#gangs of london smut
Note
Hey lovely, I am so excited to see your requests open again!
May I please request: 2. “I just found your underwear in my pocket.” with Sean Wallace
🌻
You may, best Aussie!
Smut below the cut, minors DNI!
His eyes flit to you, narrowing slightly, a little smirk curling his full lips as he leans in close to whisper words he definitely does not intend for his business associates also present at the table to hear.
“I just found your underwear in my pocket.”
Ahh, you were wondering how long it would take him to reach into his trousers and find them there. For a whole hour, you've been sitting there pants-less, fizzing with anticipation, waiting, waiting.
"Only took you an hour to notice," you quip, licking your top lip.
His eyebrow flutters, shuffling his chair a little closer to yours. "You mean to tell me that you've been sitting here bare arsed for an hour, and I haven't known?"
You don't even attempt to hide your mirth. "Correct."
"I'm going to do something about that." Resting his hand on your thigh, his fingers inch their way up slowly, pulling until you widen them just a little beneath the table. You're smiling with interest when one of the men begins to ask you about your own career, all the while with Sean's thumb gliding back and forth over your clit.
You close your thighs on his hand, receiving a little pinch of reprimand, your man leaning close to you once more. "If you didn't want this, then you shouldn't have played games with me, should you?"
You had merely intended for him to be driven crazy by the knowledge of your lack of undies, but you truly should have known that nobody checkmates Sean Wallace quite so easily. His thumb returns, and having to keep a straight face as an orgasm swells, tingles and burns through you is perhaps the most difficult thing you've ever encountered, but the thrill is worth the payout.
Climbing astride him at the end of the night and having a furious, fully clothed fuck in the back of the car that whisks you home is even better, though.
#sean wallace fanfiction#sean wallace smut#gangs of london fanfiction#gangs of london smut#gangs of london#sean wallace x reader#sean wallace x you#joe cole#gangs of london fanfic#sean wallace fanfic#sean wallace fic#gangs of london fic
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
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
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
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
* - * - * - * - * - *
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
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
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!
MASTERLIST • REQUEST
Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!
Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @zablife @shelbydelrey @look-at-the-soul @brummiereader @mrkdvidal1989 @fiercelittlemouse @ohwellthatslifesstuff @minaethrym
#peaky blinders#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#cillian murphy#tommy shelby x reader#cillian murphy x reader#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x you#thomas shelby x you#cillian murphy x you#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders fanfic#tommy shelby x oc#thomas shelby x oc#tommy shelby imagines#peaky blinders imagine#requests#fanfiction#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby smut#cillian murphy smut#thomas shelby smut#dark!tommy shelby#dark!thomas shelby#series#angst#my writing
399 notes
·
View notes
Text
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
#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#bts#bts x reader#bts x y/n#bts x you#bts smut#bts mafia au#bts angst#bts fic#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts fics#park jimin#jung hoseok#min yoongi#kim taehyung#kim namjoon#kim seokjin#bts gang au#bts assassin au
711 notes
·
View notes
Text
Thighs
Fred Weasley × BigThigh! Female
i literally have no idea where this is coming from after a year of writing nothing.
Summary: She hates her thighs, but her boyfriend loves them, and he wants to make sure she knows.
Warnings: established relationship, self hate, body dismorphia, lots of fluff, pet names (sweetheart/baby/darling/ love), mention of pregnancy, 18+ MDNI!!
FEMALE CHARACTER HAS NO NAME, AND NO SPECIFIC SKIN/EYE/HAIR COLOUR (partly because i couldn't make my brain come up with so many details😭)
smut: oral fem recieving, thigh fucking, face sitting, unprotected p in v, praise, body worship, hickeys? idk
She looked at herself in the mirror, light makeup highlighting her features beautifully. The thin straps of the sundress hanging across her shoulders, the top resting just above her bust, not exposing much, but not showing anything either. The fabric was a light powder blue with tiny flowers along its length, and it hugged her figure perfectly. It was the perfect summer dress, upto her mid thigh.
She looked alright in her opinion, good even, but for her thighs. They were too thick, with too many stretch marks. The cellulite was dimpled and heavy, and jiggled with each movement of hers, and it truly disgusted her with herself. She was okay with her body, and honestly thought she was attractive when she was dressed well, like today, but her thighs were always the problem.
Gritting her teeth in annoyance, she flung open the door of her wardrobe that she shared with Fred, and picked out a different dress. It was a pale pink one, loose and long, and extended beyond her knees, hiding her biggest insecurity. Still slightly grumpy, she completed the finishing touches to her look, when she heard her boyfriend's voice from the door.
"You ready love?" Fred called out, leaning against the doorframe.
"Yeah. All done." She smiled, grabbing her purse and slipping on her sandals, before walking towards the handsome man. He was dressed in a white tank top vest and blue jeans, and a blue and white floral shirt wrapped around his broad shoulders, completing the summery look.
Fred held out his hand to her, and she delicately placed her much smaller one into his, and he gently pulled her closer to himself. Placing a tender kiss on his lips, she smiled up at him, admiring his beautiful eyes and perfect freckles and his signature Weasley hair that she loved so much.
Fred's eyes trailed down her body in admiration, before he turned back to meet her eyes with a puzzled look.
"You didn't wear that dress?" He asked sincerely, hoping to finally see her in it since she had been so happy buying it weeks ago.
"Not in the mood." She lied, and he nodded convincingly, though he was anything but convinced by her answer.
"Gorgeous, never the less," he said, complimenting her as he always did.
"You more," she smiled, kissing his cheek.
Since buying the dress, it was the only thing that she had talked about. She gushed over how her bag and sandals went perfectly with it, and how she'd style her hair whenever she'd get the chance to wear it. And now, she stood there, wearing something else, and Fred was sure there was more to it than she was showing.
They hurriedly locked their place and apparated to their destination, Lee Jordan's housewarming party. It was just a close knit celebration that he and his girlfriend, Andrea, were hosting together, since moving into their first appartment in London.
She blended quickly among the known faces, smiling and chatting with all their old friends and then joining Andrea and Angelina in a small tour of the appartment. The entire party then ended up in the living room, and she, along with Fred, George and Angelina hopped around their circle, enjoying the little reunion they were having with the entire gang from Hogwarts.
Fred couldn't help but look at her. He always thought her to be the most beautiful woman in the world, and himself to be the luckiest man in the world, to be able to call her his girlfriend. He loved looking at her hair, her soft makeup and her smile, but today it wasn't as big as it always was, and he knew it wasn't as real, and it physically hurt him to not know the reason for it. He was sure it had something to do with her dress, because every time someone complimented her tonight, there seemed to be a bit of hesitation before she uttered her usual 'thank you'.
She'd been saving it up for some 'special occasion', and as soon as Lee had called to extend an invitation to the party, she had been delighted at the idea of getting to wear it the way she had wanted. Fred was happy that she was happy, and now she wasn't, and he didn't know why.
It was nearly midnight when the party ended, and Fred and George finally bid goodbye, ready with their plan to spend the next day together at their shop, as per usual. She hugged Angelina, and then got hold of Fred's hand and apparated them back to their front door. Fred unlocked it and hung the keys in their spot as she headed back to their room to change into her pajamas. The feeling of her thighs touching each other under the dress made her want to throw up. She felt disgusting in her body and she just wanted to cover herself from head to toe and bury herself quietly into the blankets.
Her expression must have given it away, because Fred walked into the room right as she took out her pajamas.
"Hey," whisper into her ear, kissing her neck softly, and his hands circled her waist. "Don't change just yet, love. I haven't had the chance to admire you properly tonight."
"The dress is a bit uncomfortable", she replied, trying to stop her voice from breaking.
"Just a few minutes, please?" He requested, and she complied, twisting around in his arms to finally face him. His eyes were so full of love for her that it nearly made her cry, and when he leaned down to press his lips to hers, a stray tear managed to find its way down her cheek.
"Baby what's wrong?" He asked, gently wiping the tear away.
"Nothing, just tired," she lied.
"Why didn't you wear that dress today?" He asked again, and she repeated her previous answer of not being in the mood to wear it.
"Don't lie to me," he condemned softly, and she knew she was caught. "Tell me love, why didn't you wear it?"
The singular tear that had made its way out of her eyes was now followed by many more, and before she knew, she was a sobbing mess in front of her boyfriend. Fred pulled her into himself and comforted her, his hands gliding over her back and just letting her know that he was there, and he would be there forever.
When she had finally calmed down, Fred gently guided her over to their bed, and sat down, as she stood before him with puffy and swollen eyes. He slowly pulled her onto himself, making her straddle his lap and resting his hands across her back.
"What's the matter Princess?" he coaxed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "It's something about that dress isn't it?"
She breathed in deeply, contemplating weather she should tell him or not. Of course she can tell him, he's Freddie, her Freddie, and he'd always understand.
"Ihatemythighs" she blurted out in a single breath, only to find Fred looking down at her, amused.
"Try saying that slower baby? I'm not that smart," he joked, earning a small smile.
"I hate my thighs," she said finally. "They're fat and ugly and they move around a lot, and that dress reveals them too much."
"Don't say that darling!" Fred said seriously, upset over what she'd just said about herself. "I've seen you try that dress on and you looked gorgeous!"
"Those trial room lights make everything look good, but I look horrid in that dress." She said.
"Do not say that about yourself," Fred scolded. "You're the most beautiful woman I've seen, with the most beautiful body and the most beautiful thighs. I won't hear anyone talk like that about you, even if you're the one saying it."
"You'd obviously say that, you're my boyfriend," she reasoned.
"I'm not lying sweetheart, I swear. You don't have to be insecure about anything." He said, only to be matched with a blank look from her.
"You don't believe me." He stated in disappointment, settling his hands over her thighs, through her dress, his fingers steadily moving towards the hem. "Can I?" He asked cautiously, not wanting to make her any more uncomfortable. She took a deep breath before nodding, allowing him to flip it up and run his fingers on the smooth skin.
"I love you. Every thing about you is perfect. You've got the most beautiful face, and I can't stop looking at it. Your eyes, your lips, your cute button nose," he said, leaning in to peck it. "I love your hair, and you look gorgeous when you leave it down. I love your neck, and that tiny freckle on your collarbone." He buried his nose at the base of her neck, breathing her scent, and nibbling gently.
"I love your boobs, and I can't stop thinking about them when you're not around, and your bum too," he smiled cheekily as his hands trailed up her thighs to gently squeeze her ass, and then returned to their previous place. "I love your arms, the way they wrap around my neck when I kiss you. And those damn hands, those fingers, could very well be the death of me." He smiled, kissing her exposed shoulder, and then her upper arm a few times.
"And your stomach is so soft darling. I love just looking at it, thinking if someday you'd let me put a baby in there?" He smiled, earning back a smile and a nod from her. "Your pussy, baby. I'm not even going to say anything, because you know she's better than drugs. And I love your legs, especially when you show them off in pretty skirts and dresses. I love it when you wrap them around me and pull me closer when I make love to you."
"So pretty," he whispered, caressing her thighs, barely audible. "Such beautiful thighs baby, so soft. I want to bury myself into them right fucking now."
"Freddie, please" she whispered back, not even sure what she was pleading for.
"Can I baby? Please?" He said, running his fingers over the smooth skin, and she nodded without thinking.
Fred's arms looped around her back, holding her tight to himself as he stood up and turned them around. He gently lay her down on the bed and got on between her legs. Leaning down to kiss her deeply, he whispered praises to her, making her feel so loved.
He kissed her neck and collarbone, leaving a few stray hickeys, and then pushed the straps of her dress aside to show the same love to her shoulders. Looking up at her for confirmation, he slipped her dress off her body and tossed it away in the room.
She was there now, in nothing but a pair of panties, and she could feel her usual confidence seep back into her body. She reached for Fred and pulled him back in, kissing him passionately and lovingly. Her hands fisted his shirt and pulled it off him, soon followed by his tank top vest, leaving his torso as bare as hers.
"Hmm that's how I like it," he encouraged into the kiss. Soon enough, he moved to her breasts, biting and sucking, and the room was filled with her moans. He kissed his way down to her panties, and she lifted her hips to let him pull them down. He placed her legs over his shoulders, and she shut her eyes in anticipation.
Instead of going right to her clit, he began to kiss and caress her thighs. "They're so pretty sweetheart. Why would you ever dislike them?" He whispered, teasing the skin with his teeth. He licked up the length of her left thigh, but stopped short of where she needed him. He began to suck and nibble the flesh there, drawing moan after moan from her throat. Soon enough, he was repeating his actions on her right thigh, and she was getting hornier by the minute.
