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mediocre-shark-tales · 8 months ago

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The Debut

Masterlist

The news hit the F1 world like a thunderclap—a 20 year old American driver, a complete unknown, was stepping into the Aston Martin seat mid-season. One of the few rookies to join halfway through the season, she was brought in to cover for Lance Stroll, sidelined potentially indefinitely by a severe injury. Speculation about his replacement had run wild, but no one expected it to be someone with almost no public history, let alone a driver no one had ever seen outside their helmet and racing suit. Yet Aston Martin was now ready to unveil her to the world—a driver who had only been known by her number, 66, and the nickname “Daredevil.”

In the week leading up to her debut, Aston Martin teased fans with cryptic photos and voice-modulated videos. Finally, they dropped a fifteen-minute video titled Welcome to AMRTC Driver 66, capturing her first day with the team. It opened with clips of the team speculating about her skill, personality, and confidence, overlaid with shots of her walking through the building without truly showing more than her shoes. Then, as a black screen lingered, the opening chords of “Real Gone” from Cars filled the silence. The video cut to the mystery driver getting suited up, each layer adding to her mystique, until she finally took to the track in the new car. A montage of high-speed laps displayed her undeniable skill and poise until the song slowly faded, revealing her standing still, helmet off, with curled hair framing her face as she turned toward the camera for the first time. This was quickly followed by a long ‘get to know me’ interview.

From the moment she arrived, the paddock buzzed with whispers. Her face was unfamiliar to the veteran drivers, but rumors hinted at her racing roots from leagues around the world. The fans, media, and even her new teammate waited with bated breath, eager to see if this newcomer could hold her own against the sport’s giants.

Y/n pov

I stepped into the Aston Martin garage with Marcus, my manager, beside me. My headphones were on, the bass of my favorite race weekend hype playlist thumping as I took in the scene. Mechanics and engineers glanced up from their tasks, eyes darting over to me before resuming their work on the cars and equipment, all in preparation for Practice Day 1. I’d skipped the usual media day—Aston Martin had somehow managed to get the FIA’s approval for me to skip it, which suited me just fine.

Marcus guided me through the bustling garage, giving me a quick rundown of everything before leading me to my driver’s room in the Aston Martin hospitality suite. As I took a seat, nerves bubbled up—I still hadn’t met Fernando Alonso. As confident as I felt in the car, the idea of meeting a living legend, someone who’d been racing since before I was even born, was something else entirely.

For as long as I could remember, Fernando Alonso had been my idol. I’d spent years studying his every move on the track, even adopting his aggressive, calculated driving style until I’d eventually developed my own. But knowing that I’d be racing alongside him—that I’d actually get to learn from him first hand—felt surreal, like stepping into a dream I’d chased my entire life.

That all changed the moment I actually met him. As I walked into the garage, fully suited up in my fireproofs with my helmet tucked under my arm, I could feel the weight of the moment settling in. After a quick weigh-in, Marcus led me over to Alonso. For a few awkward seconds, he barely glanced my way, his focus elsewhere until someone pointed me out to him. Around us, everyone was smiling and looking expectant—everyone except him. I swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in my throat. I hadn’t expected him to be thrilled about my arrival, but his distant, unreadable expression stung in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

As I approached, He looked me up and down with the slightest hint of a frown.

"So, they think you're ready to jump into this mid-season?" he asked, crossing his arms. "I wonder if you actually understand what that means."

I blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't," I shot back, trying to keep my tone even.

He raised an eyebrow. "A lot of drivers think they’re ready," he replied, his voice cool. "But being ready means more than just showing up with confidence. Winning is a mindset, an instinct. It’s not just something you decide you have one day."

I felt my hands tighten around my helmet. "Maybe it’s not something you decide—but it is something you prove. I’m here to race, not get your approval, and I’ll show you on track that my style is nothing like what you've seen before."

A spark flashed in his eyes, though his expression remained unchanged. "We’ll see if your style is worth anything," he said, a hint of challenge in his voice. "Just remember that here, being good isn’t enough."

Without another word, I turned on my heel and headed toward my car, trying to shake off the sting of his words. As I disappeared around the corner, Fernando watched me go, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Once my car was ready, I climbed in, settling into the seat as the engineers moved in to strap me down. Glancing up at the screen, I watched past race footage from this track with this very car. They wanted me to see what I’d be up against—what I needed to match and, ideally, surpass.

A moment later, Marcus crouched down into my line of sight, flanked by two guys—one older and serious, the other younger, with a bit of a wide-eyed look.

“Y/N, this is Ben,” Marcus began, gesturing to the older man. “He’ll be running your radio. But he’s also training Landon here,” he nodded toward the younger guy, “to be your personal radio engineer. Since there’s still a good part of the season left, you’ll need someone who gets you on and off the track. Landon’s been watching your last F2 season, studying up to learn your style. Today’s practice sessions will help you both adjust to your new roles together.”

I nodded and gave them a thumbs up—they wouldn’t hear me over the helmet or the noise of the garage anyway, but my excitement was clear.

It was finally time. My doorman stepped out, giving me the signal that I was clear to go. I eased the car forward, carefully navigating my way onto the main pit road. Aston Martin’s garage was positioned right at the front of the entrance, but it also meant the longest stretch before merging onto the track. As I rolled past each team’s garage, I felt eyes following my every move, curious and assessing. They’d all heard the buzz about the new “mystery driver,” and now here I was.

Once I hit the open track, becoming the first car out on the tarmac, my radio crackled to life with Landon’s voice. “Okay, Y/N, this session is all about finding your sweet spot with the car. If anything feels even slightly off, let me know immediately. For now, just get comfortable with the track. We’ll start gathering real data in the next session.”

I pressed the radio button and replied with a quick, “Yes, sir,” a grin hidden behind my helmet as I pushed down on the accelerator, ready to make my mark.

I took a deep breath, the roar of the engine and the blur of the pit wall filling my senses as I pushed down on the accelerator. The Italian GP track spread out before me in a symphony of curves and straightaways, each turn already embedded in my mind. I’d studied this circuit obsessively—every corner, every curb, every shift in gradient. But now, with the Aston Martin beneath me, I could finally feel it for myself, each bump and nuance translating through the car with perfect clarity.

As I took on the first few turns, my instincts kicked in—a mix of smooth control and split-second aggression. Where other drivers might ease off in preparation for a hairpin, I’d mastered the art of late braking, letting the car edge just to the point of losing grip before snapping it back with a calculated shift in weight. I slid through the Variante del Rettifilo, cutting a sharp angle through the chicane, my hands steady as I kept my foot down. Each move, each turn was a test, not just for me, but for the entire team watching my data back in the garage.

The name Franco Colapinto kept flashing in my mind. I knew he’d have an impressive debut mid-season, and I could feel a competitive drive swelling within me as I attacked the track, eager to match and even exceed his potential mark. Exiting the second Lesmo, I made a mental note of how much grip the car could hold, the feeling just right as I powered down the straight toward Ascari. I couldn’t afford a single misstep. If I was going to prove myself, this was my moment to do it—full control at breakneck speed.

“Looking good, Y/N,” Landon’s voice crackled through the radio, but I was already focused on the final corner. The Parabolica curved ahead, inviting me to test my limits, and I didn’t hesitate. I took it wide before tightening on the exit, feeling the car grip to the line as I pushed the throttle to the max, the car launching down the home straight.

“Love you, Landon, but please don’t speak before I’m accelerating out of the corner,�� I said quickly over the radio, just as I straightened out and hit the next curve.

There was a pause before his voice crackled back, a bit sheepishly. “Yes, ma’am. My apologies.”

I chuckled, the corners of my mouth lifting behind my helmet. “No worries, I’ll have you perfected in no time.”

With that, I settled back into my rhythm, feeling the weight of the car and every detail of the track imprinting itself in my mind. Soon enough, the first practice session came to an end, and I guided the car back to the pits. As I parked and the engineers moved in, I took a moment to pull off my helmet, still buzzing from the thrill of my first laps. This track, this team, and this car were quickly becoming home.

Time Skip -

Race day had arrived, bringing the tension and thrill of my F1 debut, but the sting of yesterday’s qualifying disaster still lingered. I’d ended up in P18, an unfortunate consequence of a poorly timed red flag that left the five of us at the back with no real shot at setting a solid lap time. I tried to brush it off as I prepared to join the rest of the grid for the drivers' parade.

Dressed in team gear, I wore one extra item that had become a part of my ritual. A few months ago, I lost my mother to cancer, and since then, I’d made sure to honor her at every race. Something on me, whether it was my gear or my helmet, would always bear a symbol of her favorite animal: the sea turtle. She had chosen it after learning the turtle’s symbolism of wisdom, endurance, and trusting one’s path, all qualities that described her so well. On each of my helmets, a small sea turtle was etched into the design. And when I wasn’t wearing the helmet, I kept a sea turtle necklace with me, its pendant filled with a touch of her ashes, as if she were here with me, watching over this pivotal moment.

I slipped on my headphones, tuning into my “reminiscing” playlist, letting myself reflect in the few quiet moments before the chaos. “How Do I Say Goodbye” by Dean Lewis filled my ears, a song that resonated now more than ever. My F2 team had given me the remainder of the season off after my mother’s passing, telling the media I was undergoing intense training for my reserve role. Nobody outside my close circle knew the truth, and it felt like a private thread of grief I carried alone, my mother’s memory grounding me as I faced the reality of my first F1 race without her.

I followed the line of drivers, hanging back, unnoticed by most. No one had approached me—not to chat, nor to dismiss me. They’d fallen naturally into their cliques, small pockets of friendships built over countless races together. The trailer pulled up, and I was the last to step aboard, taking a quiet corner near the back. My gaze drifted over the crowd as I toyed with the sea turtle pendant around my neck, a small comfort. If there was ever a moment I needed my mom, it was now. I imagined her smiling at my awkwardness, maybe even scolding the guys to show a bit of gentlemanly grace. Her humor and warmth were all I had left to keep close in this overwhelming moment.

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. I pulled off my headphones and turned to see a smiling Franco Colapinto standing there, his easy grin contagious. My smile mirrored his as I placed my headphones around my neck, grateful for the distraction.

“Hola! I’ve been waiting to get a chance to talk to you,” he said, his tone smooth and friendly.

“Hey! I didn’t think anyone would come over,” I replied, surprised but pleased. “It’s nice to finally meet you. How are you feeling about today?”

“Excited and a little nervous, to be honest. It’s not every day you get to race in Formula 1, right? I’m sure you feel the same way.”

I nodded, feeling a wave of camaraderie. “Definitely. It’s been a whirlwind, but I’m ready to show what I can do out there.”

Franco's eyes sparkled with encouragement. “You’ve got this! I saw your lap times from practice; you really have a gift. Just stay focused and trust your instincts. We’re in this together after all.”

“Thanks! That means a lot, especially coming from you. I know you’ve been making waves already too,” I said, my confidence growing.

“Just trying to keep up!” he laughed, his energy infectious. “How about we make a pact? Let’s push each other out there and see how far we can go. We might even surprise some people!”

“Deal!” I grinned, feeling the excitement of a budding friendship. “I’d love to have someone to share this experience with. After all, it’s always more fun with friends.”

Franco nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! Let’s catch up after the race too—maybe grab a bite? I think we could both use a little downtime after all this craziness.” He blushed slightly, the nerves from the question filling him.

“Sounds perfect,” I replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. As we exchanged a few more words, the nervous weight on my shoulders lifted, replaced by the warmth of a new friendship that made this moment feel just a little less daunting.

Time flew by, and before I knew it, we were dropped back at the paddock. With no distractions, I headed straight for my garage, ready to change and get my head in the game. As I pulled on each piece of my race gear, my heart thudded louder, like it was syncing up with the pulse of the race track. I pressed play on my go-to race day anthem, letting "Real Gone" by Sheryl Crow blast through my headphones on repeat. If this song didn’t put me in the zone, nothing would—it was basically my theme song at this point.

Finally dressed, I took out my helmet. Today, I’d be wearing something special. Up until now, I’d been using my usual helmet, but today was different. This one was for my mom. The design was everything she’d loved: a watercolor sea turtle on each side, painted in her honor. And the top? Like Max’s iconic lion, but this time, it was the face of a sea turtle, wise and serene, watching over me. I could almost hear her laugh as I ran my fingers over the shell details. This one’s for you, Mom.

Leaving the driver’s room, I headed towards the garage, spotting Fernando getting weighed, his usual intense focus evident even with all the last-minute prep happening around us. I gave him a nod, but he was too busy to notice. The team was buzzing, everyone moving with that pre-race electricity.

