," I whispered softly.

Tommy moved his hands into my hair and stroked it gently.

"I will, Love. I will."

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