Finally, his tongue reached where she wanted, and her eyes rolled back into her head at the feeling. Her fingers found themselves intertwined in his hair, pulling and tugging each time he did something more pleasurable than he'd done previously. Her walls had began to clench around nothing, and the pleasure she felt was too much to hold back. She was so close to her climax, moaning Fred's name, at the edge of bursting, when Fred stopped his actions and pulled away. Groaning, she sat up to face him, as he smiled through his slick covered lips.
"Sit on my face," he demanded with a grin.
"What? No." She said breathlessly.
"Please baby, it's not something that we haven't done before," he reasoned.
"But my thighs are really big and you..."
"No buts, come on!" He said, lying flat on his back, waiting for her to climb onto him.
Still not very sure of the idea, she positioned herself, but didn't put any weight on him, choosing to hover over his face instead. A blush crept up her neck and made its way to her face at being so spread out in front of him.
Fred smiled and licked a stripe from her entrance to her clit, and her head hung back at the feeling, as he picked up right where he had left off. Seeing her pleasure, his hands caressed her ass, before he pulled her onto himself entirely. He moaned at the feeling of being between her thighs, and began eating her out with even more enthusiasm than before.
She was so lost in her pleasure that she forgot her insecurity and began grinding down his face once his tongue entered her, and her moans were reciprocated with his own. She was coming in mere minutes, and it was probably the one of the best orgasms she'd had.
As she came down from her high, she shifted back from his face, sitting on Fred's chest now. His eyes were drowsy and his face was covered in her slick, as he smiled up at her. She immediately felt something hard behind herself and instantly reached her hand out, unzipping his jeans and letting her hand slide under the waistband of his boxers to reach his dick. Fred groaned in pleasure when her hand brushed against his sensitive tip, and instinctively jerked his hips forward.
"Don't," he grunted, almost sounding pained. "I won't be able to hold it in."
"Then don't hold it in, Freddie." She smiled, leaning down to kiss him, moaning at her own taste all over his mouth. She quickly whispered a soft "I love you," only for him to hear.
"Want to fuck you baby," he said. "Please."
She let go of him at his request, and climbed off him. Her hands busied themselves with getting rid of his jeans and boxers, as he lay on the bed watching her. As soon as he was completely undressed, he sat up, and then proceeded to get off the bed, much to her confusion. He walked over to ger dresser, hurriedly tossing everything off it onto the chair next to it. He came back towards her then, offering his hand to her, and she took it, following him off the bed.
"Going to fuck your thighs today, baby." He declared, "Need you to know how much I love them. Is that okay?"
She nodded, letting him sit on the sturdy wooden table, with his back against the mirror, and stood right between his legs. One of his hands rested on her waist as he finally took his length in the other and guided it to her slit, rubbing it through her wetness and letting his head fall back against the mirror in pleasure. She had enough of his teasing now, so she quickly took matters into her own hands. Her fingers pulled away his own from his dick, and she wrapped her palm around him now. He let her take the lead, both his hands clutching onto her waist, and holding her in place. Spreading her hickey covered thighs a little, she guided his tip through the gap. He thrusted forward in relief, and he brushed perfectly against her clit, giving her just as much pleasure as him. His head now rested on her shoulder, and his moans went straight into her ears, turning her into a complete mess.
It was slow at first, since they had never tried this before, but once the pleasure built up, Fred's thrusts became more confident and sure, until he was close enough for them to become sloppy once more. She was just as close, her clit throbbing with each stroke against it.
"I'm so close baby," he whispered hoarsely. "Where do you want it?"
"Inside Freddie, please!" She replied, barely able to keep her eyes open. He immediately pulled her onto himself and she was straddling his lap now, her hand guiding his tip into her warmth. She sat down as soon as the tip was inside, completely sheathing him, and burying her face into his chest.
"So warm love. So good." He moaned, thrusting up into her mercilessly.
"You're so big Freddie. Could never get used to you," she said back in her state of complete haze. Her walls fluttered around him, and he connected their lips, his tongue intertwined hers as she came hard. Fred followed seconds later, his moans swallowed by her as their lips remained connected, and his warmth coated her insides.
She once again buried herself into his chest as they stilled, her arms in their rightful place around him, and his softening dick still inside her. He held her close to himself, warm breath fanning her back as his head rested on her shoulder.
"Baby?" He whispered after a few moments of silence, and his voice was laced with his usual mischief.
"Hmm?"
"Do you like your thighs yet? If not then I'd love to try again."
#fred and george#fred weasley#harry potter#weasley twins#fred wealsey fic#fred weasley smut#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley fanfics#fred weasley fanfiction#fred weasley fic#fred weasley fluff#fredweasley#fred weasley one shot#fred weasley imagine#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter smut
393 notes
·
View notes
Text
Does he know?- Mason Mount smut
Warnings: smut. Mature language. Mentions of breath play. A bit angst
Summary: Y/n is Mason Mount’s ex. They’ve been separated for over a year now but both haven’t gotten over each other yet.
Notes: this is mainly pure smut. Sorry for any mistakes. English isn’t my first language so bare with me. Enjoy!
Y/N is Mason Mount’s ex. They’ve been separated for over a year now but haven’t gotten over each other yet.
The reason for their break up was their busy schedule.
He was a full time footballer and she was a bartender.
She worked in one of London’s most famous bar, Nightjar, and that’s exctly where she had met Mason.
He had gone there to celebrate his birthday with a few close friends, and she was serving their table even if she had gone there to have fun in that night since it was her first night off in weeks.
A year later they figured they’d work out better as friends so that’s what they did, they went back to being friends.
Everyone knows that usually never works.
For Y/N’s 22nd bday in November 2023, she decided to go to Nightjar with her friends, and her sorta boyfriend, to celebrate her newly Taylor Swift year.
All of her friends adored Cam, they all would tell her he’s sweeter than Mason.
That he was truly the right man for their friend, she couldn’t disagree more.
He was absolutely a nice lad, gave her space when she needed.
Never forced her doing anything, and he was kinda okay at sex, meaning he was vanilla,
She usually caughts herself, calling and hanging up right away on his phone, she thought he wouldn’t notice but she called enough to give off a notification to his phone.
He always saw her missed calls, and a smirk would always grow on his lips knowing she was calling for him even if she had someone lying next to her every night.
On November 8th she threw a birthday party on Nightjar, she didn’t know that Mason and his gang would be there as well.
This wasn’t definitely going to end well.
Y/N p.o.v
I had alredy finished getting ready, and raring to go and celebrate my Taylor Swift year.
I pulled up into the bar and quickly found my friends waiting for me to celebrate and getting pissed.
I was truly having so much fun dancing with Cam when I suddenly caught Mason’s gaze.
It was penetrating me with such a force and I was definitely getting intimidated and thirsty.
“Cam, if you excuse me I’m gonna go get a drink, go back to the table I won’t be long”.
He simply nodded and let me go to the bar, he sat next to my best friend who obviously asked where I was.
I noticed her following her gaze to where I was headed and slightly smirked when she saw who was at the bar.
She simply told Cam to have fun that I would be back soon.
I hadn’t moved from where I was until she gave me a nod, telling me to go.
She knew me so freaking well, I was quick to approach the bar and sat next to the guy was eyeing me when I was on the dance floor.
“You look absolutely amazing tonight y/n. Happy birthday by the way love”
Love, ahhh, the name he used to call me every single day.
I turned to look at him, being welcomed with a slight smirk on his face and his beard trimmed.
Fucking hell, he looked delicious, I smiled and stared into his eyes.
“Thank you Mason, it’s nice to see you. Have you been waiting here for a while? I can manage to serve you if you’d like” I offered making him snort
“No, thanks love. Today’s your off day, and birthday So I should be the one offering you a drink. Not the other way around” he said coming closer to me and taking his hand to my arm,caressing it
“In case you didn’t know, I have a boyfriend So it’s kinda inappropriate of my ex to be caressing my arm don’t you think?” I asked him
That didn’t stop him from coming closer, and taking his hand to my discovered leg, caressing it straight away.
“Yet, having a boyfriend didn’t stop you from coming over as soon as you saw your So called ex boyfriend innit?” he fired back making me fully turn over to him.
He was standing in the middle of my legs, moving his hand closer to the hem of my dress.
“What exactly could you possibly want from me Mason?” I asked, putting my hand on top of his to prevent him pulling it even further up.
“Am just curious about how you have a boyfriend that seems like he’s good for you, makes you feel like you should. All of your friends say he’s the one for you and that his love is true. But it’s missing something, innit?”
I instantly nodded, watching his upper lip forming a curve, indicating that it was exactly what he wanted to hear.
“It’s just, he treats me amazingly and is honestly a good lad. His company is great but…”
“But the sex isn’t great.” he added making me blush.
“Tell me exactly what bothers you in sex with him”
I giggled and hid my face “Why am I talking with my ex about my sex life when I’m supposed to be celebrating my birthday with my friends” I asked while having my left hand supporting my head
He moistened his lips and shrugged off “cause I know your body better than no one. So let’s be honest, you tell him you’ve finished when you haven’t… And then you probably watch some porn and finish yourself off.”
“Well it’s not exactly porn..” I say making him confused “It’s our sex tape”
He smirked and moistened his lips “So you’re telling me you finish yourself off watching us have sex? Is he that bad?”
“Mason! God when you say it like that makes it seem like he’s terrible. It’s just that he doesn’t know where to touch me like you do- did.” I said hearing him snort.
He got up and pulled me to the dance floor.
As we got there, like a moth to a flame, he pulled me in.
Back to what I initially needed.
I turned around, pressing my back against him feeling his breathe on my neck.
“So love, does he know you call me when he sleeps? Does he know you keep the pictures and that vídeo to pleasure yourself after making him think you’ve finished?” he asked and I blushed, he knew I was calling him every night even if he never picked up cause I didn’t let him to.
“Does he know the reasons that you cry, when you’re all curled up because you’re tired of the shifts. Or does he know where your heart truly lies when you’re lying next to him?
He asked, So I turned around and took my hands to his face kissing him forcefully.
“He knows nothing Mase. Cause it’s you and it’s always gonna be you no matter what.”
He smiled and pulled me in even more “Stay with me tonight, I’ll give you a proper birthday celebration” he plead taking his hands to my ass giving it a squeeze.
I smirked and nodded “take me, I’m all yours”
-
Right after entering Mason’s appartment, he pinned me against the wall feeling the cold of the tiles on my bare back.
I wasted no time in attacking his neck with kisses, bites and hickeys.
Mason’s p.o.v
I made sure to make her look me in the eye as I inserted my fingers inside her helping her build the orgasm.
I felt her getting wetter at the frantically moves my fingers were making inside her.
I let her come around my fingers and lay her head on my shoulder with the pleasure that was taking over her body.
"Do you think this is over? My love it's not" I said, licking my fingers while giving her some time to recover from her recent orgasm.
I took her to my room and didn’t waste any time taking out clothes off
I positioned my member at her entrance, entering with everything feeling her squeeze my shoulders and moan low.
I took her hands in mine and started to make strong thrusts reaching her G-spot, she squeezed my hands, arching her back, while loud moans came out of her mouth.
I took my mouth to her chest biting and sucking her breasts and neck.
It didn't take long for her to come. I got off of her and she looked me in the eyes confused.
"On your knees. Now!" I spoke in an authoritative tone seeing her getting on her knees and putting my dick in her mouth without me having to tell her what to do.
I watched her suck my cock better than ever just as I remembered, quickly reaching my orgasm by tilting my head back and letting a hoarse moan leave my lips. Due to the build up tension we had going on from our intense dancing in the pub.
She stood up again and kissed me, pinning me on the bed making me smile between kisses.
"You still fuck like you used to" she said kissing my neck leaving some hickeys.
I took my hands to her ass and squeezed it watching her lips part and an accidental moan came from her lips making me smirk.
“Can’t really forget how to fuck a pussy like yours can I?”
After having my dick sucked and finished having sex, she made me lie down getting on top of me
She looked at me innocently while biting her lips, this girl was driving me crazy.
"Is that a round two I’m seeing your eyes plead?" I asked seeing her nod as I reached my hands to her ass squeezing it harder.
"Do you want it rough or soft love?" I asked while inserting my dick inside of her without moving.
She moaned at the sudden act, biting her lip while moving her hips wanting more contact. She wasn't planing or answering my question I see.
"Answer or I'll leave you here without sex" I threatened with an authoritative tone making her shiver.
"I want it rough Daddy" she said whining at the lack of contact I was depriving her from.
I moaned at her choice of words and started to move myself slowly inside of her to make her beg for it.
"Fuck. Mason just fuck me already, I'm getting impatient" she said while moving her hips up to get more contact between us.
I smirked as I saw her growing impatient for my touch so I took my hand to her neck squeezing it a little bit just to see her reaction.
"Beg for it babygirl. Beg for daddy to give you his cock. Beg for me to fuck you so good that you won't be able to remember his name" I said in a seductive tone just to see her get more impatient and surrended to me.