Before long, I was strapped into the car, staring down the rows of vehicles lined up before me. Silence filled my helmet as I mentally ran through my race strategy. My goal was clear: make it into the points. It wasn’t just about my debut anymore; it was about proving that I belonged here. I’d shut up the critics, the doubters, the ones who said I didn’t have what it took. One pass at a time, I’d show them exactly why I was here.

With just minutes left before the race began, the team pulled the last of the covers from my car and gave it one final check before stepping back off the track. A calm washed over me, the nerves melting into pure focus. It was time.

As the lights went out for the formation lap, I pressed the pedal, feeling the power beneath me roar to life. One by one, the cars in front began moving, and I eased into line, the vibrations of the track buzzing through my hands and up my arms. As I made my way around the circuit, I took in the crowds, fans pressed up against the barricades, flags waving, people cheering, everyone vying for a glimpse of the action before the real race even began. Some held banners and signs with drivers’ names, a few even with my number and the sea turtle logo—my symbol.

I could feel the weight of all those eyes, every fan, every camera trained on the car, and I let it sink in. This was it. For a split second, my mind flashed back to all the hard work, the sleepless nights, and every lap it took to reach this moment. I had something to prove to the fans, to the team, to everyone who’d doubted me. But right now, the only thing on my mind was to trust my path—just like the sea turtle my mom had loved so much.

As the formation lap came to an end, the tension in the air shifted into something electric. The cars lined up on the grid, engines rumbling in anticipation, and I felt a surge of adrenaline course through me. The lights began to sequence, and I focused on the start, visualizing my strategy for the race. This was my moment, and I was ready.

The lights went out, and with a roar, I launched off the line. The initial surge was exhilarating; I was quick on the throttle, feeling the car respond to my commands as I made my way into Turn 1. I immediately positioned myself on the inside line, expertly avoiding the chaos of the cars jostling for position. I could hear the crackle of the radio as Landon encouraged me, reminding me to stay calm and focused.

By the time I reached the first series of corners, I was already gaining ground. I overtook a struggling driver on the outside, timing my move perfectly as I accelerated past him, narrowly avoiding a collision. The thrill of passing my first competitor sent a rush of confidence through me. I could see Franco up ahead, holding steady in P15, and I set my sights on catching him.

As I maneuvered through the tighter sections of the track, I began to find my rhythm. I was in the zone, my mind clear, my instincts sharp. Every corner felt like an opportunity, and I seized each one with determination. The roar of the crowd grew louder with every pass I made, and I could feel the energy fueling my drive.

By the end of the first five laps, I had already climbed up to P15. The rush of adrenaline pushed me further as I entered the sixth lap, where I saw two cars ahead battling for position. I took advantage of their fight, threading my car between them at just the right moment. It felt like a dance, fluid and precise. I could hear Landon’s voice in my ear, excitement evident as I made my way to P12.

With each lap, I continued to push, my confidence growing as I settled into the flow of the race. I navigated through the midfield, expertly carving my way around each driver that stood in my path. Before I knew it, I was in P10, and the battle for the final point was heating up. I had Franco in my sights, and he was locked in a fierce duel with a driver ahead. I took a deep breath, my focus zeroing in on the track ahead.

As we approached the DRS zone, I positioned myself perfectly behind Franco, ready to capitalize on the situation. The moment the DRS activated, I unleashed the power of my car, speeding past him as I made my way into P9. A rush of exhilaration flooded over me—I was in the points! I could hardly believe it. The realization that I had come from P18 to P9 within 2/3s of the race filled me with a sense of accomplishment and the determination to keep pushing forward. With my mother’s spirit guiding me, I 2ould fight for better positions.

The final laps flew by in a blur, each corner, each straight a chance to cement my place in this race. I held P9 fiercely, defending against anyone who dared to challenge me, pushing the car to its limits while staying calm under pressure. As I crossed the finish line, a wave of relief and triumph washed over me, the weight of the entire race lifting in an instant. My radio crackled with life, and suddenly the cheers of the team filled my helmet, their voices a symphony of celebration.

“P9! Absolutely incredible, y/n!” Landon’s voice shouted, brimming with pride. “You did it, you’re in the points on your debut!”

I could hear Marcus chiming in, his excitement nearly drowning out the others, “You’ve made history today. Unbelievable drive—everyone here is beyond proud!”

A smile broke across my face as I took a moment to let it all sink in. The crowd’s cheers blended with the voices in my ear, my heart racing with pure exhilaration. I lifted a hand in a quiet tribute to my mom, feeling her presence there on the track. This was just the beginning—I’d proven I belonged here.

Pulling into parc fermé, I powered down the car, feeling the silence wrap around me as the engine’s roar faded. Just as I started climbing out, I heard someone shout my name over the buzz of the paddock. I turned and saw Franco charging toward me, a huge grin plastered on his face. Before I could react, he reached me, practically tackling me in a bear hug as he lifted me off my feet and spun me around.

“You raced beautifully, hermosa!” he yelled, his excitement infectious. I couldn’t help but laugh, caught up in his energy as he set me back down.

“And you! That defense was insane—I thought I’d never get around you!” I replied, still catching my breath. We grinned at each other, peeling off our helmets and balaclavas, both flushed and exhilarated.

“Seriously,” he said, eyes bright, “for a debut race? You were unstoppable. I knew you’d make waves, but that was something else.”

“Thanks, Franco,” I said, feeling the pride and relief mix with a new rush of excitement. “And I know that won’t be the last time I’m chasing you down.”

“Can’t wait for it,” he replied with a laugh. We shared a nod, silently acknowledging the start of something bigger between us.

As we pulled away, someone called out for us. I turned, and to my surprise, racing legend Lewis Hamilton was walking over, looking exhausted but with a warm, genuine smile. "That was spectacular from both of you," he said, nodding at Franco and me. "I can’t wait to watch the highlights later. You both defended and overtook with skill today—I’m excited to see how you both keep improving."

Franco and I exchanged a quick look of shared amazement and thanked him, both of us a bit starstruck. Just then, Alex appeared, pulling Franco aside, leaving me with Lewis.

“So, y/n,” he began, his tone more serious now, “I actually wanted to have a word with you. I didn’t want to overwhelm you earlier, so I thought now might be the best time—when your spirits are high and you’ve got a bit of space to breathe.” I nodded, curious, as he continued.

“I know it can be tough to find real allies here,” he said gently. “Especially as someone who stands out in a sport that doesn’t have many like you.” His words hit home; I’d felt the isolation creeping in, even with the excitement of today’s race. “I went through a similar thing when I started. I want you to know, if you ever need a friend or someone to talk to, I’m here. Whether it’s for advice, venting, or just someone who gets it—don’t hesitate to find me.”

A wave of gratitude washed over me, and I managed a smile, feeling the pressure I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying start to lift. “Thank you, Lewis. That really means a lot,” I said, trying to convey how much his words reassured me. He gave a small, understanding nod, like he knew exactly what I was feeling.

“Anytime,” he said with a kind smile. “You’ve got a bright future ahead. Just keep your head up.” With a reassuring nod, Lewis turned and walked back toward his team, leaving me standing there with a sense of both calm and determination. I took a deep breath, letting his words sink in, feeling a surge of confidence.

Gathering myself, I turned and headed back to my team’s garage, the noise of the paddock buzzing around me, but somehow, I felt more focused than ever. As I walked, a few crew members caught my eye, giving me nods and pats on the back, their own excitement mirroring my own.

I saw Marcus waiting with a grin, surrounded by engineers who all looked just as thrilled. I knew I’d made a mark today—not just on the track but on the people who believed in me. And as I joined them, I couldn’t help but smile.

#x reader #f1 angst #driver!reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 #max verstappen #charles leclerc #oscar piastri #lando norris #franco colapinto #lewis hamilton #carlos sainz #george russell #grill the grid #f1 grid x reader

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 4 months ago

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✨post where we appreciate writers✨

because we can, because we want to, because they have to grow stronger

Today I wanted to share with you some stories that made my life hell. Instead of focusing on my duties, I read these stories with bated breath and I absolutely love them. If you've read them, great. If you haven't, I envy you because I'd like to read them again, for the first time.

I'll leave you with these gems.

First Sight | Frankie Morales x F!Reader @gothcsz

Nobody’s Gonna Know Marcus Moreno x gn!reader @604to647

"The one that got away" outbreak!joel miller x f!reader @stylesispunk

The boyfriend act, part 8 Frankie Morales x F!reader @capuccinodoll

Keep On Loving You Frankie Morales x f!reader @baronessvonglitter

Your Home's Only a Town You're a Guest In Frankie Morales x f! reader @berryispunk

Let’s send love and support to these wonderful writers and wonderful souls. ❤️

If you have any stories to recommend, let me know. If you want to share yours, let me know even more.

#pedro pascal #support writers #writers appreciation #joel miller #frankie morales #marcus moreno #so many talented people #so many awesome stories

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queenofhalloween94 · 1 month ago

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Marcus Acacius x Reader

NSFW 🔞

Summary: You and Marcus are forced into an arranged marriage that he vehemently despises. Will he learn you’re not so bad?

Chapter 1

It’s your wedding day, Marcus Acacias has just returned from a battle he brilliantly won with the army and he arrives late, dirty with blood and sweat. He doesn’t even bother washing before the wedding, it's not like he wants to be here anyways. His only way of protesting the marriage is to embarrass you by showing up straight from the war ship.

The festivities have already started, however even if he has never seen you, he is not happy about this marriage forced by the emperors. Swears it's just another sick twisted game they dreamed up after another drunken night. He doesn’t want this and he doesn’t love you.

His heavy step crosses the crowd towards you and the man of faith who must unite you in front of God and everybody. He's only here to keep his head, to keep his ever mercurial emperors happy.

You turn to watch him walk down the aisle, he strides forward with a commanding presence, his muscular frame evident even through the blood and dust-stained military attire. His helmet tucked under one arm, he wears a scowl that speaks volumes about his displeasure with this union.

“Stop staring at me like that, woman. I’m not some gladiator here to entertain you.” He mutters as he approaches, his dark eyes narrowing at your presence. The scent of sweat and blood intensifies as he comes closer, making the atmosphere thick with tension. He’s a seasoned general, hardened by battles, and clearly disinterested in playing the part of a husband.

“Let's get this over with.” He growls at the priest, ignoring your very existence as he stands beside you. His body radiates an aggressive energy, every muscle coiled tight beneath his armor. You keep your eyes on the priest after his venomous muttering.

Marcus’s jaw clenches visibly at your lack of response, clearly expecting some reaction. The priest begins the ceremony, his voice echoing in the grand hall while guests watch with bated breath. “Do you intend to remain silent throughout this entire farce?” Marcus leans closer, his warm breath tickling your ear. The metallic scent of his armor mixes with the earthy smell of his sweat. “At least tell me your name. We’re going to be sharing a bed tonight whether we like it or not.” His voice drops to a harsh whisper, filled with reluctant resignation.

“Y/n” you tell him looking straight into his dark eyes.

“You better understand something, Y/n. I didn’t choose this. You’re just another burden I have to carry now.” His fingers suddenly grab your chin, forcing you to look at him directly. “You’re not afraid of me,are you?” His hand moves to rest on your waist, the heavy weight of his fingers pressing through the fabric of your wedding gown.

“No, how can I be afraid of you when you act like a petulant child.” You narrow your eyes at him. The priest raises his hands, signaling the final part of the ceremony. Marcus leans down, his lips brushing against your ear “You’ll learn to fear me soon enough, Y/n. Once I claim you tonight.” He tries to straighten up but you stop him with a hand on his elbow.

You whisper looking him in the eyes “And you’ll fear how much you’ll enjoy it.”

His lips brush your neck, lingering for a moment before he speaks “We’ll see who enjoys what tonight. I’m not known for being gentle with my conquests.” His words are laced with a promise of roughness, yet there's a hint of anticipation in his tone.

“Did I ask for you to be gentle?” You ask your tone low so others can’t hear.

Marcus’s body tenses against yours, clearly caught off guard by your forwardness. His hand on your hip slides down to your thigh, squeezing hard enough to bruise through the layers of silk. “If you want me to be rough, I’ll show you exactly how rough I can be. Right now.”

You smirk at him “You really want them to see me naked. You’re “property”.” Watching his face contorted with frustration and need. His jaw clenches so hard you hear it crack as he forces himself to step back, releasing you with visible effort. The priest finally announces them as married looking quite scared by what he overheard.

