#Reader x gangs of london
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The Games We Play - A Sean Wallace/Reader One Shot Story.
I did originally write a similar version of this premise for another fic, but loved it so much I had to rework and revisit the idea again here because it is 100% Sean energy. Enjoy, darlings!
Words - 1,594
Warnings - Smut below the cut and a brief mention of spousal abuse. Minors DNI!
The pleasure of him is biting, like a thousand tiny icicles chased by fire, melting through your blood as his cock rhythmically fills and empties you. His groans are all grit and sin, teeth crushing the delicate skin of your neck, his hand fisted in your hair.
He keeps your head held back as you watch the sight of him fucking you in the large mirror you’re kneeling before, Sean behind you, his free hand leaving a scorching path of heat in its wake as it slips down over your curves, settling to begin stroking your clit in the same slow, rolling tempo his cock glides into you with.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Yes, she likes watching herself getting fucked properly for the first time in years,” he mumbles, kissing your throat, grinning when a sharp snap of his hips leads to your body jolting, your wail filling the room. “Haven’t had a man treat you this well in a while, have you, darling?”
You feel conflicted in answering, something unpleasant tugging at your guts. He chuckles darkly, the pressing of his fingertips against your clit prompting further wails. “You needn’t verbalise. Your body is doing a very good job of answering my question for you.” His chuckle continues, icy blue eyes snapping over to the corner of the room, lifting his chin. “She doesn’t get this wet, or make such beautiful noises for you, does she?”
“Fuck you, Wallace,” your husband spits from his location tied to a chair, seething with rage.
Sean raises his eyebrows. “Fuck me? No, thank you. But I will let your wife do that, when I take her to the bed again, lie down and let her ride me. All while you continue to watch, of course.”
“I will fucking kill you for this!”
He tuts, driving into you a little quicker, trailing kisses from your neck to your shoulder. “No, you won’t. You were warned what would happen, should you decide to fuck with me. I explicitly said I would break you down and take everything you love the most. I took your money, I took your foot soldiers and now here I am, in your bedroom, literally taking your wife. She won’t want you again once I’m done with her. I’d say you could bet money on that, but you have none left.”
“You are pure evil.”
He smirks again, releasing your hair, hand stroking your neck before slipping to cup at your breasts in turn. “I am, but at least I know how to treat a lady. You don’t have a clue. Women, they like to be desired, attended to, made to feel as if they are the centre of your universe. You can’t just lock them within a gilded cage and throw money at them. Well, some you can, but not this one.”
Your husband stares at you so unblinkingly, you’re finally forced to meet his gaze. “When I come for him, I will shoot you, too. Nasty, dirty fucking slut!”
“See,” Sean begins, groaning when you clench around him, whispering the word ‘fuck’ a couple of times, teeth nipping your earlobe. “That is precisely what I mean. It isn’t her fault she finally had a man show her exactly what it is to be desired.” He then returns his attentions back to you, turning your head, kissing you with fiery need. “Everyone knows what he does to you. He makes no secret of it. Come with me and I promise, he shan’t be able to touch you ever again.”
You can’t quite trust whether he truly means it magnanimously, or whether you’re a mere pawn in the game he is playing in dismantling your husband’s empire as he climbs back to the top of the criminal underworld. You want to believe him, though, that he’s going to rescue you from the living hell of being imprisoned within – as he rightly coined it – a gilded cage, by a husband who only cares that you’re a pretty trophy wife, a man who thrives upon knocking you around, and worse, whenever he is drunk or high.
Looking back at the mirror, you see it in his eyes, something earnest through the many layers that make up the complexities of Sean. You feel conflicted, but he makes it okay for you. “Do not decide now, darling. Enjoy yourself first. It’s been a while since you have, hasn’t it?”
“Mmhmm.” You moan, feeling his hand settle to your throat, fingers stroking, the fingertips upon your clit speeding up as his cock begins to pound you with keenness, evoking your cries, making you feel – as he rightly said – desired for the first time in a long, long time. Finally, you let go, let go of the fear, turning your head to kiss him, moaning into his mouth as your tongues roll against one another, the glimmers stirred by his beautifully thick cock streaking through you in a hail of bliss.
The head of his hardness repeatedly ruts against your g spot, a blaze of pleasure burning, the sound his deep groans in your ear fuelling your undoing as he pours it into you, your waves crashing against his shore as you come with a feral wail.
His fingers gentle at your throbbing clit, cock slowing, lips pressing your cheek. “Now, take me back to your bed, and show your husband exactly what he will be missing. Because I think you’re leaving here with me, aren’t you?”
Moving off his cock, you stand, Sean rising to his feet. You reach for him, nails trailing over his neck, making him quiver with lust. “I'm coming with you a few more times first."
He smirks, chuckling deeply. “Oh, that's an absolute given, princess.” He smacks your bum hard before you both move to the bed. He positions himself on his back, making it that you have to face your husband. Of course, he’d do that. He wants him to see it, watch further as you enjoy him, sinking down onto his cock with a soft mewl, leaning forward to kiss him.
He’s so gorgeous, you near lose your mind looking down upon him, the juxtapose of being a very deadly man wrapped up in a package that is nothing short of male perfection. His skin is gorgeous, pale and inviting, freckles trailing over the planes of skin covering the taut muscles beneath.
You glide your hands over his thick arms and shoulders keenly while beginning to bounce upon him, forcing deep groans from his throat, enjoying the sensations of being split so wide around him searing you to your marrow.
“You look so gorgeous while you’re being fucked,” you whisper, able to see your husband glowering from the corner.
Sean grins, hands cupping at your breasts. “And you look absolutely incredible while you’re doing it. You love it, don’t you, spearing yourself on a nice, fat cock, hmm?”
“Fuck, yes I do!” you cry, wailing as he bounces you on it hard, hand gripping your hips, his nails leaving crescents behind. You both put on the kind of show so scorchingly erotic that anyone else watching it couldn’t help but be turned on, but for your husband, your pleasure is his torture.
Watching a man do a better job than he ever has is bound to do that, though. And Sean knew it before he even stepped foot into the room.
He makes you come a couple more times before finally pinning you to the bed and fucking you like a jackhammer, your screams filling the air as he pulses thick ropes of cum within your sore, fluttering walls, collapsing atop you, absolutely done for. Or so you think.
“It takes fifteen minutes to arrive back at my house. I look forward to the next bed I fuck you in being mine.” You smile at him, your heart skipping a beat when he kisses the tip of your nose. “Pack a bag, quickly.”
There truly is little from this life you wish to take with you into the next, a fancy, designer hold all pulled from the wardrobe, your favourite things packed, the rest left there to act as ghosts of the presence of you within the house.
“I suppose it is only fair I untie you,” Sean speaks, redressed in his suit as you arrive at his side, where he’s stood before your husband. “I am not a particularly fair man, though.”
He eyes him dangerously before staring right at you, spitting onto the ground before your feet. “Fucking gold digging, garbage whore. He won’t treat you any better.”
Sean glares at him, a cold stare of menace as he reaches for the waistband of his trousers, drawing a gun. “Yes, I will. And I plan on beginning that right now.” Pulling his finger upon the trigger, the semi-automatic fires a shot straight between his eyes, your husband slumping, blood trickling from the hole blown in his skull.
“Nobody calls you a whore on my watch.” He slips the gun back into the back of his trousers, reaching to lift your chin and place a soft kiss upon your lips. “I will never lie to you, darling. I am not a good man, but I will be good to you. You’ll see.”
He takes your hand, leading you from your former home, from the life of being on the arm of one gangster into another. You do see, though, as the weeks and months pass, that Sean truly wasn’t lying. He isn’t good, but by god, he’s good to you.
#sean wallace#sean wallace fanfiction#sean wallace smut#se3an wallace x reader#gangs of london fanfiction#gangs of london#sean wallace fanfic#sean wallace fic#gangs of london fanfic#gangs of london fic#sean wallace x you
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Movie Night
This is part two of my childhood best friends-to-lover anthology. I utterly hate this installment, but once again, I have to get it out, or it will stay in my drafts forever. The first people to get the reference can drop a request into my inbox for any character in my pinned post.
Contains: Fluff.
2.2K words
Your movie night tradition leads to more than popcorn.
More terrifying than The Exorcist. The Curse of Blackstone Lab."
Sean huffed and pulled your attention from the shop front toward the bus stop poster. "What do you think about that y/n?"
You shrugged. "I don't know. I'm pretty sure I've heard that slogan a million times." The picture did its best to keep everything a mystery, containing only a photo of a long, dark, dirty hallway, the tagline, and a title in blocky white letters.
"I heard they needed doctors at the test screenings." He often revelled in his ability to be in the know, to know the right people to get whatever he wanted, and this time was no different. "I know the producer, I think I might be able to get us an advanced copy."
Being back at the top had its benefits; the last time, it was front row seats to the latest opera. "I thought we were going to watch Red Eye this weekend?"
He gave you a look, it was full of mischief and affection. "You're not scared are you?"
You rolled your eyes. "No, I'm not. I've haven't be scared of a horror movie in years. I just don't want you getting caught up when we have to go buy you new suits." You could tell it was already too late, the wheels in his head were well and truly turning. "Sean, you are shit with colour, and I have a date tonight; you're not about to make a phone call."
He looped his arm around yours and yanked you to him. "Alright then, I can't have you late for your Monday night date with Mr tall, dark and boring."
There was a hint of something to his voice that gave you pause, a mix of annoyance and snippiness that let you know he disapproved. "Not boring, he's nice."
He huffed, and his mouth opened and closed like he had stopped himself from saying something before he took a deep breath and shook the thought away. "Well, when he bores you half to death you know where I live."
You nodded. "Thank you, Sean, I'll remember that. Now we need to hurry up."
He grinned and pulled you towards the store. "Whatever you want, I would be lost without your stylistic talents."
****
You sat at the restaurant waiting for your date, but seven turned into eight and then into eight-thirty, and it was clear he wasn't coming. You thought about going home, but Sean would be calling anyway, and there was no way he was going to let you marinate in your embarrassment all by yourself, it would be quicker and easier just to head right to his place.
Billy opened the door when you got there and pointed you upstairs. "He's been expecting you." You sighed and began your walk of shame, but Billy stopped you. "Are you good?"
You nodded. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"
He titled his head. "Because Sean wanted to take the car and make sure your date went alright."
You shrugged. "You know Sean, he's always been overprotective of me. I'll tell him off when I get up there."
Billy nodded. "Like that will change anything. You look lovely by the way."
You gave him a smile. "Thanks Bill."
The door was open when you walked by, and Sean beckoned in with a smile. "How did your date go? Not well, considering that you're here."
You sighed. "It didn't, I got stood up."
There was no "I told you so." No, knowing smile or smug arrogance, he looked angry. "What a fucking coward, bastard doesn't even have the decency to call you, and you look so nice in that dress."
You put a hand on his bicep in hopes of soothing him. "I know" You took a deep breath before continuing, half to plan what you would say next and half to steel yourself from the pushback you knew you would get. "And Billy told me that you wanted to go and keep an eye and I've told a million times before I can look after myself."
He crossed his hands over his head, there wasn't an ounce of shame on his face. "I know that, but you're my friend, and like I said to you before, I didn't really like him all that much."
You smiled as he pulled you into a hug, his warm hands clutching you close. "Don't rub it in Wallace."
He chuckled softly, it was filled with warmth and affection. "You're better off anyway." You felt the hug tighten as the air changed. "Nevertheless, it's a good thing you're here, I have good news."
He broke from the hug and all but skipped to his desk, pulling out a non-descript disk. "I made a call just after you left me this afternoon and it was here by courier an hour later."
Your failed date was forgotten in an instant. "You got it?"
He nodded. "I did, and the producer said it's the scariest movie he's ever seen. So this Sunday, you, me, and a bucket of popcorn with the world's best butter?"
He was always so eager to spend time with you; it was hard to say no, even if you wanted to watch the other movie more. "Of course, it's our tradition."
****
You decided to stop by the bakery and get some cupcakes for tonight, and you felt a tap on your shoulder and spun around to see Billy standing behind you. "Hello."
You gave him a wave. "Hi, you look well."
He smiled shyly. "Yeah, things are good. What are you doing here?"
You pointed to the cupcakes inside the long glass display case. "Cupcakes for tonight."
He pressed his lips together, clearly trying to figure out if he should share the thought swirling in his head. "You got time for a coffee?"
You nodded. "Sure, I've always got time for you Bill."
It didn't take long for the coffee to brew, and you took your boxed cupcakes over to the table with him and sat down. "Now, what's on your mind?"
"Sean's in love with you. I'm pretty sure he has been since you guys were sixteen." He sipped his coffee like he hadn't just dropped a bomb the size of London on your head and nibbled the dry skin on his lower lip. "And let's be honest with ourselves y/n, I think the feeling is mutual."
You blinked, unsure what to say and taken aback by how blunt he was. "Wow, what makes you say that?" You were met with a raised eyebrow and a pointed exhale. "Yeah, ok, so I've been doing a shit job at hiding my feelings since everything that happened with Elliot and the crown, but he's back at the top, and I'm not going to complicate his life anymore by spilling my guts."
He nodded, almost to himself, wrapped his hand around the top of his cup and stood up. "Good talk y/n."
He was walking away before you could respond, and you yelled after him. "Are you just going to leave me here to sit in it?"
He turned his head towards you, still moving away. "Yep."
"It doesn't matter anyway, I have a date next week and I'm going to it." If he heard you, he didn't let on.
****
You pulled the white bakery box from your bag and smiled. "Are you ready to be terrified?"
He grinned and took the box from your hand, placing it on his desk before opening and looking over the sweet treats. "They look delicious." He handed you the one with the most icing and lifted his own.
He leaned back in his chair, glanced from the iced cake to you and back again, then picked it up and held it aloft, "To friends in high places."
He removed the wrapping from your cupcake and placed it in the empty box along with his own, then threw the box in the trash. Sighing, he stood up and said, "Would you like to stay the night? Mum's making pancakes in the morning. You don't need to leave when the movie's done."
There was no reason to say no, one of the many guest rooms was basically yours, housing your clothes and toiletries, even monogrammed towels that you received as a birthday gift one year. "Sure."
****
The position you were in was a common one, next to Sean on the couch in the movie room with a blanket thrown over your laps as he set the movie up. "I have another date next week, not with the same guy, and this one has an interesting job."
He pressed his lips together and nodded. "Ah, well I hope this one goes better."
You shrugged. "Who knows, if this one doesn't the next one will."
The lights in the room dimmed as the movie started, and you leaned into him as you started in on the popcorn. It started slow, the steady building of dread and the total uncertainty of whether the villain was a person, a demon or all in someone's head. They were right, it was scary, and Sean seemed to enjoy the way you slowly pulled the blanket closer to your face as you squished yourself into him.
The second you thought you could relax, the thing hiding in the shadows the whole time finally came out, and you jumped out of your skin to his amusement. "Are you scared?"
You shook your head. "No, it was just a loud noise."
He laughed and shot you a look that told you he didn't believe you one bit. "You sure?"
"Positive." You took a deep breath and sat up a little straighter, turning back to the screen as his arm pulled you impossibly closer. You did your best to relax, but it was nothing short of impossible, if this thing didn't win Best Picture at the Oscars then horror didn't stand a chance because the moment you thought you were safe, it was right back to the terror.
You managed one more scare before you flinched again, and Sean was pausing the movie with a sigh. "You are scared."
You sighed and twisted in his arms to face him. "So maybe I am just a bit."
He smiled softly. "Don't worry, I won't let the monster get you."
You nodded. "I know, I know you'd never let anything happen to me."
There was a shift in the air, like the first change in the wind before a storm, and he went to say something else, but something stopped him. Your hand was still curled in his shirt from when you grabbed him, and as he looked at you in the blue lighting from the film, a feeling grew inside him. "What?" You gave him a look and a light shove and repeated yourself. "What?"
He wasn't sure what to say, he couldn't tell you how he was feeling, that the butterflies that seemed to live in his chest whenever you were around had suddenly started to flutter so violently that he was sure they were bruising the fascia of his ribs.
You shoved him again to no effect, and he laid his hands on top of yours, they were warmed and calloused, and he was looking at you strangely. "Don't go on that date."
You tilted your head. "Why?" It was such a sudden change of tone, but before you could press for more, his expression set firm like he had finally made an important decision, and then his lips were on yours.
Oh, that's why
The moment you got over the shock, you sunk into the kiss, his lips were plump and soft, and he kissed you the way a drowning man begged Thetis for air. You broke from the kiss, and his lips followed yours as you backed away until you placed a hand on his chest. "What are you doing?"
He pecked you again, and you couldn't help but let him. "I love you y/n." You wondered if Billy had talked to him like he had spoken to you. "I love you, so you can't go on that date or a date with anyone else who isn't me ever again because I don't know if I can survive the thought of you with anyone else."
You lifted your hand to his cheek and ran your thumb over his freckled cheekbone. "Ok, but only if you kiss me again." He was happy to oblige, and you found yourself slowly moving onto your back as the kiss deepened.
He was smiling against you, and his teeth found your lower lip in a soft bite before he pulled back. "Does this mean you return my affection?"
You laughed and kissed an apology on his cheek at your lack of reciprocation. "Yes, it is returned whole heartedly. I love you Sean."
He sat up and took you with him, and you wrinkled your eyebrows, but before you could say anything, he turned the movie back on and yanked you back into your previous position against him. "I would like to finish the film."
His eyes were glinting with mischief, and his hand was slowly making its way up your leg. "You're being a tease."
He leaned in close, his eyes still on the screen as he whispered into your ear. "Consider it payback coming here on Monday in that dress."
Fin
@daydreaming-belle @lovemissyhoneybee @darklydeliciousdesires
#sean wallace#sean wallace/reader#gangs of london fanfiction#sean wallace fanfiction#sean wallace smut#sean wallace x reader#gangs of london#joe cole#sean wallace/you#sean wallace fanfic#sean wallace fic#gangs of london fanfic#gangs of london fic#sean wallace x you
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𝐀𝐬 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐬
“𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺
𝘓𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺
��𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥“
Inspo: Hozier - As It Was
Gangs of London Series
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader
Summary: Getting a tip from an old friend, Natasha takes things into her own hands.
Warnings: Slight angst and tiny bit of brutal fighting (broken bones).
Words 3308
“Nat, I will be fine for the night.”
The woman shot up from the bed, chest heaving as she scanned her room frantically. Body covered in sweat from the nightmare that she couldn’t stop reliving for the past week. Hand-tight around the handle of the gun that she hadn’t let leave her side since that night. How could she after the shit Steve’s death has stirred up? She’d be the one idiot in London to not be protected.
Placing the gun down on her bedside table, Natasha swung her legs over the edge of the bed and placed her hands over her face. Ran them over her face and stopped right above her mouth as she stared at the floor. Trying to give herself a moment of calm after the night she so desperately dreaded having to go to sleep.
But when she did eventually relax, she got up from her bed and went to the kitchen. Now, without a job, she was practically poor. Sure, she had enough money to sustain a steady living for the next few months, but if she didn’t have something to do. Her own thoughts and nightmares would likely be the end of her. But that was if London didn’t dare itself apart.
She didn’t know what to do with herself now. Looking for another client would be hard considering the circumstances, but even then she didn’t know if that was what she wanted. So, currently, she was just going through the motions and hoping things might come her way naturally.
For years, she had been in the bodyguard business. She and her sister found the job of protecting someone far more intriguing than killing someone like their parents had done their age. Both had been assassins for mobs that paid them quite a hefty amount of cash. But Natasha didn’t enjoy the idea of just jumping target to target, killing and asking questions after. She truthfully wanted something sustainable that won’t come back to her because her job was to just protect her client. But she also wanted a group of people she could get close to and call her family.
Now, it seems like that fantasy was thrown out the window with Steve’s death.
Stripping the damp sheets from her bed, she tossed them in the laundry bin in the corner of her room. Strolling out of her bedroom and towards the kitchen where she grabbed some cereal and milk. Grabbing the remote on the island and turned on the TV.
The moment the screen turned on, she was greeted by the sight of a picture of Steve Rogers. After the devastating death of the man, everyone in London had been talking about it. How he was killed, who could’ve done it, all that shit. And honestly, Natasha was sick of hearing about it. She felt like she was in a cage and couldn’t escape the truth.
Thankfully, her mind drifted from the TV and her food when her phone began to ring. Placing the ceramic bowl down, she grabbed the phone, scanning the number for a moment before huffing in annoyance. Answering the phone and placing it to her ear, “Sam, whatever you’re going to say, I already told you they-”
“I think I’ve got a lead on who killed Steve.”
Natasha felt her chest tighten up with her hand becoming tight around the phone. Already? Had someone been this dumb to slip up after killing the most powerful guy in London, already?
“Give me the name and I’m heading there right now.” Natasha indeed was already jogging to her bedroom and grabbing her things. She’d been waiting for something to come up for a whole week, and all she’s gotten was radio silence. Now, she had a chance to get some answers.
“Some lowlife named, Joshua Brooks,” Sam stated. “Heard he was at the Tipped Barrel down on 41st. A random cunt gave Bucky a tip on Josua knowing something about the murder.”
“The extra details don’t matter to me, Sam,” Natasha stated, grabbing her pea coat and slipping it on. “And thank you for this.”
“Don’t come back telling me I owe you. We’re even now after the parkland bombing.” Sam pointed out. “Oh, and Natasha? No bringing this up to the Rogers. Steve’s daughter is planning something that Bucky doesn’t even know about.”
Ah, Y/n. Natasha remembers seeing you at the funeral before Bucky and Peggy stopped her. In fact, she’s seen you on many occasions, but she never talked to you. Deciding that your attractiveness might just get in the way of her job, as well as complicate the relationship with Steve. But she does remember the seemingly heated conversation between you and T’Chaka before you walked away.
Something about you was intriguing and Natasha didn’t know what it was. It might’ve just been that she never once saw you shed a tear throughout the funeral. So, naturally, Natasha was curious about what her friend was telling her. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve heard rumours that there is some stirring in the organization currently,” Sam stated. “In fighting, restructuring or some shite like that. It’s not my business so I don’t question any of it.”
Natasha hummed, grabbing her gun and walking to the kitchen. She could only go off what Steve had told her about you. One of those things was that you were unpredictable, so it did make her wonder what you were exactly planning. It was inevitable for you to take control of the business sooner or later, but Natasha could only guess these decisions were either from bursts of emotions or something you truly thought needed to be changed. And sorry to say it, Natasha knew the system your father built, the deals, the income, it was all working perfectly.
But she couldn’t let that distract her. So bidding Sam goodbye, she ended the phone call. She grabbed her keys, her extra phone, and left her apartment.
The streets of London were quiet with only a few people wandering around, going about their business. Natasha stood on the other side of the street from the Tipped Barrel. Even from where she stood, she could hear the sound of people laughing and drinking. Not surprising considering that even when someone as powerful as Steven Rogers dies, people will find time to try and wind down from the chaos. Escape it for a little until they would eventually rejoin a society that was brutal.
Some part of Natasha wishes she could’ve indulged in that when she had the chance.
Striding across the road, she looked both ways, finding no sign of police. But as she reached the doors of the pub, four men stepped out in a fit of laughter. It didn’t take much to recognize the familiar men, who consisted of Quill, Kate, Peter, and Marc. They belonged to Stark’s gang, who were extremely close with Steve’s. On many occasions, they’d visited Steve and were on good terms.
So, in the hopes of slipping past them, Natasha didn’t make any eye contact. But she was stopped by Marc, grasping her arm tightly. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, Romanoff?”
“I don’t have time for this, Marc,” she hissed. “Let me inside.”
“That’s a no-go, Nat,” Quill then spoke up. “All of this is your fault. So fuck off and get on back to where you came from.”
Natasha clenched her jaw. The last thing she needed was to be seen as the bad guy in this situation. Bucky already saw her as a target and if she had Tony on her ass, she had nowhere to hide. The guy controlled all the CCTV in London, so it wouldn’t be the greatest situation for her to be in if that was the case.
Inhaling deeply, Natasha looked up at the man. “Quill, I’m right now trying to find answers and your fucking belligerence is not helping-”
Before she could continue, Kate punched her in the stomach. Causing the redhead to drop down to one knee and groan. Hearing the girl step towards her before spitting on the ground. “Fuck off, will ya?”
The group walked back inside with Natasha trying to regain her breath. Groaning as she shook her head in annoyance. Back when Steve had them and Tony over, things had been civil. But now, everything involving the gangs had gone to shit with her standing in the center of all the crossfire. It wasn’t like she didn’t deserve it because some part of her thought she did. But this shit was going to get annoying pretty quickly.
Her thoughts were brushed away when she heard the sound of yells coming from inside the pub. Soon following was glass shattering and the things being destroyed. With a grumble falling from her lips, Natasha marched to the doors and shoved them open.
She was welcomed by the harsh heat first, then the strong scent of alcohol, and then the brawl ensuing inside. It was consisting of random people and then Tony’s crew. So, acting quickly, Natasha went to the guy beating on Peter. Grabbing the man by the scruff of his jacket and punching him in the kidney, causing the man to fall to the ground.
Natasha moved through the pub, taking out each person that was attacking the group of four. She grabbed a man’s leg, dragging him across the floor and pressing the side of his knee against the edge of the bar. With one hard swing, she broke the man’s leg before moving to another and smashing their head off a table.
Glancing at the back of the pub, she spotted a guy sprinting out. So, quickly, she grabbed a broken piece of glass and sprinted after him. Ducking and dodging the fighting happening around her until she ran through the short corridor that led into the back. Stepping outside, she found Quill being held from behind by a man. With a well-placed throw, Natasha threw the shard of glass that stabbed into the man’s eyes, causing him to release Quill with a scream.
But she didn’t stay around as she quickly sprinted after who she was guessing was Joshua. Rounding the corner and seeing the man hop over the cobblestone wall. She followed closely behind, hoping the wall and pulling out her gun as she sprinted after him.
When she came around the corner of another building, she stopped and aimed her pistol. With a deep breath, she lowered her aim just enough before her finger tensed around the trigger. Firing the gun and hitting Joshua in the back of the leg, causing him to tumble to the ground with a yell.
Lowering her gun, she tucked it into the back of her pants as she marched over. Joshua tried to crawl away, groaning when the small pebbles dug into his wound. But he couldn’t make it far before he heard the crunching of rocks under a pair of boots. And before he could get a word out, he felt the sudden and piercing pain of a foot-stomping on his leg.
A scream ripped through the air as Natasha stared down at Joshua. “We’ve got some things to discuss, Joshua,” she seethed, reaching down and flipping the man onto his back. “What do you know about Steve Roger’s death?”
“Fuck you!”
Natasha tilted her head, pressing the tip of her boot into his wound. Causing a yell to be ripped free from him as the woman showed no amount of emotion. “This’ll be over if you answer my question, Joshua.”
“Okay! Okay, okay, okay!” He yelled, face scrunched up as his head slammed down onto the gravel. “I don’t know shit, but I got a name or some shite like that. Thunderbolt!”
Her lips parted, about to speak until she heard footsteps come from the end of the alley. Turning to find it to be Quill, Peter, Marc, and Kate. All having their own wounds, but their bloody knuckles told her enough that they held their own without her. “If you tell me to fuck off Quill, I’m going to fucking shoot you.” She warned as the man panted, hands resting on his hips.
His eyes flickered down to Joshua for a moment before meeting her eyes with a slight nod. “What do you need him for?”
Even when your dad was alive, you hated these fucking events. They all just felt a copy and paste of every other one in the past. The gangs that work together come together under a safe roof, drink and eat until the late hours of the night. Very rarely is there any business that is conducted at these “get-togethers” and you didn’t see your father’s death changing that.
Your mother had insisted on you attending considering you were taking over the empire. But you had your right hand, Frank Castle keeping tabs on your recent announcement of finding the person responsible for the death of your father. It hadn’t been very well received by the others, but they hadn’t said a word to you, so you didn’t very much care. If they did say something to you, that wouldn’t change your decision.
So, you were just trying to be presentable to a room full of people you didn’t give to shits about and hoping to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible. “Y/n, are you even listening?”
T’Challa’s voice shook you from your thoughts. Turning your head towards the man as a new addition, a woman more specifically, smiled at you. “This is, Wanda Maximoff.”
Forcing a smile, you offered a hand, to which she took it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You too,” Wanda said. “I wanted to offer my condolences personally. Steve was a good man and didn’t deserve what he got. But it is good that he taught you everything he knew.”
Your brows knitted together for a moment, a twitch of your lips flashing a smile as you looked at the woman curiously. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I just mean that I can see the same look in your eyes as he did,” she pointed out. “I can already tell you will be a great leader, that’s all.”
In the past few days, everyone you had met had said the same fucking thing. Comparing you to your father and how glad they were that you took over the role. When in comparison, your mother was just as good or even better for the position. Because it all just felt fake to you, and you couldn’t decide if they were all just lying to you or if they genuinely were grateful. Trust with everyone had wavered the moment your dad was killed and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.
And it felt like you had met your wit's end with all these comments of approval like you had been groomed for this spot for years. So much so that you had slapped the drink out of the Russian’s hand, causing the glass to shatter on the floor and grab everyone's attention as you jutted your finger in her face. “Fuck you.”
T’Challa was quick to move you away as Wanda stared at you in shock, unsure of how to take the sudden outburst. But she was right in her observation, you did hold that same fire as your father.
Once you were moved out of the room and into the hallway, T’Challa shoved you. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What the fuck do you mean?” You spat. “I am sick of hearing that shit over and over again. They act all nice and shit, but don’t agree or help to find my Dad’s killer? Fuck them!”
“You are making enemies out of business partners!” T’Challa exclaimed. “They want what you want, but they want a peaceful solution to the problem.”
You stared at the, stepping towards him until you were merely a foot away. Pressing your finger into his chest harshly, you shook your head. “I’m not interested in peace. I don’t care if I have to rip up half of London or kill half of these people, I’m going to find the killer,” you promised. “And when I do, the world can live another day.”
The two of you glared at one another. As bad as it was, you didn’t care for friendships or relationships your dad had established before his death. Nothing mattered besides the mission you had set for yourself. And you didn’t care who you had to run over to achieve that.
The silent warfare between you and T’Challa seized the moment the door to the party room opened with Frank stepping out. His eyes find yours and then T’Challa’s, a clear look appearing on his face. “A problem here, ma’am?” He inquired, voice gravely as he stepped towards you.
You glanced up at T’Challa, finding the man not meeting your gaze. “I don’t know,” you said, still staring at the man. “Is there a problem, T’Challa?”
The prince sniffled, meeting your gaze before shaking his head. “No. No, problem.”
Another brief silence filled the hallway as T’Challa walked away bitterly. Entering the party once more until you turned to Frank with a raised brow. “I got a call from one of Tony’s guys, Peter. Told me to bring you downstairs and meet them outside. Something about a chick saving their asses from like 8 dudes.”
With a huff, you walked side by side with the ex-marine and made your way downstairs. “Any particular reason?” You inquired, coming to the front door where you could see the bright headlights hitting the glass windows.
“It involves your father.”
That caused you to inhale deeply and step outside in quick steps. Seeing the black BMW SUV doors swing open with five people stepping out. All of them were recognizable besides the last one, the redhead you saw at the funeral. Her addition came as a surprise. You had asked your mother about it, but of course, your mom told you not to think about it too much.
“This is the chick from the pub.” Frank nodded towards the redhead.
The said woman turned her attention to you, eyes slightly widening for a blink before her relaxed features returned. “Natasha Romanoff.”
Passing up introductions, as you were sure she knew who you were, you motioned to the group of four and stood off to the side. “You saved their asses?” You inquired. “And what? You took out, what was it, 8 twats?”
“Well, it was seven and one shot in the leg, but yeah.” Her response made you grin for a moment. But it was short-lived when the woman stepped closer. “Y/n, I found a lead on your father’s killer.”
“I heard,” you acknowledged. “What was it?”
“Joshua, who’s in the back of the car said someone by the name of “Thunderbolt.”,” she stated. “I was planning on taking the man and torturing him myself, but Quill thought it to be a good idea to bring this to you.”
You hummed, walking past the group and towards the back of the SUV. Frank followed close in tow as you nodded to the trunk, to which he opened it and revealed a bleeding Joshua with tape around her mouth and rope around his wrists. He looked fearfully up at you, unable to hide the look of realization that appeared on his face as you tilted your head.
“It was good Quill did so,” you spoke up before turning your gaze to Natasha. “You’ll be coming with me. Frank, prepare for a long night of fun, my friend.” You told the man, walking around to the driver seat of the SUV with your right hand smiling down at Joshua, hand resting on the trunk.
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
#gangs of london series#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff angst#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#natasha romanoff x fem reader#x fem!reader#t'challa#scarlett johansson#natasha romanoff fanfiction#natasha romanoff imagine#marvel imagine#marvel fanfiction#marvel x fem!reader#marvel
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I thought of a blurb that’s basically just reader asleep on top of Hobie when the gang (Miles, Gwen, and Pavitr) show up and are noisy asf and Hobie shushes them all but they’re confused cause they can’t see reader who’s under the blankets, until she wakes up and peeks her head out from under the blanket and everyone’s like :0 I was thinking they have like a non-public relationship so everyone in the room is shocked lmao😭 No pressure at all and no hard feelings if you can’t! Love your writing and hope you’re doing well!
You are literally just the sweetest, I appreciate everytime you come into my inbox and compliment me and the fact that you put 'love' in bold and italics? 🥰💞💞💞
Here you go, my love.
Likkle Sleepy Darling
Hobie Brown X F!Reader
Hobie Brown was normally a pretty stoic guy—straight-faced with nothing more than a smug twitch of his lips to give away any sort of expression—but, if he was being completely honest, that all fell apart when it came to you.
You, who was the beam of hope in the dark, despair-filled streets of London he inhabited. You, whose smile shined so bright, you could take out a whole army of shadows with just the stretch of your lips. You, who fit ontop of him so perfectly, you almost resembled (no, a hundred percent did resemble—) the last, missing puzzle piece to his heart as you laid against his chest, lids shut and lips parted just enough to allow air through.