"Please daddy fuck me. Fuck me so good just like you know how to. Make me take your cock just like the good girl I am" she said making me almost come with her dirty words.
I loved when she talked dirty to me, just how I talked to her.
"I'm not so sure if you've been a good girl baby" I teased seeing her roll her eyes "teasing daddy like that earlier wasn't nice"
She had teased me in the dance floor, rolling her hips against my hard cock, forgetting about the so called boyfriend who had some girls tongue shoved on his throat.
"I'll do everything you ask me to if you fuck me now. But please just fuck me like you always know how to" she begged making me smirk
So I did as I was told, I started to move myself inside of her strongly but slow, just to hear her moan like crazy. I kept thrusting hard making her roll her eyes almost seeing her brain.
"Fuck, are you taking my cock well princess? Do you like the way I'm fucking you?" I asked between moans as she nodded not wanting to get any words to come out off her mouth.
"Fuck daddy don't stop! I’m almost there" she said as I saw her body starting to shake as if it was signaling me she was almost about to come.
"That's it baby, let it all go. Come for daddy love" I said making her squirt, my orgasm came righ after as she clenched her wall around my dick.
"Fuck.” she said while breathing heavily.
She was totally wasted, she let herself fall on my chest to recover from the double orgasm I had given her
I smirked at her and kissed her forehead myself covering ourselves. She stared at me with a shy smile.
"Was it good enough for birthday sex or does a round three sound good?" I asked caressing her hair making her smile.
“Think I’ll definitely need a round three to make up for all that vanilla sex I’ve been having” she said giggling
I took her face in my hands and kissed her.
Safe to say, she had an amazing birthday
#mason mount#mason mount smuts#mason mount smut#masonmountfluff#masonmountblurb#mason mount x reader#masonmountimagine#mason mount imagine
450 notes
·
View notes
Text
commission 3/4 for @coleskingdom
｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ 「 THIS NIGHT BELONGS TO US 」 ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡
｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡
「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 AEW MASTERLIST 」 | 「 WILL OSPERAY MASTERLIST 」
｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡
「 SUMMARY 」 — when threats of violence against your girls hightens, you have no choice but to recruit will and his gang for protection
「 WARNINGS 」 — 18+, [ MINORS DNI ], mentions of sexual violence, mentions of injury, alchohol, gangs, daddy kink, submissive x dominant, dom!will, sub!reader, praise, hair pulling, dirty talking, rough sex, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, blowjobs, oral sex [ male recieving ] male + female orgasms, groping, vaginal creampie, internal cumshot
「 WORD COUNT 」 — 5.6k
「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x will ospreay
「 GENRE 」 — smut
｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡
「 TAGLIST 」 — @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @adamjf @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @bonehead-playz @legit9thlunaticwarrior @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @harmshake @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @violetmacher @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles @ripleyswife @selena-tyler-564 @auburnwrites @adamcolesbaybay
「 COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST 」
｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡
his tired eyes roamed the bustling london streets, still so full during the midnight hours, drunks getting their fill of cheap irish whiskey, slumped against desolate brick and rusted metal of a war torn city, steam and smoke billowing around their almost lifeless bodies from the factories and mills of the surrounding streets. whores nestled in alleyways, presenting themselves on street corners, naked, flaunting their bodies for him and his men, hoping they’d throw a couple of pounds their way for a good night’s fun. one whore in particular almost threw herself atop of his larger lackey, davis, running a manicured finger down the opening of his shirt, tracing shapes into the dirty blond almost light brunette tufts chest hair, beckoning him to bed her. he refuted by grabbing the back of her head, his large palm caressing the blonde, boyish bob of her scalp as he pulled her in for a sloppy, half-drunken kiss before stumbling to catch up to his other members.
the piss coloured lighting from residentials, reflecting a murky green in will’s natural gunmetal blues, would flicker off in haste. the silhouettes of mothers frantically rushing to put their children to bed, husband’s standing idle at the window, just barely peeking behind the sheer curtains, eying him down with a weary glare. after the war, one thing remained certain, he was still the most feared man this side of the thames. eyes would watch him cautiously, fearful and uncertain of his next move, a simple glance from him would send children scurrying back to their mother’s arms, and grown men to divert their attention to their shoes.
will straighten his cap, shielding his eyes from any onlookers, tightening his coat around the toned build of his figure, more for anonymity rather than comfort. the moon casted a heavy shadow upon him and his lackeys, them looking more like apparitions of evil over human beings. davis and kyle trailing behind in a joyous saunter, in a conversation amongst themselves. will remained silent, taking in the dull drone of the london cityscape he’d oddly missed so much while away. it was no serine french countryside, lined with vineyards and lush greenery he’d see in glimpses between fighting in bloodsoaked trenches. but there was comfort to it. it was home. the war changed will something fierce, he’s always been one so stoic, calloused, outright ruthless, but the things he’d seen, men torn limb from limb, their bodies blown from the trenches in chunks of meat and blood spray, bone and viscera. painful cries parted their lips, agonised screams ripped their vocal chords. grown men, respected soldiers desperately clinging to overworked nurses, cowering into these women, calling out to them as if they were their own mothers. he could still hear said screams at night, the pounding against the walls, although just in his mind sounded startlingly realistic, keeping him awake more nights than not.
he fiddled with the switchblade buried deep in his coat pocket, the metal cold against his calloused fingertips, hushing davis and kyle behind him as the velvety red lighting of the drunken angel’s tavern came into view. the exterior nestled in a side street, behind faded red brick and rotted tumbler slabs. it was a quaint little hotel will would frequent before the war, even less now since his business ventures forced him out of the city for months at a time.
“you think skye’s working tonight?” kyle, the youngest of their trio beamed at the recipient of his affections. blue eyes glimmering with hope, the act earning him a small shove from davis. the hotel was known to offer more…intimate services let’s just say.
“god kid, you're still head over heels for that girl?” davis quipped, a hearty chuckle leaving his lips. “you know she’s a whore right?”
“she loves me, she said so.” kyle frowned, annoyed at the mocking tone leaving the lips of his comrade, burying his slender figure into the warm cotton of his overcoat, as if to shield himself from the embarrassment, cheeks flushed red despite the meek august breeze.
will paused, coming to a halt in front of the hotel. a thunderous thud at his feet, a drunkard lay at half unconscious, blood and spit spraying onto the tips of will’s freshly polished oxfords. the red leaving an almost indelible stain against the shiny black, he’d surely have to get them re-done now. will peered up through sunken eyes, fixating on you, the madame of this refined establishment, wiping the dirt and grime from your hands, evidently being the one to knock the poor drunk on his ass.
“go home to your wife, john”. you spoke with a sombre yet annoyed tone in your voice, wiping the ruby red lipstick that had smeared down your chin. john, the aforementioned drunk, tugged at will’s dress pants in a feeble attempt to pull himself up, a bruised eyes and bloody nose, still oozing with fresh crimson met will’s gaze, putting two and two together to conclude the situation. john hobbled to his feet, eyes widening upon being face to face with london’s most feared, scurried away with a terrified gasp, nursing the possible broken nose you’d given him.
you flattened the skirt of your dress, assessing yourself in hopes that you were still modestly presentable for such revered gests. pearls still knotted in a matted mess around your neck, your hair in shambles as you tried to tidy yourself. you gave a soft, relieved sigh upon noticing the trio.
“ah, you boys are back! come in, come in!” you spoke in a rather chipper tone despite the rather odd circumstances that predecessor it. kyle and davis were quick to scoot by, offering a subtle nod in greeting each. will was quick, in your attempt to turn around, he grabbed your wrist tightly, his entire palm encapsulating the bone.
“and here i was thinking you’d retired from that line of work”, he spoke in hushed whispers, eyes flickering about the entryway for any suspicious stares. “i don’t think daddy up there would be too pleased knowing his daughter is still whoring herself out, and in his pub no less”
will pointed to the heavens with a smirk. the line of work he was suggesting left you offended, retorting with a scoff.
“says the one who’d require my services every sunday?’ the sarcastic quip on your part made will release his grip on your wrist.
“and besides, i have put that work behind me”. you cleared your throat. “although old johnny out there didn’t seem to take the hint”
“you want me to deal with him?” will’s voice still spoke softly, the whispers evidently close to your ear
“no. don’t worry, he's harmless. now come in, why don’t you. tell me how bermingham was”
your pre-established relationship with will was…complicated to say the least. always being present in each other’s lives, sexually for the most part, despite mutual romantic feelings, none were allowed to pan out quite so. him being groomed for military service, along with the strong underworld connections that had a choke of his family. as for yourself. you were a whore, as was your late mother before you. will would often visit the establishment you were working at during the late hours, engaging in moments of passion that would rival the most romantic of novels or the daringest of plays.
will followed you inside cautiously, eyes peering around the drunken angel’s dimly lit interior, in case another drunkard was to start something. he was instantly greeted with a swell of lively jazz and swing, brass and woodwind blaring, the joyful shrills of your girls and patrons alike. it was quite deafening for will to say the least, he had not heard such a ruckus since he got back from bermingham, even more so from france. he took note of your working girls, sitting atop men twice their age, who’s grubby hands groped and prodded their feminine flesh. their hungry eyes leering with ravenous intent, one akin to a predator hunting their prey, luring them into their inevitable demise. the entire interior bathed in the same velvety red that bled through the sheer cashmere curtains to the bleak london side streets, making the occupants inside look bloodsoaked by comparison. it was a rather lively sight, bodies squished against bodies, the scent of malt whisky and freshly cut tobacco from the most expensive cigars you could afford, for his standards at least they were still rather cheap. the stench caught in his throat, smoke watered his eyes as a puff was blown unintentionally in his direction. he figured he’d become just another body within the crowd if it weren't for your guiding hand leading him towards the bar.
“whiskey?” you offered, setting three glasses down on the table for him and his companions. will responded with a soft nod of his head, as silent as a mouse. davis already drunk on lust, eyelids fluttered shut, soft moans escaping the australian’s burly chest as one of your girls sat perched upon his lap, scantily clad, hips grinding against his own in a flurry of intoxicated passion. kyle on the other hand sat nervously beside his leader, giving a small nod in acknowledgement upon you pouring him the finest whiskey you owned. the youngest took a hastily gulp, as if it were to help calm his nerves. his eyes scanned around, searching, flickering from the dance floor, to the staircase, back to the bar, then the staircase again.
“skye’s upstairs, love.” you remarked, having previously recognised kyle’s almost puppy-like infatuation with your best working girl. “want me to go get her for you?”
“i’ll wait” he responded meekly with a sheepish smile, taking another small sip of his drink, feeling the malty liquid mingle with his taste buds.
“kid thinks he’s gonna marry her one day. he keeps saying it,” davis heckled between sloppy kisses, his large palms groping the full hips of the woman atop his lap. kyle avoided your gaze, instead letting his eyes fall to the amber liquid, halfway finished in his glass.
“i don’t see why not. skye’s a good girl.” you responded, throwing your bar rag across your shoulder after freshly drying used glasses. “and kyle…”
kyle’s eyes perked up at the sound of his name leaving your lips.
“the infatuation is very much reciprocated”
your eyes flickered to will for a moment, faltering to his hand which stirred whatever remnants of whiskey left in his glass before downing the rest of it. turning back to kyle, his canines bared as he smiled, a sine of pure joy across his lips. the youngest in their trio had been enamoured with skye since the day she started working for you, skye herself even confided in you about her attraction to the young gangster.
“anyway boys, how was your trip?” you questioned pouring will and kyle another glass. davis was far too occupied to even touch his first glass. your question is directed at will obviously, although kyle would be the one to answer.
“it was fine…” he responded quietly before will interrupted.
“i don’t wanna talk about it.” there was an unusual malice to will’s voice that your ears were not used to hearing. then again, will has never needed to use such a tone with you.
“i see…” you hummed rather meekly, your response calm and collected, a far cry from the agitated tone of will’s voice as he skulled down the remainder of his second glass, feeling the burn of the amber liquid slide down his throat. sliding your a couple of pounds for the drinks, those of which you hastily pushed back towards him. will remained silent, avoiding your gaze, accepting the pounds back. his mere presence after said trip was enough compensation to quell your thoughts. his eyes darling across the bar, silently reading the labels as a form of distraction, more from his own mind than your incessant questions.
you placed the bar rag, previously across your shoulder into the hamper beneath the till, silently reminding yourself to send skye down to the river in the morning for the laundry rounds.
speaking of the brunette, you caught her figure atop the staircase, stuffing the few pounds into the blouse of her dress that her recent client offered for her services. her eyes slightly glossy, red and swollen, full cheeks stained with dry tears and the undeniable swell and faint discoloration of formative bruising of fingers around her throat. your heart sank into your gut, it came with the territory, you skye and the rest of the girls knew that. she made eye contact with you offering a small smile, guiding herself down the stairs with slow, calculated steps, eventually joining the small gathering of you five, now four since davis had retired to the more secluded areas for the tavern’s rear, working girl in hand.