“Let’s get out of here. I need you alone, away from these prying eyes.” He practically growls, reaching for your hand to pull you towards the exit, and down the hall through corridors to his private suite.

“You’re walking too slowly!” he snaps, suddenly sweeping you off your feet and slings you over his shoulder.

“Brute!” You call him as he swats your bottom for squirming.

He kicks open his chamber door, “We’ll let them all know who’s going to be screaming tonight. My little defiant wife.” He says against your skin, his breath hot causing you to shiver with anticipation. He set you down and turns towards the chamber door. He looked over his shoulder with a half-smile and said, “Too late to run now,” before the door clicked shut behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2

The candlelight barely reached the corners of Marcus Acacias’s chamber. Shadows clung to the stone walls like quiet spectators. The bedding was simple but pristine: deep grey linens, crisp and cool; a handful of downed stuffed pillows. The canopy above was draped in heavy, wine-colored velvet, trimmed with silver thread that shimmered faintly in the candlelight, like veins of frost. Its weight muffled sound and gave the impression of privacy.

As he has you against the door you place your hands on either side of his face and kiss him hard. Marcus stumbles slightly, caught off guard by your kiss. He pulls back, his eyes darkening. His lips crash against yours with bruising force, his tongue immediately demanding entrance as he tastes you hungrily. He lets you down, your feet touch the marbled floor. You move to be in front of the bed stripping bare. You can’t help the smirk as you watch him combust.

Marcus freezes in place, his eyes widening as he watches you undress. “By the gods…” He whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. He starts removing his armor piece by piece, each movement quick and jerky as he tries to keep his eyes on you at the same time. “Move to the bed. Now.” He commands, his voice dropping dangerously low as he yanks off his remaining clothes, revealing his battle-hardened body.

You climb onto the bed as he stalks towards you, his body scarred and muscular from years of war. His eyes are fixed on your form sprawled out on his furs, his thick member already at attention. He climbs onto the bed, caging you beneath him with his frame. “You’re perfect. I’m going to ruin you, Y/n.” He whispers against your lips before kissing you fiercely. You bite the sensitive spot on his neck. “You want to bite?” He bites down on your shoulder, marking you. His cock sliding between your legs but not entering yet. His hand slides down to tease your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm. “Let's see how many marks I can leave before morning.” He says with dark amusement, his thumb circling your sensitive bundle of nerves causing you to squirm. Marcus positions himself at your entrance, you give him a nod to continue. He slides into you with one hard thrust, bottoming out completely. He watches your eyes try to roll back as he stretches you deliciously. He starts moving, setting a punishing pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with his grunts and your gasps.

The bed creaks dangerously beneath you as he fucks you into the mattress. His movements become more erratic as he feels you start to flutter almost reaching your peak with him. He claims your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his thrusts. “Let me feel you fall apart while I fill you..” He commands, his voice thick with desire as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. You roll your hips matching his thrusts over and over until you reach your white hot orgasm. He groans, his rhythm faltering as your movements send him over the edge. He pulls you down hard onto his cock, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you with a hoarse cry.

His chest heaves as he collapses on top of you, still buried deep. He kisses your shoulder gently, a sharp contrast to his previous aggression. “You’re incredible…” He whispers, his voice raw with emotion. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin as he holds you close, still trying to catch his breath. You kiss him gently.

He glances down at you, studying your face with a mix of satisfaction and confusion. “Stay with me tonight. Not just because I’m your husband, but because I want you to.” His voice is softer than before, almost vulnerable.

You reach up pushing his curls away from his face enjoying the soft look on his face contrasting the guarded cruel general you had married that day. “I want to stay Marcus, with you.”

The candles in the room flicker, casting dancing shadows across his scarred chest. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “We can discuss my… previous behavior in the morning. Right now, I just want to hold you. He murmurs against your skin, his heartbeat gradually slowing to a steady rhythm beneath your head.

**Thank you for reading!!**

#ao3 #pedro pascal #marcus acacius #marcus acacias x reader #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #smut #p in v sex #enemies to lovers #pedrostories #arranged marriage #also on ao3 #gladiator fanfiction

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romana-after-dark · 1 year ago

Text

Room's on Fire Masterlist

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Years after the world fell apart, various communities have established themselves, one of which is ran by four men who claim to be divine.

When they decide it's time to and heir to be born, they chose a virgin from their cult and make her their wife. Reader is offered a choice, of course. She doesn't have to marry them. But if she doesn't, the savior won't be born. She choses to become the Madonna. She is wed to all four of them, and moved into their home where her body is open to use whenever her husbands desire (free use au), in the hopes of getting her pregnant. It doesn't matter whose baby it ends up being, because they are all part God, so it doesn't matter... right?

Warnings for full fic, if anything is added or really emphcized it will be in additional warnings.

THIS IS A DARK FIC THOUGH SO BE WARY! I CAN'T PROTECT AGAINST EVERYTHING.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Unknown amount of chapters right now.

Chapter 1: Pilot: Delta finds their Madonna Chapter 2: The wedding Chapter 3: Aftermath of the wedding FishBen: Symptom of Being Human Chapter 4: Pope is not pleased. Chapter 5: Jonah lore, Madonna gets through to Frankie Chapter 6: Madonna gains Frankie's heart, Santi is jealous Iris: Rey and Iris find pockets of time Chapter 7: Fun with Ben: wining Pope back Chapter 8: big announcement to the community

Non canon Frankie Madonna Chapter 9: Madonna’s blissful ignorance to the world around her. Chapter 10: There's a lot Madonna doesn't know.

Chapter 11: Things start to crumble around Madonna

Chapter 12: It's all too much for Madonna

Chapter 1 3: Santiago’s true colors come out

Chapter 14: Jonah tries to show the truth

Chapter 15: madonna begins to learn her power

Chapter 16: Frankie and Ben reflect

Chapter 17: Ben shows his true colors

Chapter 18: Iris makes her stand

Chapter 19: Jonah's chapter

Chapter 20: Frankie finally does something.

Chapter 21: ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Bonus Content

not necessary for the series. Pieces in the main list are suggested as they add depth and sometimes small plot points.

"Can you peel my orange?" Jonah smut

Jonah Hanson character ai

ROF characters Star signs

Jonah x non-Madonna reader x Marcus flashback commission

Art

By @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

By @survivingandenduring

Lil comic by @my-secret-shame

As I said, a lot of themes and dynamics ended up accidentally similarly to Watch Your Step by the amazing @charnelhouse Some was because that fic is what developed my characterizations of the boys. Some was totally incidental, like Pope and readers relation to art. It's different though, a much different series, but I wanted to tell y'all that she s PUBLISHING WYS AS A NOVEL NOW, Its called Cardinal Sin's and I'll link it right here!

How to keep up with the story!

Comment on this masterlist that you want to be tagged and I'll tag you in updates

Follow @romana-updates and/turn on notifications

Follow the tag Rooms on fire

THANK YOU FOR YOU'RE SUPPORT!

Please remember to reblog, and I love comments/asks, anon or not, and would love to see engagement and theories!

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sterifels-blog · 5 months ago

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writing masterlist!

please scroll for the fandom you are looking for!

creepypasta:

how they'd react series!

•minor inconvenience

•their favorite body part 🔞! nsfw

ben drowned

eyeless jack

•chiaroscuro 🔞 part one of eyeless jack x f!reader

laughing jack

masky

hoodie

ticci toby

slenderman

jeff the killer

jane the killer

clockwork

jason the toymaker

bloody painter

kagekao

call of duty (mw + ghosts + all of them)

how'd they react series!

•falling asleep on them

alex "ajax" thompson

alex keller

captain john price

•pandora's reverie (implied 🔞)

•all the pretty little things ... baby fever

•ornithomancy p.1 🔞 ..sherrif!price x widowed!reader

•ornithomancy p.2 🔞 ..sherrif!price x widowed!reader

captain john "soap" mactavish

david "hesh" walker

derek "frost" westbrook

dipaolo (shadow company)

elias walker

enzo reyes

erikson (shadow company)

farah karim

frank woods

gary "roach" sanderson

general shepherd

gabriel t. rorke

james ramirez

john "soap" mactavish

•protective over you.. at a bar

keegan p. russ

•petals and pit stops ...biker!keegan x flowershop!owner

kick

könig

kyle "gaz" garrick

logan walker

mace

•domestic knight... spa day with mace

marcus burns

marcus "lerch" ortega

nikolai

•thinking about... working in the hangar

nikto

phillip graves

rodolfo "rudy" parra

simon "ghost" riley

•he hates your boyfriend... simon drabble

•he figures out about your son... request

•knuckle silk 🔞 ..simon helps you with a necklace

valeria garza

vladimir makarov

velikan

vance (shadow company)

marble hornets

how they'd react series!

jay merrick

alex kralie

tim wright

brian thomas

•the first time he lets you touch him

jessica locke

slashers

how they'd react series!

michael myers

jason voorhees

freddy krueger

leatherface

ghostface

chucky

pinhead

hannibal lecter

norman bates

pennywise

brahms heelshire

jigsaw

top gun / tg mav

how they'd react series!

pete mitchell (maverick)

tom kazansky (iceman)

nick bradshaw (goose)

mike metcalf (viper)

rick heatherly (jester)

ron kerner (slider)

bradley bradshaw (rooster)

•flyboy’s call to earth 🔞 makeout with rooster

natasha trace (pheonix)

jake seresin (hangman)

robert floyd (bob)

reuben fitch (payback)

mickey garcia (fanboy)

red dead redemption

how they'd react series!

john marston

dutch van der linde

bill williamson

javier escuella

jack marston

house m.d

how they'd react series!

dr. gregory house

james wilson

lisa cuddy

eric foreman

allison cameron

robert chase

chris taub

remy "thirteen" hadley

lawrence kutner

martha masters

stacy warner

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cosmickid-inmotion · 17 days ago

Text

Rooms On Fire Masterlist

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Years after the world fell apart, various communities have established themselves, one of which is ran by four men who claim to be divine.

Warnings for full fic, if anything is added or really emphcized it will be in additional warnings.

THIS IS A DARK FIC THOUGH SO BE WARY! I CAN'T PROTECT AGAINST EVERYTHING.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Non canon Frankie Madonna Chapter 9: Madonna’s blissful ignorance to the world around her. Chapter 10: There's a lot Madonna doesn't know.

Chapter 11: Things start to crumble around Madonna

Chapter 12: It's all too much for Madonna

Chapter 1 3: Santiago’s true colors come out

Chapter 14: Jonah tries to show the truth

Chapter 15: madonna begins to learn her power

Chapter 16: Frankie and Ben reflect

Chapter 17: Ben shows his true colors

Chapter 18: Iris makes her stand

Chapter 19: Jonah's chapter

Chapter 20: Frankie finally does something.

Chapter 21: ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Bonus Content

not necessary for the series. Pieces in the main list are suggested as they add depth and sometimes small plot points.

"Can you peel my orange?"

Jonah smut

ROF characters Star signs

Jonah x non-Madonna reader x Marcus flashback commission

Art

By @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

By @survivingandenduring

Lil comic by @my-secret-shame

14 notes · View notes

sparklypinkflightsuit · 1 month ago

Text

Bleeding Hearts: Part 7

Vince Schneider x Reader

A Romeo & Juliet + Scream AU

Warnings: Smut, Angst, a lot of Swearing, Alcohol and Violence, Sexual Assault, Murder, a very dark fic from the darkest corners of my mind.

- Part 6 Here -

———————————

18+ Only

———————————

You were startled awake by the sound of boots against the hardwood floor outside your bedroom and your heart caught in the back of your throat.

You sat up in bed and your hand reached instinctively towards the heavy glass paperweight next to your bed.

You’d thought it best to bring it in from the lounge once you’d realised you’d be sleeping in the house alone for the first time.

Now your fingers curled around the cold round object and you listened as the footsteps stopped outside the bedroom door. Swallowing heavily, your other hand gripped the end of the duvet, ready to climb out of bed and defend yourself.

You were so DONE with being attacked and kidnapped it wasn’t even funny.

The door handle groaned as it turned and the door clicked open. You waited in bated breaths as you stared into the dark hole that lead out into the hall, waiting for your intruder to show themself.

“Sunny?” A familiar voice hissed into the dark.

“Vince?!” You gasped, letting the paperweight thud back down onto the side table.

You threw yourself out of bed as Vince’s contorted face stepped into the moonlight that streamed through the window.

You crashed into him and your arms hooked around his waist.