His lips tugged up. You were just so cute, he couldn't resist the urge to tighten his grip around your waist and pull you further into him, allowing the blanket on top of you both to further cascade over your head—completely obscuring your sleeping form.
The moment was perfect—
"That. Was. AWESOME!"
"I know right?! We went in and destroyed doc, I almost felt bad for her."
"You know her friends call her Liv?"
—until, of course, it wasn't.
In came the rowdy group of youngens Hobie somehow ended up befriending—half-suited up as they screamed to each other in the loudest voices they just had to muster up the one time you felt comfortable enough to sleep in his arms.
Allow it, he wasn't having it.
"Ayo, you man—" his whisper came out harsh, and whatever conversation they were having halted just like that, "—'low it, shut up."
They all blinked in unison. "Huh?"
Then, Miles piped up, "what do you—?"
He stopped speaking at the same time Hobie felt pressure being pushed onto his chest from two different parts.
Looking down, the man with multiple piercings was fond to find your squinting eyes peering up at him, half-dazed in that cute, little way that screamed the love of his life like no other.
"Likkle sleepy, aren't you, love?"
A nod.
And then, a chorus of gasps all at once—all followed by—
"Huuuuuuhhhhh?"
#female reader#x reader#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown x you#hobie brown#hobie x reader#hobie x you#spiderman: across the spiderverse#across the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#spider man: across the spider verse#spiderverse
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Civilian Life
READ PART TWO: SIMON’S FANTASY
READ PART THREE: GIRL’S NIGHT
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Smut, NSFW, Minors DNI, dirty talk, domestic!Simon, PIV sex, riding, fluff and smut, hair pulling, doggy, missionary, riding, fingering, cunnilingus
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Simon wonders, when he's too exhausted to breathe and drifting off to sleep, what you're doing at home. In his flat. In his bed. He doesn't get a phone, not on missions, because of the risk. His phone can be traced back to him, to his face, to you. He'll never take the risk of putting you in danger.
Never.
But he's a fucking softie for you, and so he wonders. Are you sleeping? Are you up watching telly? Are you laying in bed, minutes before you'll fall asleep, thinking the same thing he's thinking?
And God, he'll come home and sleep for three days straight, tired and worn down, and you sleep right there with him. You take the week off work every single time he comes home just to spend time with him. You rub that bruise-balm on the bruises he has from fighting and then you press up on your fucking tip-toes to kiss him.
"God, you are perfect," he purrs, hands on your back, holding you against him. You'll giggle, try to escape his arms, and it'll end with you pressed up against the wall, losing your 'fight' and kissing him.
You put your hands on his cheeks, you let him lift you to hold you against the wall, and you whimper when his hands squeeze your waist. Perfect. Woman.
You go out with him, you drag him around to little markets and cafes. You hold his hand, overjoyed he's home alive, and London seems to decide the rain is over when you're out. The tiny spots of sun light up your face and if Simon could bribe the sun to stay out and the clouds to fuck off he would.
"Simon," there's a hand on his shoulder as he zones out into a market table of jewelry while you look at them, "didn't know you were in London."
It's John at his side, the captain, and you light up when you see him.
"John!" You haven't seen him since the wedding and so you jump at the chance to pull him into a hug. John gives you a friendly post on the back, chuckling.
"Nice to see you, love." John says as you pull away.
"You too! Oh, I haven't seen you since the wedding!" You can't keep the smile off your face. The last time you were all together was Johnny's wedding and god was that a night…
He remembers the drunk sex you had in the back of his car, the way you babbled about needing to be the next girl to get married, that you wanted to be his wife…
"How've you been?" John's voice pulls him back from his memory.
"Great! Happy to be out." You reply. "The weather's finally nice."
"It is." John looks across the street, "couple of the boys and me are getting lunch across the street, wanna stop in?"
You look up at Simon, asking him if it's okay with your eyes.
"Sure." Simon replies. You smile up at him and reach over to take his hand.
Gaz, Johnny, Johnny's girl, and Konig are across at the restaurant. They pull in chairs for you and Simon and you sit.
"Konig," you smile at him, sitting next to him with Simon on the other side, "surprised to see you! Why're you in London?"
"Uhm," he's unsure of himself unless he's got a gun in his hand, has been since Simon met him, "just visiting, I haven't been to London since I was little."
"How do you like it?" Then begins the small talk. You tell everyone about your new job, about the puppy you want, and you laugh as they all gang up on him for not getting it for you.
"She's gotta be lonely while you're off on missions," John jokes.
"Bad boyfriend behavior Simon," Kaz says.
You bite your lips to keep yourself from laughing too hard and Simon jokes that they're all his squad mates and that they'll be watching their own backs next time.
You don't get home until nearly half-past seven, you eat pizza on the couch and watch telly until you're going off to be with him behind you.
It's supposed to be a goodnight kiss. You're in your little satin tank top and shorts set, hands on his chest, pressing against him. Simon can't help himself. He can't help the way his lips trail to your neck, the way his teeth tease at your skin, and he definitely loses all control when he hears you gasp his name.
Fuck it all to hell.
He leaves your neck blooming with black and blue, he squeezes your hips and dips his finger into your shorts to grope your ass. You whimper for him, you thread your fingers in his short hair and you tug it, and when your knees go weak you just get on them.
Simon groans when you look up at him, your hands on his pajama bottoms, lips already slightly parted. Can I? Simon wonders why you ask. He nods, his fingers in your hair. His pajamas hit the floor and you take him in your hand, eyes drifting closed when you wrap your mouth around him.
"Fuck, love, the shit you do to me…" He groans. This is what he tries to imagine when he takes himself into his hand in the rare alone moments on missions. He tries to imagine the way your mouth feels around him.
It never compares.
You've got a horrible gag reflex when you're tense, and you're always tense. Simon hears you gag and a shiver runs up his spine. He knows it’s painful, and that you hate it, but it’s all in your head that you’re going to gag. He’s gotta get you out of your head.
"Take it slow," he grumbles, "not going anywhere."
You pull your mouth off of him and lick your lips as you stare up at him.
"Will you fuck my throat?" You ask it like he'll say no, like 'no' is an option. Simon wouldn't be a man if he said no to that.
He imagines the headspace it put you in too and god he's fucked.
"'Course I will, sweetheart," he replies and you smile up at him before your mouth is hanging open again. Devastating.
Simon eases himself in, he reminds you to breathe through your nose, then he takes your hair in his hand… makes a ponytail in his fucking fist… and starts to fuck your throat. He sees your eyes roll back at one point and he wonders if you're enjoying this more than he is. He hears you whimper, feels your fingertips and your nails dig into his thighs and god he just wants to make you take it because he knows how much you love it when does.
You go fucking crazy for him to take your control out of your hands, for him to make you his. He has to pull your mouth off of him so that he doesn't cum down your throat. He has to fuck you, he hasn't fucked you in so long.
"S-Simon-" your voice is almost a whine, almost asking him why he stopped. He chuckles.
"Gotta fuck you," Simon replies, just as breathless as you are, "Gotta fuck you, okay?"
“P-” you stutter, let him pull you to your feet, “-Please.”
Your legs shake as he pulls your tank top over your head. You never wear a bra to bed, an added bonus to every night he gets to sleep next to you, and Simon wants to fall to his knees and mark your chest up like it’s his only job. Your knees have to be killing you though, and so he gets you out of your shorts and onto the bed on your back.
“Simon…” his hands trail down your thighs, they knead your skin. Your soft, soft fucking skin. He’s gotta get his mouth between your thighs. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He’d fuck you in a second but he’s gotta draw it out.
He wants to give you a night you brag about to your girlfriends tomorrow. He loves hearing the way you brag about his skills.
Simon sinks to his knees at the edge of the bed and he takes your thighs in each hand to pull you closer. Your legs dangle over his shoulders, you’re watching him without breathing. His hands press your hips to the bed when they wiggle, he tries to give you his most dangerous eyes.
“Stay still,” he says, “or else.”
“Or else?” you tease, not too far gone to give him shit and Simon commits himself to remedying it. “What would you do to me? Oh, please don’t punish me Ghost, I promise I’ll be a good girl.”
You’re giggling, you have the audacity to giggle while he’s between your legs but what has Simon freezing isn’t your giggles, it’s the way you called him Ghost. You know his code name, of course you do, but you’ve never used it. Never. Simon get’s impossibly harder at the fantasy that pops into his head.
Bending you over a table, handcuffing you, pushing you close to the edge again and again with all of his gear on, pressing you for information you won’t give… promising to make you cum if you just give me the intel, sweetheart. He’s gotta tell you about it later. You’d be down for it, his little freak.
Simon rolls his eyes at your giggling and presses your thighs open to get his fucking mouth on you. You gasp, one of your hands is in your hair, the other one is thrown over your face, hiding behind it. Simon presses his arm over your lower belly to pin you down and presses two fingertips to your hole. You spread your legs wider, you cry out his name, and Simon sinks two of his fingers into you. God, the way you clench around them makes his head spin.
“I-I’m-” it’s so early, so fast, that it throws you off guard. You try to close your legs around his head, stop him from going further, but he elbows them open and keeps his fingers moving.
“My poor girl,” Simon whispers against the skin of your thighs, “always so neglected when I’m off on a mission, aren’t you?”
“A-Am. I am.” your hips twitch, you squirm on his fingers, and Simon groans at the way your back arches.
“Let me make it up to you, love.” he replies, voice low and dark. Simon is intent on getting you to cum atleast once more before he turning you over and fucking you just the way you like.
“Simon!” you squeal, legs twitching to close. You work hard to keep them open, just the way you know he likes, shaking like a damn leaf.
“One more, sweetheart, gimme one fucking more.” Simon growls before he’s putting his mouth back on you and sucking your clit into his mouth.
You sob, your legs close around his head and he thinks try to push me away, try it love because he knows you like it when he pushes you, he knows how you like it when he takes control of your body. You can’t stop the incoherent rambles of his name and please and stop that tumble from your lips. You try to lift your hips off the bed but he shoves them down. You try to back yourself up to get away from him but he keeps you pinned with an arm across your stomach. You slap your hands over your mouth to keep yourself from screaming and Simon reacts, lifting his arm off your stomach to pin them down with your hips by the wrists.
You cum screaming his name, trying to break his neck with your fucking thighs and spasming around his fingers. He’s never seen you cum that hard and now he’s hooked.
“Why did you-” you pant, struggling with your words, “the-the neighbors Simon…”
“Don’t fucking care,” he grumbles, he kisses your quaking thighs, “pieces of shite anyways.”
“Simon…” you’re trying to sound scold-y, like you’re angry with him, but when he crawls up your body and kisses you, you stop complaining. He’s gotta give you time to recover after something like that, and so he just holds you for a little while, kissing you and running his hands calmly over your back.
You start kissing him again after a while, tongue tangled with his, breath heavy, eyes lidded. He can feel your skin grow hotter, clammier, and you throw your leg over his hip to get him on his back.
“Goddamnit…” he groans when you sit up, hands splayed across his chest, back arched to grind against him. He puts a hand under his head, the other reaching down to grab your hip and guide you.
You lift your hips, reach down beneath you and line him up. God, you sink yourself down on him and you just can’t keep yourself from grinding on him. Simon watches you lift your hips, hears the way you moan and watches you throw your head back with it. He fills you up nicely, has had you crying your compliments more than once, and you like to savor it when you’re on top. You grind your hips, you drag them up and down his cock slowly, and within ten minutes Simon’s a goddamn mess for you. He thrusts his hips upwards, he uses his hands on your hips to control the drag of your hips, and you fall apart on top of him.
“Ch-Change me,” you whimper, losing speed and stamina, “O-On my- want you from behind-”
You don’t need to tell him twice.
Simon gets you to your chest, knees spread, back arched, hands gripping the sheets above your head. Simon is a gentleman, or at least he can be, and so he moves your hair out of your face and gathers it into a ponytail in his fist to pull it. You gasp, hips squirming to grind against him. Simon holds your hips still with one hand.
“You’re gonna take it like my good little slut, aren’t you?” you nod, whimpering, clenching down around nothing.
“I’m yours- your good little slut,” you whisper against the sheets, eyes shut and rolled back. Simon sinks in, so fucking slow, and sob with it. You’ve told him before this angle is different, deeper, more sensitive. You can’t stop the way your hips twitch and grind against, it’s impossible with how desperate you’ve become.
Simon’s hips snap forward and you cry out his name as he starts to fuck you. You’re both so sensitive, so desperate from him being away, that it's not gonna be long before he’s pulling out to cum on your thighs. He groans at the image his memory brings up for him of your thighs all covered with him. He releases your hair to sit up, hands on your ass and hips, groping a cheek before he pulls his hand back to spank you. You sob, hand reaching back to push at his naval.
“Don’t fucking think so,” he growls, pinning your wrists in one of his hands and fucking you harder for it, “fucking take it,”
Your hips still, back arched as far down as it’ll go, legs spread wider as you pulse around him through your third orgasm of the night. You moan, the bed bumps against the wall, and Simon’s grip on your wrists and hip tightens.
“Where, love?” he grits out.
“Inside,” you cry, “please, inside,”
Who the fuck is he to argue? He goes still, buried inside of you, and has the best orgasm of his fucking life. You take it like the perfect girl you are, whimpering when he pulls out. He grabs a towel, puts it under your hips but he’s depraved, a sick fucking man, because he kneels behind you and watches it drip out of you for a second before he wipes you down with a towel and turns you over.
Fucked out, googly eyed, you pull him down for Simon’s guiltest of guilty pleasures: naked, after-sex cuddles.
#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#ghost mw2#Smut#cod mw2#cod#mw2 x reader#ghost smut#ghost x reader smut
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the fifth kiss- s.reid
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a/n: season one, episode 18 'Somebody's Watching'
summary: lila archer gets in the way of you and spencer.
pairing: spencer reid x fem bau! reader
warnings: general cm topics, the team don't know about you and spencer, injuries, reader gets injured, spencer shoots someone. (i think that's it, tell me if i missed anything :))
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You sat in your hotel room, confused at the events of the day. Maybe it was the sweltering LA heat, or maybe it was the awful way Lila and Spencer were making goo-goo eyes at each other.
You had been at the gallery with him and his sub-par flirting. At least Lila was happy. When Spencer had to leave he was practically begging you to convince Gideon to leave him with Lila.
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“Sprence, we have to go,” You grabbed his shoulder and went up on tip-toes to whisper in his ear. You started walking out of the gallery with Gideon and noticed Spencer didn’t follow.
“Spencer!” Gideon called to him.
Spencer walked up to you. “Do you need me? Or c-can I stick around here for a while?” He smiled shyly.
“Gideon wants you so I’d just ask him,’” you shrugged.
“But… Can you just ask him?” Spencer pushed.
“Spencer!” Gideon called. “Y/n!”
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When Detective Kim asked you to look at the crime scene, and when the rest of the team was called, everyone knew that you’d be most helpful in this case. You’d been in the violent crimes division which meant you’d be able to accurately tell them if it was a gang, what kind of killer it was, and why they were doing it. On top of that you were definitely the most qualified to talk to Lila Archer when she came back with the note from her stalker/ the unsub because of your year as a liaison on a team in London.
“Hi, I’m Agent Y/l/n, this is Agent Morgan, Agent Greenaway, Agent Jareau, Agent Hotchner, and of course, you know Agent Gideon and Doctor Reid,” you introduced the team as she came into the room. “Agent Morgan and I will ask you some questions, if that’s ok?”
She nodded her head but her eyes stayed glued to where Spencer had his arm around you. You two were best friends, in the team's eyes. In reality, you two had been dating for the past 4 weeks. You hadn’t told anyone since it was only new but you really liked him. But, you two had sex and he hasn’t asked you out again. Granted, you’ve both been busy but… doubt was starting to creep in.
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“Did you know Natalie Ryan?” You asked.
“We spoke when we were in public, but we were never friends,” she shrugged as she picked at her nails, clearly uninterested in what you had to say.
“What about Wally Mellman?” Morgan added.
“What about him?” she asked.
“He was killed a few months ago, did you know him?” You asked.
Lila shook her head. “I read for a part but they went a different way.”
“What way?” Elle asked as she entered the room.
“They cast another actress… it was Natalie,” she admitted.
“Nice way to get rid of competition,” Morgan said, eyeing her agent beside her.
“Hey it wasn’t me! I brought her into this damn police station,” he defended.
“Alright, do you ever feel like you’re being watched?” You asked.
“All the time,” she scoffed. “It kind of comes with the territory.”
“Yes, but an unusual amount,” you continued. “Something out of the ordinary that happens regularly-”
“Repetitive phone calls with hang-ups, gifts left anonymously,” Morgan started listing.
Lila wasn’t listening and she definitely wasn’t cooperating.
“Ms. Archer?” you asked. Her eyes snapped back to yours.
“Pardon?”
“Is there something more important you could be doing right now?” You snarked.
“Why isn’t Dr. Reid in here?” She asked.
“He’s busy,” Elle answered. “I can assure you, you are with the people you need to be with right now.”
“Yes, but why do I need to be with all of you?” She asked and your blood boiled.
“Because we’re the people on the team that have worked on stalking cases before, Dr. Reid, hasn’t,” Morgan gritted out, anger spilling from him too.
“Now back to the questions, does something out of the ordinary happen on a regular basis?”m You asked.
“I receive flowers,” she admitted. “On the 7th of each month they just appear in my trailer. Never a note, just a plain glass bowl. Red anemones, my favourite.”
“And you’ve never questioned who they’re from?” Elle asked.
“Celebrities get anonymous gifts all the time, she has fans y’know?”
“Does the number 7 mean anything to you? Did you meet anyone on the 7th, or in the 7th month of the year?”
“No,” she said, definitively. “I would remember.”
“Alright, who would you have told about red anemones being your favourite flower?” you asked.
“I don’t know, I guess my friends and family?” she sighed. “Can we be done now?”
“Lila, I need a list of people who would know that those flowers are your favourite, like… my boyfriend knows that my favourite flowers are blue lilies-” Lila’s eyes snapped to yours and immediately sized you up.
“Who’s your boyfriend?” She asked. “Are you dating Spencer?”
“No, I am not dating Dr. Reid,” you lied.
“Why are you two so close?” She questioned.
“Am I interviewing you or are you interviewing me?” You snapped back. “Ms. Archer, two people are dead because of you, that’s the reality of the situation. Dr. Reid is working your case, just like the rest of us. So, I suggest you start cooperating before someone else gets hurt.”
Lila’s eyes clouded and glossed over, she left the room, sniffling and on the verge of tears. You didn’t care. She was withholding information for no reason other than the fact that she liked Spencer.
“What happened?” Spencer demanded when he walked in. “Lila’s crying.”
You rolled your eyes. “Fucking brat.”
Elle and Derek nodded their heads in agreement while Spencer pulled a face of confusion.
“Spencer, she’s just like every other Hollywood starlet, selfish, self-centred, and really annoying,” Elle chuckled and both Derek and you laughed with her.
“She's a person who’s going through a very hard time right now,” he stated then turned his gaze on you. “and you spoke to her in an unprofessional way.”
You scoffed. “Right…”
“I mean it, she told me what you said.”
“You mean… the truth? Two people are dead because of her,” you sighed. “Listen Spencer, I don’t want to fight you over your clear crush on her,” something you hadn’t wanted to admit earlier. “So go for it, sleep with her, kiss her, I don't really care.”
Spencer’s eyes widened. He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet. You’d been on 4 dates. You two weren’t ‘dating’.
“Y/n-” Spencer tried but you got up.
“I’m going to grab some coffee,” you announced, then left with Spencer behind you.
“What do you mean you don’t care?” Spencer asked in a small voice as he stood behind you.
“Spencer, we both know you have a crush on Lila, if you want to go for it, go for it,” you sighed.
“But I… what about us?”
“We both know you got what you wanted,” you shrugged. “I just never thought you’d be like that.”
“W-what am I like?,” he stuttered.
You ignored his stupid question.“And Spencer, I don’t really take kindly to people questioning my ability to do my job, alright?”
Spencer just nodded, and walked away.
-----------------------------------
You cared. You cared a lot.
That’s why you were sitting in your hotel room alone and crying, confused about the day.
There was a knock at the door. You opened it and found Gideon.
“Evening?” You questioned as you let him in, brushing the tears off your cheeks.
“You and Spencer need to talk,” he stated.
“About what?”
“Your relationship, for one,” he sighed. “You two are both in love with each other, we can all see it, and now you’ve sent him off to go sleep with a movie star because he can’t stop stuttering around her?”
You looked away in embarrassment. “The goo-goo eyes didn’t help,” you shrugged, speaking like a dejected child.
“What was your first date?”
“We don-t- we aren’t-”
“Yes you did. Now tell me, what was your first date?”
“We went to the cinema near his apartment, we saw this Italian film, ‘La Chimera’, then we got lunch,” you rattled off.
“What was his body language throughout?”
“Gideon-” you sighed.
“Tell me,” he said sternly.
“He was nervous, he kept messing with his hands, he was stuttering, and when I kissed him he tensed up for a few seconds,” you rolled your eyes at Gideon’s antics.
“Exactly, and who is the only person on this team that Spencer genuinely seeks out to touch?” He asked.
“Me.”
“Exactly.”
“But still, he also likes her and I don’t know if you noticed but I’m not her!”
“But you’re you, and Spencer’s in love with you.”
You sighed. “I sent him off.”
“What?” He asked, horrified.
“I told him we were ‘casual’ and that I didn’t care if he dated someone else.”
“Why would you do that?” He hissed.
“Because I thought it was the right thing to do!”
“You’re supposed to be intelligent!” He groaned.
“I know!” You shouted back.
Gideon sighed and walked closer, pulling you into a hug. “You two will be ok.”
-----------------------------------
You sat beside Lila as she got into makeup.
“I’m not stopping my life,” she stated.
“Yeah, you mentioned that,” you sighed.
Spencer walked up beside you two with a coke in his hand.
Lila turned her nose up at the coffee that she’d been drinking for the past few minutes and you almost laughed when she took his coke, expecting him to grab it right back. Your mouth dropped open when hee let her drink from it, then took a drink right after. She was called to the scene and you rolled your eyes.
“You don’t mind sharing with me, do you?” Derek teased.
“Shut up.”
“Go get ‘em loverboy.”
When Spencer met your eyes you swore you saw regret, or some kind of remorse in them. You ignored it.
-----------------------------------
“We were too late,” Gideon’s voice rang over your phone.
“Shit, she’s going to be devastated.”
“Don’t tell her yet,” he asked.
“Course.”
You hung up and gathered Lila and Spencer and some of her things.
-----------------------------------
You got picked up by Derek and Detective Kim, and you sent Spencer and Lila on their way.
“How are the two lovebirds?” Derek asked, exasperation and irritation clear in his voice.
“Oh, they’re all great, never a dull moment where she isn’t trying to get into his pants,” you sighed as you three walked out of the paparazzo's apartment.
“Where are we headed next?” you asked.
“Lila’s. We need to bring more people to her, maybe even get her to a safehouse,” Kim sighed. A motorcycle started and before you knew it, you were against the car and groaning in pain.
“Y/n! Are you alright?” Derek shouted.
“Yeah, it just grazed,” You nodded, looking at the flesh wound the bullet had left behind. “Get to Kim,” you told him. You reached for your gun and shot after the motorcyclist but they got away.
-----------------------------------
After being bandaged up, you and Derek sped to Lila’s house to find Spencer and Lila soaked.
-----------------------------------
“I fell into the pool,” Spencer admitted sheepishly.
“Sure, I’m sure there’s a bunch of photos of it,” you nodded sarcastically. You walked away, an uncertain heartbreak settling deep in your gut as you went through the photos, ripping them out, for his sake.
-----------------------------------
Spencer felt awful. He had been rude to you, he’d gone against you, he’d kissed someone else.
The entire time, all he could think about were the four times he’d kissed you.
-----------------------------------
One.
You two were outside the lunch place he loved and you’d both spent the entire meal talking about the film. It was comfortable, and probably too domestic to be a first date but Spencer didn’t mind. He loved the way you and him were comfortable around each other.
“So I’ll see you at work on Monday?” You smiled, that perfect smile that drove Spencer crazy.
“Yes, you will see me at work on Monday,” he smiled, breathing out slowly. You chuckled, then wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss you. Your lips on his genuinely re-wired his entire being. He felt butterflies and heat run through him, until he kissed back. Then he knew that this was an addiction. That he wanted to kiss you every moment of every hour of every day for the rest of his life.
You had to guide his hands to your hips and it was a bit of a laughing/ kissing thing, but it was amazing all the same.
-----------------------------------
Two.
Spencer stood in your kitchen, grabbing his coat from the chair when you kissed him. This time he was prepared. His hands immediately went to your waist, large palms spanning over the navy colour of the sundress you were wearing. God you looked beautiful.
Again, your lips on his was something he’d never get enough of. How perfect you felt. How beautiful you were. He was sure he was in love.
-----------------------------------
Three.
You dragged him kicking and screaming to a farmer’s market, but in the end he’d enjoyed it. He’d enjoyed it because you’d actually kissed him twice. Once when he remembered something minute about you (How could he ever forget?) and another time when you’d simply wanted to. You and that damn sundress.
-----------------------------------
Four.
You were at his apartment and you were on his lap. He had been painfully hard as you continued kissing him and slowly grinding down on him.
“Do you want to…?” you asked, a hazy lust-filled smirk on your face.
Spencer just nodded.
“Do you have a condom?” You asked and chuckled when he sheepishly shook his head. “It’s fine, I’m on birth-control,” you smiled and Spencer just followed your lead.
After what felt like hours of you just sinking down on his ridiculously large cock, you finally started moving.
“Oh fuck,” you mumbled. “You’re so big,” you groaned into his ear. Spencer whimpered as you slowly moved up and down his length.
As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he had thought about fucking you, a lot. Sometimes you were under him, sometimes you were over him, it didn’t matter. He wanted to fuck you.
And that he did.
After you fucked him on the couch, he turned it around and slammed into you with such vigour his couch moved. His fingers explored your core and once he ended up tasting you, he knew he couldn’t go back. He spent half an hour between your legs, licking and fingering you, moaning with you as if he was getting pleasure from it as well, which he was.
Once the both of you were cleaned up you fell asleep in his bed with his arms firmly around you. The next morning you both smiled at each other, not exactly shy but still hesitant to talk about what had happened. Spencer knew that was the right moment to ask you, but he couldn’t. He wanted you, all of you. He wanted you to be his girlfriend, then eventually his fiancee, and eventually his wife.
He was head over heels in love.
And when you kissed him sweetly, nothing like the sex-fuelled kisses from the night before, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
-----------------------------------
“W-what happened?” Spencer asked, signalling to the bandage on your arm.
“A bullet grazed me,” you shrugged.
“A-are you okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” you gritted out. You didn’t look at him, in fear of catching a glimpse of those damn puppy-dog eyes.
-----------------------------------
As Spencer apologised to Lila, you searched the house.
The house was big, too big for one person to live here but you digressed. As you searched you gave yourself a moment to think over the events of the past 48 hours.
“Who’re you?” A blonde woman asked from her seat at the vanity.
“Who’re you?” you asked, pulling your gun. “Spencer!”
You could hear Spencer and Lila running to you.
For the second time that night, you were on the floor bleeding. Great. The police officers out front started running into the house as Spencer reached you. She’d hit you in your chest.
“Shit,” Spencer cursed. He pulled out his phone and called an ambulance. The officers took down Maggie and you were rushed to hospital.
-----------------------------------
Hours and hours of surgery later, you were awake with Spencer’s hand in yours.
“Hi,” he smiled softly.
“Hi.”
“I’m so sorry,” he sighed. “I was so stupid, I shouldn’t have let you walk away like that. I’m so sorry-”
“It’s alright,” you smiled. “I’m glad things worked out between you and Lila.”
Spencer’s face dropped. “I don’t want Lila. I want you. I’m in love with you. I only want you.”
Your heart sped up, you could hear it on the monitor. Both you and Spencer laughed.
“Good. I’m in love with you too," you smiled once your laughter had subsided.
He leaned down and kissed you softly.
The fifth kiss.
-----------------------------------
criminal minds masterlist :)
navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)
#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#bau team#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#doctor spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid criminal minds#matthew gray gubler#matthewgraygubler
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Couples Costumes
Warning: Bad writing
leah Williamson x Beckham!Reader
You huffed racing around your room trying to find where you had last left your gold necklace trying to set the finishing touches to your costume, for the annual Halloween party your parents hosted as your girlfriend sat in the bathroom trying to get her hair just right. “Darling have you seen my rope necklace.” Leah let out a soft hum letting you know she couldn’t quite hear you as you turned to walk towards the en-suite bathroom before leaning against the doorframe “my gold rope twisted necklace my love I can’t find it” Leah watched you through the mirror as she finished setting her fringe just right “try my night stand Angel and do me a favour relax we have plenty of time.” You nodded walking over to Leah’s nightstand picking up your missing necklace before walking into the en-suite and standing behind her as you put it on. Leah smiled up at you through the mirror before reaching over and grabbing her video camera “my girl all dressed up for Halloween looking Stunning as ever.” You bent down resting your head on her shoulder as you smiled at the camera through the mirror “and my love looking as fine as ever with my surname on her back.” You laughed winking as Leah made a face “not forever, only for tonight then I’m back to being Williamson and you can wear mine.” You laughed bending down once more kissing her before talking lips still pressed gently together “someday we shall share a name.” Leah sighed not pulling away “we will mine.” You laughed pulling away nodding “I’m happy whatever name comes after my first as long as I get to spend the rest of my life with you.” Leah smiled up at you once more before shutting off the camera “enough fluffy content for one video I think you looking gorgeous Posh already to go.” You smiled grabbing her hand as she stood “ready when you are Becks.” You both left the house before making your way to meet the rest of the gang in London.
Your family had been throwing Halloween party’s ever since you where a kid and once you and Leah had become official you started bringing her to along with her family and some close friends it had turned into a tradition you loved often choosing couple costumes but this year with the release of your dads new documentary and all you both had decided to dress up as younger versions of your parents when they had started dating, You dressed as your mum because although you played almost exactly like your dad except left wing you looked almost exactly like your mum when she was younger expect for a few features that where so obviously your dad, and Leah dressed in an England Beckham jersey from your fathers years of playing for the country (you had no chance of getting her into a different club jersey anyway) and a pair of black trousers and boots she had also decided to utilise her fringe styling it to create the curtain bang look your father wore in his early years of professional football.
Arriving at the party you smiled to the few paps that had taken to waiting outside before making your way into the decked out venue smiling and thanking the bouncers on the door before looking around for the two people you wanted to your costume off to most. Holly Leah’s cousin was the first to spot you both as you waved before starting to strike up a conversation “omg you guys win this is incredible best idea ever like wow guys.” Leah smiled down at you pulling you into her front wrapping her arm around your waist “it was this one’s idea.” You blushed at Leah’s statement before talking to Holly some more before spotting your two younger brothers, squeezing Leah’s hand to signal you where moving she released you watching on as you walked towards Romeo and Cruz before turning back to Holly “I mean wow Leah you guys really pulled it off.” Leah laughed “thanks she was stressing over what we where going to wear for weeks before we decided and how we where going to make sure everyone knew what we where dressing up as as well.” Holly nodded “no seriously tell her again amazing.”Leah smiled at her older cousin content in knowing you where loved by her nearly as much as she loved you “although I have to say it will be weird having to call you Leah Beckham when you finally get married.” Leah’s head whipped around to her cousin “what makes you think I’m going to be Leah Beckham.” Holly laughed “your wearing her name on your back le.” Leah shook her head “nope just a costume she’s taking Williamson when we get married she’s already promised.” Holly looked at Leah shocked “omg so you asked.” Leah shook her head once more “no Holly shush soon just not right now I have it planned.”
Romeo laughed watching you throw popcorn into Cruz’s mouth. Cruz had dressed up with his best friend Will as Step Brothers and Romeo and his girlfriend Mia had dressed up as Shark boy and Lava girl. “So Y/n I’m not fully getting your costume who are you meant to be.” You laughed turning to find Leah before spotting her and waving her over. You turned laughing at your brother’s reaction your guys couple costumes “no way you dressed as Mom and Dad for Halloween that was so smart.” You let out a laugh as you put you hand behind you back for Leah to grab “cool no” the boys nodded smiling before your older brother and his wife appeared dressed as cowboy Barbie and Ken. “You guys look amazing best costumes of the night by far.” You where never one who liked getting compliments so to hear so many about yours and Leah’s costume had you a blushing mess looking to hide in your girlfriend. “Nearly a full Beckham now Leah.” Brooklyn amidst your girlfriend winking “for one night and one night only.” Brooklyn shook his head “that’s all you will need before you become a Beckham permanently” Leah shook her head “I’m afraid it’s the other way around I plan on signing this Beckham over here to join the Williamson’s team in the future.” Your brothers laughed as you all began chatting once more.
Making your way towards the dance floor you spotted your parents dressed as Gomez and Mortica Addams playing the part as they waltzed about the dance floor. “Mum hey.” The older pair turned towards your waving hand as their faces lit up in pure surprise at your costume instantly getting the reference “oh my dear god you pair looking amazing.” Smiling once again you thanked them “when did you guys come up with this.” Leah smiled watching your parents reaction happy you both pulled it off “for weeks honestly had to find a jersey this one would wear and then all the little accessories you have with this outfit mum is crazy but I’m so happy after getting that reaction.” The pair smiled before your mum turned looking over your shoulder at your brothers and sister who was dressed as Anne Hathaway in the Princess Diaries “right family photo so, you too Leah your a Beckham now after all.” Leah shook her head before smiling at you as you spoke up “only for tonight I’m afraid she doesn’t want my last name.” Your parents laughed understandably as Leah had talked to them a few days previously of her plans to propose. Your entire family (brothers their girlfriends/wives) and your girlfriend all squeezed in for the family photo shouting Halloween before you all broke apart mingling for the rest of the night.