“everything alright, darling?” you questioned, her solemn expression noted, quickly diverging to the chipper skye you’re so used to. she joined kyle, the two conjoined at the hip at this point, the blue eyed boy shot a concerned look between the two of you.
“everything is fine, ma’am” it wasn’t you sure as hell knew that.
“take the rest of the night off hun. get some rest” you handed her a small envelope with the rest of her payment for the week, tips she made from tending the bar while you were out. “kyle, would you take her home please?”
the blond nodded softly at your request while skye had left to grab her coat from the back room.
“please watch over her tonight,” kyle’s eyebrows furrowed at the second half of your request.
“tell me who it was” the soft, puppy eyes soon darkened, reminiscent of a ravenous wolf. “you better fucking tell me or else-”
“listen here. do as i ask. she’s already gone through enough tonight, i don’t need you blowing a fuse and shooting up the joint” you reprimanded the blond, for if you were to tell, he would do exactly that. will’s eyes shuffled between the pair of you, silently observing the situation. kyle huffed, pulling skye close as she returned, coat in hand. she clung to his arm, holding on for what seemed like dear life as the two left.
only yourself and will left. his pupils searching for yours, only left with you gazing at the floor through half shut lids and fluttering eyelashes. your temples burned with the beginning of a headache slowly forming, taking a bottle of rum from the shelf and pouring yourself a hefty glass, downing it just as quickly as it left the bottle as if it would soothe the ache.
“can we speak? in private?” you gasped, the burn of the rum still present in your voice, the subtle croak of anguish and pleading just noticeable for will to catch on. he gave a small nod, he’d barely said a word since arriving, in a way it worried you, then again, will was never a talkative man. he followed you back behind the bar, a small entry was off to the right leading straight to your office.
it was different than he last remembered. the walls faded from a vibrant emerald green to that of sage, floral decals of the wallpaper, scratched and peeling, reminiscent of rotting roses rather than blooming ones. paint chips flaking from the windows, sprinkled across the window seals, like the asbestos that lined the walls. the room hadn’t been furnished in a while. the same desk that had been sitting there since you opened the joint, books stacked haphazardly under one of the legs for support after it had broken the last time. paperwork scattered across it, scribbles of administrations, finance and other business necessities written in fading, dried out ink. you’d placed a small single bed in the corner of the room, most nights you don’t even return home, far too busy drowning in paperwork, in desperate need to keep your business afloat.
you sat atop the bed, head in your hands, letting out a heavy sigh. patting the space beside you on the dusty pink bed spread, offering him a seat, one of which he was far too eager to accept. the two of you sat in silence for a moment, although this one seemed like forever.
“i’m struggling here will” you confessed, clearing your throat as your eyes, teary and red, peered at to meet his cool blues. will, remained stoic, expression never changing, battle hardened and almost soulless. it was the price he had to pay for his line of work. he said nothing, simply scooting over on the bed, offering a gentle hand on your thigh and a shoulder to rest your head on.
“tell me” he spoke after some time of silence, not caring that your tears stained the white cotton of his shirt, small pools of grey forming in the fabric. you’d missed this, missed his comfort, missed his touch. the war had left him with an inability to connect emotionally, the trauma he faced, the deaths he saw, the loss of friends, brothers, blood or not, made him believe he was destined for an eternity of loneliness.
you straightened up, sniffling the remnants of your tears away.
“i need protection. for my girls.” you began, throat running dry with anguish. will had offered his men for protection previously when you first reopened your establishment, although you declined. you’ve seen and dealt with enough shit that you’d manage just fine.
“and what do i get out of it” he hummed with a disgruntled sigh, not on your part whatsoever. he was surely to run out of men to those hiring them out all the time.
“you get forty percent of my monthly earnings-”
“i don’t want your money…” will let out a hefty grunt, smoothing down the scruff of his beard.
“then what do you want?”
“just tell me when them bastards are and i’ll deal with it”
you remained quiet for a moment, wanting to seek comfort in will’s words but the stubborn bastard would not let you past the gate.
“them bullet club boys…”. you responded after a brief moment. your voice grew meek and sheltered. in will’s absence, said gang took it upon themselves to wreak havock on the majority of the whorehouses and pubs in the county, them girls were nothing more than toys for them to play with, discard when they proved no use to them anymore.
“we were like sitting ducks…and god…well, you saw skye did not?”
he did. he saw the bruising and the welts, the fear in her eyes, not just hers but the other girls too. his jaw clenched tightly, almost until the point of the maw peaked out from beneath the skin. his gaze hardening to an undeniable scowl.
“not to mention they’ve been raiding our liquor supplies, we’re losing more money than ever-”
“that’s why the fuckin’ bastard told me to come alone.”
“who?” you questioned
“jay fuckin’ white”
you’ve heard of the infamous jay white and his bullet club. how he was one of the most revered mercenaries this great country has ever come across. been putting bullets in politicians' heads since before the war, you've heard, whether they deserved it or not. will briefly mentioned him the night before he left for his aforementioned trip, although he did not confide in you with the details or his reasoning for leaving on such short notice.
“it was a fuckin’ set up. that prick must have found out about the dodgy guns we sold em…” will was muttering in nonsensical phrases to himself, so deep in thought and frustration
you pulled away from will slightly, jaw tensing in your own right.
“so you mean to tell me my girls are getting abused because of your shoddy business practices?!” your fists balled at your sides, shoving him angrily, although it barely put a dent in his stance. he just stood there and took
“it wasn’t supposed to happen this way-”
“well it did. do you know how much it hurts hearing those girls say how scared they are to come into work because they don’t know if their going to get assaulted or fucking killed?!” your voice cracked through screams.
“i know! i will fix it-”
“how? tell me how you’re going to weasel your way out of this one, will?”
the both of you stood at opposite ends, despite the cramped space of your office you'd never felt so apart. will let out a heavy sigh, the blues of his eyes dulled grey with regret. he took his seat on the bed again, just as you did to him previously.
“look …i’ll send the best men i got to protect your girls…but…” he paused, a thick gulp rising in his throat, eyes searching around in contemplation. “i can’t promise something like this won't happen again. when white wants something, he won’t stop until he has it”
“what could he possibly want here? besides a fuck and a drink?” your comment seemed jovial on the surface. but the prospect made your blood boil, your business was sinking and your girls tormented all because will couldn’t play clean. will was silent for a moment, lips pursed and brows furrowed, chewing the inside of his cheek in hope it would distract him from the regret lingering in his mind.
“revenge .” he simply stated. “white knows you're…a weakness of mine”
will’s hand fell to your thigh. not in a suggestive manner that you were used to with former clientele. it was gentle. protective. dare you say…attentive, loving almost. your skin tingled mildly at the sensation, having not experienced such intimate, almost romantic skin on skin contact in a long while. will’s thumb caressed the top of your knee, the calloused pad gritty and rough like sandpaper against your exposed skin.
“that’s why he targeted you…your business…” he corrected, clearing his throat. “he knew it would kill me more to see you suffer than put a bullet in my head outright”
the gruffness in his voice varied between anger and worry, wavering between his regular tone and a whisper. you felt his body inching closer, hand still present on your thigh, although tightening his grip the slightest. the butterflies that once fluttered joyously in your stomach, now seemed like moths lingering around the barely snuffed out flame of your attraction to him. it still was there…just barely.
“will…” you kept your gaze averted, feeling the blues of his eyes running hot with his stare, burning into your cheek with a concern, on edge about your next words or if you were to speak again at all.
“i want it to go back to the way it was…” he blurted out. “us, i mean…”
“will you know that's not possible-”
“how so. i still love you and i damn well know you feel the same” his voice becoming hostile momentarily but he kept himself grounded.
“you never loved me will that was just the drink and your dick talking” you interrupt feeling a pang of guilt in your stomach, adding to the moths that gnawed holes through your insides.
“and besides, even if that weren’t the case. if you truly did love me, we’re just two very different people now. you're a criminal, will and i’m the lowly barmaid who serves your drink. our lives should only be connected by transactions''
although it pained you to say it, it was the truth. will’s life was far too dangerous for you to be fully invested in now. you did not want to spend nights worrying if he was gonna come home injured, or not come home at all. sitting on his lap and tending to his wounds while he vents about all the trouble he has caused to himself. as alluring and romantic as that sounds…you just couldn’t.
“it doesn't have to be this way, love…” his hands were still firmly upon your thigh, grip tightening as his palm caressed the skin. fingertips dancing against the hem of your dress skirt. fluttering against the frill and ruffles, a dangerous act it was.
“you can’t tell me you don’t miss it” he hummed, breath barely ghosting against your earlobe. will’s breath hitched in his throat momentarily, the memories flooding back to his mind in waves. a subtle smile forms across will’s lips. you let your eyes flutter shut, trying to turn your mind off from will’s persistent words. not that it proved much effort, he was always a persistent man.
“remember?“ he lulled. “all those nights, my cock buried inside you. how you’d whimper and beg for me, knowing that i fucked you better than any of your regulars ever could?”
oh you remembered. you remembered well. there were times the both of you would stay overnight at the establishment, curled up in the sheets of your sleeping quarters, specifically used for such enjoyment, at times having to hide him behind your dresser, a mountain of discarded clothes and bedsheets, pretending you were asleep as your madame made the rounds for the night.
and will was right…by god, you did miss it. you missed him.
“will…” you mumbled alluringly, craning your head back slightly to meet his gaze. the blues of his irises dissipated behind blown out pupils, all lust filled and needy. he gave a small hum in response, his lips barely millimetres from yours, tongue jutting out to wet them slightly. heat rushed through you, arousal ebbed and flowed in your belly, teetering between genuine attraction and lustful desire. you could close the gap between your lips if you so wanted, letting will claim you like he’d done a thousand times over, but you hesitated, staring deep into those ocean blues for a moment, gauging to see if his words were turtle genuine or just the drink talking again.
“i want to go back…” you reminisced, pressing your lips to the corner of his, trailing down his jawline and neck. the action is sloppy and desperate. a low rumble persisted in will’s throat, his adam’s apple bobbing with a thick gulp, trying to stifle the arousal that swelled within him. “i want to love you…”
his breath hitched in his throat, your palm running up and down his bulge, the outline so prominent in his pants. a groan slipped past his lips, leaving his mouth agape, no matter how hard he tried to stifle them, your touch was just too magnetic for him to resist.
“please…” your whimpers lulled him further into the sinful abyss, feeling his cock stiffen against your palm, your fingers lazily unbuttoning his pants all the while maintaining the most sultry of eye contact with him.
he gave a nod, a subtle one nevertheless, a heavy sigh fell from his lips upon the brisk midnight air hitting his shaft. the thickness bulging and pulsing in your palm. oh how he missed the feeling. with dainty movements your fingertips traced around the tip, engorged and flushed red, lossy beads of precum oozing from the slit.
“god, i forgot how big you were,” you joked, stroking the base of his shaft with tight, short pumps. will gave a hearty chuckle, one that resounded in his belly, the soft gruff chortle leaving his lips.
“it’ll feel even bigger once it’s inside you, love” his words are spoken through an almost breathless whisper, accentuated by subtle groans and choked moans. you licked the slit of his tip, fleshy tongue gathering precum on the appendage, tasting him for the first time in years.
you were far eager to tease him. instead letting the tip of his cock slip past your lips, a slight popping sound as he broke though the seal. thick pulsing veins danced against your tongue as you worked him over with your mouth, taking him as deep as your throat would allow, surprised that you were still able to take such a length.
his cock made a home in the back of your throat, teasing it as you gagged at sputtered around him, corners of your lips burning, feeling as if they were going to tear from the sheer girth of his cock
“fuck-” his voice echoed with a deep, throaty rumble. eyelids fluttered shut in momentary pleasure before peering down at your still clothed form, full breasts barely covered, about to spill out from your blouse. your hands fell to them, kneading the supple mounds through the clothing, feeling your nipples perk up and harden at the contact through the fabric
“that’s it love, keep going. keep suckin’ daddy’s cock, oh fuck- just like that”
will’s roughened fingertips slid through strands of your hair, intertwining in the vine-like locks, tugging slightly up, allowing you a sliver of breathing room, barely a second for you to breathe before shoving you back down face first on his cock, until the bulge of his shaft was evident in your throat.
“you always like it rough didn’t you?” he hummed through faux malice, putting on the dominant facade he was famed for. “such a good fuckin’ whore, chokin’ on my dick like this”
his lovely, albeit domineering praise made your belly flutter with such unbridled wonder, reminiscing about the times he’s previously had his dick stuffed in the back of your throat, how he’d leave you gagging around that veiny, thick shaft of his. spit seeped from between your lips, drooling down his shaft, spit bubbles gathering at the base each time you’d bob your head, his tip violently prodding at the back of your throat.