“But… you… you were in hospital? They said you wouldn’t be awake any time soon? How are you here right now?” He grabbed your face between his hands and studied your face, almost as if he couldn’t believe you were real, his eyes shone and the confused look turned to relief.

Your lip quivered. “I woke up this afternoon, I went straight to the station to find you, didn’t Detective Ronson tell you?”

Vince’s eyebrows pinched together and he shook his head, “He didn’t mention it, no.”

“Wait… how are you here? Did they let you go?”

Vince finally let his lip turn in a smile, “Yeah, bail. They still need to look into things but they seemed happy enough to let me wait the investigation out at home. I assume you had something to do with that.” He grinned, stroking your cheekbones with his thumbs.

“I spoke to Ronson to tell him what happened, but I didn’t post your bail, didn’t even know if they were going to let you go.”

Vince nodded, sighing deeply, “Marcus posted my bail, that son of bitch, I’m gonna owe him for life now.” He chuckled.

You were so relieved to see him, you had yearned just to hold him in your arms, and you stepped up on your toes to kiss him. Vince’s fingers moved to curl into the hair at the back of your neck and he gripped onto you as if he was afraid this was all a dream and you’d evaporate into a cloud of smoke.

When he pulled away his eyes were wet, “I didn’t know if you were gonna make it… the officers kept me in the loop, but from what they were saying, it wasn’t looking good. Should you even be here?”

You smiled up at him, “I’m fine. Thanks to you, I’m okay. See?” You lifted the hem of your shirt, revealing your soft, fresh pink scars that smattered your waist and abdomen. “All healed up.”

Vince dropped to his knees, a shaky breath leaving his lips as his fingers gently traced the marks. “I should have gotten there sooner.” He whispered regretfully.

Your fingers carded through his hair, “You got there in time, Vince. You saved me.”

Vince pressed his lips softly against your scars one by one, and although the gesture was innocent, you couldn’t help the shiver that dove up your spine.

Vince straightened back up onto his feet and cupped the back of your head again, his lips skimming yours and his eyes suddenly fierce.

“I… will never, ever let anything bad happen to you again. I swear on my life.” His voice was so deep, so gravelly, it made your knees week.

“I love you, Vince.” You finally got to tell him, you’d been so worried you’d never get the chance.

His forehead leaned against yours and he closed his eyes. “Baby girl…” he groaned. “After I said it… I thought I’d scared you, you have no idea how good it feels to hear you say it back.”

You grinned, your hands rubbing up his broad chest. “Let me show you just how much.”

You took Vince’s hand and lead him to the bed, pushing him down to sit at the foot as you stepped between his legs.

“Princess you don’t have to… you’re fragile right now and-“

You shushed him with a finger to his lips. “I am not fragile, Mr Schneider. You should know that by now.” Your fingers scratched the back of his neck as you looked down at him, and his hands wrapped around the backs of your thighs.

“God… I love you.” He whispered, and you pressed a long kiss to his lips before sliding your fingers under his shirt and pulling it over his head.

He let out a low grumble and his fingers snuck up under your pyjama shorts. His breath hitched as his fingers slid over another scar on your thigh, and you could see pain flash behind his eyes.

“Hey.” You lifted his chin, “Forget about them, I missed you.”

“I wanna kill him all over again Sunny.” He admitted, resting his forehead against your belly. “I can’t stand what he did to my girl.”

You sighed softly and dropped to your knees, looking up into his blue eyes. “I promise I’m okay. If it weren’t for you I’d be in a ditch somewhere, please don’t beat yourself up over this.”

Vince nodded slowly, and you crawled in between his spread legs, resting your head on his thigh with your back to him. “We don’t have to do this tonight, but I do need you to hold me, please?”

Without a word, Vince bent down and scooped his hands under your knees and behind your back, effortlessly lifting you off the floor and onto the bed.

“I’ll hold you forever, sweetheart.” He breathed, laying down against your back.

You drifted back off to sleep pretty easily after that, now that Vince was back.

You had no idea how short lived that bliss would be.

———————————

A loud, urgent knocking at the front door startled you awake, and Vince ushered silently for you to stay put. He climbed out of bed and walked quickly out of the room and to the front door.

You could hear a mumble of voices and then the door closing, before two sets of footsteps made their way back to the bedroom.

You sat up in anticipation, and blew out a relieved breath when Rachel’s head appeared through the door.

“Rach?”

She leaped into the bed and gave you a hug which was closer to being rugby tackled.

“Your mom said you’d woken up, I’m so happy you’re okay.”

You squeezed her back, “Yeah… I’m okay. What’s going on? Why are you here at… 7:37am?”

Rachel pulled back and looked at you, and then at Vince, startled.

“Babe Vince is on the news. He’s wanted. They say he broke out and is on the run. Why the hell would you come back here?”

You gawked wordlessly, looking between Rachel and Vince.

His eyes widened and he shook his head, “No, they said I made bail, they literally walked me out the front door! This must be some sorta fucking mistake.”

Vince picked up his phone and dialled, when the voice on the other end picked up they sounded surprised to hear from Vince.

“Malcom, man I need your help. You posted my bail, right?”

A faint murmuring on the other end of the line had anticipation building in your stomach, and your heart leapt into your throat as Vince’s eyes widened and he swept a hand through his sleep tousled hair.

“Okay, thanks. Talk soon.” Vince said curtly before hanging up. He was quiet for too long as he stared at the phone screen.

“Vince?” You croaked out, as you and Rachel waited with bated breaths.

Vince finally met your eyes and shook his head, “Malcom didn’t post my bail.” He croaked out. “Says the cops have already been down at the club looking for me.”

You shook your head in disbelief, “No, it must be some sort of misunderstanding. I’ll call Detective Ronson.”

You grabbed your phone off the nightstand and excused yourself as you made your way out into the hall and dialled the local police stations extension.

“Detective Ronson please.” You said a little too curtly.

You waited while they patched you through, pacing a rut into the hardwood floor.

“Yellow?” Robson’s voice echoed nonchalantly on the other end.

“Hi, it’s Y/N Prescott, we spoke last night at the station?”

“Hello Miss Prescott, I remember. How can I be of service?” His cocky voice sounded teasing, playful on the other end.

You cleared your throat and straightened your spine, “Uhm… Vince had his bail posted last night, but apparently he’s… he’s on the news. Is there some sort of mix up? Have you not informed someone he’s been let out?” You were more than a little impatient.

Ronson let out a hefty sigh, and took a second to speak. “Vince hasn’t posted bail, Miss Prescott. He broke out of the holding cell last night, beat the officer on duty unconscious, and he’s now on the run. If you know where he is, I’d urge you to turn him in. He’s a dangerous man.”

You guffawed, you couldn’t believe the words coming through the speaker. Not your Vince. You knew what he was like, but he would have lied to you.

“That’s… that’s not possible.” You barely whispered before your lungs forced a hiccuped breath back into you and you tried not to sob.

“His last registered address is his mothers house at 28 Park Road, could you tell me if that’s still his address?”

You ignored his question, your mind spiralling. “But he’s innocent.” You breathed.

“Miss Prescott? His address, is it still 28 Park Road?”

You held your breath for a second.

“Yes.” You lied. “As far as I know, he’s still at that address.”

“Thank you, could we get you down at the station today for further statements?”

“But… I told you everything already.”

“Yes, well… we just need to go over a couple of points.”

The last thing you wanted was to recount that horrific night again, but you knew you had to clear up this misunderstanding before it further spiralled.

“Okay… yeah. I’ll be there soon.” You croaked out, your mouth made of sand.

You hung up, and your hand shot out to steady yourself against the wall. You must have made a thump against the wall, because the bedroom door swung open and Vince’s worried face peaked out.

As soon as he saw how the colour had drained from your face, he rushed to your side and wrapped a strong arm around your waist as you wobbled.

“Babe? You okay?” He cupped your cheek and angled your head to look up at him.

Your eyes watered as you stared into his. “They said you broke out, knocked out a guard…” you whispered.

Vince’s eyebrows creased, “No… no I didn’t, this is bullshit!”

“I know… Vince I know.”

“You do?” His voice faltered.

“Of course I do, you would never lie to me, but they’ve asked me to go down to the station to give another statement… they don’t have this address but they’ll be looking for you.”

“Why do they need-“

“I don’t know, but I’m gonna get to the bottom of this, I promise.” You breathed, resting your head against his chest.

Vince’s arms tightened around you and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Please don’t overdo it… you’re barely out of hospital, last thing I need is you stressing yourself sick.” He sighed softly.

“Blegh, gross. Vince Schneider has become soft, never thought I’d see the day.” Rachel rolled her eyes behind him.

You snorted and Vince picked up a book from the hallway bookshelf and hurled it at her.

She closed the door and the book landed against it with a loud thud.

“Hey!” She shouted, “Fucking dick!”

“Bitch.” He grinned.

“Okay, that’s my cue. While you two fight I’m gonna have a shower and get ready to go to the station.”

Vince released you from his strong arms, his eyes still tired from the lack of sleep and he nodded.

“I’ll drive ya.” Rachel smacked her bubblegum.

——————————

“Thanks Rach.” You bent over to give her a hug as she pulled up outside of the station. Nerves bubbled under the surface but she gave you a reassuring smile.

“You’ll be fine, chick. Once this whole mess is sorted we’ll have cocktails to unwind.”

You waved her down the road and then made your way inside the station.

It didn’t take long before Ronson was out to see you, and he ushered you into his office.

“Thanks for coming Miss Prescott.” He said as he sat behind his desk, his eyes not leaving your face.

“That’s okay, I was actually really hoping we could just straighten out whatever is going on with the Vince situation though first-“

Ronson held a hand up to cut you off, “I don’t know what he told you, Y/N, but that man is dangerous.”

“He’s not.” You ground your teeth. “Do you have CCTV footage of him breaking out and assaulting a guard?”

Ronson’s eyes darkened and he sat back in his chair slowly, hands clasped in his lap. His jaw ticked.

“No, that part of the jail doesn’t have CCTV.”

“What jail doesn’t have cameras watching the inmates?” You scoffed in disbelief, “Vince is not the one you should be prosecuting, Ronson. He’s the one who saved me, he called 911, if it weren’t for him, I’d be buried out in the woods somewhere.”

“Well it’s not just about that night, we’ve been following Mr Schneider for a while, you’re aware he’s part of a gang?”

Your pulse quickened. “A motorcycle club.” You corrected.

Ronson sighed, reaching into his desk and pulling out a wad of photos.

“No, a gang. We believe they’re dealing in class A drugs, arms, other black market shit.”

Your body turned cold and then immediately too hot, and it shivered in conflict.

“No, that’s… that’s not possible.” But the pictures said everything you refused to believe. Images of Vince and his club members moving heavy wooden crates into the club house, holding up bags of something that looked too close to incriminating, guns being toted around.

“You’re letting your feelings cloud your judgement, he’s not a good guy. We’ve been trying to catch him for years, and this has been just the incident we needed-“

“Excuse me?” You gaped, “I nearly died, and you’re using my experience as a… a… trap, for the man I love!”

You were now on your feet, pacing in front of the desk as you hugged yourself.

“He can’t be the things you think he is!” You continued, “Under all that tough exterior, he is a good person, I know him, and I would have noticed if he was doing dodgy shit.”

Ronson stood and pressed his knuckles against the wood of his desk, “Would you have? Or does he keep you sweet so you don’t notice all the dark and depraved things this man does?”

You looked at Ronson with a bitter scowl, and you noticed how his lips curled up in a smirk.

“How dare you?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Ronson stood and rounded his desk in 3 quick strides, closing the gap between you in startling speed.

You shuffled backwards as he hovered over you.

A hand shot out to brush a strand of hair out of your face and you flinched, but Ronson kept smirking at you.

“Look, I like you. I want to help you, but I need you to help me with a little something first?” His voice made your skin crawl, and although he was clearly a very handsome man, you felt suddenly repulsed.

“What?” You scowled.

He was silent for a moment, before his face inched impossibly closer and you could smell the mint on his breath.

“Go out with me.”

You almost choked on your breath, “What? No.”

“You wanna think about that answer?” He cocked an eyebrow, stepping back slowly and leaning against his desk with his arms crossed.

“Why? You have a family, you’re married-“ you pointed out the ring on his left hand.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you make me curious, and I need a distraction for a while. A de-stresser. We can go somewhere out of town where no one will recognise us.”

You thought your eyes were going to pop out of your skull. This guy was an A-grade sleaze-bag.

“No, absolutely not!” You scoffed, turning and moving to grab the door handle to make your swift exit.