Leah let out a sigh as she followed you into the house tired after a long night of partying with both your families and friends “god we have our work cut out for us next year if we are to top this darling.” Leah hummed walking up behind you before pulling you into a searing kiss. “Hey what’s gotten over you.” Leah smiled down at you “nothing your just absolutely breathtaking.” You laughed hiding your head in her neck before kissing it and pulling back slightly to look at her face “Marry me.” You looked at Leah slightly shocked at the statement “what.” “Marry me.” You smiled running your fingers through her hair “your going to have to take your top off then my love cause Beckhams not your surname and after I marry you I plan on changing mine.” Leah laughed “so yes.” You nodded bring Leah’s face into your hands pulling her into another kiss “in this lifetime and the rest my love.”
#leah williamson#leah williamson x reader#Leah Williamson x you#Leah Williamson x y/n#david beckham#victoria beckham#awfc#romeo beckham#brooklyn beckham#cruz beckham#harper beckham#man united#lionesses#england#leah williamson imagine
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Reader x Mob Boss Price Au thoughts.
Soap and Reader have known each other for years (It's how reader has their job in the cover company for the organised crime stuff)
Soap and Ghost are in a secret(ish) relationship. Reader knows but that's cuz she and Johnny are so close.
Price knows about the relationship - happy about it but doesn't really comment/it's not his place to have an opinion.
Gaz is married with two kids (and a third on the way) Mrs Garrick and Reader are on good terms but not friendly - maybe this changes over time?
Ghost is weirdly protective of Reader because of how much she means to Soap.
Price is unmarried, often seen with a regular sex worker, but it's purely transactional. Ends when Reader and Price start to develop feelings (but initial tension, Reader feeling like stepping on toes?)
Graves and Shepherd defectors to rival gang (Makarov, Valeria, etc.) This is inciting incident that Price ends up in Reader's bed with her old eepy doggo licking his wounds.
Reader is cyber security expert (this will be heavily winged, as I don't want to make it super jargon-y or specialist)
Reader lives in London but hates it, wants to move to the country some day.
Gah I'm thick in the planning for this now, I hate my brain sometimes. No more AUs/WIPs. (give it a week?)
#john price#mafia au#captain john price#john price mafia au#john price au#cod au#cod mafia au#tf141 mafia#tf141 au#john price x reader#captain price#price x reader#price x you#price x y/n#price x oc#tf141 mafia au#cod x reader#tf 141 x reader#tf 141#john price x you#captain johnathan price#task force 141#john price x y/n#captain price x reader#John Price smut#captain price smut#captain price x you#captain price cod#captain price x female reader#price smut
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Devil, Devil - Part I
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F! Reader
Fandom: Peaky Blinders
Summary: The seal of your fate, to a man falsely crowned. And to your devil, your soul was bound.
[Inspired by this request for a jazz/vaudevillian performer and the song Devil, Devil - MICK]
Warnings: Dark!Tommy, dubcon/noncon themes, noncon touching, little bit smutty but full smut in future chapters, stalking/unhealthy obsession, manipulation, blackmail, mentions of domestic abuse, blood, mild choking, mention of prostitution
WC: 5277
It was all because of that damned Peaky devil.
You cursed him for the gaudy pearls strung around your neck, for the corset that pinched your stomach so tight it would be a wonder if you’d be able to hit your lower notes. You cursed him for the waver in your stride every night you stepped onstage, for the heat beneath your skin when that frozen gaze seemed to douse you in fire, for the quiver in your tone when you sang – for you sang from your soul, and your soul trembled in the sights of the blue-eyed Devil.
He’d started arriving for your performances every night, attracting the attention of the dancers and the waitresses, the owner and the local hoodlums, but he paid no mind to any of them but you. He always sat in the second row, shadowed by the establishment’s collection of antiques. He’d light a cigarette and blow a halo for a crown, lurking in the darkness but staring at you from eyes like twin beacons, his pinewood throne framed by the black coat he never relinquished and his sharp features hallowed by the candlelit fires of Hell.
“He’s trouble, that one,” the locals had said. “Managed to turn a backwoods razor gang into an enterprise, but make no mistake; he’s got cursed blood in him. Shelby Company Limited, they call themselves now, but the Peaky Blinders they’ll always be. Thomas fuckin’ Shelby comes up from Birmingham, thinks he owns everything he sees. The Devil, some say; if you’ve crossed paths with him twice, them say it’s too late for you, when the Devil’s set his sights on your soul.”
If he’d truly set his sights on your soul, you wondered why he tormented you like this, why he never said a word but only devoured you with those frigid blue eyes, as if you were all his and you possessed not even a fraction of him. Last you’d checked, legend had it the Devil traded for souls, so what could he possibly think to grant you? The man had brought you nothing but misfortune. It was because of him that tonight you were expected to join the dancers, because your act had been slipping beneath that coldfire gaze and smoke-ring crown. Your manager claimed it was by popular customer request, but you knew better. You were a songbird, not a peacock; while the other girls of your troupe flared their feathered skirts and tasseled corsets, you were an instrument in their symphony. You got up on that stage not because you wanted to show off, but because when you sang, your soul came alive, and amidst the velvety sounds of the trombones and saxes and the lurid displays of flashing colours and lights, you were at peace.
Until he came along and ruined everything.
“I do not run a charity,” your manager had said. “I run a business. And this business, it has an image to maintain. Before our contract ends with this club, we need to show these Londoner pricks that we are not just another travelling circus with cheap whores and fake magic tricks. Nobody is questioning your ability to sing, Y/N. We just think you could be bringing a little… more.”
As you stepped onto the stage that night, and immediately felt yourself impaled by the icy hooks of that piercing gaze, you wondered if the Peaky devil also wanted a little “more”. As if you could give him anything more than what he’d already taken: your soul, your peace.
Your breath came shaky against the microphone as the lights illuminated the stage, blacking out all of the club’s customers except for one. One, whose mouth you could swear quirked into the slightest of smiles around his cigarette, whose gaze roved across your new ensemble like you were a piece of meat. Your corset already hitched your breath in your chest, and anger flared within you, frustration eating at the hollowness of your ribs as your voice came airy and light.
But this rage that had flickered to life inside you, warm and whelming like the oil lamps that cast darting shadows across the white tablecloths, it spurred a growl in your tone that surprised yet thrilled you, and as your nails curled around the microphone, your shoulders carried to the bright of the music, the dark of your tone made you feel like you were something dangerous. That perhaps a devil dwelled beneath your breast as it did the man with the eyes of death.
Feathered wings and headdresses whirled around you as the girls began their choreography, and your heart seemed to escape the heavy constriction of the corset to pound in your throat, your skull, joining the chorus of sounds that resonated deep in your bones. You sidled your hips from side to side, slowly, sensually, the way your dancer friend, Sally, had taught you, your heels beginning to click to the beat of the song.
But your flesh was burning up beneath that icy stare, and sweat prickled at your neck, and though you sang with fury, your voice still felt limited, unable to utilise the full breath of your stomach. Irritation clawed at your buzzing flesh, and your lip curled over your teeth as you attempted to belt your notes.
Damn you, Peaky bastard, you nearly breathed, hating the way his eyes seemed to gleam as you moved your body. He had no damn right to look so smug.
You tried to focus on channeling this frustration into the movements of your body and the snarl of your tone, the pearls along your chest clacking together as you twirled, your head growing dizzy as you battled for breath. It wasn’t the hoots and hollers nor the cat calls that spurred you on, but the icy hooks of the Devil’s gaze. No, he did not look at you like a piece of meat. He looked at you like you were a goddess.
Breaths coming shorter, you yanked at the laces of your corset, your irritation reaching new heights and the incense and music and cheer drowning out the voice in your head that usually kept you from doing anything stupid.
As your corset tumbled to the stage, cold air sweeping across your sweat-dappled flesh, your voice sprang free of its cage, notes pulled deep from your belly and your fury masking the tremble in your tone. The pearls pooled between your breasts, the feathers of the pasties still scratching your flesh but no longer grinding so painfully against the fabric of the corset.
The Blinder’s smirk seemed to fall, jaw clenched, bright eyes darkening and drinking you in between minacious glances at the men in the crowd who cheered, kicked at the tables, shouted obscene comments that were only half-drowned out by the smooth shrill of the trombones. Your lips pulled into a wicked grin round your teeth, and you became lost in the music as you danced and sang, not caring anymore that your breaths were short or that you didn’t hit every note just right. The look on his face made it all worth it.
And as the final notes died in your aching chest and the stage was swept by dark, and the saxes unleashed their final, wailing cry, Sally swept a sheer robe round your shoulders and ushered you from the stage and to the dressing room. Her excitement was contagious as blonde curls bounced over her bedazzled headband and she whispered praises to you, but her words seemed to muddle together as you heard, distinctly, the chanting of your name behind you like a sordid prayer.
---
The muffled notes of piano still hummed past the walls of the dressing room as you applied another coat of cherry red lipstick, a coil of smoke rising from the ash tray beside you and clouding your head as you attempted to filter out the excited chatter of the girls. Sheer gown now fitted properly around your arms, your skin had the chance to breathe without existing under the ogling eyes of the rambunctious men who had been chanting your name.
“I still can’t believe what just happened out there!” Sally’s voice cut through the throng of the rest, mostly because she had leaned over to squeal into your ear. “Did you see that gentleman at the front? His jaw practically dropped along with your corset.” She giggled, and you popped your painted lips, chasing away the smile that threatened their corner. You hadn’t noticed any man in that crowd but the blue-eyed Devil. Those twin blues were practically burned into your skull, so much so that –
You stilled, blood turning to ice in your veins and your heart freezing over in your chest. The lipstick clattered to the desk, causing Sally to jump back with a yelp that if not from her, could’ve only come from a Chihuahua.
Blue eyes stared back at you in the smudged mirror.
A sharp breath filled your lungs as the ice around your heart shattered and it began to beat again, hard, against your ribs, and your head spun from the sudden flood of cigarettes and incense. You could’ve feinted as you stood, whirling on your heel, nails splintering the wooden grain of the desk with how hard they dug in to ground yourself. Your gaze narrowed, and your heart fluttered as you found it was met with the same intensity.
The dressing room fell silent with a hush, and as Thomas Shelby sauntered in, snubbing out his cigarette in the nearest ash tray, a fearful reverence seemed to coagulate in the air, until it became so thick you could scarcely breathe.
A few of the girls darted out behind him as he drew closer to you, smirk playing at his lip and that darkness colliding with the bright of his eyes in a twisted, glittering dance. But he held out a hand before the rest could vanish, even the high-spirited Marla, who seemed dismayed but didn’t challenge him. Though not of a very tall stature, Thomas Shelby was an intimidating man, and it was evident that the name he carried made him untouchable. Your brow furrowed, teeth grinding together as you tried to work out exactly why he didn’t want the girls to leave when it seemed obvious he had come here for you and you alone. And when that icy gaze settled on you again, the bright of it glittering with mischief, and his smirk tugged higher with unmistakable pride and that insufferable smugness, you figured you were beginning to work it out. He wanted to make a statement, and whatever it was he planned, he wanted them to see.
The statement, perhaps, that your soul belonged to him. And only him.
Shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers, he closed the gap between the two of you with an agonisingly slow stride, as if time revolved around him. The gold chain of his pocket watch glinted in the harsh lights, and you might’ve used the word “dashing” to describe his prim, collared, snow-white shirt, had you not wanted to smear the contents of the ash tray across it out of spite, or perhaps douse his black suit in some of the gold glitter the girls brushed their skin with.
Perhaps, some part of you wanted to print your lipstick along the rose-white flesh of his neck, to match his striking red tie.
Forcing such conflicted, intrusive thoughts from your reeling mind, you cocked your head, glaring at him expectantly.
“Quite the performance.” His voice was not shrill and grating as you had anticipated, but low, rumbling like thunder over a black horizon yet pooling like soft honey between your thighs. “Tell me, songbird, do you usually win the crowd over with such provocative displays?”
Already amazed by his sheer fucking nerve, you stifled a scoff. As if you hadn’t caught him staring, lurking in the shadows of every performance.
“You tell me, Mr. Shelby,” you purred out your words, but cocked a brow in challenge. “To what do I owe such keen interest?”
The bright of his eyes glinted, and his smirk hooked his lip. “You’ve heard of me.”
“Everyone in this city knows your name. It seems to spread like some sort of plague. I’d prefer it never have crawled from the sickening bowels of the Birmingham streets, but... here it is, on my lips.” You rolled your shoulders upward, leaning against the desk, head tilted to one side.
“And yet, you wear it well.” Thomas’ gaze darted to your parted lips, snaked his tongue between his teeth as if to taste the cherry. “Don’t fret, little bird…” He spoke in a hushed baritone that still managed to reverberate through the diminishing space between you, as if the faint hiss of his whisper would mask his words from everyone but you, like clouds gathering over distant thunder. “… you’ll be saying it more often.”
A burning, whiskey-tinged breath fanned your cheeks, stirring the wisps of hair from your face. Tension mounted in the room, the girls turning into porcelain dolls as they held their breaths, but they didn’t exist outside of the threads that pulled taut between you and the Blinder.
He smelled of gunmetal, of old books. Of charcoal and wood smoke. Like blood and hellfire.
“Will I, now? Think you own these lips, is that it? Think you own my body?” You didn’t even need to take a step to bring your figure to his, your breasts brushing his chest through the sheer fabric of your robe, the chain of his pocket watch tickling your stomach.
He smelled of earth, of sacred rituals. Of frankincense and myrrh. Like dug graves and lost religion.
And like a candle, the bright of his eyes was snuffed out by the dark, and the smirk fell from sharp outlines. “You haven’t heard?” he said. “Some say I own everything the light touches…” His fingers brushed your side, the heat of his blood beneath his skin sending cold shivers along your flesh, and you cursed yourself for wishing in that moment, in which his fingers dragged reverently down the curve of your hip, that his touch would burn away the fabric between you. “Some say I own everything the light is too fearful to touch.” The pressure of his touch increased, thumb tracing your navel, and suddenly, his grasp was anything but gentle – possessive, demanding, as his fingers curled between the parting of your thighs and his nails burned against your skin. A breath hissed from your teeth and you swatted his hand away. You were surprised when he returned his thumb to his pocket, his devious smirk reappearing. Could he hear how fast your heart was beating for him, could he smell the lust that brewed beneath your flesh, could he feel the heat that had pooled like poison between your legs?
Did he know that he haunted your dreams? That you could not drift off to sleep anymore without thinking of those soft lips trailing down your sternum, of his teeth leaving bruises across your flesh?
He made you want to be worshipped, and ruined.
“Some say you’re nothing but a Gypsy bastard.” Your voice rose, breathy and high, like a falsetto note. “A false king, with no crown.”
“But a king nonetheless.”
“A devil, the witches say. Have you come to bargain for my soul, Mr. Shelby?” Your voice dipped back into your sensual alto as you regained some vestige of control, forcing your words to rise deep from your fluttering stomach.
“Oh, I’m here for more than your soul,” he breathed, closing the sliver of a gap between the two of you again, backing your spine against the wooden desk until you could’ve sworn blood welled beneath the sheer robe. “I’m here to offer a proposal, little bird. You’re going to sing for me, at the Eden Club. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It’s far more prestigious than this seedy place. Your pay will be tripled, and you will never know a fabric rougher than silk or taste a wine younger than a lifetime.”
Though his offer would be tempting to most anyone, you did not sing for money. Pride, it came easy to you, and you did not appreciate the condescending way in which he spoke to you, looked at you, breathed in your direction.
“I’m under contract.”
“What, this?” He chuckled, pulling the slip of paper you’d signed a year ago from the deep pocket of his trousers. The material crinkled beneath his fingers, so close you could’ve reached out and grabbed it. But you didn’t. You watched, seething, as he lowered the contract to the candle beside your lipstick, an orange tongue lapping at the corner of the ivory paper, the ink of your signature bleeding into the open flame. Out the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Sally, her shoulders furling inward just as the edge of the paper did before it was swallowed by the flame, the blackened remnants of the contract smudged into the floorboards with the toe of the gang leader’s boot.
“Everyone can be bought with the right price,” he said. “Your boss’s wife, she likes diamonds.”
You shouldn’t have expected any less of your manager. Like most in the entertainment business, he was shrewd, frugal, ruled by greed. The idea of his wife wearing diamonds was laughable; Thomas must have been a bloody saint in her eyes, because the most you had ever seen that man gift her was a silver locket that had been put in lost and found at one of your past gigs. He must’ve sold you out before Thomas could even pull his mafia card. And then milked you for one last performance.
You hated them. You hated them all.
“Well, I will find new work. The crowd seems to love me,” you pointed out, recalling the jealousy you’d seen darken the Devil’s eyes as he’d watched over your performance. Butting shoulders, you moved to stalk past, but a vice grip latched round your forearm and you froze, a puff of startled air escaping your lips as your gaze swung to meet his.
“I haven’t told you my terms,” Thomas said, and if it was out of fear or that devilish itch between your legs that made your body acquiesce, you couldn’t be certain, but damn it all the same. He shoved you back against the desk, fire igniting in his icy eyes as his shoulders pressed to yours, his figure solid against your own, denoting no escape. “So long as you work for me, you will not dance for another man…” He had the courtesy, at least, of releasing those icy hooks from your soul, the sharp line of his jaw brushing a flushed cheek to let his breath pool against your neck as if whispering sweet nothings to a lover. His fingers, ghosting the pulse of your throat. A breath hissed between your teeth and your eyes flared as they dragged down the vulnerable flesh, demonstrating his strength in a squeeze at the base of your throat.
“They so much as look at you, I will personally take their eyes.” A kiss, placed to the crook of your collarbone, like a promise. His lips were as soft as you had imagined, and you half-expected his tongue to be forked like the legends, but it was supple and rounded as it wet your flesh. Your bottom lip caught in your teeth as you stifled a moan, your body betraying you in a slight rut of your hips. A chuckle rumbled against your ear; he knew what he was doing to you, and apparently the feeling was mutual, for the scarcely-clothed heat between your shivering legs brushed against a firmness in his slacks as your hips rolled forward.
“You see…” He paused to inhale your scent, to drink you down like the whiskey on his breath. “I’ve done some research… you like to move around so much because you have a husband, in Sheffield, who very much misses your company.”
The racing tides of heat that rolled beneath your flesh gave way to a cold sweat, and you shuddered, your blood turning once more to ice in your veins. Your heart, stolen from your chest, leaving your lips parted in a gasp. His fingers traced the hollow shell of your ribs, nails digging in where your heart should have been. His, you thought, wretchedly.
When he pulled back to assess your reaction, to witness the fear bloom in your eyes, the smugness was gone from his face, replaced by an intensity, a darkness that seemed to wrap its shadowy tendrils around your soul. His nose brushed yours, and you noticed, for the first time, that his face was freckled. Kisses from God, you’d heard them referred to as once, and if the breath had not been stolen from your lungs, you would’ve chuffed a laugh at the demented irony.
Dark lashes crowned the blue eyes that raked down your chest, his thumb continuing its snaking little path from your heart to the lip of your breast, slipping beneath the fabric of your robe. “A year ago, you spoke with a solicitor about his tendency to… well, overexpress his love.” A jolt rocked your body, accidentally sending your hips back against his, drawing a groan from his chest that managed to be irresistible despite the discomfort of the scar he perfectly traced with his forefinger. Pain exploded beneath the surface of your flesh, as if his fingers was made of glass, like the smashed bottle that had struck your side all those years ago. You shuddered beneath his touch, the alcohol on his breath suddenly foul, and for just a moment, the way the light reflected off his eyes betrayed a sliver of green in seemingly pure blue.
“The solicitor told me that you showed him this – this, that was not his to see. Not his to touch.” Your lashes batted beneath his furious breaths, but you dared not close them, dared not let this man turn into a ghost of your past. To your relief, his fingers retreated from your scar, only to cup your cheek in his palm. “You offered him one night in exchange for freedom, and by morning, he did not honour his word. Do you know what I did to the solicitor?”
Thighs damp with arousal, palms clammy with fear, you trembled, breaking, cracking at your seams. The splinters of the wooden desk pierced your flesh as you sought its support, feeling like your knees might buckle beneath you and somehow knowing that he would catch you, but that that would be worse than falling to the cold ground. Because he wanted you to break, wanted to be the freckled angel who caught you when you fell.
But somewhere, from the shattered remnants of your chest, festered a darkness, a thirst, a satisfaction as you imagined the bloodied face of the man who had tricked you, as you imagined his eyes turned pale, pale as death.
Your pain didn’t break you; it kept you standing, fractured but whole.
“To you, I may be the Devil, but the Devil keeps his bargains.” His thumb swept across the ghost of the kiss he’d left on your skin. “And when you work for me, I will ensure that your darling husband never bothers you again.”
You could not banish the tremble from your limbs, nor the ireful rise and fall of your chest. And when you spoke, your hate, it seemed, was not even for him but for ghosts, “You’re every bit as vile as the rumours say.”
“Oh, I’m worse.” He smiled, almost sweetly. “Much worse.” A clear-blue eye winked, before studying you so intently you wondered if he really could read your thoughts, your sordid desires. Your sins. “But I don’t see disgust in your eyes, little bird. I see intrigue.”
Breathe, you told yourself. Breathe.
You were most at ease when you sang, and in your moment of need, an old melody you’d heard once travelling west came to you, and with it, the curl of your lip into a wicked smirk.
“Cannot buy me, Devil, Devil,” you half-sang, half purred, the notes that found your voice carrying undertones so dark, it almost did not sound like your own.
And in this moment, you found power, in the way his thumb seemed to still against your jaw, in the way his eyes locked to yours, mesmerised, his tongue catching between his teeth. In this moment, at last, he was yours. In this moment, he was just a boy, lured in by a siren song. As the notes died in your throat, his eyes darted to your lips, something softer than lust forming in oceans of melted ice. Your fingers fumbled for the first drawer of the desk, stabilising yourself now on the ivory handle.
And the emotion vanished before you could make sense of it, frozen over by a wall of ice.
“In life or in death, I will take your soul.” His teeth grazed the lobe of your ear, and his hand drifted to your scalp, sinking into the wild locks of your hair. “I will take everything.” Another hand closed around your waist, squeezing your ribs, bunching the fabric of your gown. “It is your choice, little bird. Because, you see, I made certain your husband knows of your infidelity. It’s a great dishonour, to a man of his station. And what sort of things does a man of his station do when he finds himself with a problem like you, eh?” Your chin was pointed sharply up, suspended by two fingers, your lips a hairsbreadth from his own as he stared you down.
“Now, I don’t think your friends will like to see what I’m going to do to you, little bird.” A growl grated the thunder of his tone, and he bit his lip. “I’m going to be a gentleman, and let you decide if you’d like them to give us privacy.”
And gone was the whiskey of his breath, the fire of his touch, the sharpness of his teeth. Thomas Shelby took a step back, smoothing out his waistcoat as if nothing had happened between the two of you. One of the porcelain dolls came alive, skittering back on her shaky heel to make way, but he paid no mind to her. He only awaited your command, as if trying to give you some false sense of control.
The silence that stretched between you was impossibly thick, like gasoline ready to ignite from one heated breath. You remembered to breathe, in, and out. And you began to sing.
“Clever Devil, Devil…”
His eyes narrowed, fixating so intensely on you that you were convinced nothing else existed in this moment beyond your dark melody, your cherry lips, your siren song.
Trembling, behind your back your fingers pulled gently at the drawer handle.
“How quickly do they sell their souls…”
He blinked, slow, enraptured. Yours.
Your fingers clasped the familiar stock of the 1911, flesh kissed by cold metal.
“… for the feast and the promise of gold.”
Time itself fractured; Thomas barely stirred as he watched your lips, your wrathful eyes, your brow sewn by ruthless will. He did not watch the gun you pulled on him, nor did he seem to hear the rack of the slide that split the quiet of the dressing room.
“But Devil… that won’t be me.” Your velvety singing turned to words of steel in your throat, and you glared at him down the sights of your weapon. Only now, did he seem to take notice of it, with a fleeting, unconcerned glance at its gaping black maw. He could have turned it on you, but he didn’t. He just smiled, bright blue eyes shining down a silver-moon barrel to meet yours.
Stepping back, leisurely, fists buried in his pockets, he promised, “I’ll be back, to claim what’s mine.”
Your finger loosened from the trigger yet trembled as the sight of Thomas Shelby disappeared past the doorframe, nothing left of him but the soft thud of his dress shoes down the hall and the ghost of his burning touch on your skin, the dampness on your neck from the promise he’d made you. The shameful cling of the sheer robe to your slicked thighs, the cold sweat that sent shivers of winter, death, and all things barren along your flesh.
For one, gut-twisting moment, all eyes were on you. The suffocating festering of fear, the sickening crawl of disgust, the heart-wrenching trace of reproach all culminated in the air around you, cast to the incense and smoke by bright eyes and slacked jaws, crossed arms and furled shoulders.
And the girls began to scurry from the dressing room, skirts and dresses and tassels streaming behind them like streaks of lightning that followed the rumble of the storm, like rivulets of rain chased by the hurricane.
Marla was among the last to leave, her eyes wary and wild and a sneer curling her lip as her eyes traced up and down your trembling form. Only when she left did you lower your gun, sliding the hammer back in place.
That left two. Sally, and the woman who claimed herself a witch.
“I’m sorry…” you breathed, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, I – I had no idea that was going to happen.” Shifting your attention fully to your friend, you reached a tentative hand for Sally, as if to ease her anxiety. Poor thing was shaking like a furled leaf and quiet tears streaked the freckles of her heart-shaped face.
She flinched away, and your heart clenched, hand withdrawing. You set aside your gun, hoping that might settle her nerves. “At least, let me give you this back…” you untied the bedazzled choker from your neck. “It looks like this was our last performance together. Thank you, for lending me it.”
But she sprang back like a jackrabbit when the fabric brushed her knuckles, and she shook her head frantically, tears shaking free of her spidery lashes like dew falling from painted webs. “You can keep it,” she spoke, her tiny voice cracking in her chest. “Just stay away from me.”
Something bitter worked its way into the fracture of your chest, the cruel fist of rejection squeezing the remnants of your shattered heart tight. Your fist curled, hard, around the choker, so hard that when you opened it, the jewels had left red impressions on your palm, and your thanks turned to bitter ash on your tongue as the laces of the choker slipped between your fingers.
The witch, Clementine, watched you from dark eyes always shrouded in an enigma, but today, held the slight trace of unease. A foreboding weight sunk her shoulders, and when she spoke, the raspy tones of her voice were those of lost souls, crying from strangled throats to warn you of something truly grave on the horizon,
“You’re marked. You’re marked by the Devil, you are, girl.”
Your brow furrowed, and the chime of her jangling bracelets seemed to mock you like laughter as she pointed a hooked claw to your loins.
Pawing aside the fabric of your robe, your fingers swiped across the nail marks Thomas had left along your inner thigh, wrathful and red and weeping. Your fingers came away with a veneer of blood, pooling in the rings of your skin like a wax seal.
The seal of your fate, to a man falsely crowned.
And to your devil, your soul was bound.
Part II coming soon!
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maybe the night
summary: you miss jake lockley.
pairing: jake lockley x male reader
word count: 1.5k
warnings: 18+ warning, unrpotected s3x, shower s3x, top!jake, l-bombs
a/n: sorry for being ia i was very sick (still a bit sick) wanted to post something but i dont have anything finished so i made this to update u guys [still working on your requests i promise!!]
masterlist | more moon knight
Jake comes home after a normal night. Taking in cab passengers gaining new information from the streets of London that Marc can use. He arrives in your shared flat finding you snuggled up in your bed, the blue sheets covering your toes up to your nose.
He sat next to you, removing his leather gloves so he can run his fingers through your hair and touch your warm cheeks. You slept so peacefully, Jake wanted to wrap his arms around you as you two shared the bed but he knew how much you hated it when he slept in with his outside clothes.
Out of the three of them, Jake was the most romantic when it comes to gifts but the least you spent time with. He’s usually out at night, barely saying goodbye, and on the off chance you see each other it’s when you were already preparing for bed, but the moment you wake up there would always be flowers on the kitchen counter.
“–Jake?” you turned, eyes fluttering.
“Shit, sorry for waking you sweets,” he whispered. “Was gonna get ready for bed.”
“Want me to draw you a bath?” you asked.
“No it’s alright, you should go back to sleep,” he said, drawing the sheets back to your shoulders, but you insisted. Jake rolled his eyes but you pouted, come on I can’t go back to sleep easily anyway, you pleaded. After the back and forth he finally gave in.
You made sure the water was a bit hot, his preference, and used a clean-smelling bath bomb. You helped unbutton his white shirt and his tie, his eyes glued to you as you finished the task. Your fingers were cold when they touched his almost feverish skin, Jake shuddered from the contact.
Jake hopped onto the tub sinking into the soapy water. Sat behind the tub as you put shampoo on his hair. You massaged your fingers through his scalp over and over as suds foamed around your fingers. Jake’s eyes rolled back from the calming sensation of your fingers.
“How’s your night?” you asked.
“Tiring,” he said. “Barely any news regarding those disappearances.”
“I heard that the cops don’t have intel on it too,” you said as you scooped water to his hair. “Marc speculates it's those vampire gangs.”
Whenever the two of you talked it was always Steven who said this, Marc said that, never really just about the two of you. Jake knew it was about time he sparked a conversation that didn’t involve the other two—no offense.
“I love it when you use this shampoo on me,” he smiled.
“Why?” you furrowed your brows, he always asked you to use it on him but you had never asked why.
“Cause it smells like you.”
You chuckled under your breath. Jake, always flirting. You felt sad that you haven’t spent that much time lately, but maybe tonight you could have something for yourselves. You rinse his hair free of the suds, his curls clinging onto his forehead. He just lets you wash his hair, Jake took the moment of solemnity and closed his eyes to relax. He was surprised when you left a kiss on his cheek, your warm lips on his face.
You stand to grab a towel before he takes your wrist. He gestured for you to join him, fine, you said. Gently undressing, his eyes gazed all over your nakedness, taking in the sight. He guides you to the tub and the two of you lay down in the water, your back to his chest. His arms wrap around your torso, securing him to you. He places kisses all over your shoulders while his hand traces circles all over your belly.
“Thanks for the bath, sweets,” he whispered in between kisses.
“I figured we don’t usually spend much time with each other,” you said. “I wanted to spend some time with just us.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” he said.
You turned around to straddle his thighs. His hands guide your hips under the water. You bent down to kiss him on the lips, his wet curls sticking to your forehead, his mustache tickling your face. Your hands trace his smooth chest, down to his soft belly.
He sits up so your ass is on his sex, slowly hardening underneath your touch. Your hands wrap around his neck to gather some stability, your fingers peering through the hair on his nape. He leaves kisses all over your neck, sucking on the skin lightly. You feel yourself harden under his touch as well, his fingers forming a ring around your sex.
His cock hits the crease in between your ass, achingly hard. You shift your body so that your cocks are parallel to each other. You wrap both your hands around the hardness to form a tightness. You stroke your cocks, water splashing on your torsos.
Your cocks start to leak pre cum from the stroking, your lips glued to each other getting more languid by the second, the room filling with the sounds of moaning and water splashing. Jake’s back started to sore from the porcelain tub.
“I don’t think this tub is built for fucking,” he said. You chuckled in agreement. You two stand when he pulls you toward the shower. He pins you to the tiled wall, turning on the shower in the process. Hot water trickles down his back as he spits on his cock, lubing it in preparation. You turn around to present your hole to him, your hands pressed on the wall with your back arched for him.
He kneels to spit on your ass, tracing his wet fingers on the rim of your hole before he presses the digit inside you. He inserts another to stretch you, his cock was quite girthy so the preparations would help greatly. He stands up and lines his sex to your hole, slowly entering the member into you.
You feel the tightness envelop his girth as his hands clench on your waist, hot water sprinkling on your back before he thrusts forward. You cry from the pressure before he pulls back out and enters you again. His hips moved slowly at first, taking in the feeling of your warm walls on his aching cock.
“You’re so tight, sweets,” he groaned, pushing and pulling on your waist. He lets out curses and sounds of pleasure. He takes his hand to your cock, stroking it in the same rhythm as his hips. You cry out when he hits your sensitive spot, your knees weakening.
“Fuck you’re so good, Jake,” you moan, this arouses him more, quickening his pace. You let out moans from the sudden shift in pace, tears of pleasure forming in your eyes.
“You can take it, sweets, I know you can,” he coos.
He suddenly pulls out, and you gasp from the sudden emptiness. He turns you around to face him, he looks at you, cheeks flushed, and kisses your swollen lips. He takes your thighs and lords you up to the wall, your legs wrapped around him. He continues to thrust into you again, your back rising and falling against the tiled wall.
“Jake—fuck,” you moaned. You take his face so he’s looking up at you, your thumb caressing his cheeks. You kiss him with saliva dripping down the side of your lip. You gasped from his fast pace, his head going to your neck placing hickeys.
“You’re so pretty, sweets,” he moans. His hips slap onto your skin. “So beautiful.”
His hips thrust faster even more, your eyes watering as you cry out. Your nails dig into the skin on his back as he fucks his fill into you. You’d think with the water you’d start to slip, but Jake’s hands on your thighs were gripping tight, steadily holding you as his cock drills into your hole.
“I’m—close,” you gasp.
Jake thrusts a few more, his hips hard-hitting your skin before his cum empties into your hole, his grunts filling the small space. You let out a cry before you cum too, shooting in between your bellies.
He puts you down gently, your legs like jelly. You two kiss as you begin to shower. You helped him lather the soap all over your bodies, he took extra care in cleaning up your behind. After you shower, you get ready for bed. Always taking time for your skincare routine in front of the vanity. Jake was doing his routine thanks to Steven, who made it a rule that skincare is a must no matter who is in control.
“I love you, sweets,” he said, smiling through the mirror. “Like a lot actually, I hope you don’t forget that whenever I’m busy.”