“fuck, love…” he panted. “i know you wanna swallow my cum but i gotta fill that pretty cunt of yours”
he pulled your head up, your eyes red and glassy, spit dripping down your chin. glossy and shiny under the dull bedside lamp. will’s fingers were quick to work. not bothering to undress you fully, instead letting his hands roam up the skirt of your dress, groping the flesh beneath. he pulled you onto his lap, fingers, tugging your panties to the side, the tip of his cock prodding your walls, gathering your slick around the head, just revelling in it .
“so fuckin’ wet for me…” he hummed through clenched teeth , still overly sensitive from the work of your lips. your silence was all the more alluring for him, only breathless mutters and moans leaving your lips as you lowered yourself onto his cock. the stretch of your walls instantaneous around his size, he felt it too, how you spread so easily for him. just like you always did.
your hips instantly began to work, swirl and grind against his cock, allowing yourself to embrace him completely, the generously rough yet slow thrusts he gave sent your mind reeling with pleasure.
“god, you’re squeezin’ me, love…not gonna last if you keep this up”
your cunt clenched around his length, feeling yourself buckle under the weight of the pleasure, letting him sink into you completely. will leaned in, his lips capturing yours in feverish kisses, bodied melting into one under candlelight.
“oh fuck..” you whimper, feeling his tip poke and prod at the fleshy wall of your cervix, unable to sink down on him any further, for he would surely split you in half. With eyes half lidded and a love-drunk, stare, peering down at him through your eyelashes, fluttering in and out of a lust filled consciousness as pleasure rocked your very core.
“will…” your stomach bubbled with arousal, so close and on the brink of release. will hummed softly, his cock twitching with excitement as his name left your lips with shaky whimpers, fingertips delicately trailing down his clothed torso, feeling the outline of his pristine abdominal muscles through the fabric.
“you close, sweetheart?”
you nod, instinctively to his question.
“mhm.. can feel you clenchin’ ‘round me. so fuckin’ tight” will threw his head back, biting his bottom lip to further suppress his moans.
“fuck- you gonna be a good girl and cum ‘round this dick? make a fuckin’ mess for daddy, huh?”
words were trapped like rocks in your chest, rendering you useless and unable to speak. again, you nodded, this one more frantic than the last. arousal exploded in your veins, the clench of you around his dick was enough to bewitch him, as if that had not happened already. watery sweetness gushed down your thighs, seeping down the length of his cock, not even bothering about your now ruined sheets, you did not care, the pleasure was too euphoric.
will let out a pleasured, groan, pressing his hand to the bulge of your belly where his cock was evidently protruding from the skin, feeling your tightness grip in for dear life. pulling you closer to his broad chest, sweaty skin colliding in heated passion. he released deep inside you, making sure your tight cunt milked every last drop of his cum, not leaving until he’d emptied himself fully deep into your womb.
“shit..” he muttered, attempting to pull himself out of you, despite your bodies contorted in passion.
“no , it’s okay…” you hummed, voice hoarse from begging and pleading his name. nails soothingly leaving light trails atop his shoulders, his size still firmly buried inside of you, all wet and warm.
“you look so beautiful like this,” he murmured through a soft sigh, tucking stray strands loosely curled hair behind your ear, a thumb gingerly tracing across the indent of your cheek.
”what? naked?”
will gave a small chuckle.
“well, yes for one.” he smiled. “in my arms i mean”
your office fell into a comfortable silence, the lively ramblings and music from patrons outside were dulled through the walls as you sat quietly, will’s arms wrapped around your waist tracing inconsistent shapes into the small of your back.
”i just hope i can stay in them forever..”
”trust me love…i’ll make sure of it”
｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡
#{ my fics : 🤍 }#will ospreay#will ospreay x reader#will ospreay smut#aew#wrestling imagine#wrestling smut#aew imagine#aew wrestling#aew fanfiction#aew lb
69 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m dangerous ☆ chapter 1 ☆ COD fanfic
Originally posted on my AO3, where I post all my stuff. Always read the tags of my fanfics. MDNI
[chapter 1] ☆[chapter 2] ☆ [chapter 3] ☆ [chapter 4] ☆ [chapter 5]
☆ fem!reader x Kate Laswell ☆ explicit. MDNI. ☆ 1/10 ☆ 1,843 words
☆ Summary: You were a hacker and had been a thorn in the side of the 141 gang for a while, in particular as you tried to find out who the famous leader, Watcher, was. But they refuse to be blackmailed and won’t pay you.
So, to prove that you weren’t just bluffing, but were a serious threat to them, you kidnapped a random woman that you saw coming out from one of their meetings, figuring she was a secretary or girlfriend or something.
Oh, how wrong you were.
☆ Tags: au mob, gang, kidnapping, blackmailing, dub-con, angst, smut, death, grief/mourning, hacking, non-con drug use, bondage, spanking, kissing, rough sex, inaccurate portrayal of mob, more will be added.
☆ note: I’m trying to keep the reader’s appearance vague, but she is afab, chubby and has shoulder length hair. ☆ As for plot – I’m not sure if I saw the post on tumblr or tiktok and I cant find it lol, but it mentioned reversing the more classic fanfic plots. So for example, the main character isn’t kidnapped by a mob boss - but kidnaps the mob boss. So, that is what I started with and then I will freestyle along the way. ☆ There will be mention of chronic illness and death of a character, not a main one, but the reader's little sister, but I try not to go into details about the illness aspect (since I don’t know too much about that). There will be focus on grief and the loss of a sibling however, so if that triggers or makes you uncomfortable, maybe don’t read this one. ☆ dubious consent in the later chapters, that might border to non-con. ☆ Badly described hacking. I don’t know shit about hacking, I've studied things in the humanities category the last six years. So if a bad understanding of tech makes you upset, I'm sorry.
Being a hacker wasn’t as glamorous as you had expected when you were younger. After everything with your sister, you had expected things to change, sure, but not into this. Everything was even more of a mess than before and somehow you got into blackmailing. Which, well… When you hit the right people, it paid well.
And sure, you had felt strong at first. Like you were invincible, a vigilante who blackmailed rich and awful people. You needed the money more than them, after all. Yet, the clock kept ticking and you needed more money fast. You needed more money to pay the last of your debts off and run away.
Which was how you ended up like this, blackmailing the mob.
The 141 gang was infamous on the streets of London. Most people knew who you talked about and those who didn’t, were often tourists or recently moved to the town. Whether they were hated or loved, really depended on who you asked. Some people said they made their areas safer, so they now had less crimes - others said they were horrendous bastards, who acted above the law. In truth, you didn’t really care. You weren’t a model citizen yourself, running around and blackmailing people. All you cared about was the fact that they had money, lots of it and they were easy to blackmail, since they didn’t want to be exposed.
Now, threatening them with the local police? Wouldn’t do much, it had to be to everybody – and then all the journalists too. Sure, you didn’t really have the energy to mass email out all the proof you had, but the 141 didn’t need to know that. You had them believe that you were a small group of people anyways and not just… you.
You, out in the almost empty house, over 50 miles away from London. It was much more lonely out here now. Half a year ago, you and your sister lived out here in peace, happy with how everything was going despite her illness flaring up now and again.
Now it was empty and lonely. Sometimes, when the wind hit the house at the right angle, you could hear the cars from the nearby motorway.
Alas, the 141 thought you were a big and bad group of hackers, threatening to take their kingdom down - and sure, you had a lot of stuff of theirs that could be bad in the wrong hands. You had papers, screenshots and recordings from when you hacked into different security cameras. You had traced a lot of them too, you had evidence.
Now they just needed to pay.
So far, they hadn’t really been fun to play with. They refused, saying that you were bluffing. Saying that if they saw you, they were going to kill you, which wasn’t really nice of them. You doubted they couldn’t survive without 60,000 pounds. Sure, it was a lot of money - but you needed them too. A bit more, you dared to think. And for a whole mobster empire? Seemed like a good deal to you.
Besides, you were so curious that you wanted to die: Who was their boss? Nobody knew. Everyone had ideas and theories, sure, but the famous Watcher was still unknown, even to you - which bothered you so much. You had your own theories, your main one was that this Watcher was really just John Price.
No matter who the Watcher was - and how good your deal was - they were just so fucking stubborn. So, you needed to prove that you were serious. You didn’t really have the time to mess around and send them more photos or shit, so according to movies you saw - and google - it was time to step up.
Go from hacker to kidnapper. Which really hadn’t been a career plan of yours, but here you were.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
You had tracked one of them, the Scot that everyone called Soap, so that you could follow them from a distance. You weren’t stupid enough to actually try to shadow them. Despite them not hanging around the finest streets of London, your beat up van stuck out sometimes.
Plans? Sure, you had… some of those. At least, you knew what not to do.
First of all - You weren’t going to take Price, people were around him all the time anyways and if he was the leader as you suspected, that wouldn’t go well.
Secondly, all his men were out of the picture too. At least those who always hang around him, because some of their biceps were bigger than your face.
Third, you had to avoid a proper fight - so that meant waiting for the right moment. You had a taser, duct tape and you had some strong sedatives. You were going to hack your way out of fighting.
Fourth and final point so far - get away as fast as possible. You weren’t going to stick around.
So just… wait for the right person, then tase, inject, duct tape, drive away. It was fine. You had all the components, you just needed to put it all together, then blackmail the group, get the money, drop off the person and then get away.
Your van was blue and rusty, the engine was loud and all the back seats were taken out, since you had lived in it for a little while, outside the hospital. The mattress you used to have in the back was pulled away, since you needed it for the captive to sleep on inside the house. They would have to deal with being on the car floor for the trip - they would most likely be sedated anyways. Now there was just some trash in the back of the car that you should probably have cleaned up, but didn’t care to, since the car bore bad memories - as well as some small electronic pieces that you had picked up here and there, thinking you would need to use it for experiments.
As the group came to a stop at a pub you knew they went to sometimes, you went behind it and parked next to a bigger car, which hid your van a little. Then you waited.
You wore some of your more discreet clothing. The baby-metal band t-shirts were hidden beneath a grey hoodie, with the least monster energy drink stains on, and a pair of rugged jeans. If your sister had been here she would have rolled your eyes at you and said you looked like a teenager trying to be rebellious - and not a 25-year old woman. You missed being told that. Your hair was hanging loosely, hoping it would hide your face a little. Your septum piercing was tipped up and hidden, and you had changed your usual silver tongue piercing for a clear one. Though you doubted that it was your tongue piercing that would be damning evidence.
After waiting about 25 minutes you crawled over the seats rather inelegantly, opening the sliding door to turn towards the other car, for some fresh air.
You were tired, yet stressed at the same time. It was unnecessarily stressful to kidnap somebody, especially when you didn’t really want to.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
It was about a power nap and 30 minutes later, when you were ripped from your thoughts at the sounds of the back door opening and a female voice telling somebody that she needed her cigarettes. You tipped your head forward a little, seeing how she closed the backdoor behind her.
You had seen her before. She seemed to be near the others a lot of the time.
She looked in her 40s, with light brown hair that almost looked a little blond in the rare sunlight of London. Nicely dressed, a confident smile on her face as she pulled her car keys from her bag and the car right next to you lit up.
Maybe a girlfriend? Wife? Secretary?
No matter what, the chance was too good to be true.
Somehow you managed to catch her off guard as she seemed more focused on finding her cigarettes as she opened her car door – so that was when you struck, tasing her. Everything happened so fast - yet not fast enough at the same time.
You pushed the needle into her skin, as she groaned, clearly a little confused from being tased - and most likely from hitting your car floor - as soon as the contents were injected you pulled the needle out again. The woman groaned and grabbed your wrist, mumbling something. You pushed it off, grabbing the roll of duct tape you had prepared, pushing her onto her stomach. She wasn’t going without a fight though and you wanted to cry as she managed to pull her hand free. You needed the bloody drug to kick in this minute.
You sat down on her back, your weight useful - the work of wrapping her wrists together was honestly shit. YouTube made it look so much easier.
You ignored her as she began to curse you out. grabbing her bag, emptying the content on the floor of the car, eyes constantly flickering to her. She seemed confused - so you focused. There was an Apple air tag in it, that you hurriedly picked up. There was no phone though. You wanted to throw up, this was taking longer than it should.
She tried sitting up, having rolled onto her back again, your eyes meeting. Hers were cloudy, while yours were focused. You pushed her down again, hands running over her jacket. The moment your hand touched the familiar shape of a phone, your hand dug into the pocket, not even trying to be nice about it. She was mumbling about how what you were doing was wrong, but you didn’t need to be told that.