Ronson clicked his tongue behind you, “Pity. Well I guess this brick of cocaine will find its way into your pretty boys’ motorcycle club after all.”

He sounded so nonchalant, so unfazed that it made you realise he’d done this before.

Blackmail to get his way, corrupted to the core.

A dirty cop.

You turned to look at him, gulping down the fear that was building for Vince.

“Just one date? And then you’ll drop all charges?”

He nodded slowly, as if still considering it.

“Depends on how well the date goes.” He smirked at you, flashing his pearly whites.

You couldn’t see another way, you couldn’t be the reason Vince gets locked away. You were already mourning your future with him under Ronson’s threats.

“Okay. When and where?”

—————————

You stood outside the restaurant two towns over, the wind cold and biting against your skin as you waited for the man who was so clearly very late for your dreaded date.

He had told you to wear something pretty, or he’d have to reconsider his offer. That scuppered your plans to turn up in jeans and a baggy t-shirt, so you packed your pale yellow figure hugging dress that fell almost down to your ankles, and quickly changed in the car.

You hadn’t told Vince. Of course not, you couldn’t. If you had he’d have lost it and stopped you from coming. He might have even tried to kill Ronson.

So you made up an excuse about having dinner with your mom, and promised you’d be home before too late.

You had told Rachel, just to vent, because you knew that she wouldn’t tell Vince, she was on your side after all. Of course she was against it, worried about what Ronson might try on you, but you told her you had to do it, for Vince.

Eventually Ronson pulled up outside the restaurant, casually striding over as if he was right on time.

“You look beautiful.” His eyes swept over your body and you felt the sudden urge to grab a cardigan from your car.

His hand was on your lower back before you could give it a second thought and he ushered you into the restaurant, a pit of dread and regret building inside you.

This is for Vince. This is for Vince. This is for Vince.

You repeated your mantra over and over, until you were seated at a small table in the middle of the restaurant.

Ronson pushed your chair in and rounded to his seat, smiling as he went.

You looked at him wearily, your arms coming up to cross over your chest, suddenly conscious of his eyes.

“I’m so glad you could make it.” He said, as if you had any choice.

When you didn’t speak, he reached across the table and grabbed your wrist, prying your arms away from your chest.

Tangling his fingers with yours and resting them across the middle of the table, he let out a grin.

“Clock’s ticking. Better make this date worth it.”

————————————

- Part 8 Here -

Taglist:

@velmalav @starry-eyed-wild-child @kappasbbgirl

Please like and reblog if you’re enjoying this series!

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stevessecretfantasy2 · 19 days ago

Text

The exhibition

"Ready, honey?" Marcus called out, his voice echoing through the stark white exhibition hall. The anticipation in his tone was palpable, as was the excitement bubbling within him. His latest creation was about to be unveiled to the public, and he was eager to see their reactions. He had worked tirelessly on this piece, pouring his heart and soul into it. It was a masterpiece that would either cement his place in the art world or leave him a laughingstock.

The box, a gleaming cube of mirrored glass, and 4 glove-lined hand holes. reflected the murmuring crowd that had gathered around it. It was a simple yet ingenious concept: an interactive art installation that invited the audience to become part of the art itself. The instructions were clear, and the curiosity was ripe in the air. All that was missing was the star of the show: Marcus's wife, Elena.

Marcus helped Elena, a svelte woman with skin like porcelain, step into the box. She was completely naked, her body a canvas for the art that was about to unfold. Her eyes were filled with a mix of trepidation and excitement as she allowed herself to be enclosed in the mirrored chamber. Marcus leaned in to give her a reassuring kiss, whispering, "You're going to be amazing." With a deep breath, she nodded, and he closed the door with a gentle click, sealing her inside.

With that, the lights in the gallery dimmed, leaving the only light coming from inside the box displaying Elena on full display. The murmurs grew to a hush as the first few brave souls stepped forward, sliding their hands into the gloves and tentatively touching the flesh inside. Marcus watched with bated breath as the art came to life under his watchful gaze.

Elena's body shivered at the first contact, the cool rubber a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin. She couldn't see who was touching her, only her face and body reflected back at her, but she felt the curious eyes of the onlookers as they took in her naked form. The sensation grew more intense as more hands joined, caressing, exploring. She tried to keep her breathing even, her mind focused on the art, but the anonymity of the touch was both thrilling and disconcerting.

The crowd grew bolder, the whispers of "Is this allowed?" giving way to more intimate explorations. Fingers traced her curves, her nipples hardening under the gentle pressure, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body. The sensations grew more erotic as the hands grew more insistent, sliding down her torso to her thighs and beyond. Elena bit her lip, a soft gasp escaping her as a digit teased her clit, the reflection of her own face in the mirrors revealing a mix of shock and arousal.

The air in the box grew thick with the scent of sex as the hands grew more daring. They gripped her hips, pulling her closer to the glass as fingers delved into her wetness. She felt a second hand slip between her cheeks, the rubber-covered digit pressing against her anus. Her body responded against her will, her legs instinctively parting to allow deeper penetration. The crowd's gasps grew louder as the art became more interactive, more intimate, and more depraved.

Marcus's heart raced as he watched his wife's expression contort with pleasure and discomfort. He had never seen her so exposed, so vulnerable. The power dynamics of the room shifted, and he felt a twinge of guilt for putting her in this situation, yet he couldn't deny the dark thrill it brought him. The hands inside the gloves moved with a life of their own, driven by the collective desire of the spectators. He saw Elena's eyes widen as a pair of fingers slid inside her pussy, her body jolting with every thrust.

The gloved hands grew bolder, exploring every inch of Elena's body. One hand cupped her breast, rolling the nipple between its rubbery digits, while another hand slipped lower, sliding into her wetness. The mirrored walls captured every intimate moment, reflecting a kaleidoscope of lustful faces and hands moving in unison with the rhythm of the unseen crowd. Her breathing grew ragged, her hips moving in time with the relentless penetration. Marcus felt a twitch in his own pants, his mind torn between his love for Elena and the undeniable arousal the scene was stirring in him.

The crowd outside the box was a blur of faces, their eyes glued to Elena's body as it danced to the tune of the anonymous hands. They were both participant and observer, their own desires reflected in the mirrored panels. The atmosphere grew thick with the scent of arousal, the air charged with a mix of excitement and disbelief. Elena's eyes met her own in the reflection, and she saw a wildness there she hadn't recognized before. She felt both violated and liberated, a living testament to the power of art and human desire.

The hands grew more insistent, pulling and probing, bringing her closer and closer to climax. Her body was a canvas of sensation, each touch a stroke of color on the canvas of her skin. Fingers slid in and out of her, the rubber adding a layer of perverse sensation to the mix. She could feel the slickness of her own arousal, the heat of it pooling between her legs. It was as if the box had become a cocoon of pleasure, the world outside forgotten.

Elena's head fell back, her eyes closing as a moan escaped her lips. The crowd gasped in unison, their breathing ragged with excitement. A gloved hand reached up to cup her face, turning it back to the mirrors. She watched as her cheeks flushed, her mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure. The hand at her ass grew more insistent, pushing into her with a firmness that was both terrifying and exhilarating. She felt her orgasm building, a crescendo of sensation that seemed to resonate through the very walls of the exhibition hall.

The hands inside her grew slick with her juices, moving faster and harder, pushing her to the edge. Elena's body was no longer her own, it was a plaything for the masses, a living, breathing masterpiece of eroticism. She could feel the pressure building, her muscles tensing, as the crowd held its collective breath. And then, with a final thrust, she came, her body convulsing in a display that was as much a performance for the audience as it was a private moment of ecstasy.

The spectators erupted into applause, the sound reverberating through the hall like a symphony of lust. Marcus felt a rush of pride and horror mingle in his chest. His creation had surpassed his wildest expectations, but at what cost? He saw Elena's face, lost in the throes of pleasure, and knew he had crossed a line. He had pushed her boundaries, and she had let him.

Elena's eyes remained closed, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. The hands inside her slowed, the applause the only sound echoing in the box. Gradually, the touches grew gentler, caressing, almost tender. The crowd's fervor had been sated, but the art continued to live, the energy in the room palpable. Marcus stepped forward, his own hand trembling as he reached for the latch to free his wife from her exhibitionist prison.

The door swung open, and Elena stepped out, her body glistening with sweat and desire. The gloved hands retreated, leaving her feeling both empty and relieved. She wrapped herself in the robe Marcus offered her, his eyes filled with a complex mix of pride, love, and fear. The crowd parted as she made her way out of the box, their whispers trailing her like a second skin.

As she emerged into the cooler air of the exhibition hall, the reality of what had just transpired hit her. She had been used, manipulated, and displayed like a piece of meat. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling of exhilaration that coursed through her veins. The raw power of the experience had unlocked something within her, a wild, primal need she had never before dared to explore.

The spectators parted, allowing her a path to Marcus. She could feel their eyes on her, drinking in every inch of her exposed flesh, their own hands still tingling from the intimate contact. Marcus took her hand, his grip firm and reassuring. He looked at her with a mix of concern and awe, his eyes searching hers for any sign of distress. But all Elena could feel was a burning curiosity, a desire to understand the depths of human depravity and the thrill of being its witting centerpiece.

As they stepped away from the box, she looked back and saw how the gloves hung limply at their sides, as if the life had been drained from them. The crowd began to murmur among themselves, sharing their experiences, their reactions. Elena could see the excitement in their eyes, the way they leaned in to whisper to their companions, the flushed cheeks, and quickened breath. The room was alive with the aftermath of the shared secret, a collective intimacy that bound them all together in a twisted web of art and desire.

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florhibiscus · 1 month ago

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Prologue.

No longer writing for TIME atm, check out my KEANUVERSE post here

Time Masterlist Next Previous

"Time is what we want the most."

Theres no difference in time. Everything remains constant, except for the bad things that will inevitably happen in the future. Time is the only one that holds the answers and dictates the course of events. As you continue to read, you may begin to understand the power of time and whether it spares you.

"𝓦elcome 𝑴𝒓𝒔. 𝑾𝒊𝒄𝒌"

Playlist

1 Every Ending Has A Beginning

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

2 Story Of Wick

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

3 John Mourns

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

4 Assassins

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

5 Dear John

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

6 Daisy

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

7 Evil Man Blues

The Candy Shop Boys

8 The Red Circle

Le Castle Vania

9 Lure The Wolf

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

10 losef The Terrible

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

11 Chop Shop

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

12 Baba Yaga

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

13 On The Hunt

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

14 In My Mind

M86 & Susie Q

15 The Drowning

Le Castle Vania

16 Think

Kaleida

17 LED Spirals

Le Castle Vania

18 Shots Fired

Le Castle Vania

19 Old Friend Marcus

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

20 Hotel Throw Down

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

21 Warehouse Smack Down

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

22 Who You Talkin' To Man?

Nostalghia

23 Membership Revoked

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

24 Unfortunate Priest

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

25 Dock Shootout

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

26 No More Guns

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

27 Be Seeing You

Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard

*I do not own any rights to any of these songs*

#john wick #need that #john wick x reader #keanu reeves #keanuverse

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shmaptainwrote · 10 months ago

Text

𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 [𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐒]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x Marcus Anderson

SUMMARY — After their re-engagement, Marcus has a surprise for Violet and in return, Violet has a surprise for him.

WORD COUNT — 2.5K

WARNINGS — 18+ MDNI, smut (with feelings, aww)

NOTE — And here it is, part 2! Now you know why I split them (aside from "suspense"). Anyways have fun with these two lovebirds that are so down bad for each other XD

“Oh, my darling Marcus,” she whispered, fingers scratching against the stubble on his cheeks.

“My dear Violet,” he smiled, pulling her down for a long awaited kiss. Soft, tender, hopeful. “Wait here for a moment. I will be right back.”

Violet did not want Marcus to leave, but he went to give instructions to his carriage driver before coming back into the Bridgerton carriage.

“There is something I would like to show you,” he said. “May I?”

“By all means,” Violet nodded and he gave the instructions to her driver before closing the door and sitting next to her.

Violet linked her arm with his and they sat in a close and comfortable proximity until the carriage came to a stop in Grosvenor’s square.

She was confused, they had practically come to Bridgerton house, was he just trying to bring her home for the evening.

“Marcus, where-”

“Take my hand.”

He had since stepped out of the carriage and offered his hand to her.

“And just trust me.”

Violet smiled and without hesitation put her hand in his, letting him help her outside of the carriage, and they walked together, arm in arm across the square until they reached a house that looked rather empty.