You stood up to hug his back, arms wrapped around his torso. “Of course, I love you too Jake,” you kiss his cheek. “A lot."
interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>
#moon knight x reader#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#jake lockley x reader#moon knight x male reader#steven grant x male reader#marc spector x male reader#jake lockley x male reader#moon knight smut#steven grant smut#marc spector smut#jake lockley smut
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In The Morning Light - A Sean Wallace/Reader Smut Short.
A little bit of softer Sean for you all, darlings! Enjoy :)
Words - 693
Warnings - Fluffy smut below the cut, minors DNI!
“I’ve woken up so cock hungry, I’m paralysed by it.”
Your statement earns you a glance of slight incredulity, but mostly it’s just amusement. “A tad dramatic, Mrs Wallace.”
The novelty that he gets to call you that now still hasn’t worn off for Sean. He might be soulless and bordering on psychopathy in his business endeavours – whether legal or criminal – but for you, you see a little softness that he shows to few. Very few.
You grin, your face peeking out from beneath the soft down of the pillows beneath your head, reaching to stroke a circle over the freckles upon his shoulder. “Not dramatic at all. The absolute truth, in fact.”
He raises an eyebrow. “So, it’ll be me on top this morning then, since you bemoan losing the use of your legs?”
“Hmm, maybe.”
Reaching beneath the duvet, his hand skims the curve of your waist. “I see no other way around it.”
Moving, you climb astride his hips, kissing a path along the short, dark copper hair flecking his handsome face. His mouth breaks out into a grin, a deep, rumbling chuckle sounding in his throat as your lips meet. “Not so paralysed after all, it would appear.”
He wastes no time in trailing a hand between you, reaching your folds, softly grunting as your tongues roll together while sharing those passionate, lustful morning kisses. “This wet already, darling?”
“What can I say?” you shrug, stroking his neck and chest. “I dreamed of you all last night.”
“You did, hmm? And what did my love dream?”
Reaching between you, your hand curls around his hardened cock, biting your lip as your smile grows. You have no idea why a man's erection is always at its steeliest first thing, but you aren’t complaining. “I dreamed of this, filling me up, stretching me out, putting a baby in me.”
He chuckles, his fingers idly playing with your clit as your thumb rubs over the head of his cock, precum swirled right where he is most sensitive. “You did, did you? Okay. Shall we make that happen for you?”
Steering his cock to your soaked opening, you sink back on him, forcing a low, lustful groan, his mouth a fever upon yours as his hands begin to lazily stroke your back. “Or you could just make it happen yourself. Either way, trust that I am a very willing participant, Mrs Wallace.”
The glimmers evoked by his cock begin to skitter as you move back and forth, the feeling of being steadily filled and emptied making heat snap beneath your skin, your wetness coating his cock thickly, moaning softly into the kisses you share. The exchange is all sparks and honey, the morning barely even broken as you rock upon your husband, stroking his face, your hands touring his perfectly chiselled physique with keen attention.
His eyes are blue vortex of lust gilded by the dark gold of his lashes, bringing his thumb to your lips and pushing it into your mouth. “Get it wet, darling.” You duly do, Sean reaching between you, that slippery thumb stroking at your clit, evoking waves of throbbing warmth as you sit up a little, sinking back on him, his cock filling you entirely.
He moves steadily beneath you, each upward thrust of his hips meeting your downward movements perfectly, his cock scraping your walls, little bolts flickering at the base of your spine as you clench around him. Its sugared embers crackling, sweet, blazing heat stirred, your mutual moans an orchestra of erotic sin as the bed begins to creak beneath you, both chasing the spiralling undoing that coils deep and rushes quickly.
“Come for me, my beautiful wife.” And you do, and its glittering magma poured hot over ice, the pleasure splintering through you as you cry out, feeling his cock pulsing waves of cum deep into your fluttering cunt mere moments after you sail into the skies of bliss.
You both fall asleep again soon after, him still inside you. If anything was going to leave you paralysed that morning, it was the reality of how your husband fucks you rather than the dreams.
#sean wallace fanfiction#sean wallace smut#gangs of london fanfiction#joe cole#gangs of london fanfic#gangs of london fic#sean wallace x reader#sean wallace x you#sean wallace fanfic#sean walace fic
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Friendly Encouragement
A/N @darklydeliciousdesires thank you for introducing me to this man. So writing this took like six turns, and it's now become a multi-part childhood best friends-to-lover anthology; this is part one. My confidence is still pretty trash, especially because this is a new fandom/character so I'm not all that happy with this even with the seven rewrites.
Contains: Fluff, supportive Sean, childhood best friends to lover, mild smut.
1.7 K words
After getting some help from Sean, there ends up being some revelations.
The daylight was well and truly gone, and Sean had been pouring over your rejected grant proposal for hours, trying to figure out why it hadn't made the cut.
He lifted his head off his hand, looked away from the paper and shook himself awake before throwing the folder onto the ground and turning to you with his jaw clenched. "I don't get it, love, it's flawless."
You shrugged. "It's also apparently too client focused. Too much about helping people and not enough about the bottom line."
He rolled his eyes, clearly ready to rant about what the heads of charities really got up to, before he stopped himself. "You're going to go back in there tomorrow and demand he reconsider."
You looked at him for a moment, hoping you'd heard him right. "Yeah, that's not going to happen, I don't even know where to start. I'd go to the CEO, but she's travelling, and he'll get ahead of it before I even try."
He was off the couch like a rocket, marching over to you with a determined look set on his face. "Then we'll practice."
He wrapped his strong hand around your upper arm and dragged you to his home office, letting you go a few feet from his desk before sitting down. "Pretend I'm this finance arsehole, we'll work through it together."
You wanted to protest, to tell him he was being silly, but the look on his face told you that you wouldn't be leaving the room until you did what he asked.
You sighed and threw your hands up. "Fine, but I don't see how this is going to help. I am capable of getting things done, it's just him."
He almost looked offended. "I know that, I've known that since you called Mr Bollen a pompous baboon in the fourth grade."
He paused and smiled softly, that disarming smile you had seen him use so many times before. "Think of me as an empty space, I'm not going to do anything other than sit here so you can bounce your ideas around."
You huffed. "Fine."
You left the room and closed the door, taking a deep breath before knocking twice. "Come in."
You walked in, head held high and back straight like you did that morning, and met Sean's eye, his serious look preventing you from laughing. "Mr. Campbell, I think you should reconsider my grant. The numbers page on page six made it clear that it's doable and…"
Your thoughts left you, and you flopped down onto one of the office chairs. "This isn't going to work."
Sean wasn't put off and reached across the table to grab your hand. "He's not the first pig you've had to deal with, he won't be the last. Now what's tripping you up?"
Sean had a knack for getting information out of people, so there was no point in lying, you just had to say it carefully so no one ended up dead.
It wasn't really that hard to relent with the way he was looking at you, his face neutral but his eyes full of twinkling affection that almost looked more than friendly, it made your heart flutter. "I'm pretty sure I lost the grant because I refused to go to the luncheon. I didn't think the money that could be going to the program should be spent on drinks."
You saw the fleeting glimmer of anger in his sea blue eyes, but it was gone in a flash, and you continued. "This isn't the sixties. He gave the grant to one of his drinking buddies, and it's not going to help anyone, and I can't do this because if I'm alone in a room with that prick, I'm going to hit him."
Sean chuckled and patted your hand lovingly. "Ah, love, you might not want to hear this, but you need to sink to his level." Your eyes went wide, and you stuttered about being unable to do that, but he cut you off. "I'm not talking about blackmail, just let him know that all it would take for him to lose his job is an off hand comment in the lift while the CEO is there."
You sighed, he was right, as always. He took in your look of resignation with a smile and waved his hand. "Well then, up you get. Once we can get through this without that bleeding heart of yours balking, I'll order in from your favourite restaurant."
You raised your eyebrows and shook your head. "Bribery, Sean, really?"
He still hadn't let so of your hand, and his thumb rubbed your skin affectionately. "Only the best for my favourite girl."
****
You were still riding the high of how well it all went when you showed up at Sean's. There was no point in knocking; the Wallace house was your second home, and you practically lived there. You waved to Mrs Wallace as you walked by the kitchen, and she gestured towards Sean's room to let you know where he was.
You rapped on the door, and his voice floated through the wood. "Come in." He grinned when he laid eyes on you and popped up from his small desk to greet you. "You're smiling, so it went well. Tell me everything."
It all came out in an excited flurry, going between telling him what had happened and explaining how the head of finance had squirmed like a coward the more you spoke. Sean's grin only grew until he was close to laughing, accepting your thanks graciously as you wrapped your arms around him.
He could feel your excitement as you spoke and he couldn't find it in himself to let you go as you finally slowed down and it became his turn to speak. "I'm very proud of you y/n." He paused, wondering if the tone of the hug was really changing or if he was just imagining it, but he took his chance anyway. "And it is I that should be thanking you, the way you have handled the last year has been admirable."
He didn't know how to put the rest of his thoughts into words, that you were all he thought of when he was away, that despite being back at the top, he felt achingly lonely when you weren't around, that he's loved you since he was sixteen. He tightened his arms around you and buried his nose in your hair. "I love you."
It wasn't a strange thing for him to say; you said it to each other all the time; it was the way he said it that gave you pause, but you replied nevertheless. "I love you too Sean."
"Not like that." He pulled away from the embrace, but only enough to place his hand on your cheek. "I've loved you since you showed up on my doorstep in that bubble gum pink dress the night of that stupid year ten dance."
It felt like a dream, the way he tucked a strand of hair behind your ears as he gazed at you like you were the most precious thing on earth. "Your mother bought me that dress. It was hideous."
The distance between you got smaller as you both leaned in, and he whispered against your lips. "I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen." His nose brushed yours, and his other hand left your back so he could hold your face in his hands as you moved yours to his shoulders. "You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
When his lips found yours, it was like you had the last breath on earth between your lips. Your hands wove into his hair, and you moved in step towards his bed, finally stopping when the backs of your knees hit the edge. You pulled away from each other breathless, his hands moving to your shirt as you spoke. "I knew before you."
He chuckled as he pecked your cheek, his beard brushing your skin as he made his way to your neck. "Is that so?"
"It is." You broke contact only long enough for him to pull your shirt over your head, his polo following as you took in the sight of his bare chest. He was all lean muscle wrapped in pale, freckled skin.
He licked his lips as his eyes raked over your bare skin, then his lips were down your neck to your chest as he reached behind you to unclasp your bra. "When?"
It was hard to reply with his plump lips sealing around your nipple, but he looked at you through his red eyelashes in a way that let you know that silence wasn't an option. "Two weeks before the dance when that Harrison freak ruined my science project after I turned him down and you punched him."
He smiled against your skin before nipping you, the bite of his teeth sending a shiver up your spine. His lips found yours again as your hands moved to his belt, your fingers played with the buckle for a moment, but it was your turn to smile as you moved your hand down to palm his rapidly hardening cock through his black trousers.
It seemed to be tit for tat with him because he slid his hand down from your rib cage to use his long and dexterous fingers to pop open your pants, dispensing with any teasing so he could graze his fingertips over your bare flesh. Your breath caught in your chest as he slid his fingers through your slit, stopping for a moment to rub your clit before they continued with their nonsense patterns.
He parted from you briefly, his face flushed with lust as you managed to get his pants off and pushed them down enough to get your hand on his cock. He gathered himself enough to look at you like he wanted to swallow you whole and kissed his way to your ear to speak. "We have some catching up to do." With that, his hand left your pants, and he brought his fingers up to his lips to lick you off of them.
The sight was enough to make your knees buckle. "Yes, we do."
His lips were restless as you moved onto the bed to lie on your back, and then he was ripping your bottoms off, underpants and all, before shedding his own. "You're not leaving this bed until midday tomorrow."
His fingers were back on your centre, and the look in his eyes was positively heartstopping, a mix of lust and love that made it feel like your skin was on fire. "That's fine with me."
Fin
@daydreaming-belle
#sean wallace#sean wallace/reader#gangs of london fanfiction#sean wallace fanfiction#sean wallace smut#sean wallace x reader#gangs of london#joe cole#sean wallace/you#sean wallace fanfic#sean wallace fic#gangs of london fanfic#gangs of london fic#sean wallace x you
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫
Inspo: Max Richter - The Young Mariner
Gangs of London Series
Pairing: None yet...
Summary: The time the world went quiet only started a new chaos.
Warnings: Angst
Words 2160
With the world we are born into, it is chosen how we might see it. Things that happen in our lives, the things that are told to us give us a piece that we can use to make sense of what is going on around us. Make our own assumptions about the tragedies that go on in the world that we may or may not have control over. It is unpredictable.
It was exactly that that your father loved about it.
He was a strange man your father, Steve Rogers. He wasn’t closed off per se, but he didn’t let on what he did in his spare time when he was away from you and your mother. But whenever he was around, sharing a drink with you, he would speak wisely. Teach you without directly teaching you. It was strange the relationship you had with him. How he would hint at something deeper- an underlying reasoning for the conversations he might start up. At the time, you were merely a child and didn’t understand. As time went on though, you pieced it all together.
The only confirmation of your father’s true job was when you woke up in the middle of the night in March. Wind howling and pellets of rain beating against your window, obscuring the scene you watched from your window. You had seen the lights of two vehicles pull up outside of the barn not too far from the mansion your father had owned before you were even born. But you saw your father pull a man out from the back of a car, bag over his head before being kicked and shoved towards the barn doors.
It felt like ages before you had seen the muzzle flash of a gun go off from the cracks of the wooden structure. That had been the night where you realized your father wasn’t the man you thought him to be. But you didn’t hold it against him or see him any differently. He was family and you could only make assumptions and give false reasonings for what you had seen that night. Deep down, you did know what happened but were too afraid to admit to yourself that your dad was a cold-blooded murderer.
And for a time, you tried to ignore it, continue to make up false justifications for a man you were slowly finding unrecognizable. When the time came that you did confront him, he didn’t move or say a word. He just stared at you, calculating every movement you made, and every emotion that swam in your eyes. Then, and only then, he divulged the secrets he’d kept from you. Telling you of how he came into money, how he and your mother hadn’t been the angelic humans you thought them to be, and that no matter what you did, you would be just like them. Whether you liked it or not.
You don’t know what it was. Perhaps it was him finally telling you, seizing the growing insanity you felt from witnessing what you did that night. Or it might’ve been that it had finally come to be the time you were welcomed into the family business. Whatever it was, you had accepted it with grace. A rather unpredictable feeling you never expected to feel after discovering your parents were murderers- mobsters for an underground empire that had been controlling judges, businesses, and even governmental officials.
But the one thing he did tell you was, “If I was ever killed, it wasn’t under natural circumstances. Nobody dies normally in this business.”
And here he was, lying in his casket with a bundle of roses in his clasped hands. Truthfully, you never thought the day would come when you would have to witness a sight. Being in the business, you thought that you would be the one to go. Be used as some sort of leverage against your father and killed the moment the person got what they wanted. You didn’t think you would have to listen to your mother sob in your arms, begging aloud for someone to bring him back.
Yet, here you were.
No tears were shed from you though. There was no use in crying when it wouldn’t bring the person you had begun to admire, back. How could you when you know your dad would berate you for doing so? Because, in some weird way, you could see your day possibly enjoying the way he went. It was unpredictable. But now thinking about it, the one thing he loved about this world was exactly what killed him. God, how the world loved to twist and just fuck with your head, huh?
Nonetheless, you did place a hand on his cheek, jaw clenched as you stared at the wound in the center of his forehead. The coroner had stitched it up to the best of their ability so it wouldn’t be a closed casket. Giving you one final chance to get a good look at his face before he would be gone, officially, forever.
Swallow the cement in your throat, you exhaled deeply. “Goodbye, Dad.” Your nails brushed through his grizzly beard, brushing over his suit before you turned and walked back to your seat.
The church had rows of people- some you recognized from your childhood and your dad’s business, and others you had yet to know. But at the moment, none of them exactly mattered as you sat down with your mother. Glancing to your right, finding your Uncle Bucky with pursed lips, eyes brimming with tears. Placing a hand on his forearm, you looked away before he could catch your eyes. Deciding this be your one final act of kindness in these tragic times.
When you’d gotten the news, it felt like the world went quiet. London had gone silent from the loss of a man they could only see as a good man from his charities and other good deeds. Steve had been a good man, despite his wrongdoings, he did try and do some good for the unfortunate. So, as much as you and many others were feeling his loss, London felt it just as much. Bucky, being his right-hand man, must’ve been feeling this worse than them all. Even your mother, Peggy.
Throughout the service, the priest blabbered on and on whilst you sat, staring intently at your father’s corpse. And even when you stood in that rain, watching his body be lowered into his grave, you held no direct emotion for others to see. But you did feel rage. One that could only compare to the outbursts your father had when something didn’t go his way. You could feel it in the way your hands trembled, fingers twitching as you felt the need to do something- Anything to release that rage on someone or something.
But with a deep inhale, you turned away from the grave and started making your way up to the car. Eyes spotting your mother and Bucky talking to a woman as others made their leave. The conversation with the trio seemed heated judging by the way your Uncle’s shoulder rose and fell with each breath he took. As well as the way the woman spat back comments to the man as Peggy tried to cool the argument building in tension.
Despite all of that, you stared intently at the mysterious woman. Her long red hair was damp from the rain and lack of an umbrella. She hadn’t been there throughout the service and even the burial. You would have noticed someone as beautiful as her. Her green eyes seemed darker than you would’ve expected. Either from anger or some form of sorrow, she must’ve felt. Why show up at a funeral if you didn’t know the person being buried six feet in the ground?
Removing your gaze, you continued a slow pace to the car. Hands in your black trench coat as an attempt to hide the emotions you were holding on a leash. But before you could even get inside the black Sedan, someone called out for you. “Y/n!” Turning, you found T’Challa jogging over, and for the first time today, you smiled.
Since you came into the business, T’Challa and you hit off instantly. Perhaps it was the fact that you two were around the same age or that you two related in the fact that both your parents were the head of powerful families in London. But you two seemed to clique and could go out on a night, shoot the shits, and not regret a thing the next day. Every day you spent with the man seemed like a brand new adventure.
“T’Challa.” You smiled, opening your arms as the man engulfed you in a hug.
“I’m sorry about your loss,” he whispered. “I can’t imagine how you are feeling.”
You sighed, softly pulling away and scratching your right brow with a soft chuckle. “Yeah, um, I don’t know what to feel, honestly.” Rage. “It's taking me a bit to get a grasp on it, but I think I should manage.”
“If there’s anything you need, you let me know, alright?” T’Challa, being the comforting man you knew him to be, showed a face of worry. One that he always seemed to display anytime you didn’t seem to have that bright smile on your face. But more than ever, he felt the need to be there for you. Something you appreciated when you didn’t have many friends nowadays.
Before assurance can be given to the man, his father, T’Chaka comes over. “Y/n, I am sorry for your lost, my dear.”
You smile and nod in thanks. “Thank you, King T’Chaka. I-”
“Your father was a good man, Y/n.” Your brows knitted together, upper lip twitching as you stared at the man. “Always the mastermind behind our schemes he and I did. Who will be taking his position now?”
The question came out of left field, one that T’Challa didn’t even seem prepared for. And if you weren’t wrong or misreading your friend, he seemed just as frustrated and furious as you. Shifting the weight of your feet, you squinted your eyes at the older man. “Why would that matter?”
T’Chaka sighed, glancing at his son before motioning for you to follow. Glancing at T’Challa, he seemed just as confused as you. Nonetheless, you followed the older man towards the grave of your father. Stopping just at the edge as T’Chaka stared down into the grave.
“Someone chose to kill, Steven Rogers,” T’Chaka began. “And today, we mourn the loss of a good man.” Turning to you, T’Chaka sighed. “But tomorrow will be business as usual. Someone will have to take his place, Y/n. Either you or Peggy.”
His words strung a deep chord within you. He was saying all of this in front of your father's grave? Speaking of loss, yet, still having time to discuss business in front of a dead man? Something about it didn’t sit right with you. Albeit, your emotions and anxiety had been at an all-time high since you had gotten the news. But this, this fucked with you a little too much. It dug too deep into your current unfulfilled rage that left you on the verge of bursting from your seams.
“Hmm.” You hummed, nodding to yourself as you glanced down at the casket. A rosewood stain covers the exterior with gold handles along the sides. A luxurious coffin made for only a true king. Looking up at T’Chaka, you shook your head. “No. It all stops. Every shipment, every pound of coke, heroin- all of it stops. Until I find the person responsible for killing my father.”
Stepping towards the man, you glared at him. “And if that is a problem, then move the fuck over! If you have a question about leadership, I suggest keeping your mouth fucking shut!” Smiling faintly, you leaned in towards the man’s ear. “If you think me taking my father’s place would keep things the same, you are sadly mistaken, King.”
Pulling away, you stared at the older man’s hardened features. Patting him lightly on the shoulder before moving back to your vehicle. Nodding to T’Challa, who returned it as you passed him and got into the Sedan where your mother was sat quietly. And the moment you were seated, the vehicle started moving.
But you could sense the tension, an undeniable set of emotions that swirled through the interior of the vehicle. The source came from your mother who wiped her cheeks, hoping to hide the newly developed tears that had appeared.
So, you grabbed her hand and squeezed it softly. Peggy let out a shaky breath, eyes staring blankly ahead of her as she shook her head. “There was a time no one dared to touch this family.”
Gripping her hand tightly, you clenched your jaw. “I’ll make things right, Mum.”
And that was a promise.
#steve rogers#natasha romanoff#bucky barnes#gangs of london series#natasha romanoff angst#peggy carter#t'challa#t'chaka#natasha romanoff fanfiction#x fem!reader#marvel x fem!reader#steve rogers angst#peggy carter angst#marvel imagine#marvel fanfiction#natasha romanoff imagine
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A Picture’s Worth || jjk (I)
Pairings: Jungkook x Reader
Other Tags: Ex-Art Thief!Reader, Ex-Assassin!Reader, Ex-Gang member!Reader, Gang member!Jungkook, Assassin!Jungkook, Hitman!Jungkook, Thief!Jungkook
Genre: Strangers to lovers, gang AU, mafia AU, Fluff, Angst, Smut
Word Count: 23.2k+
Summary: After pulling off the largest art heist of her career, Y/N has put that life behind her. However, after 4 years out of the business, she comes home to find a stranger in her house.
Warnings: violence, blood, gang activity, mafia activity, mentions of death, actual death, crime, robberies, pickpocketing, graphic depictions of injuries, guns, knives, mentions of past torture, body branding (not too graphic), major character(s) injured, STRONG LANGUAGE, Gang tattoos, Abuse (not JK and Reader), JK is a bit of a himbo, but only with his friends, he’s actually quite scary, I’m not a gang member or anything so I could be wrong about that stuff, I tried my best, eventual smut, mutual pining, kissing (let me know if I missing anything)
Author’s Note:Things were getting out of hand, so I made the executive decision to split this into two parts. This one is establishing plot so no smut (yet). Thanks so much for reading. She’s a big girl.
Listen to the Playlist || cross posted to ao3: here
Five years ago
There comes a point in a child’s life that they begin to ponder over what they will become. Some girls I knew dreamt of becoming lawyers, doctors, or astronauts. I remember there being a time when I had thought of more than the mountains I had lived in, possibly moving to California and starting my life over after I was finished with school. I had even played with the idea of owning a salon. I hoped that I would be pretty when I grew up with bright red hair just like Ariel. It was strange looking back on that time and how little had truly changed.
While I had, in some ways, deviated from the life my family had wanted for me, I was still lurking in the shadows and biding my time. Instead of hiring me for hits, the players I worked for enjoyed the finer things in life. Patrons of the arts if you will. Staring up at the Rembrandt painting, it was not a wonder as to why.
Looking over my shoulder, I was relieved to see Hoseok in position. Locking eyes momentarily, I gave him a small, polite smile and returned to the painting in front of me. To the security cameras, we were simply two strangers who had a small moment in time. I knew that we were trying to use signals as much as we could without looking suspicious. A smile normally meant that I was confident I could pull this off. Hoseok’s returning nod was his way of saying he was happy with his own assessments.
The heist would take a few more weeks to plan out. Our buyer wanted 18 different art pieces from this museum, something that was doable with our team, as well as 38 pieces of jewelry. Taehyung and Jimin would be in charge of the operation. Walking away from the Rambrandt, I looked over other pieces with the same intensity to not raise suspicions. While the cameras here were not of great quality, they could still see us and that alone was enough to bother me.
Stealing has always come naturally to me. Second nature. When I was young I pickpocketed, the artform far more refined now that I was much older, and my parents enjoyed how sneaky I could be when I wanted to be. We never stayed anywhere for too long, the last place I had seen them was Aspen six years ago, but my favorite years were London. The Underground was a perfect place to pickpocket. In a day I could swipe over 100 items and no one would be the wiser.
My tastes changed as I grew. There was a time when I hated the idea of being a criminal like my parents were. I disdain violence at the best of times, but there were very few ways of getting out unscathed. It was when I managed to steal jewels from a heavily secured store that I caught the eyes of The Saints. Hoseok was impressed by my attention to detail and offered me a way to get out of my family home. I was sixteen and impulsive. A little over ten years later I was still standing here, pickpocketing the wealthy and giving it to those just as fortunate. It had stopped bothering me years ago, the guilt, but there was always a piece of me that longed for those far away dreams of cutting hair. It almost made me laugh just thinking about it.
“It’s a beautiful painting, isn’t it?” A soft voice asked, suddenly beside me.
Turning, I was confronted with a familiar face. Yoongi hardly changed, his set lips and keen eyes unwavering. There was a long, jagged scar that ran down his forehead, over his eye, and down his cheek. He got the scar when he was still in the Irish Mob back in Boston. He was an earner with those boys and they gave him hell about leaving. Still, he had managed to walk away only to join a different side of organized crime.
“Yes, but not really to my taste,” I joked.
I had never been the biggest fan of abstract work. I liked it a great deal more than landscapes, it was at least interesting to look at, but the lack of effort had bothered me. It would never take off anyway. No one liked over priced paint splatters. Yoongi hummed.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
Taking the cue, I stood as he walked off and began counting back from 500 in my head. Everyone would be heading back to the command now. Everything had been squared away for now. Taking one more passing glance at the Rembrandt, I sighed. Hopefully, when this is all done, I could walk away.
With my head held high, I slowly drifted toward the exit. Taking the time to look over art was another great way to cover my tracks. In order to stay a nobody, I had to be a nobody, and only a nobody would stop to look at a still-life of a bowl of fruit. I never did understand why these things were popular. Then, finally, after five more minutes of “ooo”ing an “ahh”ing at pieces I’ve seen every week for the last month, I was out of the door.
Three years ago
Blinking, I stood motionless as I stared at the cracks in the little apartment’s ceilings. It had been a difficult find, something so cheap in San Diego was a steal even if it was only 300 square feet. Smiling, I threw my duffel bag of belongings onto the futon I had brought earlier that day. Finally, things were going to start looking up.
I had flown in from Kansas the week prior and had made the most of cheap motel rooms until I scored this place. I had always loved California and finally I had made it home. Looking around, I found I was not as upset by the lack of space or functioning stove. In fact, it had been the lightest I had felt in a very long time. Only second to when I graduated from Aveda last fall.
Deciding to pick up what little boxes I had with me, I broke them down and tore them into strips that were easily thrown away. I was lucky the place had come with a small, countertop fridge and microwave. The only sink was in the bathroom, a room that was floor-to-ceiling covered in tile with a toilet, small sink, and a shower head. I would have to wear flip flops just in case. The landlord had recommended using a bucket since the hot water only lasted for about 10 minutes.
I did not have much. I had gotten into the habit of packing light and living even lighter, but I was determined to try this differently. I’ve gotten what I have always wanted and I was going to let anyone, or anything, take it away from me. Going to my duffel bag, I began packing out my folded clothes and organizing them into different piles before putting them away. I had bought a tall, skinny wardrobe at the same GoodWill I had gotten the futon from.
Calling out to my phone, I asked Siri to play some music and got to work. I hated silence. Using the small drawers on the left side, I stuffed my underwear and pajamas on that side of the wardrobe. The right side was meant to hang nice things on, but I did not own nice things anymore. Instead hung were two pairs of jeans, a few dresses, and some shirts. I only owned black now. It was the dress code for every salon I had ever worked at- including the newest one. My shoes went on the shelves above the drawers and I made a mental note to buy a better pair of sneakers. I wanted to get outside more often.
Putting away the rest of my things was just as quick. My makeup was stored away on the desk that was attached to the wall beside the fridge. It was meant to be a dining area, but I doubted I would ever have company over to make use of it. My few skincare products were safely stored away in the bathroom mirror, and my kit was under my bed for safe keeping. I was suddenly acutely aware of just how sad everything truly was.
“Well,” I mumbled to myself. “Hopefully I can get enough clientele to get out of this shithole.”
At least, I thought to myself, at least I was free.
With that in mind, I grabbed my keys and headed out into the city. It had been hours since I last stopped for anything and I would have no luck here for the night. Slipping into the hallway, I realized that I was happy. For the first time in a while I felt unadulterated. Things were going to be fine.
Two years ago
Clutching the pizza box with one hand and balancing it on my hip, I cradle my phone with my shoulder as I open the door to my building.
“The earliest I’ll be available is Thursday,” I said, my voice sickeningly sweet.
The customer, Jules, cheerfully asked if I had any availability on Sunday instead. Rolling my eyes, I reminded her that the salon was closed on both Sunday and Monday. This would be the third time I had to repeat myself.
“What about Saturday?” She asked, still as clueless as she had been since I had picked up.
“I’m free from 2pm until 3pm, but if you want a haircut and balayage I will need longer than an hour.”
“How long do you need?” Finally, I heard a hint of frustration slipping through her otherwise cheery voice.
“If you want the full layered balayage it can take up to three hours for hair as long as yours is. It can be shorter if you just want a partial- between 45 minutes to an hour and a half.”
Huffing up the stairs, I struggled to open the door to my floor and used my foot to keep it open while I awkwardly hobbled. Rolling my eyes, I wanted to pull my hair out. This would be the fourth time now.
“I can put you in Thursday morning from 8am until noon. I can also do Friday from 5pm until 8pm. I’m not available again until the following Wednesday.”
Jules hummed, unable to stay silent I found. We had been on the phone for twenty five minutes and I was beginning to get a migraine. She was sweet, and I appreciated her never ending patience, but I was not blessed with the same superpower. I had never been known for my temperament or politeness. I only had patience when money was involved. Shoving my door open with my shoulder, I willed those thoughts away. That was the last thing I needed to think about right now.
Jules was going to make me go rob a fucking bank at this rate. Banks weren’t even my thing. That brought a smile to my face and I put the pizza down on the single counter I had in the kitchen.
“I guess Thursday will work then. I was just hoping to get it done before my birthday.”
Pausing, I sighed heavily. Wonderful. She was a guilt tripper. Little shit.
“What day is your birthday?” I asked.
“Oh! It’s Tuesday. My girls and I are going to the Cheesecake Factory to celebrate.”
And despite my better judgment, I opened my calendar and began looking at my schedule on Tuesday. Knowing I had taken the bait hook, line, and sinker, I just went right out with it.
“We can try something if you’re open to it.”
“Sure, what’s up?” Jules asked, voice perking up.
“I can give you a partial balayage Tuesday and then you can come back Thursday to finish the rest if you want to after seeing the results.”
Jules squealed and began talking very quickly, her excitement palpable. I cringed away from the speaker of my phone.
“That would be Ah-mazing! What time on Tuesday could you see me?”
“I had a cancellation first thing in the morning. I’m free from 8am until 9:45. We’ll get as much as we can during that time.”
“Oh! I can definitely make that. Can we do the haircut on Tuesday instead of Thursday?”
Biting my tongue, I had to stop the smart ass comment I wanted to make from coming out. She was obviously very young or had little experience going to a salon. Still, it’s common sense that we would cut first. I’m not wasting products like that.
“That’s what I was thinking, too,” I settled on.
“Thanks so much, Y/N! See you Tuesday!”
“See you then, Jules. Before you go, can I get some information from you so I can put you down properly?”
After getting her full name, phone number, and email address, I let her go and logged into the salon’s appointment system to add her in. Our receptionist had quit two months ago and we were having a hard time finding a replacement. I tried to tell Tony he needed to raise the pay but he was not budging. Right now we were all stuck keeping track of everything ourselves.
The pizza was not very hot anymore but was warm enough to not be too bothersome. Happy to have some extra money coming in, I went to the fridge and grabbed a soda from it. I bought a small cart to put my microwave on. The mini fridge just happened to fit perfectly below it. The small Keurig I bought myself for Black Friday was right beside the microwave. A snug fit but it worked. Taking a bite of the pizza, I leaned against the counter and groaned.
I was so happy to be home.
Home. It was a word I was still hesitant to say. It was hard to believe things were permanent even after all this time. Some nights I stared up at the ceiling and waited for a knock on my door. Even if Hoseok promised emergencies only it was difficult to know what the guys would consider an emergency. That world was so far removed from this new reality of mine that I feared I was losing my edge. Would I even be able to help them anymore?
With doubt and a recurring nightmare, I fell asleep and dreamt of casinos and Rembrandt.
One year later
Sweeping up the floor, I glanced around the room to find myself alone.
“Great,” I huffed. “I’m going to have to talk to Tony about this bullshit.”
It had been the third time the new hire, Sasha, had left without helping with cleanup. First he snuck out of the back when he was helping Tiesha, and the last two times had been with me. While we tried to keep the boss out of the personal issues we had at the shop, I was not about to let some 19-year-old walk around like he’s above it all. Angrily, I kept sweeping and hoped that the bastard got stuck in the worst traffic getting back on the I-5.
Walking over to Andrea’s station, I rolled my eyes. She always forgot to put her combs in the sterilizing solution. Making quick work of that, I went around checking everyone’s stations to be sure it was all in order. Even Sasha’s. His desk was immaculately cleaned and I gritted my teeth harder. Seems like he’s one of those people. Feeling petty, I skipped sweeping under his vanity and kept going. Not like it made much of a difference anyway. Maybe I should steal his wallet tomorrow and help him look for it.