As soon as you got the phone, you got up and crawled in between the front seats, sitting down and starting the car. You needed to get the hell out of here, now.
The sound of the shitty engine drowned out her complaints. You drove off as quickly as you could, throwing her phone and the AirTag out in a couple of bushes that the car passed.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
It was several minutes later that you concluded that nobody was following you, which made you breathe a little easier.
As you waited for the green light, you looked over your shoulder, taking in the sight of the woman on the floor of your car, in between empty monster cans, cables and small electronics. She was laying quietly, but you could see her chest moving.
What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? You could feel an anxiety attack crawling along your ribs, threatening to overwhelm you.
As soon as the money was transferred, you dropped her off again - and then you could run, somewhere up north. Start somewhere fresh, where you don't know anybody. Where the 141 or bad memories couldn’t find you. Maybe get a dog.
First things first, however. You needed to get this whole kidnapping thing done.
#fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#my writing#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#kate laswell x reader#kate laswell#cod fanfic#cod mob au#boolger#call of duty Kate Laswell#cod smut#cod lesbian#cod reader#call of duty reader
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Duchess - A Sean Wallace/Sex Worker!Reader One Shot Story.
This mans has me feeling a certain way. Feral. So yes, you get to enjoy it, too!
Words - 1,810
Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!
Sean Wallace is a man who thrives on the exertion of control, in every aspect of his life. Every facet is subject to meticulous planning and detail, his time valuable. If you are in his life, you serve to him a purpose, otherwise you are merely a waste of time he could spend being productive elsewhere. He enjoys the finely tuned machine that is building his life with those who serve him well in a professional capacity, and this is exactly why he sees you twice weekly.
“I do not entertain the notion of dating or relationships. They're much too complicated. Way too time consuming.”
He told you this upon your first meet, when you inquired why he sought the services of a high-class escort.
“Trust me, you are exactly what I am searching for.”
You aim to please, and god, what a pleasure it is to please him. He’s young, he’s powerful and he’s incredibly handsome. And rich, wealthy enough to afford the high price tag attached to the services you provide. And goodness, how the man can fuck. Sometimes, you often think it should be you paying him for the way he so expertly pounds you into your bed.
Rarely do you enjoy yourself so honestly with a client, have the pleasure you give to him matched in such delicious reciprocation. With Sean, he never deviates from being anything short of an incredible lover.
‘Wear black tonight. You know I like you best in black.’
You tingle with anticipation at reading his text, knowing you only have mere hours to wait until your favourite client will arrive at your Wharfside apartment.
Once your makeup and grooming routine has been executed pristinely, black Victoria’s Secret underwear donning your freshly bathed body, a black Gucci dress chosen, and perfume spritzed strategically, you are ready. He doesn’t keep you waiting.
“Good evening, duchess.” Those words, delivered upon a silky-smooth, cut-glass accent causes heat to rise over your skin, Sean entering your apartment, waiting for you to lead him through to the bedroom. He always lets you lead. Why? So that his hands can wander over your body as your walk, appreciating the swing of your hips, the way the black cloth hugs your curves, to lay kisses upon the back of your neck as he closes the space between you.
Feeling the heat of his body against your back has a flurry of heat gathering between your legs, your dress eased down, his strong hands smoothing over the fabric of your underwear. “You look sensational, as always.” With his mouth at your neck, you feel mindless already, but not so much that you don’t notice him discreetly place a smooth, white envelope upon the shelf beside the bedroom door, your fee within for the transaction you would happily give him for free, should this not be your chosen profession.
It never feels like work with him, though.
You turn to him, his eyes a chilling freeze of blue, the angles of his face shadowed in the low light of the room. Some sex workers insist on no kissing, feeling such an exchange too intimate. You’ve always thought that to be nonsense, taking into mind the intimacy of penetration. A man puts his cock in you, but his lips may not meet yours?
No. Not in your bedroom.
Your mouths join in sensual exploration, his tongue rolling against yours as your fingers begin to work deftly to undress him, revealing the utter grandeur of his body. Lithe muscles concealed within the expanse of pale, freckle flecked skin delight your eyes, your tongue circling his nipple before you sit at the foot of your bed.
His thumb trails your lip as you look up at him, hands unfastening his belt, stripping him nude, perhaps the most impressive part of him already hard and waiting for your attentions. undoubtedly, he has the most perfect cock you’ve ever seen, and in your profession, you’ve seen many.
“How much extra would I have to pay you, to not use a condom?”
“You couldn’t afford it.”
“I’ve never been fond of those who presume they can dictate my finances. Will another five hundred suffice?”
“No.”
“Seven fifty?”
“No.”
“A thousand, and a letter from my doctor confirming a clean bill of health, STI wise?”
Never let it be said that Sean Wallace is not a skilled negotiator, that conversation between you many months ago the only reason why when your tongue runs in a slow, firm lick from the base to tip of his cock, there’s no latex barrier between them. He shudders, a breathy exclamation fluttering over his full lips as he feels the warmth of your mouth encase him, sliding down over his thick shaft, his fingers trailing your scalp as they comb through your hair.
With your mouth working in slow, wet tease and your fingernails gently trailing up and down his back, you have him winding tight in no time, his groans deep and full bodied. “You always look so very pretty, when you have my cock in your mouth.”
Watching you sucking upon him with such expert aplomb, his eyes the fall closed, his chest beginning to heave as his breaths shallow, the thick bulk of him twitching against your tongue. “Not that I do not adore your mouth, duchess, but for now, there is a place upon you that I wish to put mine even more.”
Sparks of anticipation flicker through you as he pushes you back onto the bed, his body covering yours, hands roaming as he begins to scatter kisses across your neck. His exploration is slow, careful, his mouth laying kisses to every part of your body revealed from the removal of your underwear, the heat of his skin searing. His mouth takes time to lower, his tongue swirling your navel as his hands bracket your waist, lowering, lowering.
You gasp softly, his tongue meeting the velvet of your cunt, dragging your slit firmly. A few more long, slow licks skim your folds, the hot roll of his tongue settling upon your clit, a radiance of pleasure blooming deep within you. Some men have no clue what on earth to do with a woman where pleasing her with their mouth is concerned; Sean is not one of them.
Closing his mouth around you, he sucks at you, pupils inking into the blue as he feels the honey of your cunt bathing his tongue, a grunt welling his throat, hands grasped firmly upon your hips. You can see him smiling around you, watching as you throw your head back and cry out, knowing your performance isn’t amped up for effect. It’s all him.
Your cries continue to sound the air in blissful sonnet, his tongue fluttering over your clit, featherlight licks making it swell, beating harder and faster, then back to gentle as the pleasure sears right to your marrow. You feel it settling deep, your core throbbing, purring with delight as your fingers skim through his hair, your back arching off the bed as you writhe against the heaven that is his tongue.
Wet heat works your bud with the kind of skill that leaves you breathless, fire chasing frost through your veins, the feel of his neatly trimmed beard prickling at where you are soft and soaking for him offering delicious friction. He pauses, teasing at you with his fingers before they push inside, hooking, his lips planting hot kisses against your inner thigh, watching you begin to fall apart for him.
The pleasure sparks like a flint strike, those little illuminations skittering over your nerves as he returns his tongue to you, gentleness gone as he lays keen, unrelenting licks across your clit. Pure ebullience beams brightly, your panting ascension chased by the punch of his fingers within the wet clasp of your cunt and the rapid flickers offered by a tongue that does not cease until you’re cresting hard for him.
Your hands fist the sheets beneath you, thighs skimming his face as your flames catch against his edges, your release a glittered explosion that leaves you breathless and hungry to be parted around his cock. Of course, he reads your need, pushing your legs apart before sinking himself into you, your walls flexing as he splits you wide, mouth closing around your nipple to suck keenly, his cock bottoming out and dragging back so deliciously slowly, you feel on the verge of tears.
Kissing the whimpers from your lips, he holds you beneath him, moaning against your tongue as he pushes forth again, gliding through the soaking mess of your cunt. He fills you entirely, mouth at your neck as strong snaps from his hips shock you, pulling out entirely, teasing you with the promise of him, chuckling at your frustration as he nibbles the soft skin of your throat.
“Does the duchess crave it, hmm?”
“Mmm,” you purr, stroking his handsome face, watching him catch your fingers between his lips and suck. “She always does when it’s you giving it.”
He moans a laugh, kissing you. “Correct answer.” The silken glide of him has you lost in ecstasy, his mouth touring the other side of your neck, tongue flickering where your pulse flutters madly, filling and emptying you steadily.
The rhythmic, contained pace is not set to last, the need with him coiling like an angry serpent as he gives each thrust with voracity, his short nails digging into your thighs as he sits back on his heels, watching how good it looks as his cock fills and enters you rapidly.
He arrows you thoroughly, every last inch of him sinking into the wet clutch of your cunt as you open for him, panting hard, your moans filling the room as he has you spread and helpless before him, fucking you like a jackhammer. He slows then, thumb languidly swirling over your clit, each thrust more contained, dragging sparks as he scrapes your walls, bending to suck your nipples in turn with an aroused grumble.
That slowness is abandoned once more, Sean railing you into the bed, loving the way you wail for him, hand stroking your cheek before he grasps your jaw in a strong grip, feeding you his thumb as he looks at you with uncontained lust. It escalates sharply, consummation rushing through you as lightning flickers at the base of your spine, striking home as he closes his eyes tightly and moans gutturally, spilling into you, thick ropes of cum warming your fluttering walls further.
You lie breathless against one another, knowing that all he needs is a whiskey and half an hour, and he shall be all over you again.
And he’s the one paying you. What satisfying work it is to be on the sexual payroll of a man both criminal in the streets, and between the sheets.
#sean wallace#sean wallace fanfiction#sean wallace smut#gangs of london#gangs of london fanfiction#gangs of london fanfic#sean wallace fanfic#sean wallace imagine#joe cole
113 notes
·
View notes
Text
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
44 notes
·
View notes
Text
Writer's Guild Cock Fight: Salt (Fic)
CW/TW: Explicit M/M sexual content, human AU, pining to lovers, (sensible) amounts of alcohol consumption, explicit discussion of consent. Additional tags on AO3.
Summary: Brief human AU in which they're (hopelessly smitten) coworkers. Anthony is moving on to a different job and Ezra is torn between being happy for him and sad about how much he'll miss him. The gang goes out to a club as Anthony's send-off; pining, confessions, and lots of loving ensue.
This is a GOAD smut war submission, please mind the rating and tags❤️
Excerpt:
He looks over to Anthony on instinct and is surprised to find Anthony looking back. His face quickly morphs into one of concern, and Ezra realises he is crying.
It won’t be the last time they meet, surely. They can still get lunch every once in a while, or go to the pub on a Friday. They’ve been to each other’s flats, and Ezra’s roommate, Muriel, loves Anthony. Surely they can make it work, keep it going, and maybe one day Ezra will be brave enough to tell Anthony that he is in love with him something fierce.
But what if they don’t? What if he never gets the chance?
Anthony deserves to know. Or maybe Ezra simply wants to tell him.
Anthony’s thumb strokes his cheek. Ezra looks at him with wide, teary eyes. When did he get so close?
Ezra hopes he’ll stay.
Do it again.
Read the full work on AO3
My eternal gratitude to betas LemonTart and MissUnderstoodLyrics who helped turn my late-night madness into readable content.
Picture is the view from Millenium Bridge in London, just down the road from the Globe Theatre (taken by me, while slightly tipsy from mead and good theatre). It loosely inspired the bridge scene in Salt.
#gomens#ineffable husbands#go2#crowley#aziraphale#good omens fanfic#my fic#aziracrow#crowley x aziraphale#alternate universe#goad smut war#goad#good omens after dark#fluff#good omens#good omens fanfiction
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
fic title: Daylight
summary:
As the head of the family business, Tommy always told his siblings to stay away from trouble and play clean. So imagine his shock when he found out that his baby brother, Finn, had been stealing things from Alfie Solomons, the leader of a notorious gang from London.
And imagine his shock, when said gang leader asked Tommy's hand in marriage to compensate for the amount that he had lost to Finn's behavior, completely rejecting anything else that was offered.
chapter: 9
word count: girl idk i lost count
status: on-going
notes: FINALLY, after nearly two months of NOT WRITING, i came up with this chapter. at this point i don't even know what to add to this story i just want to see tommy and alfie being happy and in love is that too much to ask [jk i have plans]. is it 1,6k words less than other chapters, u ask? yes it is. why? is that a problem? officer get them out of the building NOW! anyway as u can probably see i bombed the smut scene. it is not the most flattering, toe-curling, jaw-dropping smut i ever produced but hey i tried! and at least tommy and alfie is getting somewhere! <3 [i need someone to smack the shit out of me and throw me to the ocean istg]
and CAN I BE REAL FOR A SEC???? i LOVE writing alfie's pov because that means i can project the shit out of my cuteness aggression for tommy. like watch me write alfie as a bewitched, infatuated man whose whole personality is showering tommy with affection. yeah that's gonna be tumblr user elskiee projecting [contrary to popular belief, i am not fucking crazy!!! <3]
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Dilemma
Tommy Shelby x female reader x Jack Nelson
Summary: Tommy gets Jack’s mistress arrested for smuggling opium into Boston to give Jack a dilemma. After Jack fails to come to her aid, Tommy visits with an indecent proposal. What happens when this sugar baby gets in over her head with the heartless Birmingham gangster?