Marcus took a key from his pocket and opened the door, allowing Violet to step inside, conscious of any potentially lingering eyes.

She took in her surroundings while removing her cloak, an attempt to make sense of what Marcus was showing her as he lit a candle to brighten up the space.

“Marcus, whose home is this?” she frowned, looking over at him.

“Ours,” he smiled. “If you wish.”

Violet paused, her hands resting on her stomach.

“Ours?” she repeated quietly, and he nodded.

“I knew you were nervous about moving Gregory and Hyacinth so far away from their siblings so I thought if we stayed in the square at the very least they could be close to Anthony and Colin-”

Marcus was unable to finish his sentence as Violet threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a searing kiss. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her as close as he could, the pressure of his fingers against her making her moan quietly into his mouth.

Marcus could feel his own desire heightening and before it was too difficult to stop he pushed her away slightly.

“Marcus,” she whispered with bated breath.

“My dear, I-I’m afraid if we go any further I may not be able to stop.”

His hand came up so that his fingers could brush against her cheek.

“Then don’t,” she moved her hand so that it was interlaced with his and pressed firmly against the side of her face. “Where is our bedroom?”

Marcus kissed Violet once more, taking in the taste of her lips against his, her intoxicating scent that always seemed to make him dizzy.

He grabbed the candle from where it was resting, continuing to hold Violet’s hand and bring her up the stairs until they reached a large room where the bed was conveniently set and ready.

Marcus placed the candle on the bedside table and took a moment to look at his love under the candlelight.

He moved to kiss her again, this time slower, determined to take his time, to savour every moment he had with her.

Violet hummed, feeling Marcus’ tongue swipe against her bottom lip, and just as she thought he might ask for more his lips parted from hers, his hands tracing from where they were resting on her waist, walking around behind her, his hands following, now on her hips. He kissed the clasp of her necklace, where it met at the nape of her neck.

She shivered, the mix of him and the cold metal of her necklace sending shock waves through her entire nervous system. His hands came from where they rested on her lower back tracing up higher and higher until his fingers were able to undo the clasp of her necklace, watching the jewels slide down her chest, almost touching the top of her breasts.

Violet went to remove her earrings but felt a gentle touch, encouraging her to look back.

“Leave them on.”

She blinked a few times, slowly retracting her hands from her ear while Marcus pulled her back into his chest, pressing a kiss to her lips when she looked back up towards him. Slowly, Violet turned around, her fingers undoing the buttons of Marcus’ vest and helping him thread his arms through each sleeve until it was discarded on the floor.

Next, she grabbed the fabric of his white shirt around his waist and untucked it from his pants, their lips never once parting until she began to lift his shirt up over his head, tossing it next to the vest.

Violet’s hands were now pressed against his bare chest and she could feel the warmth that emanated from him. The thing that she had once dreamed of, now slowly becoming a reality.

Marcus began to pull some of the pins from Violet’s hair, one by one, placing them on the table next to the candle and Violet’s diamond necklace.

Slowly curls began to fall against her shoulders, one by one, in an agonizingly slow manner until Violet could not take it anymore, a scoff on her lips.

“How many bloody pins did they put in my hair?!” she exclaimed, moving to hastily help Marcus who took in the sight of his frantic fiancée and laughed, pulling her close and pressing another kiss to her lips which she returned with a similar chuckle.

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but-”

“You were wondering where they were all coming from?” she asked. “So am I.”

They both laughed again, the rumble of joy vibrating through their bodies, mingling into one as they both continued to pull the never ending pins from her hair.

“Okay, I think that is the last one,” Marcus said, running his fingers from Violet’s scalp, all the way down the length of her hair only to find two more stragglers along the way that had dropped to the ground, the metal clinking against the wood floor. “Maybe not.”

Violet grinned and pulled Marcus down for another kiss, a content sigh filling the room as his hands tangled in her hair, bumping into her earrings which dangled and shimmered in the candlelight. His lips travelled from hers, across her jaw, down her neck and towards the top of the sleeve of her dress.

“May I?” he murmured against her skin and she smiled.

“You most certainly may.”

He pushed down the sleeve of her dress, revealing more and more of her bare arm until he was lost in a sea of freckles. He repeated the action with the other sleeve which encouraged her dress to slide down her frame and pool at her feet on the ground.

Violet felt a chill as the cool night air hit her skin, but that chill slowly turned to fire as Marcus traced over the front lacing of her corset. Violet took his hand and placed it flat against the bow that rested there, right between her breasts, her breathing reduced to shuddering gasps, overwhelmed by him.

Marcus carefully began undoing the lacing, starting first with the bow, then allowing his fingers to move through each part of the tie, almost torturously slow. The corset fell lower with the loosening of the material around her until finally, Marcus held it in his hands, peeling it away from her skin.

“Breathtaking,” he whispered and Violet could feel her cheeks grow warm at the compliment.

Marcus lowered Violet onto the bed and trailed his kisses past her breasts, down to her stomach before turning his attention to her stockings, removing them one at a time, his lips trailing scratchy kisses along the soft skin of her legs.

Marcus could feel his pants becoming tight as he continued, but for the time being he focused on Violet, how her satisfied hums and moans would make him dizzy and they had barely even started.

Finally, after Marcus had carefully removed her underwear, biting back a groan when he could see clearly how much she wanted him, he focused on himself, removing his breeches and his own underwear before carefully climbing overtop of Violet, kissing her once more.

“Marcus,” she murmured.

“Yes, my love?”

“I-” she took a deep breath, continuing in a whispered voice. “I have not had my courses in many months and if you would wish to…” she swallowed thickly, her cheeks going pink under the orange light of the candle while Marcus smiled with a little bit of a chuckle.

“Understood.”

He took another moment to admire her, so bare and plain underneath him, her hair draped over her shoulders, slightly mussed from having his fingers run through it, brown locks streaked with silver.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “I constantly ask myself how it is possible that you seem to grow even more so with time.”

“Marcus,” Violet breathed and shook her head. “You need not flatter me.”

“It is not flattery, my dear, it is the truth,” he leaned down and kissed her. “And I would like to be able to be truthful with my future wife.”

“Marcus?”

“Yes?”

Violet’s lips pulled into a small smile, her voice but a breathy whisper.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The two shared a kiss and a small nod, both ready for the next step they were about to take. Violet wrapped her arms around Marcus’ neck, a small gasp escaping as she felt him enter her, followed by a quick confirmation that she was okay before he continued.

He began soft and slow, watching as Violet’s eyes fluttered shut, letting every feeling of friction, of their bodies pressed together, wash over her like a cleansing wave.

“Oh, oh Marcus,” she breathed, one leg hooking over his waist, beckoning him closer, deeper.

The rock of his hips against her kept their measured pace, his heavy breathing mingling with Violet’s moans.

Just when Violet thought she could not feel any better than she did in that moment, she felt the palm of Marcus’ hand flat against her thigh, travelling up higher until his fingers were pressed into the skin of her backside assisting in the movement of her hips.

“That’s it,” she gasped, her eyes screwed shut. “H-Harder p-please.”

Marcus trusted the way Violet knew her body, giving her what she wished, a few of his own groans slipping out as he did so. Violet pulled him down for an almost frantic kiss, but she was barely able to keep herself together, her mouth perpetually open with every thrust.

It had been so long she could feel herself growing closer and closer to finishing, her mind a swirl of thoughts covered by a thick haze of fog.

“Marcus, I cannot-” she panted. “I can’t-”

“It’s okay,” he kissed her jaw, his voice quiet and measured. “Let go, my love.”

Violet let the tenseness in her muscles dissipate, the buildup coming to its conclusion, electric warmth spreading from her core to each extremity, her mind a blank canvas that Marcus continued to paint on, over and over and over again.

The empty home gave each sound permission to leave her mouth in whatever way they pleased, creating a symphony for Marcus to hear, her pleasure covering him like a blanket, a smile on his face and a warm feeling in his heart that after everything, he could give her a moment of pure ecstasy.

As Violet relaxed again, Marcus pressed a kiss to her lips, carefully moving from his position over top of her so that, instead, he was next to her.

She took a few more moments, chest rising and falling deeply with every breath she took. Marcus leaned in and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, his lips travelling down to her breast, his nose tracing along stretch marks that lined her pale skin.

“Marcus,” she turned her head to him, her eyes open once more. “You didn’t…”

“It is no matter,” he shook his head and kissed her. “As long as you are satisfied, I am happy.”

“But I want you to feel that way,” she turned onto her side. “And I do not quite want to be done with you just yet.”

She traced the side of his face with her finger.

“Are you sure?” he asked her.

“I am positive,” she pushed herself up into a seated position, watching as Marcus laid on his back before climbing over him, straddling his waist with her legs.

“Oh, Violet,” he murmured, his hands against her stomach.

Her skin glowed under the light of the candle, her hair gathered and placed over one shoulder, the diamond that hung from her ear glimmering into the night. She was ethereal, his angel.

She moved slightly, readying to position herself, but he quickly stopped her.

“Wait.”

She looked at him with a frown, but paused like he had asked, watching as he first pushed himself up on his arms, and then into a seated position, their chests now pressed together, his back to the headboard.

“Better?” she asked and he smiled, capturing her lips in a delicate kiss.

“Much.”

She anchored herself with her hands on his shoulders, gripping hard as he entered her once more.

“Violet, are you okay?” he whispered. “If it is too much we do not have to do this.”

“It is not,” she shook her head and exhaled. “I want this, Marcus.”

He nodded his head, one hand moving from her hip to her cheek, brushing away some of the hair that covered her blue eyes.

“I love you, my dear Violet,” he smiled.

“And I love you, my darling Marcus.”

They shared another kiss as Violet began to move her hips against him in a delicious rhythm.

Violet tilted her chin upwards as Marcus began to trail kisses down her neck and towards her breasts, his fingers digging into her hips, assisting with each movement, making him moan into her chest where he pressed hot, open mouthed kisses.

Violet took deep breaths, opening her eyes and placing her thumb and forefinger under Marcus’ chin, forcing him to look at her.

The sight of her in control, her earrings dangling as she continued her movements against him, the lust and passion in her eyes, that alone was enough to set him ablaze.

Violet was more than content as he held her close, beginning to moan into her shoulder as he had his release, his grip on her unrelenting.

She carefully slowed down, taking her turn to press a kiss to his temple then his cheek, smiling when he looked up at her.

“You have a look on your face,” Violet chuckled, unable to keep the tease to herself.

“Am I not allowed to admire you?” he asked and she pretended to ponder on the question.

“I suppose you can,” she murmured, leaning into him and kissing him. “Seems an appropriate action for my future husband.”

“Good, because your future husband thinks you are absolutely ravishing.”

His lips met the corner of hers before moving to her cheek, then her temple, then behind her ear.

Violet lifted a hand to his cheek and Marcus quickly brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her fingers before bringing it down for them both to admire the purple jewel, now to be worn there forevermore.

#violet bridgerton #violet bridgerton x marcus anderson #marcus anderson #marcus anderson x violet bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fic #ruth gemmell #daniel francis

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taylor-on-your-dash · 7 months ago

Text

Anthology Credits

THE BLACK DOG

© 2023 TASRM Publishing, administered by Songs Of Universal, Inc. (BMI) / All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission. // Produced by Jack Antonoff and Taylor Swift / Mixed by Serban Ghenea at MixStar Studios (Virginia Beach, VA) / Engineer - Bryce Bordone / Recorded by Laura Sisk and Oli Jacobs at Electric Lady Studios (New York, NY) and Conway Recording Studios (Los Angeles, CA) / Assistant Engineered by Jon Sher and Jack Manning / Sean Hutchinson’s performance recorded by Sean Hutchinson and Michael Riddleberger at Hutchinson Sound (Brooklyn, NY) / Bobby Hawk's performance recorded by Jack Manning at Electric Lady Studios (New York, NY) / Mastered by Randy Merrill at Sterling Sound (Edgewater, NJ) // Drums, Bass, Juno, Acoustic and Electric Guitars, Programming, Piano, M1, Polysix, Mellotron, Cello, Rhodes, Vocoder by Jack Antonoff / Drums by Sean Hutchinson / Strings by Bobby Hawk / Lead Vocals, Background Vocals, Piano by Taylor Swift

IMGONNAGETYOUBACK

© 2023 TASRM Publishing, administered by Songs Of Universal, Inc. (BMI), Sony/ATV Songs LLC / Ducky Donath Music (BMI) / All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission. // Produced by Jack Antonoff and Taylor Swift / Mixed by Serban Ghenea at MixStar Studios (Virginia Beach, VA) / Engineer - Bryce Bordone / Recorded by Laura Sisk and Oli Jacobs at Electric Lady Studios (New York, NY) / Assistant Engineered by Jack Manning, Joey Miller and Jozef Caldwell // Percussion, Drums, Programming, Juno 60, Prophet 5, M1 Keyboard, Piano, Acoustic Guitars by Jack Antonoff / Piano by Jack Manning / Lead Vocals by Taylor Swift

THE ALBATROSS

CHLOE OR SAM OR SOPHIA OR MARCUS

HOW DID IT END?