Fucking idiot.
No, I scolded myself. I am not that person anymore. I would definitely not go back to that lifestyle for Alexander Ivanov. Reminding myself that he was just a spoiled little brat, I continued sweeping hoping it would calm me down long enough to clear my head. If I let any of those ideas foster that would be bad. I’d have every valuable item that boy owned by lunch.
Suddenly the front desk phone began to ring and I chose to ignore it. It was five minutes after closing time and I did not feel like dealing with anyone else today. Sasha had pissed me off enough. I did not want some snotty customer adding to it. The ringing stopped and I was satisfied that they simply left a voicemail.
Turning to go back to the staff room to gather the Swiffer, I was stopped in my tracks by the phone. A part of me wanted to answer it now. It had to be the same person. Still, I was off the clock and that was not a part of my job description. Destiny would handle it in the morning. The ringing stopped. I started walking. It started up again.
Peeved but resigned, I walked to the front desk and checked the number flashing on the screen. It was from out of state. Figures. Usually clients who wanted to come in on vacation called without realizing the time zone difference. Forcing a smile to my face, I picked up.
“Mane Street, this is Y/N speaking. How can I help you?”
“Ten minutes.” The line died.
I knew that voice from anywhere. Shaking, I placed the phone back on its modem and took a second to gather myself. Whatever the emergency was, I only had ten minutes to finish cleaning and get outside. Knowing Hoseok, he would be waiting for me near my car. Better yet, he’d already be in the passenger seat.
Scrambling, I began to mop the floors and Windex the mirrors. I refused to let this unexpected visit stop me from performing my job. I was happy Sasha had left. I probably looked like I’d seen a ghost. You have definitely heard one, my subconscious screamed.
I was locked up eight minutes later. I had been keeping count in my head just as I always had before. It was unsettling just how quickly I had transformed back into the person I had once been. Who was I fooling? I’ve been covering her up with scissors, a shitty studio apartment, and take out. That did not change the overseas accounts, fake names, and stolen jewelry I’ve kept. That doesn’t change the stolen art hanging on my walls.
Rounding the back of the store, I was not surprised to see my vehicle was the only one still there. Squinting, I could see the silhouette of a person’s head in the passenger side. The street light just in front of the pickup was facing the front, their side profile obscured by the light, but I would recognize Hoseok anywhere. He was hard but soft, jagged but gentle, and most importantly, his face was oval with a pointed chin. Anxiety bubbling in my stomach, I put on a brave face and marched forward. I would be right on time.
Hoseok did not say a word as I slid into the driver’s seat or when I closed the door. Not waiting for him to make a demand, I started the engine and turned on the AC. It was stuffy. Hoseok continued to look straight while I buckled my seatbelt and put the truck in reverse.
“Don’t go home,” He finally said.
Dread filled my stomach but I did as he said. Instead of turning left, I went right and headed for the little diner I enjoyed getting a late dinner at. It was the best place for steak and eggs. I was not sure if Hoseok would be hungry but I did not care. We never really thought about those things before.
“I’m glad to see you’re doing what you like,” He spoke again, his voice still gentle. “You look very nice, too. Like the new hair.”
I was always unnerved by this side of Hoseok. He was typically a very loud, energetic, and passionate man. Soft spoken and Hoseok had never gone together. Then again, it had been almost five years since I had seen him. A lot could change within that time. That, or whatever he was going to tell me would require softness. I hoped it was just a personality change from getting older.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m glad to see you’re healthy.”
Finally, he cracked a smile. “Hadn’t realized you thought about me at all.”
I scoffed, “Of course I think about you. I think about all of you very often.”
This seemed to throw him for a loop. It was weird to speak so openly about my feelings. We had always gone about life with coldness. Being sharp and intense was the only way to survive out there. If anyone saw you as weak or vulnerable then you were finished. That was why Yoongi usually acted as a middle man. He was the hardest, coldest, most impenetrable wall there ever was. Just looking into his eyes you could see that. Shivering, I recalled the time he killed a man with a set of chopsticks while we were in Korea.
“We think about you, too,” Hoseok said, sounding far away.
Turning into the diner’s parking lot, I turned off the engine and got out. Hoseok followed closely behind me and I asked him if he wanted anything.
“I hear the steak and eggs are nice,” He commented, eyes downcasted.
“Is Taehyung keeping tabs on me?” I sneered, anxiety turning into anger.
Taehyung was the tech guy when he wasn’t stealing jewels. He was also a royal pain in the ass who never knew when to cool it. He had been the most upset when he heard that I was leaving the crew and I would not put it past him. Taehyung was just that kind of guy. The gesture was kind, I was certain of that, and came from a place of love. Still, I had asked to be left alone. It seemed like no one really accepted that.
“I tried to stop it but it’s impossible to keep track of everything he does,” Hoseok admitted. “After a while we just accepted the fact that he wouldn’t give it up. He is trying to check in less and less, though. He’s just worried someone will come around and we won’t know about it.”
“And that’s how you knew where I worked?”
Holding the door open, Hoseok thanked me before going inside. Doris smiled at me when I walked inside. She was an elderly woman who liked to help me with my Sudoku puzzles on Sunday mornings. Eyeing Hoseok curiously, I waved at her before finding an open booth. I normally sat at the bar but I did not want prying eyes. Doris would not go away if we sat there and Hoseok was obviously wanting privacy.
“Hey sugar,” Dixie, a waitress from Alabama, greeted us.
She put down two menus and asked us what we wanted to drink. Hoseok ordered a coffee while I got a glass of chocolate milk. The man looked me up and down, amusement coloring every one of his features. I waved him off and looked at the menu. If he ordered steak and eggs I would order something else. Hoseok was a big fan of sharing food even if we both had our own portions.
Hoseok, like many of the guys from the crew, was South Korean. He was born in Gwangju, a city in the southern part of the country, and moved to the US with his friend Namjoon during university. Namjoon went on to become a campaign manager in New York City while Hoseok became an associate of the Gambino family after killing a few guys. Over time the two went their separate ways, but Hoseok always spoke fondly of him. Last he heard, Namjoon had moved to Seoul and was working at the Blue House.
“You all figured out what you want?” Dixie asked, reappearing with our drinks.
Hoseok ordered the steak and eggs while I got their “Rising Roadhouse'' meal. It came with waffles and I knew that would make Hoseok happy. When we were alone again, Hoseok sighed.
“It’s Jimin,” He said.
Bracing myself, I leaned in closer so we could speak quietly. The diner was almost empty at this time of night and I was nervous. This was shit no one needed to hear about. Hoseok got closer to me.
“What’s going on?” I demanded, whispering harshly.
“He’s gotten into some shit with Winter Hill again. Yoongi bailed him out but things are going to shit. They want us to get some things for them to make up for it. We weren’t sure where to go, and Georgie was very specific.”
I breathed through my nose. Jimin was my closest friend during my time with the crew. We thought the most alike, worked the best, and trusted one another. However, we were also hot heads. I had worked on myself tremendously over the years, but Jimin had the worst kind of anger. Talking out the mouth. And to talk to somebody in Winter Hill the way I assumed he had? Jimin was asking to lose a finger. That’s if he hadn’t already. Looking at Hoseok, he seemed to know what question I had on my mind.
“Yoongi made him cut the first joint off. I told him to write an apology letter in blood. I also sent the boss the piece in a medicine jar. Just to be sure.”
Grimacing, I rubbed my forehead. I had almost forgotten the way they do things in the mafia. The letter in blood, however, seemed more of a New York thing. I’d have to get clarification on that later. Leaning back in my chair, I shook my head.
“Unbelievable,” I mumbled absentmindedly.
On one hand, I was very angry that either of them would humiliate Jimin like that. On the other hand, I knew that the boy had put them in a very, very fucked up spot. Either they make amends and punish him or they lose the entire East Coast. If Boston doesn’t want anything to do with them, New York will become weary as well. Even if Hoseok was a Red Pull at one time, he is still an outsider. He was still just an associate.
“What is he looking for?” I finally asked, leaning back in.
“Jewelry. Said they wanted something ‘your old girl’ would like. Said you’d know what to do.”
I smirked. Georgie Boy had always been impressed with my taste. Still, I was not sure about getting involved with all of this. In order to do so would mean helping them stake out a place and I was not going there. I had made my peace. Still, I could not help the part of me that felt excited. I squashed it like a bug.
“I’m not helping you with anything,” I said.
“I’m not asking you to,” He replied. “Just tell us if you’ve seen anything noteworthy lately.”
Dixie came back with our food and I used it as a distraction. I needed time to think. Hoseok and I ate off of one another and I continued to sit and ponder over the new things I had seen at the museum in town. I had gone many times, I had always tried to desensitize myself to the feeling I got when I walked in, but each time I looked around. I knew where every single camera was, I knew how to get into the back, and I was familiar enough with the security system to work around it. Every detail of a heist had already formed in my head that I refused to act on. Just as I knew every museum all the way up to Orange County. There were quite a few jewelers that had caught my eye as well. Still, I knew my answer after a few minutes of silence.
“His daughter’s birthday is soon, isn’t it?” I clarified, making sure my memory serves me well.
“In a few weeks,” Hoseok nodded.
“There’s a pair of earrings at Beverly Hills Jewelers,” I started. “They’re 2 carat, T.W, diamonds. They’re heart shaped. Halo. They’re beautiful.”
“Price?”
“I believe $15,000. They have some nice tennis chains as well that could match.”
He hummed, “I don’t know if it’ll be enough.”
I nodded, “I’ll include a personalized letter as well as a ring from my own collection if that helps.”
Hoseok smiled brightly at me. I knew that had pleased him. Georgie Boy would also be happy. His little girl gets some nice gifts and he gets to wave his dick around like the narcissist is is. In my head, I was already trying to remember the layout of the store. I had only gone inside twice when I took a trip to Beverly Hills. I was having a rough day and I wanted to get back in my element for a while. Scoping out places was always a relaxing thing for me to do. I ended up buying a necklace while I was there so they wouldn’t become suspicious of me. Still, I would have to see it again and show the guys what I was talking about so they could do the hit. That place was heavily secured.
“Thanks, Y/N,” Hoseok said, pushing the last piece of steak closer to me.
Grinning at him I replied, “It was an emergency.”
And then I popped the steak in my mouth and savored the taste. Just for now I would have a little bit of chaos. It would just be Hoseok and I, so that made the guilt lessen. At least this wasn’t something I would have to actually perform. Still, I thought to myself, I was incredibly bored without the little bit of chaos I had before.
Present
Laughing, I cut another piece of brown hair off. Jules stared at me, her hands covering her mouth, while she shook. She was a regular now, always got the same treatment, but when she called about her appointment last week she asked for a bob. Well, giving it to her, it was difficult to imagine just how upset she would become.
Her mother had recently been diagnosed with cancer and she wanted to show her that she was standing with her. The chemo had made chunks fall out and her mother decided to buzz her head. I had been the person to do that and give her a pamphlet of local stores she could go to and buy nice wigs. Jules, however, had called me late and said she wanted to donate her own hair for her mom. Tony had recently registered the salon with Locks of Love and trained us all in it. Sasha had been the most excited about the prospect. His mother had died from cancer when he was in highschool.
Jules’s hair was thick, dark brown, and wavy. Everything about it was perfect and she was a dream to work with. She always took things in stride and tipped well. Today, I was worried if she would ever come back.
Her hair was long enough that we could keep it at her shoulders. She had always kept it past her butt, just barely grazing her upper thighs, and took pride in it. I was still planning to give her plenty of highlights and a blowout- on the house. I had nothing but love for the girl and I knew how difficult this would be for her. Glancing at Tiesha, she smiled.
“Girl, what are you crying for?” She joked, parting another section of her client’s hair.
I recognized her but was not sure of her name. She always came in for installations or silk presses. Tiesha was always happy to see her, at the very least, so I knew she was a nice enough person.
“I don’t know,” Jules whined back, sniffling and rubbing her reddening eyes.
“Now, you are too damn pretty to be looking like that,” She replied, braiding back another section. “Make an appointment with momma and I’ll hook you up.”
I scoffed, “I can do extensions, too.”
“Oh, I know. But you’re most definitely a colorist. Julie, baby, Ty will take good care of you, okay?”
“Your mom will be very happy,” Sasha chimed in, his Russian accent thick.
Jules nodded, “Yeah, she will.”
I smiled to myself. That was the best motivator to get through this. I kept as much length as I could and I was still going to try to make her feel pretty with the new style. She had said her friends were excited but her boyfriend was conflicted. He loved her hair. That made me frown. Who the fuck says that to their girlfriend? Especially one who’s doing it for their sick mother.
“I’ve never gone this short before,” Jules said, her composure coming back. “It’s scary.”
“Don’t worry,” Sasha soothed, cleaning up from his last client. “You’ve got the best in the house. Y/N’ll take care of you.”
I winked at the boy. Sasha had grown on me considerably since he was first hired. I had not gone to Tony about his skipping after all, instead I cornered him at work and told him if he ever ditched me again I would get him fired. We were rocky after that but I knew his respect for me had gone up. A friendship blossomed when he confessed he was clueless about doing color. Sasha was an amazing stylist and his precion was otherworldly, but Destiny was right to never give him color clients. I spent a few nights helping him practice on some mannequin heads and he followed me around like a puppy. He had even agreed to clean up alone for two nights while I was in Beverly Hills helping Hoseok scope out the place. We were thick as thieves after that.
“I know that,” Jules cracked a smile. “She always takes care of me.”
“I’m flattered,” I finally said. “Don’t worry, I’ve got plans for you.”
Her smile grew. Jules had been very excited about free coloring. I had told her I was giving myself free reign, and I wondered if she thought I was going to go manic pixie on her. Hopefully some lowlights and babylights would suffice. We had never gone darker before and I thought it would suit the new cut well.
Cutting in her layers, I was happy with how it looked. Her hair framed her face nicely and she would still have enough length to play around with it if she wanted. Jules was a fan of those half-up, half-down looks. Using my comb, I ran through her hair and cut. So far, she had not looked back at the mirror. She seemed nervous too.
“Do you want me to cut your bangs blunt or keep them split?” I asked.
Jules perked up, “Oh! I was actually thinking about trying a new bang style.”
I nodded, “Do you have a picture?”
She opened her gallery and pulled it up. I smiled to myself. Jameela Jamil really did pull off the schoolgirl bangs.
“So in between?” I walked around so she was facing me.
“Do you think it’ll look nice?” She asked, chewing her bottom lip.
I studied her face for a moment.
“You’ll look great, but it might take some time to get used to. They’re a bit more maintenance than blunt or curtain.”
She smiled, “I figured that.”
Working quietly, I began to trim her bangs into the correct shape. They will look their best after I finish styling the rest of her hair. Jules loved it when I straightened her hair after our visits. She never had the patience for it at home and it made her feel special when she got it done here. I would have to let her know that her bangs will look pretty if she curled the longer side pieces to blend them in with her natural waves. With the cutting done, it was time to start the lowlights.
“When is your next appointment?” I asked Sasha.
He was sitting in his chair and texting someone on his phone. He glanced at me before getting back to his screen.
“About twenty minutes. He’s new.”
“Oh, a man?” Tiesha dramatically emphasized the man part. It was not often that men booked with us. Sasha had gone to barber school and did amazing work, but for some reason the idea of going to a salon bothered most men. “He from out of town?”
“I think so,” The Russian nodded. “He definitely sounded foreign. I couldn’t tell where from. Maybe Asia?”
I froze for a moment. I took a breath. There was absolutely no way that any of them would do that. Then I thought of Taehyung. Absolutely not, I scolded myself. That boy feared me more than anybody else. I would ring him by his neck and then let Yoongi know about it. Besides, I said emergencies only. They would have scheduled with me if they were trying to talk. Walking back to my chair, I placed the dye and bleach down on the metal tray next to me. Opening one of the drawers at my desk, I grabbed some latex gloves and foil.
Getting started was simple. Getting the brown, I began painting sections of her hair and foiling them. The foil was not really necessary, but I always got nervous that the parts I did not want colored would get touched. Lowlights were more sparsely added, and unlike highlights, never layers. Making my way around her head, I was excited to see if she would like it. I only went a shade darker than her natural color, so the color contrast was not extremely stark. The highlights were the most important part of the look.
Foiling the last piece of hair, I took the bowl to the sink near the back as well as the brush I was using. Tossing them in and removing my gloves, I heard the bell chime and Sasha’s customer service voice begin. No one could beat Tiesha’s, that woman had client relationships like no one I had ever met. They adored her.
“Come sit and we can get started,” Sasha seemed more excited than usual.
I guessed the guy wanted something a bit different from his normal caseload.
“Alright,” I sighed, clapping my hands. “Let's get this bleach started.”
Walking back into the main room, I paid no mind to the customer sitting in Sasha’s chair. Jules was FaceTiming with someone and I grinned when I recognized her mom’s voice. She seemed very cheery today.
“Oh, I love that length on you,” Martha gushed, her accent only picking up on certain words.
“Gracias, mami,” Jules beamed. “Do you think Carlos will like it?”
Martha waved her hands around animatedly when she talked. I had learned that from the many times she came to the salon with Jules. Now, she was shaking them violently.
“Who cares?”
I laughed and got to work on her highlights.
“I said the same thing,” I chimed.
The three of us talked as I worked. Martha always enjoyed asking me about the craziest customer of the week, and I usually indulge her. This week it had been a very convoluted, pastel rainbow color job. She wanted the top half white and the bottom portion colored. She booked out my entire day, gave me hell about every insignificant detail, and then left a $2 tip. Sasha got to hear me rant and rave about it when we were cleaning that night.
“She’s never allowed in my chair again,” I finished, setting a timer for everything.
The lowlights had been sitting for twenty minutes while the babylights would need about 15 in order to develop the way I want them to. Thinking, I was certain the lowlights would be fine going two minutes over the usual time. They would be hardly noticeable regardless.
“You’ve had worse,” Sasha pointed out.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “But those women tip well. I don’t care how rude you are- money is money. That chick is a pain in the ass without the benefits.”
“She has nothing on Kimberly,” Tiesha joked.
I groaned, “God, don’t even put that name into the universe. She’s due back soon.”
Sasha laughed. “She does pay very well. Don’t blame you.”
“Who’s Kimberly?” Jules asked.
I gave Tiesha a look before answering her.
“She’s a regular. Tony was her go-to guy, but he’s only in twice a week and it doesn’t line up with her schedule. He sent her over to me. Let’s just say she takes picky to a new level.”
Jules snickered, “What does she like to get?”
“Usually a platinum blonde, layered cut. On paper it’s not the most difficult thing in the world, but she makes it much more complicated than it needs to be.”
“Complicated?” Tiesha exclaimed. “That woman is super rude, always late, and acts like she knows everything. I’d tell that bitch to kick rocks.”
Her client laughed out loud.
“That might be true,” I reasoned, checking the foils. “But, she always tips well and shouts me out on her socials. So, can I really complain? Besides, I’m used to her.”
Checking the foils again, I was happy with the color they were and decided to take the foils off early. Stopping my timer, I asked Jules to walk over to the rinsing station. I was happy this was my last client. Sweeping up the hair, I left it in the dustpan until I was ready to begin the tedious task of preparing it for donation. Putting on a new pair of gloves, I willed this day to be over already.
I knew something was off when a new motorcycle was parked out front. Briefly checking the plates, I was even more weary when they were from Jersey. I knew far too many people in that corner of the US. Still, I told myself that it could be anybody. Perhaps one of my new neighbors was from Hobokan. That was highly unlikely, though. Eyeing the red leather jacket hanging from one of the handles, I only knew one person who owned something like that. I guess I will be seeing Jimin tonight. The thought bothered me far more than I thought it would.
Taking my time going up the stairs, I considered calling Hoseok and demanding to know why Park was sniffing around my apartment. I knew I should have moved out, should have tried something new, but the thought of leaving the only home I ever knew bothered me. Using the time climbing to my advantage, I slowly steeled myself. Jimin could smell weakness from a mile away. He was also one person who could convince me to do bad things.
The excitement that ran through me at the idea sickened me.
Starting at the 4 on the door, I braced myself. When I walked into that hallway all traces of the new me had to disappear. There can be no laughter, no crying, and no open hostility. I would have to be a blank slate. With one small breath, I pulled the door and went into the hall.
There wasn’t a body in sight, but I knew better than to go off of that. Jimin could get into my apartment with relative ease. No one would notice either. Everyone else that lived was too busy making ends meet to pay attention to the stranger sneaking into my house.
Taking my keys out of my purse, I unlocked the door and walked inside. I could smell him. It was, however, not Jimin. Jimin only wore Orange Blossom by Jo Malone. Whoever this was smelled like baby powder and flowers. My guard completely up now, I continued further into the studio and kicked the door closed behind me. Whoever it was, I knew had been standing behind the door. The smell was not as potent as it had been before.
Going into the kitchen, I shrugged my coat off before throwing it behind me. I heard it hit something and it was a blur after that. I quickly snatched a kitchen knife from the drying rack and threw myself to the ground. The man grabbed my hands. Kicking his inner thigh, I rolled from underneath him and shot up. He threw his arms up.
“Stop!”
Ignoring him, I threw the knife. The man reacted quickly, catching the blade in between his hands before throwing it down on the floor. While he was distracted, I slid on the floor and grabbed the pistol from under my bed. Pointing it at the man, he rolled his eyes dramatically.
“What are you going to do? Shoot me?”
Without saying anything, I aimed for his left shoulder and fired. The silencer muzzled the shot, though the pop was still nasty. It worked better with a pillow added to the equation. I doubted any of my neighbors would notice the sound, however. The man shouted, stumbled back, and leaned against the fridge.
“You shot me,” He exclaimed, shocked.
“Who the fuck are you?” I barked, aimed for his other shoulder.
“You wait to ask me after you-”
I shot again. He gritted his teeth and sank to the floor. The wounds were leaking blood but I tried to not let it bother me. This guy broke into my house. This time, I aimed for his right knee.
“Who are you?” I asked again.
“Jungkook,” The man, Jungkook, answered. “I’m with The Saints.”
Lowering the barrel of the gun, I stared at him for a second. He was with my crew? Since when?
“Who sent you?” I asked, aiming at his chest now.
If he was going to get found out, he might be more inclined to lunge before I could call anyone.
“Yoongi.”
Slowly, I reached into my back pocket and got my phone. I was relieved the screen hadn’t cracked during the outfall. Slowly, keeping my eyes on Jungkook, I started typing in the number I knew by heart. If he was lucky, Yoongi would pick up. If not, then we weren’t moving until someone did. After the second ring, a rough voice greeted me.
“August.”
Training my gun on his head, I spoke.
“There’s someone claiming they know you in my apartment.”
After a few seconds, Yoongi’s voice was hard when he replied.
“Who is it?”
“Says his name is Jungkook,” I replied evenly.
I was fully prepared to pull the trigger. Jungkook stared the barrel down without fear. I only hoped he would go down quickly and quietly.
Yoongi sighed harshly, “Fucking Jimin.”
Gripping the handle tightly, I placed my finger on the trigger. I only needed the okay now.
“He’s fine,” Yoongi was annoyed. “I sent Jimin but I guess he got the kid to go instead.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, I put the gun down. Jungkook visibly relaxed then and moaned in pain. Raising a hand, he cradled his left shoulder and hissed in pain.
“Fucked him up,” I admitted. “He was in my apartment when I got home.”
Yoongi hummed, “Take care of him. He’ll let you know what’s going on. We have a problem.”
He hung up before I could respond.
I hated when he did that. I had no idea who Jungkook was, or what he was here to tell me, but we were on the same team. And I just shot him. Twice. Putting the gun back in its original spot, I reached a little further behind it and retrieved my first aid kit. Jungkook sagged in relief.
“Sorry,” I apologized, helping him take his shirt off. “Didn’t realize you were with us.”
Jungkook hissed when I applied alcohol to the wounds. It would take me a while to get his patched up, but I was capable of doing it. Years of friendship with The Saints would do that to you. Looking at Jungkook, I was taken aback by how attractive he was.
All of the Saints were good looking, but this guy had an aura about him. His hair was wild, pitch black, and down to his shoulders. His skin was gently tanned with small moles dotted sporadically across his body. What caught my attention the most was the shiny, silver lip ring he donned. That was an oddity in our world.
“My fault, shouldn’t have broken in without a warning,” He replied.
“I saw the bike outside and thought you were Jimin.”
He hummed then winced. I knew those bullets did not feel nice. Taking my time and trying to be gentle, I used a pair of tweezers to get them out. Jungkook bit his lip so hard he drew blood.
“Yeah,” He breathed out. “Let me borrow it for the ride.”
“Park,” We both knew what I meant by that.
For the next hour we sat in silence. He let me work and I listened to every sharp intake of breath, groan, and moan. I felt guilty about everything, but I also had a certain level of apathy. The guy was nobody to me. Not really. Same crew doesn’t mean we’re friends. Still, if they sent him here then that meant they trusted him enough to come. That told me a lot about him.
After I placed gauze over the stitches, Jungkook finally spoke again.
“Jin hyung said you were harmless,” He chuckled. “I’ll let him know he’s wrong.”
Ignoring his comment, I went to find him something to wear. I doubted he would be able to fit any of my things. He was huge, a tall man with big arms, but I could make something work. Grabbing a loose fitting dress, I threw it to him.
“I don’t have anything for a man, so that will have to do.”
He nodded and put the dress on without complaint.
“I’ll pick up something for you later,” I continued. “Did you come alone?”
Jungkook shook his head, “Hyung’s around. He was going to come but an old friend called so he sent me.”
“Kai?” I wondered, already knowing the answer.
Jimin and Kai were good friends. They had known one another since they were kids and got involved in crime together. I’d only met the guy in passing the few times he had visited Boston, but I was not very familiar with him. I knew he was a drug runner on the west coast but that was where my knowledge stopped.
“Yeah, said they had business or something.”
I hummed, “Would you like to lay down for a moment?”
Jungkook was very obviously in pain. He tried to deny it for a minute but ultimately took my offer. Going to the fridge, I pulled out a can of Ginger Ale and gave it to him. He accepted it readily.
“Sorry about the gun,” I offered, sitting on the floor. “Jin’s right. I’m usually pretty harmless. I didn’t even own a gun until I left The Saints.”
Jungkook shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. You weren’t expecting company.”
Opening my own drink, I eyed him. He was far too calm. My guess was this was not his first time being shot. Trying to find other wounds was pointless, however, he was too clothed. I hadn’t even thought to check when I was helping him earlier.
“Why’d you come inside anyway?” I asked.
Jungkook grinned ruefully.
“Hyung said he’d call you.”
That pulled a laugh out of me. Park probably forgot about it. For someone as dangerous as he was, he could be irresponsible. I remember when we were scoping a jewelry store together a few years back, Jimin had completely forgotten where the cameras were by the time we left. I had to go back myself a few days later to make sure his guesses were right. We had never let him live it down. Yoongi did not think it was very funny.
“Typical,” I said.
“Yeah.”
Jungkook’s eyes slipped closed. He was so completely at ease in my presence it was unnerving. Taking a sip of my drink, I looked at him in bewilderment. He was so much like Taehyung, trusting and easy going. It was difficult to imagine what role he played in the crew. He could have taken my place but I doubted he was as good. He had come here, hid behind my door, and then ambushed me. Then he was surprised when I acted like he was an enemy. Chuckling, I put my drink down. Yeah, just like Taehyung.
“What’s funny?” He asked, eyes still closed.
Wiping the smile off my face, I replied. “Just thinking.”
We did not talk again. I was sure Jungkook had dozed off, but he kept waking back up again. Getting up, I began looking for some pain medicine to no avail. I had not needed to put myself to sleep in a long time. Grabbing my keys from the floor, I told Jungkook I was heading out for a bit. I got no response. Patting myself down, I knew I did not have my phone and picked it up from beside the bed. Jungkook was lightly snoring.
Slipping from the room, I locked up and went downstairs. Typing in the last number I had for Jimin, I was not surprised that it was no longer in service. He changed phones like you change clothes. Deciding to call Taehyung, I went to my contacts to find him. He was the only person I saved.
“Hello?” His voice was deep and hoarse.
Glancing at the time, I realized it was much later than I thought.
“Sorry about the time,” I replied. “It’s Mouse.”
I heard shuffling on the other side. Taehyung had gotten himself a girlfriend, Jennie, and I was almost positive she was relatively clueless about his life. The last time I talked to Hoseok, he had said she thought he was a tech guy who was helping a start up. He must have been with her now if his silence was anything to go by.
“Sorry,” He said, voice low. “I’m not alone.”
“I just need Park’s number and you can get back to bed.”
Saying the numbers slowly, I typed them into my keypad as I made my way through the dark streets.
“Thanks,” I stopped walking once I got to the gas station around the corner. “Get some sleep.”
“It was good to hear your voice,” He replied, more awake than he had been. “I’ll be seeing you.”
“Night, V.”
“Night, Mouse.”
Hanging up, I stuffed my phone into my back pocket and walked into the store. It was deserted except for the cashier. Giving me a stiff nod, I ignored the man before going to the back of the store and getting some bottled water. I never trusted the tap in the building. Afterwards, I got a bottle of Nyquil and Advil before going to the register.
“Let me get a pack of Marlboro Black Menthols,” I told the cashier.
Taking out my phone, I took my ID from the attached wallet as well as my debit card. The man held the pack of cigarettes and took my ID. Briefly looking it over, he scanned the barcode before scanning the cigarettes. Handing the ID back to me, he began scanning my other items before bagging them.
“Your total is $26.87.”
Nodding, I inserted my card and typed my pin. Putting my card back into the small wallet, I put my phone into my pocket and took the bag.
“Have a good night,” I said.
“You too,” He replied.
Leaving the store, I opened up my keypad and pressed the call button. Jimin picked up after four rings.
“Hello?” He answered, voice brightly and bubbly.
He always answered unknown numbers like that just in case. Jimin always prioritized having the upper hand over anything else. Anyone looking for Park would never connect him to the voice on the other side. I, however, was familiar enough with him to see through the facade.
“You got your boy hit,” I said, cutting right to the chase. “I had to give him a dress and Nyquil after popping two in him.”
Jimin laughed loudly, his fake voice gone. This was why we were friends. Our senses of humor were far too warped due to our upbringings. In another world we would have been enemies belonging to different clans, but I liked this timeline far more. Park was a great guy when you looked past the insecurities, anger issues, and tendency to seek violence.
“Jungkook’s wearing a dress?” He exclaimed, still laughing. “God, you have to take a picture for me.”
I rolled my eyes, “Explain why he’s here. I would ask him but I stepped out to get some medicine for him.”
Jimin’s laughter abruptly cut off. That feeling of dread returned. If Park was getting serious then that meant whatever the situation was must be more than I thought it would be. I was expecting them to need me to help them with a heist, but I was getting the feeling it might be more than that. Jimin sighed.
“I can’t get into specifics right now, but you need to get the fuck out of California.”
Going up the stairs of my complex, I paused.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re not safe here anymore.”
Growing angry, I shouted. “Enough with the cryptic messages, Park!”
Continuing to go up, I kept looking around every corner I went to. This was the worst fucking timing I could have had. Things were finally going well for me, I had friends and a job that I actually liked, and I had to give it all up again. Tears filling my eyes, I shoved open my door and slammed it behind me.
“I told you I can’t get into specifics, but there’s a reason I’m with Kai right now. You and Jungkook need to get out of that apartment as soon as possible. I don’t care where you go but you need to leave.”
Jungkook sprung up when I kicked the edge of my bed. Pointing to my phone, I mouth ‘Jimin.’ Getting on my knees, I pulled out my duffle bag from underneath the bed and threw it at the other man. He looked at me when he stood up. I noticed the way he winced and held up the bag in my hand.
“Copy,” Was all I replied.
“Get to Boston. Don’t take the truck.”
“Give me something to work with,” I demanded, taking the Advil out of the bag and tossing it to Jungkook. “I can’t be blind.”
“Cмерть не за горами.”
My entire world stopped spinning. I could hear my heart beating, feel my lungs pushing the air out of my body, while my eyes were frozen. Every single inch of my skin shivered, goosebumps springing up, and I broke out into a cold sweat. This was no heist.
Hanging up on Jimin, I went to the window above my bed and opened it. Throwing the phone as far as I could, I turned to find Jungkook waiting for instructions. Staring at him, I decided to take a leap of faith.
“Ты один из нас?” I asked.
Jungkook raised an eyebrow at me. “What?”
Gritting my teeth, I snatched the duffle from him. Jungkook continued waiting for me to tell him what to do. I pointed to my bathroom.
“Take everything from the mirror cabinet and put it in the bag. After that, grab what you can from the wardrobe and stuff it. Only take one pair of shoes and a pair of heels. That’s all I’ll need.”
He got to work quickly. Going back to the bed, I took out my gun and the spare ammo I kept locked up at the very back corner. Placing the ammo in the duffle, I took my first aid kit from the kitchen floor and tossed it in as well.
“Do you have a gun?” I asked Jungkook.
“Yeah,” He replied. “It’s in the jacket downstairs. I thought you would feel more comfortable if I wasn’t armed.”
Packing my small makeup collection, I felt myself shutting down. Bad girls don’t have feelings, and I was fucking heartless. Yes, I told myself, heartless. It was harder to pretend now than it had been, I was rusty and in desperate need of a distraction. The thought of finding my old family in the shadows was always frightening, but the thought of them looking for me was far more unsettling.
“Done,” Jungkook announced.
Realizing I had zoned out, I quickly put my makeup in the duffle bag and closed it. I had no time to dwell or be afraid. Heartless, Mouse, Heartless. I hated that name. Shaking my head, I pulled myself together enough to sling the duffle over my shoulder. Jungkook went to take it but I held my hand up.
“You’re not carrying this with your injuries. Just take that bag and this-” I handed him my gun. “I don’t know how quick you are but it’s probably better than me. I’m rusty.”