Author’s Note: This is based on a request I received from @shelbydelrey based on “Suga Daddy” by Noah Davis. I changed it a little when I got inspiration from the S6 scene between Tommy and Gina where he reveals he turned Michael in. In this fic, the reader, Jack’s mistress, is the one who gets arrested.
Warnings: 🔞, S6 spoilers, mention of drugs, language, imbalance of power, coercion, smut, dark themes
Moodboard credit: the talented @dearshelby
Tommy stood at a desk at the police station on Miquelon Island, clenching one gloved hand by his side and cradling the receiver with the other. He glanced out the window into the fog briefly as he explained, “There is a boat leaving the island now, heading across the border. When it docks at St. John’s a woman named y/n l/n will board a ferry to Boston. Listen very carefully. The woman is wearing a blue dress, a fur coat and carrying a small, black suitcase. Inside her case is five pound of pure, refined opium.”
Tommy assured the border patrol he was a concerned citizen named Mr. Jones. Two weeks after your arrest, there was a man by that name to see you in prison. You were curious to know who he was, but you hoped it was someone Jack had sent to bail you out. After a year by Jack’s side, you knew he would never leave you behind. You wanted to believe that anyway as you had no other recourse. Jack had to come for you or you’d spend the rest of your life in this filthy cell.
When the door swung open, you pushed your shoulders back haughtily and presented your wrists for the heavy metal handcuffs while looking away. You might be dressed like an inmate, but in your mind you held to your dignity, not wanting to show your jailers how they were chipping away at your morale.
You heard the mysterious Mr. Jones before you saw him. You tried to focus on the voice, but you didn’t recognize the British accent. You were unable to concentrate further as the woman leading you into the private room, pushed you along harshly making you stumble.
As you entered, you saw the dark haired man nod to the guard and everyone left the small windowless room. You looked over your shoulder nervously, aware you were suddenly alone with an intimidating man in a dark coat and cap. Although the room was dimly lit, you caught a glint of metal in his cap and your breath caught in your chest. He was a member of the Peaky Blinder, one of the gangs Jack had told you to stay away from. You hadn’t been afraid before, but now you were terrified.
The man broke the silence saying, “You’re more beautiful in person than Jack mentioned.” You backed away as much as you could without showing your apprehension.
“Where is Jack?” You demanded to know.
“Oh, he’s still in London making his import deals and I have a feeling that’s where he’ll stay. You see, I’ve given him a dilemma to see who he would choose and it’s clear to me now, as it should be to you, that he’s chosen his reputation over his affairs in South Boston,” Tommy said removing his hat so you could see his bright, blue eyes.
You stared at him mesmerized by the dangerous air about him. Something about questionable men had always intrigued and excited you. It was no wonder you had ended up with one of Boston’s most notorious gangsters.
“You’re wrong about that. He’ll bail me out soon,” you said confidently, wanting the man to know you were, in fact, very important to Jack.
The man chuckled darkly, “I don’t think so, sweetheart. I’ve seen his pictures in those high society magazines and you’re never with him. You’re his dirty little secret and I doubt he would risk the favor of the Oval Office for a simple whore.”
You knew he was trying to upset you and while the thought of Jack leaving you in prison made you angry, you didn’t want to show your hand. “So what do you want with a simple whore? If I’m no good without Jack, why are you here?” You asked and continuing with a cocky assuredness you proclaimed, “I know that you’re washed up too, you know? Jack says your organization is nothing but a back street razor gang no one wants to do business with anymore.” It was your bratty nature that Jack loved so much and you tortured the man in front of you as a way to honor him. You watched to see if your barb had the desired effect, but the man showed you no emotion whatsoever.
“Is that so? Well, this back street razor gang got you banged up smuggling opium because Jack Nelson never told you what was in that little case.” He waited a moment to see the look of betrayal wash over you. Feeling pleased with himself, he continued, “You might want to reassess your loyalties. Now, what do you say to a proper introduction? My real name is Thomas Shelby. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”
You gulped at the thought of standing before the infamous Mr. Shelby. He was revered as a man who was ruthless and unreadable. You tried not to let him see the effect his intimidation was having on you though. “Yeah, I know who you are. Maybe you’d like to explain why you’ve come before I get bored enough to call for the guard,” you bluffed, trying to rush him into revealing his hand.
Tommy remained silent as he took a cigarette from its case and lit it as though he had all the time in the world. You huffed at his affected air of boredom. After a long pause, he finally spoke. “My proposal is simple, love. I’ll bail you out if you agree to my terms.” You eyed him suspiciously, raising an eyebrow betraying your inner curiosity.
“You fall on your knees and open your mouth, say “yes, sir,” to him….Only difference is now it’ll be me.”
You wanted to slap him for suggesting such a thing. Although he was handsome and you might have considered him under different circumstances, you deeply resented the way in which he was blackmailing you. “I’d rather die here,” you said determinedly.
“Oh, yeah? By whose hand?” He tilted your chin to look at him, cigarette burning between his fingers perilously close to your cheek. You met his gaze fully for the first time glaring at him defiantly. He knew he had you cornered though. “Come with me and I’ll show you what it's like to live in style,” he boasted, pulling his hand away to take one last drag of his cigarette.
“What makes you think I’d choose you over Jack?” you asked incredulously. “He's a king in South Boston. No one can touch him,” you said proudly.
“Well, love, I hate to break this to you, but the balance of power between the Irish, the Jewish and the Italians will soon be shifting heavily in favor of the East. I have excellent contacts within the Solomons family who run East Boston. Your beloved Mr. Nelson will no longer be the king of anywhere,” he said as he crushed his cigarette under his foot for emphasis. “Besides, I think you already know your lover has left you here to rot so what do you have to lose, eh?” Tommy said with a smirk.
You wanted to unleash your emotions on him, but thought better of it. What if Tommy Shelby was now your only hope? He had just told you how Jack used you to smuggle drugs you knew nothing about and Tommy had outlined a good argument for why Jack would never return. In your precarious state, you had no choice but to believe him.
If you agreed to be Tommy's girl, you could get out of this disgusting prison and be treated like a woman again. You quickly weighed the options before nodding slowly. “Yes, I’ll come with you, but I warn you…I’m expensive” you said trying to bargain with him for the best outcome for yourself.
“Money’s not a problem, love. Now, let’s get you back to Birmingham,” Tommy said pulling on his leather gloves. You couldn’t believe how things had changed so quickly.
——————————————————————————————
Tommy was true to his word, bailing you out of prison the same day. The charges were quashed in no time and you were shipped back to England. Tommy moved you into his manor with staff at the ready. Although you missed Jack, Tommy tried to make you forget about him, outfitting you in the finest fashions from Paris and showering you with jewels. You began to see why Tommy Shelby was so revered as you couldn't deny the power and wealth he held.
Although you had your own room, you quickly understood that you couldn’t expect privacy. The first time he had sought you out in the middle of the night for a little stress relief, you were taken aback. Jack had normal sleeping hours and you were accustomed to snuggling into his chest sometime after midnight until six o’clock in the morning. Tommy Shelby did not have any sort of set schedule as far as you could tell. He rarely slept and never ate meals with you. However, he expected you to be ready for him at all times.
One early morning after you had been asleep for some time, he entered your bedroom making his way over to your sleeping form. You awoke to his muscular torso balancing above you and you gasped at the sudden feel of his weight resting on you. Looking at the clock you protested, “It’s four am, Mr. Shelby,” voice still full of sleep. He ignored your yawn and began to unbutton his trousers.
“Thought I made it clear it doesn’t matter what time of day, you’d be available to me,” he said continuing to undress. He kissed you as he rid himself of his clothing, guiding your hand to his erect cock. You pumped him languidly, still waking up fully.
He dipped his head to your neck and bit a bruise into your soft skin as you yelped. “Love your reaction when I do that, love,” he said voice full of mischief. He pulled away from your touch with a groan so he could undress you. Your nightie wouldn’t come loose on the first try so he hastily ripped it open, impatient to take your breast into his mouth. You tilted your head back in pleasure, gripping the back of his head. You had to admit that Tommy was an amazing lover, but you didn’t want to voice that to him. His ego was big enough already.
When Tommy was done ravaging you, he stood to leave and you looked at him forlornly. “Aren’t you going to stay?” You asked concerned.
“I’ve work to do, just needed a break, sweetheart,” he said dressing quickly. You dipped your head, afraid you’d showed your fondness for him too soon.
“That’s good, I wanted to get some rest,” you said coldly, lying to him.
“Alright then,” Tommy said closing your bedroom door. You sat up the rest of the night wondering if this was how it was going to be between you. Jack had at least made you part of his life, taking you out on the town and discussing his business with you. You knew Tommy was not going to treat you in the same manner. He was only interested in keeping you like a toy in a box.
You wondered if there was anything you could do to change that. Then you remembered the valuable information you held. Knowing you had something more powerful than sex to offer Tommy, your new plan to win his affection began to take shape. You would tell him what Jack had planned. You were certain that would win him over. It also came with the allure of exacting revenge on Jack for cruelly leaving you in prison.
—————————————————————————————————
One night as you were getting ready for bed, you heard Tommy arrive home. Peeking out from your bedroom, you realized there were no maids lurking in the halls. You were usually intercepted by his staff who had been given instructions to keep you away unless he called for you. Tonight you would have the opportunity to approach him. You tiptoed downstairs to Tommy’s office carefully. He greeted you when you when you reached the threshold, having heard the creaking floorboards outside. “Good evening, y/n, What are you doing down here?”
You walked towards him slowly trying to find the words necessary to reveal the valuable information you held. You decided to get right to the point, “Tommy, I’ve been thinking that I might be of more use to you than you realize. I know things about Jack’s business that he never told anyone else. I could help you if you’d like,” you said waiting anxiously for his reply.
Tommy nodded his head slowly asking you to continue. While he wasn’t as grateful as you had hoped, you could tell what you were saying interested him. He asked a few questions and you answered them as best you could. You must have done something right because he began to smile. You felt a warmth come over you thinking this was the beginning of a real partnership between you. However, as you were daydreaming, Tommy’s mind had wandered elsewhere.
“Need you to use that beautiful mouth to help me relax now, love. Come ‘ere,” he said reaching a hand for you. When you came close he grabbed your hair harshly and wrapped it around his fist, forcing you to the ground. He didn’t give you much time to think or protest as he freed himself from his trousers and placed his length on your tongue. He never let go of your head as he forced you to take him into your throat over and over. Your scalp burned and your knees hurt from his harsh treatment. He was far more rough than Jack had ever been. And although there was something exciting about his raw sexuality, you couldn’t help but think it was nothing without love.
You didn’t have time to ponder Tommy’s fondness for you as he was quickly reaching his end. He instructed you to swallow and you did obediently, watching his eyes close in pleasure. As soon as he was done with you, he wiped a thumb across your bottom lip and you swore you saw affection in his eyes. You thought he might say a kind word as he tucked himself away, but he remained silent as he did so many times after he had used you. As he collapsed in his office chair he said, “You can go now,” dismissing you with a wave of his hand.
You’d never felt like more of a whore and it infuriated you. You couldn’t help the fire rising in you as you spit out, “You use me and then you send me away. I thought we’d have a relationship, Tommy.”
Tommy sighed heavily, “Yeah, well, this is what you agreed to,” he reminded you. You suddenly realized how ridiculous you must sound considering your arrangement began purely as a financial one, but you were entitled to change your mind now that you had lived with such a difficult man.
“No, not this way….you never talk to me to ask how I am or to say thank you,” you said gesturing toward your bruised knees.
“That’s what the money’s for, sweetheart,” he retorted, lighting up a cigarette. You pursed your lips in frustration and stormed out knowing Tommy wouldn’t follow. You’d had enough of his moodiness for one night.
———————————————————————————————-
You woke the next morning to Frances’s soft voice, “Mr. Shelby asked for you to dress and meet him downstairs by nine, ma’am.” She crossed the room to select the new outfit Tommy had bought for you. You made yourself presentable and descended the stairs to find Tommy waiting for you.
“You requested my presence, your majesty,” you said sarcastically.
Tommy rolled his eyes at your comment, replying, “We have an important meeting at the office. Hurry up,” and exited the house without waiting for you.