© 2023 TASRM Publishing, administered by Songs of Universal, Inc. (BMI), Ingrid Stella Music, administered by SonyATV Tunes LLC (ASCAP) / All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission. // Produced by Aaron Dessner and Taylor Swift / Mixed by Serban Ghenea at MixStar Studios (Virginia Beach, VA) / Engineer - Bryce Bordone / Recorded by Jonathan Low and Bella Blasko at Long Pond (Hudson Valley, NY) / Orchestration by Bryce Dessner (Biarritz, FR) / James McAlister's performance recorded by James McAlister (Los Angeles, CA) / Glenn Kotche's performance recorded by Bella Blasko at Narwhal Studios (Chicago, IL) / Thomas Bartlett's performance recorded by Thomas Bartlett at The Dwelling (New York, NY) / London Contemporary Orchestra's performance recorded by Jeremy Murphy at Air Studios (London, UK). Assistant Engineering by Laura Beck / Mastered by Randy Merrill at Sterling Sound (Edgewater, NJ) // Bass, Synth, Drum Machine Programming, Electric Guitar, Keyboards, Piano and Synthesizers by Aaron Dessner / Bass Drum, Keyboards, Omnichord and Synthesizers by James McAlister / Drums by JT Bates / Drums and Percussion by Glenn Kotche / Keyboards, Piano and Synthesizers by Thomas Bartlett / Lead Vocals by Taylor Swift // London Contemporary Orchestra: Violin I / Galya Bisengalieva (Leader) / Eloisa-Fleur Thom / Sophie Mather / Marianne Haynes / Alicia Berendse / Agata Daraskaite / Anna De Bruin / Akiko Ishikawa / Nicole Crespo O'Donoghue // Violin II / Emily Holland / Kirsty Mangan / Clara Laskaris / Ronald Long / Dan Oates / Iona Allan // Viola / Nicholas Bootiman / Matthew Kettle / Elisa Bergersen / Morgan Goff // Cello / Brian O'Kane / Reinoud Ford / Max Ruisi / Abi Hyde-Smith // Double Bass / Dave Brown / Chris Kelly / Sophie Roper // French Horn / David McQueen// Conductor Robert Ames // Digital Recordist / Gianluca Massimo // Copyist / Tristan Noon // LCO Recording Projects Manager / Meg Monteith // LCO Orchestra Manager / Amy-Elisabeth Hinds

SO HIGH SCHOOL

I HATE IT HERE

THANK YOU AIMEE

© 2023 TASRM Publishing, administered by Songs of Universal, Inc. (BMI), Ingrid Stella Music, administered by SonyATV Tunes LLC (ASCAP) / All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission. // Produced by Jack Antonoff, Aaron Dessner and Taylor Swift / Mixed by Serban Ghenea at MixStar Studios (Virginia Beach, VA) / Engineer - Bryce Bordone / Recorded by Jonathan Low and Bella Blasko at Long Pond (Hudson Valley, NY) and by Laura Sisk and Oli Jacobs at Sharp Sonic Studios (Los Angeles, CA) /Assistant Engineered by Jozef Caldwell / Orchestration by Bryce Dessner (Biarritz, FR) / Aaron Dessner's Banjo and Mandolin recorded by Maryam Qudus at Long Pond (Hudson Valley, NY) / Thomas Bartlett's performance recorded by Thomas Bartlett at The Dwelling (New York, NY) / Glenn Kotche's performance recorded by Bella Blasko at Narwhal Studios (Chicago, IL) / London Contemporary Orchestra's performance recorded by Jeremy Murphy at Air Studios (London, UK). Assistant Engineering by Laura Beck / Mastered by Randy Merrill at Sterling Sound (Edgewater, NJ) // Acoustic Guitar, Banjo, Bass Synth, Drum Machine Programming, Keyboard, Mandolin, Percussion and Synthesizer by Aaron Dessner / Drums and Percussion by Glenn Kotche / Keyboards, Piano and Synthesizers by Thomas Bartlett / Programming, Cello, Percussion, Drums, Electric Guitar, Background Vocals by Jack Antonoff / Lead Vocals by Taylor Swift // London Contemporary Orchestra: Violin I / Galya Bisengalieva (Soloist & Leader) / Eloisa-Fleur Thom/ Sophie Mather / Marianne Haynes / Alicia Berendse / Anna De Bruin / Akiko Ishikawa / Nicole Crespo O'Donoghue // Violin II / Emily Holland / Kirsty Mangan / Clara Laskaris / Ronald Long / Dan Oates / Iona Allan // Viola / Nicholas Bootiman/ Matthew Kettle / Elisa Bergersen / Morgan Goff // Cello / Brian O'Kane / Reinoud Ford / Max Ruisi / Abi Hyde-Smith // Double Bass / Dave Brown / Chris Kelly / Sophie Roper // French Horn / David McQueen / Paul Cott / Jonathan Farey // Percussion // George Barton // Conductor Robert Ames // Digital Recordist / Gianluca Massimo // Copyist / Tristan Noon // LCO Recording Projects Manager / Meg Monteith // LCO Orchestra Manager / Amy-Elisabeth Hinds

I LOOK IN PEOPLE'S WINDOWS

© 2023 Taylor Swift Music (BMI) administer by Songs Of Universal, Inc. / Sony/ATV Songs LLC / Ducky Donath Music (BMI) / Indiscipline AB (STIM), administered by Kobalt Music / All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission. // Produced by Jack Antonoff, Patrick Berger and Taylor Swift | Mixed by Serban Ghenea at MixStar Studios (Virginia Beach, VA) / Engineer for Mix - Bryce Bordone / Recorded by Laura Sisk and Jack Antonoff at Electric Lady Studios (New York, NY) and Conway Recording Studios (Los Angeles, CA) / Assistant Engineer Jon Sher and Jack Manning // Acoustic Guitars, Juno, Cello, Programming by Jack Antonoff / Acoustic Guitar by Patrick Berger Lead Vocals by Taylor Swift

THE PROPHECY

© 2023 TASRM Publishing, administered by Songs of Universal, Inc. (BMI), Ingrid Stella Music, administered by SonyATV Tunes LLC (ASCAP) / All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission. // Produced by Aaron Dessner and Taylor Swift / Mixed by Serban Ghenea at MixStar Studios (Virginia Beach, VA) / Engineer - Bryce Bordone / Recorded by Jonathan Low and Bella Blasko at Long Pond (Hudson Valley, NY) / Orchestration by Bryce Dessner (Biarritz, FR) / James McAlister's performance recorded by James McAlister (Los Angeles, CA) / Thomas Bartlett's performance recorded by Thomas Bartlett at The Dwelling (New York, NY) / Glenn Kotche's performance recorded by Bella Blasko at Narwhal Studios (Chicago, IL) / London Contemporary Orchestra's performance recorded by Jeremy Murphy at Air Studios (London, UK). Assistant Engineering by Laura Beck / Mastered by Randy Merrill at Sterling Sound (Edgewater, NJ) // Acoustic Guitar, Drum Machine Programming, Programming and Electric Guitar by Aaron Dessner / Autoharp, Drum Machine Programming, Omnichord, Percussion and Synthesizer by James McAlister / Piano and Synthesizers by Thomas Bartlett / Drums and Percussion by Glenn Kotche / Drums by JT Bates / Lead Vocals by Taylor Swift // London Contemporary Orchestra: Violin I / Galya Bisengalieva (Soloist & Leader) / Eloisa-Fleur Thom/ Sophie Mather / Agata Daraskaite / Anna De Bruin / Akiko Ishikawa / Nicole Crespo O'Donoghue / Julian Azkoul // Violin II / Emily Holland / Kirsty Mangan / Clara Laskaris / Ronald Long / Dan Oates / Iona Allan // Viola / Nicholas Bootiman / Matthew Kettle / Amy Swain / Elisa Bergersen / Morgan Goff // Cello / Brian O'Kane / Reinoud Ford / Max Ruisi / Abi Hyde-Smith // Double Bass / Dave Brown / Chris Kelly / Sophie Roper // Bass Clarinet / Max Welford // Percussion // George Barton // Conductor Robert Ames // Digital Recordist / Gianluca Massimo // Copyist / Tristan Noon // LCO Recording Projects Manager / Meg Monteith // LCO Orchestra Manager / Amy-Elisabeth Hinds

CASSANDRA

© 2023 TASRM Publishing, administered by Songs of Universal, Inc. (BMI), Ingrid Stella Music, administered by SonyATV Tunes LLC (ASCAP) / All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission. // Produced by Aaron Dessner and Taylor Swift / Mixed by Serban Ghenea at MixStar Studios (Virginia Beach, VA) / Engineer - Bryce Bordone / Recorded by Jonathan Low and Bella Blasko at Long Pond (Hudson Valley, NY) / Orchestration by Bryce Dessner (Biarritz, FR) / James McAlister's performance recorded by James McAlister (Los Angeles, CA) / Thomas Bartlett's performance recorded by Thomas Bartlett at The Dwelling (New York, NY) / Glenn Kotche's performance recorded by Bella Blasko at Narwhal Studios (Chicago, IL) / London Contemporary Orchestra's performance recorded by Jeremy Murphy at Air Studios (London, UK). Assistant Engineering by Laura Beck / Mastered by Randy Merrill at Sterling Sound (Edgewater, NJ) // Bass Synth, Electric Guitar, Keyboards, Percussion, Piano and Synthesizer by Aaron Dessner / Drum Machine Programming, Keyboards, Modular Synth, Percussion and Synthesizers by James McAlister / Modular Synth and Trombone by Benjamin Lanz / Snare Drums and Vibraphones by Glenn Kotche / Lead Vocals by Taylor Swift // London Contemporary Orchestra: Violin I / Eloisa-Fleur Thom (Leader) / Sophie Mather / Marianne Haynes / Agata Daraskaite / Anna De Bruin / Akiko Ishikawa / Nicole Crespo O'Donoghue / Julian Azkoul // Violin II / Emily Holland / Kirsty Mangan / Clara Laskaris / Ronald Long / Dan Oates / Iona Allan // Viola / Nicholas Bootiman / Matthew Kettle / Amy Swain / Elisa Bergersen / Morgan Goff // Cello / Brian O'Kane / Reinoud Ford / Max Ruisi / Abi Hyde-Smith // Double Bass / Dave Brown / Chris Kelly / Sophie Roper // French Horn / David McQueen / Paul Cott / Jonathan Farey // Percussion // George Barton // Conductor Robert Ames // Digital Recordist / Gianluca Massimo // Copyist / Tristan Noon // LCO Recording Projects Manager / Meg Monteith // LCO Orchestra Manager / Amy-Elisabeth Hinds

PETER

© 2023 TASRM Publishing, administered by Songs Of Universal, Inc. (BMI) / All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission. // Produced by Aaron Dessner and Taylor Swift / Mixed by Serban Ghenea at MixStar Studios (Virginia Beach, VA) / Engineer - Bryce Bordone / Recorded by Jonathan Low and Bella Blasko at Long Pond (Hudson Valley, NY) / Mastered by Randy Merrill at Sterling Sound (Edgewater, NJ) // Bass Guitar, Drum Machine Programming, Keyboards, Piano and Synthesizers by Aaron Dessner / Lead Vocals by Taylor Swift