He nodded and we made our way down the stairs. Thinking, I began to categorize the cars that were in the parking lot and on the street. My truck was near the front but the streets were shrouded in light at this time. Jungkook’s bike was also out front. The back had security cameras but was pitch black at this time. I decided the front was the risk I was more willing to take and went through the hallway door on the first floor. Passing the doors, I paid no mind to Jungkook. He was capable and stayed in step with me effortlessly.
We would drive for a few hours, probably stopping at a diner so I could get another car, and keep going until we hit Arizona or New Mexico. I had not decided yet. Going out the front doors, I waved Jungkook away while I walked down the street. He went to get his jacket but left the bike behind. He was back beside me in a few seconds.
Crossing the street, I had my eyes on a Honda Accord parked on the curb. It was definitely a ‘97 model. I could start her up in a heartbeat. Unzipping one of the side pockets of my bag, I pulled out a switchblade and zipped it back up. Going to the driver’s side, Jungkook stayed at my back while I tried the handle. To my surprise, it opened. Stepping to the side, I gently tapped Jungkook’s back. Turning, he quickly shoved the gun into the backseat as I opened the door. After seeing that the coast was clear, I motioned for him to go around the car while I popped the truck. He said it was fine.
Nodding at him, I got into the car. Kicking the steering wheel, I heard the column lock break before swapping the ECUs. Taking my knife, I ripped off the lower center cover. Getting back out of the car, I opened the backseat and threw my duffle inside. Putting my knife back in its pocket, I opened the long side pocket along the front and pulled out my old screwdriver. This was far from the first jacking I had done.
Getting back into the car, I began to pry the steel cover away. Asking Jungkook for a light, I waited while he pulled out his phone from the pocket of the red jacket. He was lucky no one had taken it. With the flashlight on, I turned the switch from off, past run, to start. The car came to life instantaneously. Waving the light away, I threw the screwdriver into the center console and placed the car in drive. Finally closing the driver’s side door, I peeled off into the night.
The radio came to life and Amy Winehouse sang loudly as I got onto the I-5.
“Til’ the chips were down
Know you were a gambling man.
Love is a losing hand.”
Jungkook was very quiet. I had just followed exit sounds and continued to drive toward Arizona. It was the least exciting state, and the people who lived there were far too judgemental outside of Phoenix, but it was the best way to get to the airport. That airport was far too big and strangely laid out that I knew we would be difficult to pick out in a crowd. Glazing over at Jungkook, he was holding the pack of cigarettes I had bought earlier.
“They’re for Jimin,” I suddenly said, switching lanes. “They were his favorite last time I saw him.”
“I think he’s smoking Camels now,” Jungkook replied.
“Can’t win them all.”
Sighing, I relaxed a bit more in my seat. So far, we have not been followed. Then again, I could be missing something. Tracking was not a strong suit of mine, and in my experience, the Russians were very, very evasive when they wanted to be. Still, I allowed myself a moment to breathe.
“How do you know the boys in Brighton?” Jungkook asked, voice quiet and soft.
I thought about it for a moment. It was a rather long story, but knowing that we were familiar with the same people made it feel easier. Deciding to probe him for information first, I formed a plan in my head on how to go about this conversation.
“Have you ever heard of the person called Pыбка?” I asked, my American accent showing through. It had been a very, very long time since I had spoken Russian, and even then it had always been a second language that I learned from my time with the Shulaya.
“Ivan’s girl, right? The one who was murdered a few years back? What about her?”
Sparing him a quick glance, I spoke.
“Do I look dead to you?”
Jimin and I had known one another longer than anyone else in The Saints. He had been the last person to join the crew, and was deep within the Shulaya before he went to Jersey to join Hoseok’s team. I would never forget the look on his face the first time he saw me, or the fact that it took him all of ten minutes to get fully committed to keeping me safe. Everyone called me Mouse. Jin had come up with it after joking about me being able to live in someone’s attic and they would never know. It caught on and it was the only name anyone on the streets knew about. The ‘Little Fish’ of Shulaya long forgotten after the first two years of hiding. However, it seemed like my face had been seen by somebody and Ivan was not happy about my disappearing act.
“Holy shit,” Jungkook said in awe. “We’re so fucked.”
I laughed, “Have some faith. Ivan is scary, but he’s also impulsive. I know him better than most and trust me- he doesn’t know how to keep his cool. Between Boston and NYC, I doubt he’ll get very far into their territory without raising hell.”
Jungkook made a strange noise.
“I’d be far more afraid of Yoongi than any of those Wiseguys.”
Scoffing, I saw the exit I needed to take in order to pull up at the last Holiday Inn before the long stretch of nothing at all. Jungkook seemed to see where my mind was going and began to look out of the window. After briefly going over what food options we had, we landed on Taco Bell.
Ordering our food was simple enough. Jungkook was a huge tomato hater and was very upset to find that his Crunch Wrap had been ‘ruined.’ The motel seemed to have a few quests and I hoped we could get a room. Jungkook offered to pay. The frontdesk lady was kind and found us a room within 5 minutes.
Using the elevator, I asked Jungkook if he still had the ‘thing’ with him. He nodded but said no more. It was probably better that way. Throwing my duffle bag onto my bed, I realized that Jungkook was still wearing a dress with the pants he had come inside in.
Digging through my bag, I found a pair of sweatpants that would fit him well enough as well as an oversized nightshirt I rarely ever wore. I usually slept naked. Tonight, I will try to make my partner feel comfortable.
Throwing the clothes on his bed, Jungkook perked up a bit and seemed to be fine with their sizes. I wondered if he had been wearing more uncomfortable clothes at one time and shook my head. He had walked into this motel wearing that. Yes, Y/N, he has definitely been far more uncomfortable than tightly sweats.
“You can take the bathroom first,” I pointed to the door. “You need it more than I do.”
Jungkook nodded, “Would you mind helping me get out of this thing? It still hurts to move my arms around too much.
Looking at him, I pinned him with an unimpressed look. We were not having one of those moments. Still looking at Jungkook, I unzipped the pouching with my switchblade in it and pulled the knife out. Walking to Jungkook, I quickly worked on the right side of the fabric. The left side was even quicker. Gently lifting his arm just enough to see his armpit, I cut the short sleeve from the bottom, following up with the top, and up the high neckline. Repeating it on the other side, the blood-soaked garment pooling to the floor.
Jungkook seemed frozen. Looking at his face, his eyes were wide and staring at the blade in my hand. Thinking he might be uncomfortable with me standing so close to him with a weapon, I walked back to my bed.
“If you need help getting the shirt on, just let me know.”
“Thanks,” Jungkook replied.
Picking up the spare clothes, he walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. The water was on a few seconds later. Fully alone in the room, I looked around and decided to throw out the dress. With the torn up dress safely put away in my duffle, I tried to figure out what to do while I waited.
Taking Jungkook’s phone off of his bed (he used a flip phone just like Yoongi did on the job), I quickly found my way to the contacts. Hovering over Jimin’s number, I paused. Not thinking about it for too long, I pressed it and placed my phone to my ear. He answered quickly.
“Where are you?” Jimin asked, voice very low.
“Are you safe to talk?” I replied, voice just as low.
I could hear the way Jimin rolled his eyes, a small groan leaving his lips.
“I’m fine,” His voice was still soft. “I’m at a casino right now. Did you steal his phone?”
My blood ran cold. Most of our guys loved gambling, but Jimin had always thought it was a dumb pastime. I knew Ivan had been trying to expand the Russian influence in Los Angeles, and I hoped that he knew what he was doing. Jimin tended to run into situations without contemplating everything. Instead of grilling him, I decided to ease his worries.
“We’re safe. Heading east.” I looked around the room distractedly. “And no. I’m using it while he’s taking a shower.”
Jimin sighed in relief, “Kook is a good guy. He’ll keep you safe long enough to make it back to Boston. I’ll be on my way back in a few hours.”
It was better to keep things vague. Just like I had not said where we were headed, Jimin’s answer could mean anything. I heard Jungkook cry out but he was quiet soon after. I hoped the work I had done was keeping. I had told him to keep the stitches covered.
“See you soon,” I forced a smile on my face. “I got you a pack of cigarettes.”
Jimin laughed, though it sounded more forced than normal.
“Stay safe. I have to go.”
I hung up without another word. If he had to go then he had to go. The shower was still running and I was bored again. Looking at the door, I was tempted to walk around for a while. I had a feeling I would get myself into trouble if I did, but I was curious to see if I could get some extra clothes for Jungkook. Possibly a set of car keys, too. Looking at the bathroom door, I figured he was going to be there for a while.
“Fuck it,” I said under my breath.
Getting my room key, I slipped out of the room quietly.
The hallway was deserted, not a body in sight, but I had a feeling I could get something if I looked hard enough. Going to the elevator, I spotted a young couple laughing. Slowing my walk, I was happy to see that they were getting on the elevator.
Angling my body, I was practically jumping up and down when my eye caught on their room key. This would be too easy. The elevator chimed signaling someone was getting off. Quickly moving my body, I relied on their clinginess to sneak into the corridor without a problem. A group of people pooled out of the elevator and I drifted into their numbers.
The couple stood to the side and waited for us to pass. Using my foot, I tripped a young woman in front of me. She stumbled while I placed myself in a position to trip over her. The both of us dropped. The woman fell into the man. Falling, I shuffled closer to the man’s hand while the woman began apologizing profusely.
Quickly snatching the card from him, I slipped it into my pocket while I stood up. Adjusting my clothes, I quickly apologized as well. The couple waved the both of us off, seemingly unbothered, before getting on the elevator. Nodding to the woman, I turned toward the way the couple had come from. Looking at the keycard, I made my way toward the door with the number on it. I was lucky the woman and I had similar hair styles, but I was aware of Holiday Inn well enough to say that most of their cameras did not work.
Glancing up at the camera in the middle of the hallway, I was positive it was not working. Typically there would be a small, red dot that showed it was recording. Today, it was off. Letting myself in, I knew I had to be quick and clean.
Tonight I would only get clothes. Car keys were something I would have to snatch in the morning over breakfast. Someone would notice their keys missing in the middle of the night. Locating a large, black suitcase on the floor by the foot of the bed, I pulled it up onto the bed and unzipped it.
Carefully sifting through the clothes, I only pulled out enough for two outfits before gently placing everything back smoothly. They would probably be a bit big on Jungkook, but I doubted he would mind very much. I swore he was wearing a belt, but I had not been paying enough attention to know for sure.
Going to the pockets of the bag, I was happy to find a container of hair pomade and hoped it might make Jungkook happy. He would be able to do his hair if he wanted. Grabbing a pack of hair bands and a pair of boxers, I was ready to leave. Going into the dresser, I pulled out the complimentary bag they gave every guest, I shoved the clothes in it before leaving the room. With the keycard in my hand, I dropped it in the spot the couple had been before making my way back to my own room.
Jungkook was sitting on his bed drying his hair when I came in. He was wearing the sweatpants and t-shirt I had given him. I was glad he was able to get it on alone, but I felt bad I had not been here to help him. Holding up the bag, I tossed it his way.
“The first robbery I’ve done in four years,” I shook my head. “You should feel special.”
Jungkook opened the bag and grinned at me. His hair went just past his shoulders when it was wet, his fluffy curls weighed down by the water. Sifting through the bag, he seemed the happiest about the hair ties.
Getting my own clothes, I let him know I was going to take a shower. Getting under the hot water was a healing experience, and for the first time today I let a few tears slip out.
I was terrified, frustrated, but mostly- pissed.
Twelve years ago
Hands bound, I let my body relax. Ivan’s eyes were blazing, his anger palpable, but I refused to look away. He would never think I was weak again. Walking closer, the Russian yanked me up roughly, one of the straps of my sundress breaking.
“What the fuck did you do?” He seethed, his accent thick and almost incoherent through gritted teeth. “You always ruin everything you touch.”
Slowly, and with great care, I pooled spit into my mouth. With a quick gurgle, I spit in Ivan’s eye. My rebellion had angered just as much as it had excited Ivan. The thought made me sick to my stomach. I wanted to be as far away from him as possible, his hands burning my skin. Slamming me down, Ivan roared in anger before delivering a swift kick to my stomach.
Gasping, I tried my hardest to keep the vomit down. I refused to give him the satisfaction. I wished I was with Alexei. He would never have treated me like this. As if the thought had transferred over to the man beside me, he kicked me again.
“Alexei is dead, Лох,” He shouted. “You’re mine now.”
With another swift kick, I cried out. Then, without warning my stomach twisted. Another kick. Finally, I threw up all over the concrete floor beneath me.
For now. I was yours for now.
Present
With a new set of car keys in my hand, I walked into the parking lot. Jungkook was on the phone, but quickly hung up when he saw me approaching. Raising an eyebrow at him, I waved him over and we began walking together. Clicking the unlock button, I smiled when I saw the yellow Porsche. The two of us placed our things inside without a care in the world and drove off quickly after.
I had found the targets for today the night before while walking around the hotel late last night. It was a young woman and her mother. The two of them had been a whirlwind and gave the staff hell. Unable to sleep, my head headaches from exhaustion, and their bickering only pissed me off more. Unfortunately for them, they had made a big show of their money and decided to brag about their car.
It took a few minutes to switch out license plates and even less time to steal her car keys this morning during breakfast. They were staying for another day and had not planned on leaving the hotel at all. Jungkook laughed once we were a safe distance away.
“I’m still in shock at that woman’s entitlement,” He shook his head. “Did you see the way she flipped out when they ran out of bacon before her ‘precious angel’ could get any?”
Chuckling, I kept my attention on the road.
“Her attitude was the only reason I swiped this thing. I would never get into something so obvious.”
“It was as easy as stealing candy from a baby.”
Feeling confident from the jacking, I decided to play along.
“Do you steal from babies often?”
Jungkook giggled cutely, “I’ve cut down to twice a year.”
“Oh?”
“Halloween-” He counted with one finger, and lifted another, “-and Easter.”
“Easter?” My eyebrows pulled in as I laughed incredulously.
Jungkook grinned lazily.
“Stockings are so last year.”
It was becoming increasingly more difficult to think of him as a member of the mafia. While my age had made others test my abilities far more often than the others I never believed anyone doubted who I was. There was a look in your eye, this coldness, that separated you from the rest. I could pick out a killer in a line up- we were one in the same. However, Jungkook was impossible to get a read on. His boyish charms and good looks were not uncommon, but the innocence in his smile and the brightness that remained in his eyes were unsettling. Everything about him was unnerving. He was disarming and that alone was frightening.
Realizing the car had become quiet, I turned the radio on. It was a habit of mine. I did not like the silence. I hated it. Some trashy pop song blasted but I did not care. Jungkook did and began to look for something he liked more.
“What do you like?” He asked, pressing the screen to change the stations.
“Pick whatever,” I replied, flipping off the guy who cut me off.
Arizona was the worst state I had ever been to. The drive was not as awful as Texas, nothing will ever beat the twelve hours of hell to still be in that damned state, but it was not much better. Outside of Phoenix the towns were not as grand. Tucson gave her a run for her money, but never came close to the busy city. Driving through the desert, I asked Jungkook to pull up the directions to the airport. I no longer knew my way.
“How did you meet the guys?” I asked, eyes on the road.
Jungkook picked a pop station and leaned back in his seat.
“Through Jimin,” He replied. “They needed help dealing with someone. I had just left New York and we ran into each other in Vegas. I liked everyone so I decided to join.”
Raising an eyebrow, I quickly turned my head so he could see my expression.
“Ivan let you leave?”
“I wasn’t a member,” Jungkook mumbled. “Just an acquaintance. I was for hire.”
That was not what I had expected. Jungkook did not seem like a killer, but I had been proven wrong many times. When I lived with my parents I had met many assassins I would have never guessed who they were just looking at them. Even talking with them it was impossible to detect. Looking at the man, I found it hard to believe that we were from the same background. While I had ran from that life, Jungkook ran toward it with open arms. In fact, he seemed to pay it little mind.
“What family are you from?” I asked. “My family was under The Table.”
Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up.
“You’re from the Underground?”
I nodded, “I never really wanted that life. I’m a much better thief anyway.”
Jungkook rubbed his bottom lip. I forced myself to focus on the road. Even if we were the only people out here, I did not want to risk anything. I had stolen the car and the plate and getting stuck out here would be hell.
“I’m with Sacarii.”
The Sacarii was the sister organization to The Table. While my family had mostly dealt with members of gangs and high profile families, members of the Sacarii were the people who went after other assassins. Stealing another look at Jungkook, I looked at the tattoos on his arm and tried to find his symbol. All of us got one, mine was a tiger on my right side, but the ink was too difficult to look at while driving.
“I have a tiger lily,” Jungkook said, noticing my assessment. “I have a few of them, actually.”
Lilies are from Japan, but I knew Jungkook was Korean. His name alone gave him away. Waving my hand, I asked him to explain when he got it.
“My family moved to Japan when I was fifteen. I had my first kill there so we decided that I would get something to represent that. The prayer hands on my back were done by the organization after the ordainment.”
Ordainments were very common. It was the process an assassin went through to become an official member of their organization. Their families were no longer defined by blood but the common experiences each one shared. The Table and the Sacarii were one big family, but oftentimes we did not get along with one another. Civil at best and competition at worst. Prayer hands with a rosary were the tattoos everyone got. It was large, covering the entire center of the back, with the family oath written above and below it.
“I never got mine,” I admitted. “I ran off before my ceremony. That’s when I met Alexei.”
“How old were you?”
Smiling sadly, I replied. “Thirteen.”
“Oh,” He said. “I didn’t know they got people that young.”
“Well, he saw me kill someone and wanted to keep me. I doubt you knew him- he died a few years ago.”
Jungkook nodded, “Yeah. What was he like?”
Laughing, I spotted a gas station and decided to stop. We were at half a tank, but I wanted to be safe. Jungkook took out his wallet and handed me a twenty.
“He was a better man than his brother,” I answered, taking the money. “He knew how to stay calm and respect other people. Alexei always kept good relationships with the other families. Ivan is an idiot who can’t handle criticisms of any kind.”
“He’s that awful? I mean, I only know him through brief meetings.”
“I’d rather be dead than serve him again,” I opened my door. “But you already know that.”
Settling in my seat, I glanced over at Jungkook. He looked tired and I let him know it was fine to sleep. He nodded and slipped his eyes closed shortly after. Taking my new phone out of my pocket, I decided to make a quick phone call before we took off. Jungkook and I had picked up a flip phone from Walmart on our way to the airport. It was more secure than any smartphone. Dialing the number, I waited.
“Hello?” Hoseok picked up.
“I’m landing in Massachusetts,” I replied, knowing he was aware of the situation by now. It had been a day and a half. “Pick me up at our spot.”
“Jin will be there.”
“Copy.”
Hoseok sighed heavily, “Is the kid okay? Heard you shook him up.”
Glancing at Jungkook, I was shocked he was snoring.
“He’s fine,” I replied. “He’s definitely in pain, and tries to keep his movement to a minimum, but hides it from me. Attempts to, I should say. I took care of him as best I could but Agust should get his hands on his ASAP.”
Hoseok hummed and I knew he was nodding. He was a very animated, lively person and could not sit still for long. He got into a fist fight with a Russian who took offense to his hand movements.
“See you when I see you.”
“Three o’clock,” I said before hanging up.
Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I finally buckled my seat. Shaking Jungkook awake, I told him to put his belt on. He grinned at me lazily before doing it. He fell asleep again quickly.
Happy to have a window seat, I watched as we began to take off. It had been a while since I was on a plane. The last time was when I was running to California as quickly as I could. Kansas had been nice when I had first left The Saints, but it quickly became suffocating. The silence and mundane town life made my skin crawl. California had seemed like it would be better, more fun, but it had become just as mundane after a while.
I had always gotten bored easily. It was why I enjoyed pickpocketing. As a kid, my little hands and unassuming looks had made it easy. I never planned on getting good at it. At the time it felt less damning in comparison to what the people in my life wanted me to do.
There was a time when I was happy killing, pleasing my family had always felt good, but that faded when my teenage years approached. Running away to New York was a quick, impulsive decision I had made when I was afraid of my future. Staring at the clear, blue sky, I scoffed.
I had run away from one hell into another. I went from that one into another. The Saints were my family, but I would be lying if I said I felt they were any different from what I had always done. Kansas had been my first attempt at normalcy, and San Diego had been me living in that world.
And I loved it, in my own way. It was nice to have a routine. It felt good to have friends, even if they were the most surface level friendships I could allow myself to have, and I owned my own things. I had earned what I had.
Now I was flying back to a place I was not sure I belonged anymore. I felt two halves of myself fighting one another. One half wanted to run again, to disappear, and get as far away from this place as possible. Then there was the other side of me, the twisted, dark, nasty side of myself that was reveling in all of this. My excitement was hard for me to figure out, and I began to doubt myself.
Had I ever really wanted this life? Has it all been a dream? A fantasy of a perfectly serene, normal, and legal lifestyle I had never known? Finding a cloud, I rubbed my temples and sighed.
I doubted I would ever have an answer to that question.
Five years ago
Standing around the table, all of us went over the plan again. They were doing construction on the roof, so that would be the quickest, and easiest, point of entrance. I would go first while Hoseok and Jin dressed as police officers to take out the security guards in the back. Taehyung would take care of the cameras before this. Yoongi would follow behind me along with Jimin. I would lead the team after we had taken over the museum.
Looking over at Jimin, he was already looking at me. Everyone knew that this would be my last mission, and he had taken it the worst. We hardly spoke and he actively ignored me. I was surprised he was acknowledging me at all. Breaking eye contact, I went back to explaining the pieces we would be taking.
“Don was very specific about these three pieces,” I said, pointing to the Rembrandt and two pieces of jewelry. “These are our high payouts. Get these first. After that we can make quick work of the rest.”
“Who did you say the others were going to?” Yoongi asked.
“The rest are split up between some vendors I know,” I replied. “Freddie Newman, Diane Pollack, and Dwayne Smith. The jewels are for Georgie Boy, Archie, and two others. Park’s handling that.”
“This is a big job,” Hoseok mumbled. “Will the six of us be able to get it done?”
I nodded easily.
“Yes, we’ll have all the time in the world once those guards are taken care of. I’m planning on this being an hour- two at most.”
Looking back at Jimin, I was happy to see he was grinning at me. We would be fine. Deciding we had gone over everything, I walked away from the table.
“We’ll leave at midnight.”
“Copy,” Jimin replied.
Smiling to myself, I left the room and went to the kitchen to find something to eat.
Getting off the plane, I kept Jungkook close as we made our way to baggage claim. Being on the East Coast again was uncomfortable. I knew this airport like the back of my hand, knew every nook and cranny of these streets, but I still felt out of place. I was even more unsettled knowing there were people looking for me.
Standing by the conveyor belt, we waited for my duffle bag to come out. Jungkook looked around, his scouting looking natural, and I kept my eyes on the bags. It came out a few minutes later, and I slung it over my shoulder. Jungkook wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into him.
“They’re here,” He whispered, a soft smile on his face. Lips brushing the top of my head, he started walking and kept me close. “They don’t know me, so we’ll be fine.”
Forcing a smile on my face, I wrapped my arm around his waist. My heartbeat quickened, and I found myself enjoying the way his body pressed into mine. Allowing myself a small glance around us, I saw two familiar faces near the escalators. Dimitri and Anton. As we neared the escalators, I knew they would notice me unless I acted very differently than what they remembered.
Deciding to commit to our charade, I lifted my head up towards Jungkook. Kissing his cheek, I was able to hide my face from the two men. Jungkook stepped onto the elevator first. Turning him to face me, I grabbed his face and pressed our lips together. He was soft, gentle, and tasted like the licorice he’d gotten on the plane. He wrapped his arms around my waist and melted into the kiss. Pulling away, head pressed against his, I looked at the steps.
“We’re almost at the top,” I mumbled.
Jungkook nodded and slowly moved away from me. Angling his body towards the front, he kept an arm firmly around my waist as we got to the top. Sparing a single glance behind me, the two men were none the wiser. Smirking, I ran my hand up and down Jungkook’s back in silent praise.
Walking further and further away from the others, Jungkook’s arm did not move. I stayed close to his side, happy to have someone to lean on. It made sense now. Jimin sent him because he was less known to the others. Ivan would know him, and the people closest to him, but someone like Anton would be blindsided by his presence. They were expecting one of my boys. Stepping into the sun, the two of us were quick to hail down a taxi and slip inside.
“We’re running a bit late,” I announced, buckling in. “Can you take us to the Hood Milk Bottle?”
“No problem,” The cab driver replied.
It was barely a 10 minute drive, but airport traffic made it feel like forever. Jungkook and I did not talk. Our closeness from earlier was officially stopped, and I felt silly for missing his warmth. Looking at him out of the corner of my eye, I grew shy. Just moments ago, his arms were wrapped around me. Catching sight of the tiger lily on his elbow, I had to quickly look back out of the window.
God, he was fucking hot.
Pulling out my phone, I found a new message on it.
Unknown: Eating a lobster roll outside
Rolling my eyes, I replied.
Y/N: Of course you are. Two minutes.
Unknown: Lunch on me
Flipping the phone closed, I shoved it back in my back pocket. Looking out of the window, I did feel nostalgic. It had been such a long time and yet things stayed the same. There were a few new shops where old ones used to be, but the places I remembered the most fondly were still around. The mixed feelings I had were beginning to weigh down on me.
Pulling up, I smiled. Hood was such an iconic, fun place. Looking back at Jungkook, I was touched to see him paying the cabby. Saying goodbye, the two of us got out of the car. The duffle had been in my lap. Jungkook stared up at the giant milk bottle in awe.
“Jin said he'll buy us lunch.”
Jungkook smirked, “What do you recommend?”
Walking toward the snack stand, I shrugged my shoulders.
“I’m getting a lobster roll, but if you’re not into that, the soft serve is great.”
Walking around the side, I saw Jin sitting on one of the picnic benches eating. I was more surprised to see he was still enjoying his food than the purple hair. Jimin must have convinced him to do that. Whistling, I smirked at Jin and waved.
Jin was the oldest out of all of us, and spoke the least amount of English, but we were close. Standing, he offered me a hug which I happily accepted. Clearing my throat, I began speaking in Korean.
“You look nice,” I ruffled his hair. “This color looks really good on you.”
“Thanks,” He shoved my hand away. “Lobster roll? Thought you might have missed the New England taste.”
Nodded, I turned to Jungkook.
“What do you want?” I asked in English.
He shook his head at me, “Chocolate ice cream.”
When he spoke Korean, his voice was much deeper. Grinning at him, I looked back at Jin.
“One lobster roll and one chocolate soft serve.”
Going to order our food, Jin told us to sit and wait. Jungkook sat down next to me, his elbow on the table with his head resting on his fist. I was unsure of what to make of the look on his face. He seemed so… fond of me. No one had ever really looked at me like that before. I was used to anger, annoyance, or fear, but fondness was uncharted territory. The closest person I could think of had been Alexi, but even then he had always looked at me as a child. Jungkook did not.
“I didn’t know you spoke Korean,” He said, speaking the language.
“I know a lot of languages,” I replied. “I’m mostly fluent in English and Russian. My Korean is good, but I’m not fluent by any stretch of the imagination. I speak a decent amount of Spanish as well.”
“That’s so cool. Mine are Korean, Japanese, and English.”
Jin was back with our food.
“Eat it in the car,” He said, “Everyone is waiting for us.”
“Is Park back in town?” Jungkook asked.
Jin shook his head, “Not yet. We haven’t heard from since yesterday.”
I knew we would talk more once we were out of the public eye. There was only so much we could say out here. Taking my roll, I followed Jin. Jungkook ate his ice cream happily, his eyes sparkling with joy. It was my turn to smile fondly.
Pulling into a small driveway, I was confused. I did not recognize the house. Painted a calming sky blue with black shutters, a well-groomed lawn, and a small flower garden, it was unassuming and plain. Looking over at Jungkook, he seemed happy to be here.
“Where are we?” I asked.
Jungkook smiled at me, “Yoongi’s.”
Taken aback, I froze. That had been the last person I had thought of. The last time I had seen everyone, Yoongi and Hoseok were living in a shitty condo in South End. While I was confused, and even unsettled, by the changes I was also pleased. It felt good to see Yoongi living more civilly. I wondered what had changed.
Hopping out of the Jeep, I met up with Jin and Jungkook at the hood before following behind them. The house was pristine and the small cul de sac was quiet. Eyes bulging out of my head, I fought back the urge to laugh out loud at the sight of a bird feeder on the edge of the lawn.
Standing on the small porch, the three of us huddled close together. Jungkook gently moved my body in front of his, successfully shielding my body from the street. Leaning back slightly, I brushed my back against his chest quickly before straightening my back. I was beginning to lean into my growing attraction, but knew better than to take it any further than small touches. The airport had been for survival- nothing more.
Jin knocked, the rhythm the only familiar thing about this place, before the door swung open. On the other side, a woman peered out at us. Her hair was short, wildly frizzy with unkempt curls, and bright red. Her eyes were brown and skin alabaster. The green dress she wore looked nice on her full figure. She smiled brightly at Jin, saying hello with joy. Her voice had hints of an accent but it was too faint for me to pick up.
“It’s nice to see you Johanna,” Jin greeted, kissing the woman’s cheek before gesturing towards me. “Johanna, Mouse. Mouse, Johanna.”
The red head gave me a polite smile before offering her hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mouse.”
“Y/N,” I corrected, glaring at Jin. “Y/N is fine outside of business.”
“This is business though, isn’t it?” Johanna tilted her head at me, a mischievous glint in her eye. I decided right away that I liked her. “Come in. Hello Kookie.”
“Hey Jo,” The man replied.
Stepping inside, I looked around. The inside was just as perfect as the outside. Brightly colored walls with pops of color scattered around, mostly in the art hanging on the walls, with plants everywhere. It smelled like apple cinnamon and Pinesol. The hardwood floors were loud as we walked along them. The size of the living room was bigger than my entire apartment. Catching sight of a collage of photos, I looked over them the best I could as I walked.
All of them were nice photos, family photos, but one caught my eye. Yoongi was smiling, a rare sight, and his eyes were shining brightly. He was on the beach, arms wrapped around Johanna tenderly, while she had a large bouquet of flowers in her hand. She wore a white dress that hit her just at the ankle, a long, thin veil clipped onto the back of her head. The Saints were there along with a few people I did not recognize. Belatedly, I realized that I was looking at a wedding picture. A wedding I had missed. A wedding I had never been invited to. A wedding I had never even knew. Eyes glued to the photo, I cause a glimpse of Jungkook in a far-off corner, almost completely cut out, but he had been there.
I knew my hurt feelings were unjustified. I had been the one who told them to leave me out of their affairs. I had said emergencies only. Still, I found myself growing increasingly alienated. I truly had no place here anymore. The only purpose I had ever served was monetary gain. The friendships I had built along the way were as fickle as the ones I had in New York.
Arguing with myself, I struggled to stay present. As we walked deeper into the house, the need to run presented itself all over again. Everything I had known was gone. Everyone was different. Everything was different. Sparing a glance over at Jungkook, a seed of resentment began to grow in my chest.
No one had ever referred to me as affectionately as they had Jungkook. No one had ever seemed endeared by my failures. Hell, none of these guys even acknowledged my feelings half the time. Staring at the back of Johanna’s head, I found that I didn't really like her that much anymore. She was loved. I was tolerated.
Still, I told myself that they had come for me. They had wanted to keep me safe. And yet, the insecurities that had always lived in my head reared their ugly head and reminded me that it was for their own good. I was useful. As long as I would be of use to them, then I would be protected. It would never be the same reasons they would fight for Johanna. They would fight for her because they wanted to keep her safe.
I could feel eyes on me, but I ignored them. I did not want comfort from Jungkook. I just wanted to get this over with so I could go back to San Diego. Even if they were surface level, those friendships were still more loving than whatever the fuck I had here. I hated Boston. I hated New York. I hated the entire East Coast.
“Y/N?” Johanna called out, looking back at me with concern. “Are you alright?”
Nodding, I replied.
“I’m fine. Just lost in my head.”
I hated the edge my voice had taken on. I hated just how much I had to control myself around these people. I wanted to scream, shout, cry; whatever. I just wanted to feel myself lose control for a little while. The woman did not believe me but offered me a smile regardless.
“I asked if you would like a drink.”
“Water’s fine,” I replied.
Jin seemed suspicious of me but said nothing at all. He had always known I liked my space. Still, I could tell he was worried. I knew my thoughts were out of line, I knew that I was over thinking and attempting to overcompensate, but it was impossible to stop it from happening. The downward spiral was difficult to manage.
Suddenly, an arm was wrapped around my shoulder. Jumping, I whipped my head around to see Jungkook smiling at me. It was a goofy smile, one that he pulled when he was feeling playful, before he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“What happens when you get water on a table?” He asked.
Taken aback, I opened and closed my mouth several times.
“What?”
“It becomes a pool table.”
Mouth agape, I blinked in disbelief before shoving him away. I let out a small laugh and shook my head at him. Where in the world had that come from?
Seokjin was laughing, hands clapping, and praising the younger man for the joke. Jin was a big fan of dad jokes and enjoyed making them up whenever he could. Typically, you would have to know enough Korean for them to make sense, but they never failed to get a few chuckles out of me. The ridiculousness of the jokes coupled with the corny delivery was always funny. Johanna placed a glass in front of me smiling fondly at Jungkook.
“He’s a mess,” She said, looking at me in faux exasperation. “I don’t know how you survived the trip here. He talks too much.”
Shaking my head, I took a large sip of the water.
“It’s better than the awkward silence Yoongi brings along.”
She laughed, knocking her head back.
“Touche,” She giggled. “He is a bit intense sometimes.”
“You’ve been in Boston for an hour and you’re already turning my wife against me.”
The voice had come from behind me. Spinning around dumbly, I was face-to-face with Yoongi. The scar on his face was just as prominent as it had always been, taking up his entire left cheek into forehead, but his eyes seemed lighter than I remembered. He was skinnier than the last time I saw him, too. He was wearing a simple black shirt with a pair of jeans. He seemed completely at ease.
“Hey kid,” He greeted Jungkook with a grin. “Heard Mouse got you good.”