You didn’t speak on the drive into town and you wondered why you were suddenly being asked to accompany him for business. You thought maybe he was taking you seriously after all. However, when you arrived at Shelby Company Limited, you realized you were there for one purpose only.
Jack Nelson was escorted into the room soon after and his face dropped at the sight of you on Tommy’s arm. You gulped wondering what he must think seeing you with his rival. If Jack was upset by your new partner, he didn’t show it. He kissed your hand like the gentleman you remembered him to be. Then you sat listening to him conduct business in the same confident way he always did.
You found yourself admiring him from across the table, missing the days when you sat next to him. Your mind had wandered to your memories of the mischief you caused together. He was particularly skilled at getting you worked up in public. His favorite past time was fingering you under the table as you sat on his lap. Closing your eyes to savor the thought of him pleasuring you, you heard the men conclude the meeting and you were thrust back into reality.
Jack was yelling at Tommy and then he looked over at you pointing a finger, “And fuck you too, y/n!” Your eyes went wide as you realized Tommy had used the information you’d given him to ruin Jack. You instantly regretted your foolish decision, but realized there was nothing that could be done now.
Jack stormed out of the office without another word and you eyed a triumphant Tommy. Feeling ill about your choice to knowingly betray Jack, you pushed away from the table and rushed outside after him.
“Jack! Jack, wait I want to explain…” you called after him. Jack turned to you with a steely gaze. You were taken aback by the loss of light in his eyes. Without a better plan, you resorted to seduction to get him to warm to you. Gathering your courage, you sauntered up to him and ran a manicured finger down his tie. While you looked him in the eye, you licked your lips before saying, “I’m sorry about all this. But you gotta know I missed you so much, baby. Take me home to Boston so I can make you feel good again.”
You reached your hand out to brush his and he pulled away from you in disgust. “I hope you like this shithole, doll, because this is the only home you have now.”
His harshness hurt you and you retaliated with heated indignation, “You left me in prison, Jack! How can you blame me for the things I had to do to survive?” It wasn’t exactly true as you had enjoyed some of your time with Tommy, but you missed the way Jack used to care for you and you were desperate for his love.
“I would have gotten you out, you know that, y/n. Instead you gotta go shack up with this asshole?” He rubbed a hand over his face as though he were suddenly very tired of arguing. “You broke my heart,” he said truthfully. “I’d be a goddamn fool to trust you again.” Upon hearing his feelings, you slid down the brick wall slowly, all energy draining from you as you realized he wouldn’t take you back.
Jack towered over you and said menacingly, “If you show your face in Boston again, I’ll kill you.” You knew this was his reaction to being hurt, but you also knew his words carried weight. No one crossed Jack Nelson.
As you watched him walk away to his car, Tommy appeared in front of you. “Are you ready to go home?” He said looking uninterested in anything except his cigarette.
“Arrow House isn’t my home,” you said letting a tear escape down your cheek.
“Well, you’ve nowhere else to go now that Boston is off limits. I think Mr. Nelson put an end to that particular dilemma.” Tommy said coldly. He pulled you to your feet and lead you to his waiting car, ready to take you back to your misery. You had played a dangerous game switching loyalties and now you had to suffer the consequences.
-------------------------------------------------
Tag list: @look-at-the-soul, @retromafia, @violaobanion, @julyzaa, @tommydoesntpayforsuits, @alanadetigy, @wandawiccan60, @kpopgirlbtssvt, @celticmelody, @lovemissyhoneybee, @theshelbyslimited, @severewobblerlightdragon, @kittycatcait219
#Peaky Blinders fanfic#Peaky Blinders imagine#Tommy Shelby fanfic#Tommy Shelby imagine#Jack Nelson fanfic#Jack Nelson imagine#Tommy Shelby x reader#Jack Nelson x reader#Peaky Blinders S6 spoilers#cillian murphy
364 notes
·
View notes
Note
ok so im not sure if this will make any sense, but i was wondering if you had any recs for like,,,big fics
an example would be "the time before" or "a memory of eden"
fics that are multi chapter, have a long over arching plot, preferably ones that involve the whole season 1 gang (anathema, newton, the them etc.)
sorry if that made no sense!!
(oh also any sort of relationship between aziraphale and crowley is fine. i dont mind. maybe preferably fics with no smut but it doesn't matter really)
thanks!!
You’ll want to check our #long fic and #apocalypse buddies tags for more fics like this. You didn’t specify if you wanted to avoid AUs or not (because there are loads of those), so I’ve stuck to canon-compliant. Here you go...
Earthbound Creatures by IneffableToreshi (T)
In burning Agnes Nutter's second book of prophecies, Anathema and Newt discover a mysterious page that refuses to go up in flame. Atop it is written a poem which neither, at that time, can hope to understand.
Something is happening, wheels are turning, and neither Heaven nor Hell are wont to forgive and forget. An Angel and a Demon are very much in danger of losing one another.
Keep Yourself Alive by Jlocked & The_Lady_of_Purpletown (T)
The Apocalypse didn’t happen, and Aziraphale and Crowley's respective Offices have been dealt with. For now. This should be a time for celebration and enjoying their life on Earth. But it seems Heaven has a different Plan for Aziraphale, and Crowley might not be able to solve this.
Meditations on Domestic Bliss by wordsphoenix (NR)
Everyone is alive. Time for an angel and a demon to start doing some living. Preferably in close proximity and with deeper significance than the friendship previously mentioned, since feelings are very much allowed now that Aziraphale and Crowley are aligned with emotionally-driven creatures, and, more importantly, each other.
Good Endings by WyvernQuill (T)
A Narrative of Certain Events following the Ending of the World (Except Not Quite), as vaguely hinted at in The Slapdash and Not Very Helpful Prophetic Tidbit of Agnes Nutter, Witch (And Matchmaker.)
"Their lives are in horrible, terrible danger that only we can save them from!" Anathema held up the Prophetic Tidbit. "It says so. Right here."
Madame Tracy peered at the page.
Raised a meaningful eyebrow.
"Dearie, as a woman of, well, considerable experience, I really don't think that's what 'the lyttle Deathe' means in this context..."
"Huh." Anathema squinted. Flipped the page. Read another bit. "....huh."
(Or, alternatively: Eight - give or take - matchmakers trying really, really hard, honest; two clueless ethereal/occult beings mutually pining their endless days away; and one witch, who can't leave well enough alone when it comes to matters of the heart, no matter how many centuries ago she died.)
Time is the Longest Distance by Beckers522 (M)
Six months had passed since the world hadn't ended and life was good. Life was more than good. It was more than nice. Life on Earth, here in his little corner of London, here with Crowley by his side was absolutely wonderful. Until the day that it wasn't. Until Aziraphale walked into Crowley's flat to find his best friend mysteriously discorporated with both Heaven and Hell staying silent on the matter. With Crowley trapped in Hell and Aziraphale unable to reach him, the pair set off to find their way back to each other. They will have to fight against Heaven, Hell, and Time itself to make their way back into each others arms once more.
This is a full-length story based off the comic by the wonderfully talented Lei_sam. If you have not seen it yet, you need to go check it out. Link in the notes section.
Love is a Temporary Madness by Beckers522 (T)
"They'll leave us alone, for a bit. If you ask me, both sides are going to use this as breathing space, before the big one."
"I thought that was the big one."
"No. For my money, the really big one is going to be all of us against all of them."
"What? Heaven and Hell against...humanity?"
The Apocalypse has come and gone, but Heaven and Hell aren't satisfied. They'd tried and failed to enact their revenge once. Perhaps it is time to try a different strategy.
And the two you mentioned (I assume--please include authors and/or links as well as titles!)...
A Memory of Eden by ImprobableDreams900 (M)
When Crowley gets captured by angels and dragged up to Heaven, Aziraphale knows he has to rescue him—no matter the consequences.
The Time Before by M4R4N14MH (G)
The Apocalypse is not long over and Aziraphale is looking forward to a life free of Heaven and Hell and, most importantly, full of a certain Anthony J. Crowley.
That is, until reality attempts to set in again. Now Angels and Demons are being murdered, Heaven and Hell are in disarray, and Aziraphale reunites with a friend older than God Herself.
Alpha Centauri has never looked so welcoming, in Crowley’s opinion.
- Mod D
75 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hello all, welcome to my blog. I’m Sam (she/her) I’m an aspiring writer, based in London, UK 🇬🇧
I also have my own baking business called Bee’s Treats, follow @beestreatsldn on Instagram for details.
I write about; Eddie Munson, Bucky Barnes, Joel Miller, Steve Harrington and Andy Barber. I’m willing to try for other characters if requested.
Feel free to send me a DM or ask if you have any requests or comments, or even just for a chat. I’m always open to making new friends
I am neurodivergent and sometimes it’s a while between my posts as I can’t always focus to write; but I promise I will finish stories once my mean mean brain allows me to.
This blog is a safe space for all
Minors be gone! My fics are 18+
Here is my Masterlist with all my current fics and blurbs included, I hope you enjoy!
Feel free to share.
Click here to fill out my taglist application
💕 Fluff
🔥 Smut
🥀 Angst
💀 Horror
🎭 Drama
Read my Fic Recs list here
Series
Love Ain’t No Stranger - (complete)
🥀 🔥 💕
You and your friends spend most of your days, with everything nerdy. You’re the only girl in the group, but they never treat you differently. That is until prom comes around and Eddie starts feeling strange when you’re asked to prom by someone that isn’t him. Could Eddie be jealous?
Long Way Home- (Ongoing)🥀 💀
After Eddie’s battle with the demobats, his injuries are severe and the gang needs help. As Dustin’s ex-babysitter, and a studying nurse they bring him to you. Can you save him? And will Eddie escape Henry’s grasp and find his way back to you?
In My Dreams- (complete)🥀💀💕🔥
Your parents have an issue with you dating the town “freak” Eddie Munson, so they force you apart but you and Eddie can’t stop thinking about each other. You’re invading each others dreams so maybe it’s not just a “silly crush” like your parents think.
One Shots
Is This Love?- (complete)🔥 💕
Eddie’s band Corroded Coffin is playing a gig at the Metro Club in Chicago, Illinois. You’ve been a fan since you saw them perform at your middle school talent show, around that time you’d developed your crush on Eddie. Unbeknownst to you, Eddie had also been harbouring a secret crush on you for years. Will he finally shoot his shot?
Tragic Comic- (complete)🥀 🔥 💕
You and Eddie have been best friends for years, lately you feel like something is bothering him. When an unexpected visitor arrives in Hawkins to take advantage of Eddie, he finds out you’ve got his back after you stand up for him.
You - (coming soon)🥀 🔥 💕
You and Eddie have been friends for years, both being outcasts and neither having much family, you instantly clicked. Now however, feelings have developed, on your part anyway. When Eddie leaves you alone in his trailer to make a deal, you grab ahold of his guitar and pour your feelings out in a song.
Drabbles/Blurbs/Imagines/HCs
Sleeping Trouble- (posted)💕
You get awoken in the middle of the night by your silly affection starved boyfriend.
This is Halloween- (posted)💕
It’s almost your favourite time of year, which also happens to be your birthday. Eddie wants to know… trick or treat?
Foreclosure- (coming soon)
One shots
The Secret (posted)🔥
You’re having a nice summer’s day relaxing in the park with your friends; Nancy, Robin, Steve, Jonathan and Argyle. And there’s some sexual tension between you and Steve. Especially after he sees you in that sundress.
The Boss- (Complete)🔥💕
Mile High- (complete)🔥
The Assistant (On hiatus)🔥🎭
You move into a new neighbourhood to discover you have a very hot guy next door; some innocent watching turns into something more, then you discover something about him that could put your new job in jeopardy.
One 🥀 🔥
Bucky struggles with his feelings toward you, which he hides by pretending he doesn’t trust you. You get placed on a mission together where trust is essential.
Perfect- (posted)🔥💕
Reader and Joel Miller have been friends for quite a long time, but been apart due to moving away. They finally reconnect after a year apart when one surprises the other with a unscheduled visit. Their reunion goes way different than either of them anticipated.
The Train- (posted)
Blind Date -(cancelled)
Dividers and headers made by me
All links are fixed!!
Feel free to send messages and asks, I love talking to y’all.
REQUESTS OPEN
#eddie munson#stranger things#eddie munson x reader#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson smut#eddie muson x you#Joel Miller x reader#Bucky Barnes x reader#Steve Harrington x reader#Andy Barber x reader#smut#18+ only#Joel Miller#Bucky Barnes#Steve Harrington#Andy Barber
156 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
lazerfennec-blog
l a z e r f e n n e c
priorityart
PriorityArt
thevirtualwerewolf
Thinking out loud
sciles2
such is the tragedy of stars;
homkamiro
homka