THE BOLTER

ROBIN

© 2023 TASRM Publishing, administered by Songs of Universal, Inc. (BMI), Ingrid Stella Music, administered by SonyATV Tunes LLC (ASCAP) / All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission. // Produced by Aaron Dessner and Taylor Swift / Mixed by Serban Ghenea at MixStar Studios (Virginia Beach, VA) / Engineer - Bryce Bordone / Recorded by Jonathan Low and Bella Blasko at Long Pond (Hudson Valley, NY) / Orchestration by Bryce Dessner (Biarritz, FR) / Aaron Dessner's Drums and Synthesizer recorded by Maryam Qudus at Long Pond (Hudson Valley, NY) / Benjamin Lanz’s performance recorded by Benjamin Lanz (Paris, FR) / James McAlister's performance recorded by Bella Blasko at Long Pond (Hudson Valley, NY) and James McAlister (Los Angeles, CA) / Thomas Bartlett's performance recorded by Thomas Bartlett at The Dwelling (New York, NY) / Glenn Kotche's performance recorded by Bella Blasko at Narwhal Studios (Chicago, IL) / London Contemporary Orchestra's performance recorded by Jeremy Murphy at Air Studios (London, UK). Assistant Engineering by Laura Beck / Mastered by Randy Merrill at Sterling Sound (Edgewater, NJ) // Bass Guitar, Drum Machine Programming, Drums, Electric Guitar, Keyboards, Percussion, Pianos and Synthesizer by Aaron Dessner / Buchla, Clava, Percussion and Synthesizer by James McAlister / Keyboards, Piano and Synthesizers by Thomas Bartlett / Modular Synth and Synthsizer by Benjamin Lanz / Drums and Percussion by Glenn Kotche / Lead Vocals by Taylor Swift // London Contemporary Orchestra: Violin I / Galya Bisengalieva (Co-Leader) / Eloisa-Fleur Thom (Co-Leader) / Sophie Mather / Marianne Haynes / Agata Daraskaite / Anna De Bruin / Akiko Ishikawa / Nicole Crespo O'Donoghue / Julian Azkoul // Violin II / Emily Holland / Kirsty Mangan / Clara Laskaris / Ronald Long / Dan Oates / Iona Allan // Viola / Nicholas Bootiman / Matthew Kettle / Amy Swain / Elisa Bergersen / Morgan Goff // Cello / Brian O'Kane / Reinoud Ford / Max Ruisi / Abi Hyde-Smith // Double Bass / Dave Brown / Chris Kelly / Sophie Roper // French Horn / David McQueen / Paul Cott / Jonathan Farey // Percussion & Timpani // George Barton // Conductor Robert Ames // Digital Recordist / Gianluca Massimo // Copyist / Tristan Noon // LCO Recording Projects Manager / Meg Monteith // LCO Orchestra Manager / Amy-Elisabeth Hinds

THE MANUSCRIPT

© 2023 TASRM Publishing, administered by Songs of Universal, Inc. (BMI), Ingrid Stella Music, administered by SonyATV Tunes LLC (ASCAP) / All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission. // Produced by Aaron Dessner and Taylor Swift / Mixed by Serban Ghenea at MixStar Studios (Virginia Beach, VA) / Engineer - Bryce Bordone / Recorded by Jonathan Low and Bella Blasko at Long Pond (Hudson Valley, NY) / Arrangements by Bryce Dessner (Biarritz, FR) / Bryce Dessner's performance recorded by Bryce Dessner (Biarritz, FR) / James McAlister's performance recorded by James McAlister (Los Angeles, CA) / Thomas Bartlett's performance recorded by Thomas Bartlett at The Dwelling (New York, NY) / London Contemporary Orchestra's performance recorded by Jeremy Murphy at Air Studios (London, UK). Assistant Engineering by Laura Beck / Mastered by Randy Merrill at Sterling Sound (Edgewater, NJ) // Bass Synth, Piano and Synthesizers by Aaron Dessner / Drum Machine Programming, Filtered Brass and Winds, Piano and Synthesizer by Bryce Dessner / Drum Machine Programming and Synthesizers by James McAlister / Synthesizer by Thomas Bartlett / Lead Vocals by Taylor Swift // London Contemporary Orchestra: Violin I / Eloisa-Fleur Thom (Leader) / Sophie Mather / Marianne Haynes / Anna De Bruin / Akiko Ishikawa / Nicole Crespo O'Donoghue / Natasha Humpries // Violin II / Emily Holland / Kirsty Mangan / Clara Laskaris / Ronald Long / Dan Oates / Iona Allan // Viola / Nicholas Bootiman / Matthew Kettle / Meghan Cassidy / Elisa Bergersen / Morgan Goff // Cello / Brian O'Kane / Reinoud Ford / Max Ruisi / Abi Hyde-Smith // Double Bass / Dave Brown / Chris Kelly / Sophie Roper // French Horn / David McQueen / Paul Cott / Jonathan Farey // Percussion // George Barton // Conductor Robert Ames // Digital Recordist / Gianluca Massimo // Copyist / Tristan Noon // LCO Recording Projects Manager / Meg Monteith // LCO Orchestra Manager / Amy-Elisabeth Hinds

#chloe et al recorded in Nashville #KMS!!!#the albatross and the bolter don't have the LCO credits bc i couldn't be bothered sorry #taylor swift #ttpd: anthology

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letters2fiction · 1 year ago

Text

Welcome to Letters2fiction!

The concept here is to send in a question or a letter request, and you’ll get a response from your fictional character of choice, from the list below. Please stick to the list I’ve made, but of course, you can ask if there’s some other characters I write for, I don’t always remember all the shows, movies or books I’ve consumed over the years and I’m sure I’m missing a lot 😅

Status: New Characters added - Thursday June 19th, 2025

TV SERIES

A Discovery of Witches:

Matthew Clairmont

Baldwin Montclair

Gallowglass de Clermont

Marcus Whitmore

Philippe de Clermont

Jack Blackfriars

Sarah Bishop

Emily Mather

Diana Bishop

Ysabeau de Clermont

Miriam Shepard

Phoebe Taylor

Gerbert D’Aurillac

Peter Knox

Father Andrew Hubbard

Benjamin Fuchs

Satu Järvinen

Meridiana

Law and Order:

Rafael Barba

Sonny Carisi

Joe Velasco

Mike Duarte

Terry Bruno

Peter Stone

Hasim Khaldun

Nick Amaro

Mike Dodds

Grace Muncy

Kat Tamin

Toni Churlish

Amanda Rollins

Olivia Benson

Rita Calhoun

Casey Novak

Melinda Warner

George Huang

Sam Maroun

Nolan Price

Jamie Whelan

Bobby Reyes

Jet Slootmaekers

Ayanna Bell

Jack McCoy

Elliot Stabler

Kate Silva

One Chicago:

Jay Halstead (Could also be Will if you want)

Antonio Dawson

Adam Ruzek

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz

Dante Torres

Vanessa Rojas

Kevin Atwater

Sean Roman

Matt Casey

Kelly Severide

Joe Cruz

Sylvie Brett

Blake Gallo

Christopher Hermann

"Mouch"

Otis

Violet Mikami

Evan Hawkins

Mayans MC:

Angel Reyes

Miguel

Bishop

Coco

Nestor

911 verse:

Athena Grant

Bobby Nash

Henrietta "Hen" Wilson

Evan "Buck" Buckley

Eddie Diaz

Howie "Chimney" Han

Ravi Panikkar

T.K. Strand

Owen Strand

Carlos Reyes

Marjan Marwani

Paul Strickland

Tommy Vega

Judson "Judd" Ryder

Grace Ryder

Nancy Gillian

Mateo Chavez

The Rookie:

Lucy Chen

Tim Bradford

Celina Juarez

Aaron Thorsen

Nyla Harper

Angela Lopez

Wesley Evers

John Nolan

Wade Grey

Bailey Nune

Tamara Colins

BBC Sherlock:

Greg Lestrade

Mycroft Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

Moriarty

Molly

Bridgerton:

Anthony Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton

Simon Basset

Daphne Bridgerton

Eloise Bridgerton

Kate Sharma

Edwina Sharma

Marina Thompson / Crane

Colin Bridgerton

Penelope Fetherington / Bridgerton / Lady Whistledown

Outlander:

Jamie Fraser

Claire Beauchamp Randall Fraser

Frank Randall

Black Jack Randall

Brianna Fraser

Roger MacKenzie

Fergus Fraser

Marsali Fraser

Jenny Fraser Murray

Ian Murray Sr.

Ian Fraser Murray

Murtagh Mackenzie

Call The Midwife:

Shelagh Turner / Sister Bernadette

Dr. Patrick Turner

Nurse Trixie Franklin

Nurse Phyllis Crane

Lucille Anderson

Nurse Barbara Gilbert

Chummy

Sister Hilda

Miss Higgins

PC Peter Noakes

Reverend Tom Hereward

Narcos:

Horacio Carrillo

Javier Peña

Peaky Blinders:

Tommy Shelby

Downton Abbey:

Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham

Cora Crawley, Countess of Grantham

Lady Mary Crawley

Lady Edith Crawley

Lady Sybil Crawley

Violet Crawley, Dowager Countess of Grantham

Isobel Crawley

Matthew Crawley

Lady Rose MacClare

Lady Rosamund Painswick

Henry Talbot

Tom Branson

Mr. Charles Carson

Mrs. Hughes / Elsie May Carson

John Bates

Anna Bates

Daisy Mason

Thomas Barrow

Joseph Molesley

Land Girl:

Connie Carter

Reverend Henry Jameson (Gwilym Lee's version)

Midsomer Murder:

DCI Tom Barnaby

Joyce Barnaby

Dr. George Bullard

DCI John Barnaby

Sarah Barnaby

DS Ben Jones

DS Jamie Winter

Sgt. Gavin Troy

Fleur Perkins

WPC Gail Stephens

Kate Wilding

DS Charlie Nelson

Sergeant Dan Scott

Once Upon A Time:

Regina / The Evil Queen

Mary Margaret Blanchard / Snow White

David Nolan / Prince Charming

Emma Swan

Killian Jones / Captain Hook

Mr. Gold / Rumplestiltskin

Neal Cassidy / Baelfire

Peter Pan

Sheriff Graham Humbert / The Huntsman

Jefferson / The Mad Hatter

Belle

Robin of Locksley / Robin Hood

Will Scarlet

Zelena / Wicked Witch

Alice (Once in Wonderland)

Cyrus (Once in Wonderland)

Jafar (Once in Wonderland)

Gideon

Tiger Lily

Naveen

Tiana

Granny

Ariel

Prince Eric

Aladdin

Jasmine

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Hercules

Megara

Tinker Bell

Merida

Red Riding Hood

Mulan

Aurora / Sleeping Beauty

Prince Phillip

Cinderella

Prince Thomas

The Vampire Diaries / The Originals:

Stefan Salvatore

Damon Salvatore

Caroline Forbes

Elena Gilbert

Bonnie Bennett

Enzo St. John

Niklaus Mikaelson

Elijah Mikaelson

Kol Mikaelson

Rebekah Mikaelson

Freya Mikaelson

Finn Mikaelson

Mikael

Esther

Marcel Gerard

Davina Claire

NEW! Ghosts UK / US:

Katherine "Kitty" Higham

Thomas Thorne

Julian Fawcett MP

Lady Fanny Button

Pat Butcher

Robin the Caveman

Alison Cooper

Mike Cooper

The Captain

Mary

Humphreys

Hetty Woodstone

Trevor Lefkowitz

Flower

Sasappis

Isaac Higgintoot

Pete Martino

Thorfinn

Alberta Haynes

Jay Arondekar

Sam Arondekar

Shadow and Bone:

The Darkling / Aleksander Morozova

Alina Starkov

Mal Oretsev

Nikolai Lantsov

Tolya Yul-Bataar

Tamar Kir-Bataar

Zoya

Nina Zenik

Inej Ghafa

Wylan van Eck

Kaz Brekker

Matthias Helvar

Jesper Fahey

Genya Safin

David Kostyk

Baghra

MOVIES

The Pirates of the Caribbean:

Captain Jack Sparrow

Barbossa

Will Turner

Elizabeth Swann

James Norrington

Kingsman:

Merlin

Harry Hart

Eggsy Unwin

James Spencer / Lancelot

Alastair / Percival

Roxy Morton / Lancelot

Maximillian Morton / The Shepherd

Orlando Oxford

Jack Daniels / Whiskey

Gin

BOOKS

Dreamland Billionaire series - Lauren Asher:

Declan

Callahan

Rowan

Iris

Alana

Zahra

Dirty Air series - Lauren Asher:

Noah

Liam

Jax

Santiago

Maya

Sophie

Elena

Chloe

Ladies in Stem - Ali Hazelwood books:

Olive

Adam

Bee

Levi

Elsie

Jack

Mara

Liam

Sadie

Erik

Hannah

Ian

Fourth Wing - Rebecca Yarros:

Xaden Riorson

Dain Aetos

Jack Barlowe

Rhiannan Matthias

Violet Sorrengail

Mira Sorrengail

Lillith Sorrengail

Bodhi Durran

Liam Mairi

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