Jungkook flushed, ducking his head while rubbing his neck.
“Oh?” Jin chimed, his voice mocking. “The great Sacarii taken down by a little mouse?”
Rolling my eyes, I sighed heavily.
“He didn’t even try anything,” I admitted. “I was the aggressive one.”
“He was just an idiot,” Jin teased.
Yoongi tsked, “Park was the bigger idiot of the two. He’s going to give me an aneurysm.”
“You’re too hard on him,” Johanna gently scolded. “You know Jimin has a roundabout way of being right.”
Jungkook laughed, “A broken clock’s right twice a day.”
A silence fell over our group. It felt unnatural to be standing in a nice kitchen talking over mundane topics with everyone. It was a long ways away from the roach infested alleyways and closed off apartment complexes. I lived with Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung when I was in Boston. Our small one bedroom was always cluttered, overcrowded, and was the main spot for our meetups. The conference room had been stuffed between two twin-sized mattresses with a large, round table in the middle of it all. I slept on the pull-out sofa in the front.
“I guess we should talk,” Yoongi said, looking me up and down.
“I guess so,” I replied.
Walking over to him, I realized that no one else was following. Looking back at the other three, they simply looked back. Sighing, I let it go. Being alone with Yoongi was not an unwelcome thing, but it had always made me feel like I was in trouble. Laughing at myself, I followed the man out of the kitchen and into the dining room. This time I was the one who was in trouble.
Walking out of the dining room, we were now in a small reading room with a staircase. A green, stand-up piano was tucked away between tall bookshelves and more plants. Following Yoongi upstairs, I refrained from looking too closely at things. The house was much bigger than it looked. Walking past a few doors, we stopped before Yoongi opened one.
Gesturing me to follow, I smiled at the sight of the old table. It was far too large, held six chairs, and was cheaply made. Someone had refurbished it and I wondered if it had been Johanna. She seemed to like everything to be nice and neat. It was an aesthetically pleasing layout, but this room was all Yoongi. The dark colored walls and furniture were in stark contrast to the otherwise white house. Taking a seat at the table, I pulled out the chair directly across from him.
There was a line up of photos scattered on the desk along with a few letters. I recognized two of the women but the others were unfamiliar to me. Looking around, I scowled when I saw a picture of Ivan. I would be lying if I said he was physically unattractive. Ivan had always had this air around him and coupled with his angular features and blue eyes it was no wonder why women chased him. I knew him, however, and the slope of his cheekbones and the perfectly groomed dirty-blonde hair did nothing but repulse me. He looked everything like his brother. He looked nothing like his brother.
Picking the photo up, I looked closely. It was candid. Someone had been hiding when they took it since the man seemed to be unaware of the camera. He was smoking a cigarette and behind him was a beach. Trying to figure out where he could be was hard, but it was nowhere near New York. It was too sunny, the waves too high, and I could see a surfer in the background.
“Johanna took that,” Yoongi suddenly said. “We were in California. It’s where we got married.”
Mind racing, I kept looking at the picture. Ivan had been close to me. Very close, in fact. Trying to figure out how I could have been traced, I thought of Kimberly and winced. It would take no time at all to figure out if it really was me. He could just send some random into the salon after seeing a post. I looked different but I was still me. He could have scouted out the place for months without me being any wiser. Closing my eyes, I dropped the photo.
“He’s known where you are for a while,” He continued. “He had asked Jungkook to take care of you a few weeks ago, but the kid refused. He knew your face. Ivan’s been trying to figure out the best plan of getting to you without pissing us off.”
“So he thought forcing me back to New York was the best option?” I spat.
Yoongi nodded, “In his mind, you’d be under his claim again so we’d have no authority. Either he’s crazy or stupid.”
“Both,” I replied. “Always both.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Eyes searching the pictures for more signs, I grew angry.
“Why are you only just now telling me?” I demanded, picking apart each detail of the photographs. “I should have known from the very beginning.”
“I thought so, too,” Yoongi defended. “It was Jimin telling us to cool it. He thought he could get it under control since he’s known Ivan for so long. It didn’t work out and Jimin was kicked out of the family.”
“What?” I shouted.
Ivan was losing his damn mind. Jimin was the closest thing to Alexi those boy had after Ivan took over. They loved him, I loved him, and to watch him get kicked out over me would have been a massive blow to Ivan’s credibility. Loyalty was gone from New York it seemed, and it would only be a matter of time before Ivan came to the same conclusion. They don’t make them like Jimin anymore. He was only trying to keep the peace. Thinking of my friend, I willed back my tears. He had wanted me to stay in California. He didn’t want me to come back.
“They’re not doing well,” Yoongi admitted. “Georgie Boy and I talked and he’s with us regardless. The Italians haven’t been appreciating Ivan’s ways either. Hoseok spoke with the Gambinos and they said they’ll light up the Russians if they get into their territory again.”
“Again?”
Yoongi smiled without humor.
“Ivan’s boys were selling in the Gambino’s turf. Didn’t end well for them. They aren’t going to tolerate that shit again, and the other families are on the lookout as well. Have to say, the boy has lost his fucking mind.”
Going over the information, I felt more confident than I had before. Ivan was hoping to get me back into his arms first. Then he’d kill me. Or keep me. It was impossible to know for sure. Either way, he had a rude awakening if he thought my boys were going to let it happen without consequences. Thinking back to my thoughts when I first came inside, I reminded myself that we were connected. I meant more to them than property. They weren’t Ivan.
They weren’t Alexei either.
Shoving that thought down, I refocused on the photo of Ivan. He looked worse than I had last seen him. His age was beginning to show, and I sneered at the sight of the family tattoo. I had been claimed by many groups in my life. The tiger for my family, the slope-edged star on my collar bone for Alexei, the clerk on my ribs for my skill with a blade, and St. Anthony for The Saints. Ivan’s name had been cut into my skin by the man himself after I killed a rival without permission. The scars were faded now, but I never liked to show my stomach anymore. You could still see the carving and I would always know they were there.
Eyes zeroing in on Ivan’s calf, I saw red as I caught sight of the dagger entwined by a snake. It was in the same spot as mine. They all represented something.
The star was commonplace for all Russians while my clerk was far more specialized. I got it after I helped Alexei take care of a snitch. I hated thinking about that night, but it earned me my stripes. I got my dagger a few months later. The dagger was rare, only given out to a leader of a “suit” of thieves. Alexi had promoted me, and I controlled my own section of New York alongside him. Ivan did not deserve that tattoo even if he was the boss.
“Can I ask you something?” Yoongi said.
I nodded.
“Why would he want you back so badly? He hates you.”
I smiled ruefully, looking up from the picture.
“I’m Alexei’s girl and he finds great pleasure in keeping me around just to spite him. Even if he’s dead, it’ll never be enough. Breaking me down was always the goal.”
“Were you and Alexei…”
Yoongi did not need to finish the sentence. It was a fair question and one that everyone asked at some point. The Saints never liked picking into my past too much. They knew it had been rough, they knew what Ivan and I’s relationship was like, so they put it to rest. Yoongi had seen my stomach once, said he was going to kill him one day, and never brought it up again. Latching onto the memory, I further reinforced that they cared for me. This was not a dangerous place. These are my friends.
“No, Alexei would never. I was only 13 when we met. He was 19. We were like siblings more than anything. More than he and Ivan ever were.”
“Ivan was jealous?” I nodded. “Typical.”
“He’s the one who killed him, you know,” I leaned back in the chair. “I was there that night. That’s why Ivan hates me. I know too much.”
Yoongi shook his head in disbelief. It was a completely different world than he was used to. The Irish took care of their own. While it may have involved violence and punishments being handed out from time to time, there had always been unwavering loyalty to one another. For Hoseok it was the same. Snitches were snitches but you always had people you knew were on your corner. When Ivan saw an in he took it, even if it meant killing his older brother, and everyone suffered for it. I had not said anything out of the code of ethics we built, but that never stopped word from spreading. Everyone knew Ivan killed Alexei but no one could prove it.
Yoongi sucked his teeth, “They know you came home. Jimin let us know about that. He and Kai have been all over this shit.”
I hummed, “They had a couple guys at the airport. Jungkook and I got past them easily, though.”
Yoongi looked at me strangely now. It was in between concern and pride, but I figured it was the closest thing to friendly I would get from him. It was not his fault his face looked the way it did. Wanting to lighten the mood, I decided to ask him about his wife.
“So, who’s Johanna?”
Yoongi actually cracked a smile.
“She’s a nuclear engineer. Works at BU and moved to America seven years ago.”
“How’d that even happen?”
Yoongi shrugged, “I don’t even know. We met at a restaurant Georgie took me to. She was there with some friends. We bumped into one another and she gave me her number. I didn’t call but we ran into each other again at a bar. Stuck like glue ever since.”
Gently smiling I replied, “Sounds nice. I’m glad you found someone.”
Yoongi looked down bashfully. He was like an entirely new person now. Yoongi had never been one to show emotions outside of anger and annoyance. Even with us he had been a hardass. It was strange but nice at the same time. I liked it more than the robot I was used to.
“She’s a good person,” He whispered, suddenly serious. “Sometimes I wonder if I should have left her alone. She deserves better than a life of crime and being entangled in my bullshit.”
I understood where he was coming from.
“You could always leave. Runaway to Iceland and never look back.”
Yoongi grinned, “I thought about it but I don’t have any skills outside of this. What would I do? Unlike you, some of us have never thought past our horizons. Besides, I have other people to think about.”
I also understood that as well. I had been afraid of change for a long time, and I had known I wanted it for a while. I was unsure how long they had known one another, or had been together, but Yoongi had always said he’d die in Boston. I doubted he thought that way now.
“It’s okay to be selfish,” I mumbled. “Things haven’t been easy and there were times when I missed the craziness, but I can say it’s an experience everyone should have. I love both of my lives, but I’d be lying if I said I’d choose this over California.”
Yoongi nodded in thought. We would drop this conversation and likely never pick it back up again, so I knew I should say my peace now. Whatever he decided to do would ultimately be on his shoulders, but I thought it would be okay to push him to follow his heart’s desires. I was a dreamer and I hoped the others would find a dream to hold onto as well.
Walking downstairs, I was tired. The traveling had finally caught up to me and I wanted to get some rest while I could. Walking into the kitchen, the three of them were still talking. Johanna had started to cook something. It smelled nice but my stomach churned at the thought of food. Making my presence known, I yawned loudly and stretched my arms above my head.
“Sleepy?” Jungkook asked, completely at ease.
He looked right at home here. Briefly I wondered if he stayed here often enough for that to be the case. Yoongi hated other people in his space, but he had changed since I last saw him. Jungkook, however, did not seem like someone who would like living with other people. He was mostly quiet, sweet, but standoffish at times. Jin grinned at me.
“Sorry to say I’m full,” The older man took a sip from a glass. I could not tell what it was and did not care to know. I rubbed my eyes dramatically and yawned again. “Jimin and I are rooming together. I doubt you want to take the sofa. Let’s just say I’ve been taking advantage of his absence.”
“I’ll take what I can get at this point,” I replied with another yawn. Shaking my head, I groaned. “God, I hate it when that happens.”
“Jungkook can keep you,” Johanna offered. “I’d let you stay here but my niece is spending the weekend. I don’t want to put her in a bad position.”
I knew what she meant. I would not want to put a child in the middle of this bullshit either. Looking over at Jungkook, I raised my eyebrow in silent questioning. He nodded back at me with a grin. I smiled back at him.
“We should go while we have daylight,” Jungkook said, a pair of keys in his hands.
I had no idea where they had come from.
“I can wait,” I protested. “You should eat first.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes.
“I’ll be fine. You haven’t slept since yesterday.”
“Y/N!” Jin scolded.
I non committedly waved him off. Scrunching my face up at Jin, I mumbled something close to ‘leave me alone,’ but I was doubtful it came out properly. Fighting to keep my eyes open, I leaned into Jungkook’s side as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. Guiding me away from the kitchen, I knew I heard Jin make a comment about how close we were.
“You’re just jealous she likes me more than you,” Jungkook snapped back.
“Does not,” Jin replied, childishly whining.
Johanna laughed and I could hear Yoongi coming down the stairs. Jungkook lead me back into the reading room and turned left. Going down two steps we were in front of a door.
“Be safe!” Johanna called out.
“Always, noona,” Jungkook replied.
Leading me to the room, I realized we were in a garage. I was again surprised. There were two cars, both of them very nice and sleek, surrounded by expensive tools and equipment. Back in the day, I would have swiped everything in this room and stole one of the cars. Now, I was being led toward the black Marcedes on the farthest side of the room.
“This one’s mine,” Jungkook said, attempting to fill the space.
“First one we haven’t stolen,” I joked.
Sliding into the passenger seat, I melted into the seat before Jungkook was in the vehicle. Opening the glovebox, I moved my legs out of the way as the man dug around the compartment. Finally he pulled a smartphone out and quickly turned it on. A few minutes later, the garage door was opening and we were pulling out of the large driveway. We passed Jin’s Jeep on the way out and Jungkook could not help but make a snide comment about the ugly car. I felt comfortable enough to try and fall asleep.
“You know,” Jungkook announced, making my eyes snap open. “You’re the coolest person I’ve ever worked with.”
I chuckled, my drowsiness making it difficult to focus.
“Thanks. You’re not that bad.”
“I’ve been useless for the entire trip,” Jungkook argued. “You stole the cars, got me clothes, made sure we were able to get flights without getting into some shit for it, and you always tried to make me feel more comfortable.”
Snorting, I looked over at the man.
“I shot you.”
Jungkook burst out laughing.
“I broke into your house.”
“Eye for an eye,” I offered, laughing.
Jungkook spared me a look in order to flash one of his blinding smiles. I noticed now that his front teeth were slightly bigger than they should be.
“Really,” Jungkook was serious again. “I feel bad for being dead weight. I’ll make it up to you, though. I’m not really known for stealing cars or running off into the night, but I know how to kill someone.”
Looking at me again, Jungkook’s boyish smile and light eyes were on. In their place were hard lines, a slightly down-turned pout, and a coldness that surrounded him I was unaccustomed to. While earnest, his expression felt wrong. Jungkook was sunshine and this felt like an eclipse.
“No one is going to touch you. I’ll cut their fucking hands off finger-by-finger if need be to get my point across.”
“Why would you do that?” I asked, confused.
We did not know one another. Hell, I shot this fucking guy. And yet here he was devoting his life to keeping me safe. It was crazy. Then again, this life was like that. Putting myself in Jungkook’s shoes, I thought about it the other way around. Would I kill for him?
“Because you’re my friend,” He answered without hesitation. “You’re my friend and I would like to get to know you better.”
Yes, I thought, I would kill for this kid.
Humming, I decided against saying anything else. I was far too tired for this conversation. Letting my body win, I closed my eyes and leaned against the car window. I fell asleep quickly, but I found no peace. Ivan’s face flashed through my mind, his eyes alight with anger, and my blood was all over his hands. My screams echoed in the background. He placed his knife against my skin again and drew a “V” right next to the “I.”
Eleven years ago
Standing beside Hoseok, I stared up at the apartment complex wearily. It was small, bricked, and disgusting. I could smell trash and smoke everywhere and people were yelling. I did not like it here. Not at all.
Looking over at the older boy, I made sure to show him my discontent. I could admit that South End was nicer than my old place in Brooklyn, but only for the quieter atmosphere. Everything else was just as nasty. Hoseok shoved me forward and scolded me for acting like a “freak.”
“People are going to know you’re new,” Hoseok complained. “Then I’m going to have to break their fucking head open for stepping out of line. Then Yoongi is going to dislike you. So, just fucking walk and keep your head down.”
Anger flaring, I stopped. Hoseok bumped into my back. Groaning loudly, he went to yell at me again. Scowling, I elbowed him in the stomach harshly. When he groaned and grabbed his stomach, I turned around and punched him in the face. While he barely moved, eating the hit easily, it seemed to get the message across.
“Don’t talk to me like that, bitch,” I seethed. “You’re not my dad.”
Waiting for Hoseok to hit me back, I stood there with my fists balled up. He looked at me intensely, his hands still clutching his stomach. His eyes went from my face to the small patch of exposed skin on my stomach. Knowing exactly what he was looking at, I pulled down the too-short shirt and yelled at him again to hit me.
Instead of violence, Hoseok simply took up straight. Breathing through his nostrils, he seemed to be calming himself down. I could see the start of a blackeye forming where I had hit him. My regret began eating away at me instantly, but I refused to back down. He deserved that hit. He needed to know I was not going to be his little plaything.
Hoseok just continued to walk, telling me to follow, and I could tell he was trying to be nicer this time around. Confused and more uneasy than before, I kept my hands ready for a fight. I was not sure when this nice-guy act would stop.
Being shaken awake, I realized we were at Jungkook’s. Glancing at the time, I was shocked we had driven almost two hours. We were parked in a small lot with a large brick building to the right. Jungkook turned the car off and got out. Quickly following him, I wondered where we were.
It was a nice place. They looked like townhomes and I could smell someone barbecuing. Jungkook looked back at me, a few paces ahead, and continued to walk around to the front. Every house had large bushes in the front yards. Hydrangeas grew vibrantly along the walkway with spaces to make way for the entryway to homes. Jungkook turned and I followed.
The front was identical to the others. The only difference I could see was Jungkook’s ‘no shoes’ sign right out front. Rubbing my eyes, I continued to wake up and get the crust off of my skin.
“It’s small,” Jungkook suddenly said, “But it’s nice.”
“Where are we?” I asked, stepping into the house and kicking off my shoes.
“Chatham,” He replied, shrugging his jacket off. “It’s out of the way but I like the beach.”
The first thing I noticed was the large, beige sectional in the living room. On the wall was a large television above a faux fireplace. The entire house smelled like wood polish and oranges. I liked the carpeted floors and was pleasantly surprised by how clean everything was. There were no photos or personalized art hanging on the walls, but I guessed Jungkook never really liked those sorts of things. He was personable but in the moment. Jimin was a photo monster.
Thinking of my friend, I hoped he was alright. It was unlike him to go full radio silent. At the very least he would have called and checked in. Perhaps he had and no one bothered to tell me. Catching a glimpse of myself in the large, gold framed mirror hanging above the dining table, I flinched.
I looked just as bad as I had begun to feel. I was tired, my eyes puffy, and I was embarrassed by the drool dried at the corner of my lip. My shoulder was stiff and uncomfortable from sleeping in the car and my clothes looked a mess. Jungkook had my duffle bag on his shoulder and I belatedly realized I have never even thought to grab it. I had not even brought it inside.
“Thank you,” I said.
Jungkook smiled at me.
“It’s no problem. The room’s not being used anyway.”
“No,” I shook my head and walked up to him. Carefully taking the bag, I slug it over my shoulder with a knowing look. “Thanks for grabbing my shit. And for the room. I appreciate it.”
Jungkook scratched the back of his neck and turned red. He was not good with compliments no matter how much he seemed to enjoy them.
“Friends, right?”
I nodded, “Yeah.”
Walking past him, I distracted myself from my racing heart by figuring out where his washing machine was.
After taking a shower, I tip-toed my way back to the room Jungkook had given me. I had been on edge since I got here. He was kind, caring, and attentive. I had never really seen someone show all three at the same time, and never toward me. My friends and I were subtle types, so to have someone so open and honest with their feelings was a hard pill to swallow. In California it was safe, in California it was expected, in California it was sacred; in Boston it was nerve wracking.
I could never be sure of how genuine Jungkook really was. When I was in his presence, it was easy to say that he was just that simple. Once I got alone it took all of me not to sneak out of a window and run. Hoseok had always said I needed to work on trusting people, so I would try.
I knew my behavior was only heightened by my attraction to him. Attractive people were the worst. Liking Jungkook would not do any favors for either one of us. I would get swallowed up by the life I so desperately wanted to leave, and Jungkook would be stuck in an awkward situation with the rest of the crew if it came to the light. No one would win and the outcome would be the same if I said anything or not. I was leaving Boston as soon as the situation was handled.
Luck was not on my side. As I turned the corner to reach the door of my bedroom, Jungkook was coming up the stairs. Carrying two cups, he flashed me a small smile and walked the rest of the way up. I froze in my spot. Caught red handed, I tried to play off my unsuccessful sneaking and took the cup with a smile. Jungkook did not seem to buy it but looked more amused than anything.
“What’s this?” I asked, smelling it.
“Cocoa,” He replied. “It’s not winter but still chilly.”
I nodded and took a generous sip. It was warm and silky. Humming in satisfaction, I took another sip and licked my top lip. Cocoa was one of my favorite things when I was a child. It was one of the few fond memories I had. Jungkook looked happy.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asked. “To get your mind off things?”
It was funny that he thought Ivan was what had been plaguing my mind. I may not be a very violent person now, but there was a time I was ruthless. The Russians did not scare me as much as they once had either. My initial response had been mostly shock, anger, and most of all, frustration. I had not been scared in a very long time. I doubted I ever would be.
“Sure,” I said, keeping my thoughts out of the conversation. What Jungkook did not know will not hurt him. He was only trying to help. “I’m not picky.”
Going down the stairs, I felt the same nervous butterflies growing in my stomach again. We were going to be closer than I would like to be. I was afraid of what that might do to the both of us. I did not know where Jungkook’s head was, but I was not foolish enough to believe that I was immune to any advances. The ball would stay in his court. I had enough self control to let that be a rule.
Sitting on the couch, I curled up on the end and waited. Netflix was already pulled up and waiting. Jungkook sat two cushions away. Picking up the remote from the coffee table, he began scrolling as we talked about possible movies to watch. We ended up on a random Jason Statham film. I watched mindlessly since every one of his movies were practically the same.
“Are you hungry?” Jungkook asked me fifteen minutes in, clearly bored and disinterested in the action sequence. I could not blame him. There was no way anyone could use a gun like that in real life, and I was becoming annoyed by the plot armor. “I have ramen.”
I nodded, “That’s fine.”
Moving to stand up, Jungkook waved me off and went to the kitchen himself. Not arguing, I got more comfortable and zoned out once more. It was hard not to feel the pull towards him. All I kept thinking about was the way his lips felt at the airport. Refocusing on the movie, I rolled my eyes at the bomb scene. There was no way in hell you were getting up and walking away from something that big.
Of course, Jason Statham had done just that.
Jungkook came back a few minutes later, two large cups of ramen in hand, and sat down at the sofa. We ate in silence, neither one of us interrupting the bad movie again. When I went up to bed I could only think about how his hands would feel on me.
Taglist: @ippid @jkslaugh97 @destructive-memories @ash07128 @heartjiminie @adventures-in-bookland @canyon-lwt
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CHANGE
PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X FEM!VILLAIN!READER
GENRE: ENEMIES TO LOVERS, ANGST, MUTUAL PINING, COMFORT
WORD COUNT: 8K
WARNINGS: THEMES OF ABUSE! READER HAS AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP WITH THEIR PARENT THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING! GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF INJURIES. DOES NOT FOLLOW ATSV PLOT.
AUTHORS NOTE: PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO TOPICS LIKE ABUSE, FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED. I DID MY BEST TO LEAVE THE DESCRIPTION OF READERS GEAR VAUGE SO THAT YOU CAN IMAGINE WHATEVER YOU'D LIKE BUT READER AT BASELINE HAS FIRE ABILITIES + WINGS, AND A MASK THAT CAN SHOW EXPRESSIONS LIKE A SPIDER-PERSON CAN. HOBIES PERSONALITY IS HEAVILY INSPIRED OFF OF HIS COMICS!
SYNOPSIS: YOURE SUPPOSED TO HATE SPIDERPUNK, BUT…WHEN HES THE ONLY ONE WHO TREATS YOU KINDLY…AND THE ONLY ONE WHO HELPS YOU WHEN THE PERSON YOU SHOULD TRUST BETRAYS YOU, HOW COULD YOU?
-
There was the sound of the city below, and the rushing of wind above, but there was nothing in between. You felt nothing; just coming to and completely delirious. Your head spun as you looked down on London, watching droplets of blood fall from…your body? Were you bleeding? You suddenly became aware of the familiar deep mumbling above your head and the secure arms that held you tightly. You looked down at the red suit and black leather worn by who held you and pieced it all together, albeit slowly; you were in your rival’s arms, bleeding out as he was web slinging through the sky. You groaned, growing privy of injures that you didn't know you had, immediately feeling Hobie’s arms tighten,
“It's okay, you're gonna be okay.” You heard his deep voice faintly, sounding panicked and far away. You squirmed, wincing and crying out,
You couldn't feel your wings.
–
Spiderman, Spiderpunk, asshole–whatever you wanted to call him—he was a royal pain in your ass. He’d cocoon you inside indestructible webs when he caught your gang in a crime, beeline to you when he was fighting off the group, and web you down whenever he’d catch you lurking on the rooftops at night, leaving the scene slinging away with a sly or flirty remark. At first, you just assumed that he must have sensed weakness in you–not taking you seriously and toying with you for kicks…it could have been true and honestly probably was, but you were ready for a change. You had changed significantly since you and Spiderman first met. He didn’t see you for a very long time while you worked out and trained, touching up your fighting skills, reaction time, and stamina–never slacking off. It didn't take long for you to surpass your once superiors, becoming your Master’s most prized possession.
Your Master was all you knew for a guardian figure. They called you their ‘Firefly,’ as you had phoenix-like wings and fire based abilities that they were oh so proud of. What you didn’t know, was that they formed your supernatural self, nurturing you in their lab after destroying your genetic makeup until you were ready to be their perfect prodigy, yet they didn't want you taking on their largest mission–killing Spiderman. They told you that they knew about the way he targeted you and took you down with minimal effort and they hated it–not wanting to see you caught in a life-or-death fight with him.
“He may have never hurt you, but if he wants to, he will.” They would say. You never knew that it was all lies, only hating the idea of your Master looking down on you.
So you would become Spiderman’s biggest threat–telling yourself it was not to prove a point to them, but to you.
–
You were ready for this city to finally start taking you seriously; buildings emptying at the glow of your fiery wings, blinds closing and light flicking off at the sound of your crackling fire, streets clearing with screams of “Spiderpunk!” and “Help!” You believed today was the day.
The people of London already knew the sight of you meant trouble—often the most eye-catching of your master’s entourage even though you weren’t the most dangerous, but you were rarely seen alone. It was alarming to the citizens who quickly emptied the dark streets. You felt a sense of confidence surge in your chest at the fear in their eyes just from you simply walking, lighting up the streets with a red-orange glow and wildfire-like crackling sounds. You didn’t get very far though, a faint booming guitar chord piercing the air nearby like a firework. You grit the soles of your gear into the ground, securing your mask and looking up to catch Spiderpunk swinging off a tall building, legs spread and hand outstretched in your direction,
“Ay, what do you know?! If it isn't the Firefly all by herself! What do you think you're doing out here, lil phoenix?” His voice quickly gained volume as he swung full speed ahead in your direction, aiming to effortlessly web you up and leave the scene when he neared and took a powerful blow directly to the chin, flying into the wall like a magnet to metal.
He groaned, fallen on the floor and back slammed into the brick wall, “Damn! Where did you learn how to throw a punch like that? Did’ja friends finally decide to teach you the basics?” With squinty spider-suit eyes, he rubbed his jaw, comically ‘fixing’ it back into place before lunging like a jumping spider and tackling you with his arms around your waist. Your back hit the ground with a thud and you quickly kicked your feet up on his stomach and flipped the two of you backwards with your hands on his leather vest. You throw punches and hits with calculated precision and instead of being scared…Spiderpunk is pleasantly surprised at your newfound strength. He finds himself totally up for the challenge of fighting someone ‘worth his time.’ He web slings out from under you, jumping behind a nearby bench to put some distance between the two of you and attempt to apprehend you,
“Come on Spiderpunk, throw a punch! What are you, scared? Didn’t think you’d have to even try to beat me huh? Is that it, asshole?” You yell in frustration, hand clutching the back of the bench and clearing it like a track meet. He backpedals, never once getting violent with you–no hitting, punching or kicking, just strategically tiring you out until he can find an opening and restrain you.
“Come on now, you know this is just anotha cakewalk for your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.” He laughs in a sarcastic teasing way to rile you up, ducking to avoid your advances when you unexpectedly lunge at him, your masked heads knocking against each other and sending him falling over into a messy alley. Spiderpunk struggles against you before you slam your fist across his cheek, sending his head left before he cranes it back, grabs your ready fist, and then the other one when you raise it. You're both grunting and panting, his eyes squinty and your arms shaking like an arm wrestle when, eventually, he overpowers you and pushes you off him, wrapping you up like a spider to its prey and having the temerity to dust his hands off after,
“Well, I oughta say, tonight was full of more surprises than I would've ever guessed! Didn’t know you had all that fight in you, Firefly.” He said, casually leaning against the wall across from you with his foot up, wiping his wrist over his masked forehead and feigning exhaustion. Your face scrunched up in anger at the name, reserved for only your Master.
“Don't call me that! I don't need you underestimating me, Spiderpunk, and I don't need your pity–actually fight me next time!” You spit, “I’ll be back for you.” Your ablaze wings tear through the web restrains and you fly away, knowing he’ll let you go. He watched you leave into the night sky, cursing to himself at the throbbing pain in his jaw. He slumped off the wall, web slinging home with a sense of sympathy weighing heavy in his heart,
“Poor thing–all fucked in the head.”
–
Your Master has a long standing history with Spiderpunk. They were once a cop—devoted to their work and truly confident that they were doing the right thing. Then one day, this ‘Spiderman’ came along. He ruined everything; encouraging anarchy, winning the people's hearts and turning the citizens against the officers–but worst of all, he killed their brother who was also in the police force. Nothing was the same since, and they turned to a life of crime, building a force of people who wanted to do anything in their power to stop Spiderman.
Spiderpunk had directly attacked their old headquarters before, growing more and more familiar with their motives, their methods, and more importantly, their members. There was a new lair now, sneakily hidden from Spiderpunk to keep him from learning more than he already knew.
What he did know was your Master was like a parent in your eyes. He knew you were unable to label anyone else as a guardian in your broken life, but damn it was sick to him. Your Master literally made you address them as such to enforce harsh power dynamics and keep you in your place. They mutilated your genetic code like a lab rat, but you can't remember a thing because you were completely comatose. They wanted to train you until you were strong enough to fight for them, and then do nothing to prevent your death when the foreign chemicals in your body would eventually catch up to you. Worst of all, they don't want you around Spiderpunk because he knows the truth. They do everything in their power to keep you faithful to them because they know you'll be too strong on Spiderman’s side–you'll turn to him without sparing them a second glance if you knew the truth.
They couldn't let that happen. They wouldn't let that happen. They swore it to themselves everyday.
–
You came quietly through the doors of the lair (which was disguised as just another house in a crowded street) keeping all noise to an absolute minimum to avoid the ‘where were you’ questions from your comrades. You were new to sneaking out, never seeing a point in it before this self-improvement journey of yours. You were lost in thought, walking to your room when a loud slam jumped you. You cursed and looked up to see none other than your Master standing in front of you, staring at you with an intensity that never meant any good, rendering the hallway placate. You looked up at them, fear taking over your bones.
“…Where have you been for the past hour?” Their dour tone sliced through the thick silence. You held eye contact like you've been told,
“I went out to train.” You answered, not the full truth but not a lie either. You looked up at them with a cold-sweat inducing anticipation rattling your knees. The silence was so loud, and your heart wouldn’t stop pounding.
You didn't even register that you had been slapped until you noticed you were no longer looking your Master in the eyes. Your face felt warm, stinging with pain as your eyes welled with tears that you fought back. They said nothing more, leaving you to stand stunned in the hallway for a long moment and then trudge into your room to fall asleep feeling numb.
–
You knew you must have done something to deserve the punishment of getting slapped and grounded, but you also felt that your Master just didn't understand what you were doing— that you were doing it for them. You were going to help them take down Spiderpunk! You were going to do what they had always wanted! After thinking for a long hour in your room, you decided you just needed to be more sneaky. That way, they couldn't be mad at you in the end when you finally got their worst enemy in the lair, bound up and defenseless.
Nothing could stop you from training mercilessly for days, readying yourself to fight Spiderpunk again. You lived for the shocked expression on his spider-suit mask when you threw punch after punch at him, taunting him with an attitude that he had never seen from eager but stupid you–you who had failed to even get close enough to attack him in the past. He had wondered why he wasn't seeing you with the usual group for a couple months, almost worried that your Master had done something.
Time passed and the few times you saw Spidepunk, you were with a bigger group. You were no longer the first person he took down, rather the last—he struggled more and more fighting you these days. It had been days since your last 1V1 encounter and night fell—this time, you waited until you were absolutely positive that your Master was asleep before you left out your window, flying into the night with your blazing wings. You knew how Spiderpunk was going to fight you this time, playing a completely defensive game until he saw an opening to take you down, and you were prepared for it–ready to counteract it. You didn't want to leave this battle completely unscathed like last time, you wanted a fair fight.
–
Hobie sat on a distant rooftop, overlooking London in the darkness of the night. He had had a very ‘normal’ day in Spiderpunk terms—help a little old lady across the road, stop a handful of thief’s dumb enough to steal in broad daylight with his spidergang, and graffiti a couple political statements in places that no one else could reach. He chose a rooftop garden area to relax, chewing his bright pink bubblegum and strumming on his guitar with his heavy boots hanging over the ledge.
Hobie thought about you, he thought about Y/N L/N. It was difficult to fight someone who was so misguided, so fixated on a dream that would only hurt them more. He didn’t know what he could do to get to you—to get you comfortable enough with him to even believe a word of what he’s been dying to tell you. Hobie needed to save you from your Master and the twisted ideology they had drilled into every fiber of your being.
He knew no one else would understand why he cared the way he did. Hobie had a soft spot for you and your gang because he knew of the lives that you were all robbed of.
He strummed his sticker-covered guitar to the bridge of ‘Change (In the House of Flies),’ looking down at the bursts of color that his guitar cycled through in time with each chord he played.
There was a fleeting moment of tranquility, then his spidey-senses went wild, a fiery glow seen from behind him.
Hobie didn’t move—he didn’t even flinch—he just softly finished the song,
“I was beginning to think I wouldn’t be seein’ you again.” Hobie quipped, getting on his feet and slinging his guitar behind him, turning to face you.
You looked him over—his spiky accessories, his expressive messy spider-suit eyes, his guitar and all its color. You wondered what he could have done to become the center of all your Masters hate. You knew it had to have been pretty significant, even if you didn’t understand it.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Spiderman.” You said, voice muffled through your mask. Now it was Hobie’s turn to take you all in. You had definitely made some augmentations to your gear since he last saw you, he could see how touched up it looked and he started to worry you might catch him off guard this time, so he tested the waters. He circled you slowly and instantly you tensed and out came exactly what he feared—new weaponry.
Fiery blades ignited out of your wrist gear as you put your hands up in a block. Hobie was actually impressed,
“Well would ya look at that! A shiny new weapon, eh? did ya make that all by yourself, lil phoenix?” He inquired, leaning in with typical comical Spiderman enthusiasm. He got too close for comfort, resulting in you swinging your burning blades at him with a grunt. Hobie lurched backwards, making a shocked noise,
“Alright alright, trying to show me what those new blades can do huh? Come on, come get me.” He teased, web-slinging away and starting a chase. Hobie was often chasing, not entirely used to the reverse, but he felt adrenaline pump through his veins at the sound of your yells, chasing him like a rabid animal through the rooftops of London.
This time, you knew well what he was doing—attempting to tire you out and get you at your weakest without even having to lay a finger on you, then restrain you like last time—so you came to the fight with a couple tricks up your sleeve.
You ducked down into an alleyway, seemingly headfirst, running down the wall and up the next.
Spiderpunk looked behind him, expecting to see your struggling form desperately trying to keep up with him, only for his heart to stop at the sight of you—or the lack thereof.
His reflexes came in handy when he saw a faint glow out of his peripherals. He swung from a high-hanging sign when you lunged at him from his side, giving him minimal time to react. He tried to web to another building, but he was too slow. Your fingers closed around his neck, slamming him into the wall, his long fingers instinctively came up to your wrists, only to falter away when he nearly slices his hands clean off on your blades. He instead opts to use his boots to try and kick you away, but blades instantly ignite out of the gear surrounding your ankles,
“You really came prepared huh? Whipped up all this new gear in a matter of days just to see me? You’re so thoughtful.” He grit out, still trying to not harm you if he doesn’t have to. He was in the middle of calculating your next move when you brought your head back like you were going to knock him out with it. Instantly, Hobie ducks down, thrusting his spiky spider-suit mask at your chest and pushing away from you when you flinch and let go of him.
“Spiderpunk!” You screamed, jumping up and lunging at him, sending artificial webs his way. He rolled and dodged them, yelping in surprise,
“Look at you! I mean, you’re basically a spider woman now!” He shoots his own webs, snagging your ankle and effectively stumping you, if only for a moment when your heated blades sear them off. You angrily throw yourself at him again, falling to the ground when he dodges. Suddenly, a loud crack is heard as your left ankle gear slams against the solid rooftop, buzzing and crackling as it breaks. You hiss and grunt angrily, and Hobie’s brain lights up. He has to break all your new toys to take you down, that’s all.
Spiderpunk suddenly jumps at you, tackling you onto your back to keep your wings useless and webbing your biceps down, then your thighs—they’re the spots where you have no defense mechanisms, although you’re a lot stronger than he’s used to seeing you so he remains cautious. He grabs hold of your ankle, pressing his palms into the gear and sending electric volts through it—he risks the chance of hurting you, but when he begins to fry the electrical cords and sees only confusion in your eyes, he continues. The gear fizzes and smokes as it breaks, but Hobie feels the shock of it all, wincing and grunting as he get electrocuted.
Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s doing, and you scream,
“No! No!” You strain against his webs, freeing one arm and swinging your fist at the man, slicing the cheek of his mask only for him to grab your bicep and pin you back down with a struggle, electrocuting himself once more as he kills your right wrists gear with a zap!
You look up at him, paralyzed with confusion as he still refuses to hurt you, only breaking your gear so you’ll run back home again. You won’t take it, breaking free your left fist the very next second and screaming in anger when he pins it down with all the strength he can muster.
"Why are you doing this? Why won't you ever fight me?" You scream emotionally, struggling against him as he uses all the strength he has left to fry your last piece of protective gear while you struggle against him, kicking and pushing to no use. He doesn't speak at first, breathing heavily, and sighing,
“You really wanna know?” He mumbles, looking at you through his mask with squinty eyes, “Or do you just want an answer that will make you happy?” He asks, leaning back and getting off of you completely, but keeping you restrained on the ground.
“What is that supposed to mean?” You ask, genuinely caught off guard, letting out a scoff, “Dont pull some weird mysterious bullshit with me-”
“I’m serious.” He cuts you off. It doesn't sound harsh or angry, it’s strangely genuine. “The truth hurts–worse than anything I could do to you if I fought back the way you so badly want.” He says through his thick accent, sitting beside you and looking out at the city.
You looked up, knocking your masked head on the hard surface while you thought in angry silence. What could Spiderpunk have to tell you? Why did he think it would matter to you? You hadn't really guessed there was a good reason for why he didn't fight you, just assuming he pitied you. You let your head loll to the side and looked at the spikey masked man with dark skin peeking through the cut you left in his mask, your curiosity winning,
“I…I’m all ears.” You mumble, your voice hoarse.
He just looked at you for a moment, then he cursed and ran his large palm down his covered face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't know what to say or how to say it. How do you tell someone their whole life is a lie? Furthermore, they're fighting for a cause that will end in their demise? He gazed off into the sparkling lights below,
“It’s not easy to say so i’m just gonna tell you as bluntly as possible. I’ve known that lousy sod you call ‘Master’ for years now…they’re not at all who you think they are.” He starts, missing the way your body stiffens, “And…neither are you. They actually…made you what you are. You weren't supposed to have the abilities you have but they-”
“No, no I'm not listening to this, this is useless! You're full of shit!” You spat, arching your back enough to set your wings free, cutting through the webs, triggering him to jump up and put his palms out defensively,
“Hey, hey! You said you were all ears right? Don't go throwin’ a wobbly on me now! Just listen okay? I’m trying to save your life!” He frantically begged, walking towards you slowly with bent knees and a tilt of his head, trying his absolute hardest to not come across as a threat. You weren’t having it.
You got close, “You can go to hell with your weird conspiracies about my Master and I! I-I’ll never believe you—you don’t even know me!” You yelled your fists up defensively. You felt weak and angry with your gear useless, and you didn’t exactly expect a deep discussion about your life and what it might or might not be,
“I do though, Y/N. That’s…that’s what I’m trying to get at here.” He states, not once taking his eyes off you. He watches as your eyes flicker wide open, your guard faltering for only a moment. You stand there stunned, the silence of midnight surrounding both of you, until you finally have the courage to speak up,
“Is…that how you know my name?” You state the obvious. You know the answer, but you want him to be the one to say it.
“Yes, because what i’m telling you is the truth. Your Master, they used to be an officer until I came around and fought against the police force…one day, there was an attack from a villain force and I couldn’t save their closest friend…but from what they saw, it looked as though their blood was on my hands. They changed overnight—quitting the force and becoming the worst villain overlord of this city. They built their own empire, and they bought you. You and the rest of their army, you’re all captives who were brainwashed and robbed of your lives.” He finishes, full of anticipation as he looks at you.
There’s a long silence, as you take it all in. You don’t know what to say to do for a while, internally struggling on if you even believe his words or not…but the longer you think about it…you’re sad to admit the more sense it starts to make.
You don’t remember having any sort of childhood, no matter how hard you thought, and you’ve only ever known your Master and their orders on how you should live your life. You were lost in thought, puzzle pieces slowly fitting together, and Spiderpunk just watched you patiently. You thought about how he looked at you, how he refused to hurt you, and how he seemed to genuinely mean every word he said…It was too much to take in all at once.
“I’m sorry, I-I can’t.” You stammer out, your voice cracking as you back up. Your wings crackle with burning fire. He doesn’t follow you, just stands still as you walk backwards, then turn and fly off. The wind whistles as you fly home faster than you ever have in your life, your thoughts racing a mile a minute with every flap of your wings. Hobie watches you fly off into the sparkly night sky like a burning shooting star, sighing in relief.
—
That night opened your eyes, and nothing was the same between you and your Master since. You pulled back and unintentionally started acting cold, now you were afraid they were noticing. They had been randomly gifting you things or spending time with you, a lot more than they ever do. You were starting to feel incredibly uncomfortable and anxious as the days went on, and strangely, you decided you wanted to clear some things up with Spiderpunk—you just needed to find a way to sneak out without your Master noticing with all their excessive hovering over you these days.
It was dawn, and you had just finished the dinner that they insisted you have with them. Your Master had finished eating and was now cleaning both your dishes when you quietly headed to the door and slipped on your jacket,
“Going somewhere?” They asked questioningly, not turning from their spot at the sink but still instilling nausea in you from their tone alone. You hesitated for a second, then slipped on your shoes,
“Just going on a walk.”
“Right after eating? Shouldn’t you give it an hour or two?” They pressured.
“I’d rather walk while it’s still relatively light out, I won’t be gone long.” You countered carefully, trying to keep the peace the best you could. You reached for the door handle, your back turned to them when you heard the water shut off, footsteps, and then felt their arms around you, turning you into their embrace. It was uncomfortably silent, and their hands suddenly tightening on your jacket felt horrible,
“I know you’ve been lying to me.” They murmured, their grip strong as they feel your body go rigid for a moment. You stall. They release you and stare coldy,
“I-I don’t know what you’re-“ The hardest slap you’ve ever felt lands across your face and cuts you off. It burns like hell and leaves your head blank for a moment. You look down only to get your eyes forced upwards from a pressuring grip on your jaw,
“You know you can’t keep secrets from me…I will figure out what you’ve been doing, my Firefly, and you won’t like it.” They grumbled, pushing you outside and slamming the door.
—
There had to be at least five cops chasing after as you careened around the block, all having yelled at you when you raced out of a small jewelry store with hands full of anything shiny and expensive looking that you could loop around your fingers. You zoomed down the dark street and caught a myriad of unfortunate obstacles ablaze in your wake. You were trying to cause as much of a scene as humanly possible—It was working.
You turned to look behind your shoulder right as Spiderpunk swung down towards you, one hand high above his head and the other swinging a web straight for your abdomen. When you were about to redirect your focus ahead of you, you’re left with no time to process your masked ‘rival’ headed straight for you before pulling you up into the sky with him. A scream tears out of your throat from shock and you can’t move as your body is pulled through the sky, golden rings and necklaces spilling from your fingers. The loud hollering of Spiderpunk is echoing around you before he pulls you onto a rooftop, both of you rolling onto the building. He grunts and pants, looking at you as he lays on his side, propped up on his elbow,
“How’s my favorite little villain doin huh? Long time no see…I was starting to miss your pretty mask.” He pulled you towards him by his webs like Scorpion, before tearing it when you were close enough, “Was there a reason you caused such a dilemma down there or did ya just miss me?” He smirks, pretending to run a hand through his hair. He was clearly in a good mood today.
You sigh, full of emotions and slightly bothered by his over-the-top entrance and flirty behavior, “There’s a reason, asshole…I need to talk to you.” You confess, sitting up in a comfortable position while he mirrors you, leaning his head in his hands. He stays silent and only nods, allowing you to continue,
“I thought about what you said—all of it. Things weren’t the same when I woke up that next morning. I still don’t trust you but I don’t really hate you the way I used to…because of what you said I sorta started to think for myself. I came to see you today to ask you a couple of questions and maybe get some answers?” You whispered, voice soft as you looked into his masked face. The moonlit night was cold and dark. It left you shivering with a sense of anxiety squeezing at your lungs. He nodded once more, leaning in,
“What can your friendly neighborhood spiderman do for you?” He asked with an audible smiled, trying to ease your obvious distress.
“Who was I?” You blurted out.
He shuddered, expecting the question but still feeling underprepared for it. He exhaled through a buzz of his lips and clicked his tongue a couple of times,
“That’s a difficult question, doll. To put it simply, you’re a normal girl who was supposed to live a normal life with her normal parents—they were some of the many that were killed by the multiple heinous villains that terrorized London a few years ago. You weren’t too much younger than me when you were forced into a hostage situation by the killers, soon after you were sold. I couldn’t save you all before the brainwashing, and I couldn’t get to you like this until…now.” He admitted. He felt sympathy knowing that you were sitting in front of him, probably feeling as though you were suffering the consequences of his incompetence—but the thought never crossed your mind. You just wished you knew that girl, the one who was robbed of her normal life, but you felt that moping was useless,
“Well, what can I do? I mean i’ve basically learned that my whole life isn’t at all what I think it has been and i’ve been chasing after the one person who was kind enough to tell me the truth-“
“You didn’t know any better.” He corrected, “I tried to go easy on you…couldn’t bring myself to fight such a sweet, misguided, girl.” He admitted genuinely.
“I am so stunned…I mean I never thought you’d be able to be this close or say these things to me without attacking you.” You teased, looking at the way his eyes scrunch up and his knees come close in a laugh, “I…I don’t know how to thank you. All I’ve done has been attacking you every chance I got because my Master painted you out to be some threat. I never thought for myself until you told me the truth, and now you’re being so nice to me, Spiderpunk.” You sighed.
Suddenly, he shifted before reaching his hands up to his neck and pulling his mask off, revealing his identity to you. The newly unmasked Spiderpunk shook his hair slightly, and looked at your still masked face as you took in every detail of him. He had deep brown skin, messy wicks, plump lips, a big nose with a ring on the side, deep set eyes complimented with pierced eyebrows and high cheekbones. He had the face of a model and it was no surprise that that effected your ability to breathe for a moment,
“You can call me Hobie.” He said with a cheeky tone at your silence, leaning back, “And you don’t have to thank me, just glad I could help.” He answered. He looked at you solemnly, his heart warming at the idea of helping you. “But you can at least make us equal and share a taste of your secret identity.” He winks, leaning in eagerly.
You roll your eyes and trail your hands up to your own mask, removing it and watching as his eyes scan you in the low lighting, taking in your appearance. You expected something different than what you got, your stomach dropping at the sudden look of shock on his face. You felt anxiety well up in a matter of seconds before he speaks,
“Who did this?” His deep voice lingers in the air and you’re left with no time to process his words, his hands that were reaching for you stuttering when you flinch, “Y/N, who hurt you?” He asks you, stern but gentle, looking into your eyes with his large hands gently on either side of your head to examine the red blistering slap mark. You can’t even respond, your mouth open but no words coming out. You both know the answer.
Hobie knew there was a possibility your Master was hurting you, but this just confirmed it and left him feeling inexplicably enraged.
“I’m sorry, I-“
“Why are you apologizing? You have no reason to be sorry, If I had known I…I would have stopped this a lot sooner.” He whispered, gaze soft as he instinctively holds your head to his chest, almost motherly.
You just try to focus on stabilizing your breathing, the comforting hold new and strange to you. You never would have expected this, that’s for sure.
Time goes by, Hobie allowing you to sit in front of him again while you eventually talk about your relationship with your Master. It’s difficult, and Hobie has to thank his lucky stars for his ability to remain expressionless, because if not, he probably would have cried or thrown up several times. It becomes emotional for you as you wrap up, Hobie feeling his gut twist at the sight,
“It’s alright. I-I’m not going to let you be in that place much longer. I’m going to stop them okay? I’ll be helping you out of there soon.” He spoke clearly, his hands on your shoulders to keep steady eye contact. You felt uneasy at the idea of your Master and your unsteady relationship. You didn’t want to see them hurt but you knew that how they had treated you all these years was wrong, especially if what Hobie said was true. It was conflicting, and you were scared. You tried your hardest to trust Hobie, but you had only just opened up to him…so could you really? Was it safe?
“Okay…bye, Hobie’.” Was all you said before you parted, disappearing into the dark of the night. Hobie plotted, swinging far behind after a lot of careful thought and a ton of unusual hyperactivity from his spidey-senses.
—
The door creaked louder than it usually does—just your luck. You cursed as you held the handle all the way twisted until it was in the frame, manually twisting it back into place to keep the house silent. You were on a mission, and it couldn’t wait. You walked your way into the basement and into your Master’s secret laboratory. This was where they kept all of their ‘work stuff.’ You had never cared about anything in the dingy and dark room until now…you never knew any of it would pertain to you. You sifted though their stuff, everything seemingly kosher until a file, stuffed in the back of the lowest cabinet of their desk with the bold printed letters ‘Y/N L/N’ splattered over it in red ink called to you among all the other tan files. You wasted zero time in pulling it out and investigating. The file was full of information about you—things that you didn’t even know about yourself; the day you were bought, the chemical makeup of your fucked-up genes, and the day that you were…no…that couldn’t be right…the day that you were supposed to die? Your heart stopped. You read the date over and over again, adrenaline rushing through your body and pumping blood straight to your head. You couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see, couldn’t think. Your Master horrifyingly lingered in the doorway, watching as you trembled in unbridled terror. Why the fuck did you have a pre-determined death date? You tore your gaze off the paper, looking up and jumping when you saw, to you absolute dismay, your ‘Master.’
“Y/N. I’ve heard that you made a new friend! Is that right, my little Firefly?” Your master seethed through their sickening smile. You had never seen them this angry…it terrified you, but your adrenaline was stronger than your fear.
“I know who you are…and…I know who I am. You’re a sick person, and you’ve been lying to me my whole life!” You yelled, defensively staring them down with as fierce of a face as you could muster, “You destroyed the person that I’m supposed to be! You bought me out of a hostage situation to build your own suck army! Worst of all, you have a predetermined death date for me? What the fuck do I look like, perishable goods?” You scream.
“Quit acting dumb, child. If you were smart enough to understand maybe you wouldn’t be so angry at your loving Master. I did what I did to give you a life worth living. I made you who I made you at the cost of your life span shortening. Would you rather live a long, boring, and sad life with no parents and no purpose? Or would you rather life a fulfilling life with me?” They spat, anger present in their red eyes.
“I would rather die than live with you any longer. Spiderpunk told me the truth and I believed him because it makes sense! He was the first person to ever let me think for myself! He has never hurt me the way that you have!” Screaming, you threw the file onto the ground, the contents spilling out at your Master’s feet and your wings burning hot. Embers flicked across the room, catching small things on fire. Your Master had had enough.
“Is that so? And what exactly do you intend on doing with that information, hm? Run away from the loving,“ they flip the desk as it begins to burn, sending wood and fire all over as they come closer, “supportive,” they slam their fist into your side and kick your feet out from under you, “family that I’ve pioneered for you? You’d leave that all behind to follow a brain-dead, arachnid, anarchist who killed my loved ones?!” They scream, pulling you by your wrist out of the office and into the basement, shoving you down onto your stomach and crawling onto of you harshly. Your wings were as intense as your emotions—your horror, sadness, and anger all causing the flames to burn unusually hot and wildly—but your Master didn’t care. All they saw was red.
“You know what happens when you go against my rules, Y/N. How dare you do the one thing I specifically instructed you against.” They snapped, tears pooling out of your eyes as you struggled to breathe. Your eyes shot open as you heard their hisses in pain and felt their hands tighten around the base of your blazing wings. Your heart raced as fire embers flung around the room and you felt a sharp tugging, triggering you into screaming uncontrollably,
“No! No! Please, stop it! Master, I’m sorry! please d-don’t! What are you doing?! I’m-I’m sorry, please!” You screamed, feeling the extension of your body being torn out of your spine, uselessly screaming in agony. You were kicking and crying as you felt the most uncomfortable pain you had ever felt in your life. You were helpless, the room around you catching on fire as your powers go haywire. You didn’t know who to call, but the one name you knew started spilling from your lips,
“Hobie! Hobie please help me!” You cried, voice cracking and hoarse as the building rapidly started to burn. Your master brought their heel up digging it into your lower back as leverage as they grunted and pulled, fueled on your screams alone. You let out one last scream of Hobie’s name before it all faded to black.
—
Hobie had no idea where he should be looking for you, never having located your Master’s new hideout. He relied completely on his senses, a game of ‘hotter’ and ‘colder.’ He raced around like a madman, ignoring the excited screams of “It’s spiderpunk!” However, soon the screams became about a fire, and his senses were overwhelmed with a buzzing feeling. He snapped out of it and looked down to see a house on fire, mentally battling on if he should continue searching for you or deal with the house fire, opting for the latter. When he Hobie leapt down, he got a sinking feeling that he had found you.
He tore through the burning building, groups of familiar villains racing out of the doors and windows. He kept low and crawled like a spider when he heard a broken scream of his name, so pained and so desperate. He nearly tripped down the burning basement stairs and took in the horrific scenery.
Your blood was all over the floor, surrounding (what Hobie prayed was) your unconscious body. Your Master was panting, and holding your bloody, fleshy, wings. They had never looked this truly evil, staring down at you with no remorse until they noticed Hobie’s presence,
“Spiderpunk.” They stated, tossing your wings into the calmed with burning with rage,
“I think it’s time for our long overdue last dance, ‘Master.’” Hobie grumbled, circling them.
“I thought you’d never ask.” They smiled, chucking a knife from their belt at his head, watching as he expertly dodges it and maneuvers around the collapsing room combating with bloodshed heavy on his mind. There’s a symphony of punches and stabs, Hobie was growing bloody and angry. He was kicked into the fire his face whacking across a burning plank and causing him to cry out. Hobie shook his head and screamed, lunging at them,
“I’m gonna make you wish you never payed your hands on her.” Hobie grunted, his grip tightening around their throat as they desperately tried to pull him off. All Hobie could think about was what he could have done to save you all these years; if he had known the torture you were enduring at their hands he would have helped you sooner. He knew the whole time that it was doomed, but he didn’t know how to save you.
Hobie felt a crunch, and he snapped out of it, finding himself on top of your Masters now dead body. he pulled his hands back, wiping them off on his jeans and spitting down on the corpse of your abuser. Turning rapidly to scoop you into his arms and burst out of the burning building. The fire department was there, and ready to take care of it, but Hobie needed to get you as far away as possible.
—
There was the sound of the city below, and the rushing of wind above, but there was nothing in between. You felt nothing; just coming to and completely delirious. Your head spun as you looked down on London, watching droplets of blood fall from…your body? Were you bleeding? You suddenly became aware of the familiar deep mumbling above your head and the secure arms that held you tightly. You looked down at the red suit and black leather worn by who held you and pieced it all together, albeit slowly; you were in your rival’s arms, bleeding out as he was web slinging through the sky. You groaned, growing privy of the injures that you didn't know you had, immediately feeling Hobie’s arms tighten,
“It's okay, you're gonna be okay.” You heard his deep voice faintly, sounding panicked and far away. You squirmed, wincing and crying out,
You couldn't feel your wings—and it all came back to you. Your ‘Master’ had pulled them completely out of your body, and now you had never felt so light in your entire life. There were gaping holes in your back, and cuts that littered your skin from your struggle. You felt robbed, but oddly, you felt free. However, nothing could compare to, above all, how much pain you were in. You clung to Hobie, becoming aware that you’d have no way to support yourself if you were to fall, but Hobie held you tightly, telling you he would never drop you without saying a single word.
He landed somewhere unfamiliar, carrying you through a window with an odd amount of calculated grace. He set you down on what you assumed was his carpet, and you didn’t realize he was currently in front of you, helping you onto your stomach. You took his hand and allowed him to help you, gasping and whimpering when your entire body hurt.
“Easy, love, m’gonna take care of ya.” He whispers. He tears your shirt clean off, beginning to clean your wounds,
“Ah! Hobie!” You mumble, wincing.
“I know, I know, it’s gonna hurt love m’sorry.” He says in the most soothing voice he can.
He bandaged your cuts, and he feels his heart sink with every pained noise you make, watching you fiddle with his carpet to take your mind off of how it all feels. When he’s finished, he slips a clean shirt over you and he scoops you up—laying you down on his soft couch.
“Your wounds are deep love, but they’re not unsalvageable. Give it time and you’ll be feeling as good as new.” Hobie smiled softly. He was covered in blood, ash, and grime, but no one had ever looked as beautiful as he did in that moment. He pulled the blanket off the back of his couch, draping in over you and tucking it in gently,
“I am truly sorry for everything, doll.” He said suddenly with raw emotion taking over. You looked up at him confused,
“Don’t…don’t be sorry, Hobie. You…you saved my life.” You murmured, exhausted and pained.
He softly smiled at you, his eyes full of sadness as he forced himself to get up off his knees by your side,
“Well, i’ll be in the other room love, just holler if you-“
“Wait!” You interrupt. He stops abruptly, turning to look at you with confusion present on his face, scanning over you and taking note of the space you made in front of you on the couch,
“I don’t want to be alone.”
And with that, Hobie feels his heart break. Your voice sounded so fragile and meek, and he never wanted to hear it sound that way ever again. He would feel horrible holding you in his state, but he would feel worse if he said no to you. Reluctantly, he walks over to you, unties his shoes, and lays down with you, holding you close and gently running his hands up and down the bandages.
You didn’t understand how your whole life could change in a matter of days—going from hating Spiderpunk with every fiber of your being, to being genuinely afraid of him not being in the same room as you. But…he’s the one who saved you. This whole time, he was the only one who truly cared, and you felt so blind to have not seen it. He held you closer, lost deeply in his own thoughts. Hobie’s mind raced with thoughts of your safety, and specifically the death date in your files.
He decided he would worry about that another day, and for now, he would hold you closer.
#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown#hobie brown angst#hobie spiderverse#across the spiderverse#spiderman#spider punk#hobie brown smut#hobie brown fluff#Spotify#silly’s fics
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I've been coughing and feeling sick, I don't feel like getting up. This one is a request where female reader gets sick, has a flu, and its set in modern au. How would Law react when he hears that female reader has a flu for about two weeks, while being taken care of by Luffy, Ace, and Sabo? See female reader didn't want to disturb Law from work, so the ASL trio took care of her. Sabo is more responsible than his brothers. Plus Luffy would bring Marco to check on reader.😊🤧😷🤒
Tell me next time, dumbass.
Trafalgar Law x reader (fluff)
A/N: hi! Sorry I took a bit long because I was kinda down myself (can't get out of bed for reasons unknown) and can barely open my phone. So I hope this is alright! (Also unedited)
My masterlist
Coming up with a fever wasn't really (y/n)'s perfect idea of winter. What she imagined was snowball fights, snowman making, snow angels. Maybe that's the reason she's sick.
She could've told her boyfriend, Trafalgar Law, that is also a doctor, about it so he could take care of her, but she didn't.
She would always listen to him rant about how hectic it is to work in hospital owned by "grandline" whatever whatever it's name was. And she didn't want to bother him by a simple fever.
But that's alright, she has his best friends to help.
The "strawhats" (what Luffy likes to call his gang of friends) would visit from time to time. Especially chopper. Robin's support dog, specialising in anxiety and depression.
Even though the golden retriever is working, he couldn't help but stay beside (y/n) whenever Robin is around to visit.
Nami would usually just lay beside her staring at the ceiling. Mostly because she herself was bored.
While the others would drop by but not as often because they're quite busy.
Luffy on the other hand, would visit with his brother's almost every day.
Ace and Sabo apparently has doctor friends as well. One is named Marco and the other is named... Hongo? Was it?
"In theory, Marco said some warm soup or porridge would help you." Ace said
"In YOUR theory or in this... Marco person's theory?" (Y/n) asked. She knew it would help but hearing Ace say such a thing concerns her
"Wat?"
"What...?"
The two just stared at each other with confusion before sighing.
"You're making me hurt my brain, Ace. Get out of here" she groaned with a frown making him laugh.
"When are you planning to tell your boyfriend that you're sick? I'm sure he's worried because you're not calling him all the time like you used to." Sabi hums softly as he hands (y/n) a bowl of warm porridge as she starts to eat
"You know I don't want to worry him..." She muttered as she ate
"Eh? What do you mean?" Luffy tilts his head, "he asks about you all the time whenever he sees me."
"Wait, really?"
"Yeah! When I said Marco was also helping, he kinda got up and left. I don't know why though..." Luffy muttered to himself with a pout.
"Luffy..." The three sighed with a bit of disappointment in their face
"What? What?"
"Let me take that..." Sabo said as he took the empty bowl from (y/n), "how do you feel...?"
"I'm feeling fine... I suppose..." She muttered slightly.
"Alright..." Ace sighed, "look. You should tell him, even if you're bothering him... I'm sure if I was your boyfr- I mean him, I'd also want to know my girlfriend's state."
She laughed a bit, "I know... I'll tell him eventually..."
"We need to go... I have night shift at work today and some agendas for the next... 2 weeks..." Sabo frowned slightly
"And Garp's coming over... As well as the family reunion in London..." Ace huffed, "will you be alright alone?"
"I'll be fine, don't you worry"
Oh the last words of someone burning up, phasing in and out of consciousness.
(Y/n) reached out to grab her phone, trembling hands scroll through her contacts list, her eyes blurry but eventually clicking one profile and calling it.
Putting it on speaker, and placing it beside her head.
Once she heard the familiar sound of someone on the other end picking up, she coughed slightly.
"Can you... Come over...? I don't feel so good..." She managed to mutter before passing out entirely. All she heard last was a panicked voice of her name being called and soon hanging up.
...
Law's pov
I was sitting at the on-call room, basically glaring at my phone screen, waiting for (y/n) to message me.
"If you stared any harder, that phone would crack" Marco chuckled beside me.
I just groaned a little, "tsk. You wouldn't know the worry I have for my girlfriend because you never had one." I snapped at him with a glare
"Ouch" he rolled his eyes.
My eyes snapped back at my phone once I heard it ring and seeing who was calling, my whole body seemed to relax to realize it was (y/n). After almost three days of silence from her, she finally called.
"Hello?" I answered.
I heard her cough, which wasn't a good sign already, her heavy breathing as well. "Can you... Come over...? I don't feel so good..." she muttered so weakly, I don't think I've ever heard her so weak before hearing her just huff out a heavy breath, I don't know why, but I had a feeling she had passed out.
"(Y/n)...? (Y/n)!" I called but had no more answer than her breathing heavily.
I stood up immediately and grabbed my stuff, changing out of my scrubs as well as I panicked.
"Woah there loverboy, you can't just leave in the middle of your shift" Hongo sighed, "but you know what? I'll take your shift, don't worry. Take care of your girlfriend"
I just gave him a swift nod before leaving and hopping into my car, wasting no time to power it up and drive off to her apartment.
I left my things inside the car, but took my wallet, phone, and the spare keys I had of her apartment with me as I rushed to go and unlock her apartment door.
At first glance, it was relatively quiet. Which wasn't entirely unusual considering at this time of day, she's either drawing or just laying in bed.
After locking the door, I threw my things on the kitchen counter and rushed to her bedroom to see her curled on her bed, her phone beside her head, and her face flush with what seemed to be a high rising fever.
I didn't waste any time and rushed to check her temperature. She was already so hot to the touch, but she started shivering a little.
"Don't worry, I'm here. I'll take care of you" I whispered to her before getting up and doing what is necessary to make her fever go down.
Eventually, her fever had subsided just enough so that her temperature was 39°.
Which was still a bit too high as a human's normal body temperature was 37° but at least a bit lower and manageable than before
"Silly girl..." I frowned as I kissed her forehead.
I continued to take care of her for the next 2 days. Hongo-ya and Marco-ya volunteering to cover my shift.
I'll need to find a way to repay them somehow, but for now, my focus is on (y/n) and her slow recovery.
(Y/n)'s pov
(Y/n) slowly woke up to the smell of what seems to be an aromatic scent of... Soup? Porridge? Whatever it is, it smells delicious.
But oddly enough, she doesn't have an appetite.
The door to her bedroom eventually opened and closed quietly as she then saw, through her thick eyelashes that were blurred with some tears, that Law was now in her apartment.
She could see relief in his actions when he placed down whatever he was doing and sat beside her on the bed, placing a hand on her cheek and wiping away the tears that managed to escape while she slept.
"You're finally awake..." His warm voice calls softly and kissed her forehead, "why didn't you tell me you were sick? I could've been here for you..."
"I... It's just that... You're really busy and... I don't want to..." She muttered before being silenced with a soft hush.
"Enough of that, didn't I tell you already that if you need me, just call...?" He frowned a bit before shaking his head, "we can talk about it once you're better. For now, sit up. I'm helping you eat."
With his help, she was able to sit up with her back against the headboard.
"Ahh" Law said after blowing the steam off a spoonful of soup, "I need you to eat even just a few bites so that you can drink some medicine. Okay...?"
She sighed as she forced herself to eat, she can't taste anything but her gut told her it was delicious.
"Blackleg-ya insisted for me to make you this soup... I hope it's alright" he says as he fed her a couple more times before she refused any more.
"Alright... Wait here and I'll grab some medicine."
She nods weakly as he left, but came back almost immediately with a glass of water and medicine in hand.
"Here..." He says as she drank the medicine and water, "that's my girl..." He smiled softly before kissing her cheek.
"Law..."
"Yes, love?"
"Thank you... For taking care of me all this time..." She smiled softly at him as well.
"Nonsense... This is the bare minimum. I promise, I'll take good care of you in the future. Just call me up and I'll be here. No matter how busy I am." He placed a hand over hers, "I want to kiss you on the lips but I'm afraid I might get infected. But I will kiss you once you're all better."
"I'm looking forward to that..." She said weakly with a tender smile.
"Now, get well soon alright? I'll be here." He smiled, "oh, and one thing... You should've told me, dumbass... I don't care how busy I am or whatever time is. I'll defy all odds just to be here for you."
"That's my boy..." She smiled as he chuckled.
#random#night thoughts#trafalgar law#law x reader#trafalgar law x reader#law x y/n#one piece#trafalgar d law x reader#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar law x y/n#trafalgar d law#trafalgar one piece#trafalgardwaterlaw#law x you#one piece x reader#one piece trafalgar law#one piece law#op.law#op law#fluff
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