#he got the nickname of angel of death | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toruro · 10 months

Text

— ✧ bark (like a dog)

a part of new rules ... a svt performance unit x mafia au series !

description. kwon soonyoung is hot. he's fucking smoking, but also painfully out of your reach—being your father's main hitman assistant means that, by the books, he's pretty much off limits. but then again, when did silly stuff like rules ever stop you?

genre. smut (18+), brief angst, mafia au

warnings/tags: PLEASE READ! mentions of murder & death bc hoshi is a hitman, descriptions of blood, reader is daughter of mafia boss, mean dom hoshi, gun play (unloaded), or4l (m receiving), jealousy, sp4nking, breath control, praise kink, blindfolds, th1gh r1iding, pet names (princess, angel, good girl), consent is SEXY

w/c: 7.3k

a/n: thank u @gyuswhore for proofreading hehe ... anyways this is like smut w a hint of plot. sorry not sorry my head's been so full of him

You don’t get nervous.

Not when you overhear your father talking about some risky new plans and not when you go out and know there’s a target on your back.

Not when you snuck out your apartment tonight without your bodyguard to just pop into the galleria that you heard some of your father’s men talking about. Which, by the way, you totally didn’t do because one of them mentioned Kwon Soonyoung being there. Yeah. Totally not.

You weren’t nervous when you waltz into the galleria, in some pretty dress pants and a cute black t-shirt that may or may not have been showing a lot more skin than your father likes. The night was going great, honestly. Fantastic, even.

Until your eyes landed on the very reason you even decided to come here. Kwon Soonyoung.

Again, you don’t get nervous. It’s simply not in your DNA.

So why does having this man next to you make your vision bleary and heart heavy?

“Did you like it?” you murmur, toeing at the grass beneath you with bare feet. You’re at your father’s house now. Soonyoung caught sight of you after you caught sight of him laughing with another woman, which totally shouldn’t have bothered you but you felt green boil in your stomach anyways.

And you watched her lead him into some other hallway with a man and then Soonyoung was gone. He was doing whatever he does, you know? You don’t want to pry into his work, but seeing as he’s your father’s favorite man, it’s kind of hard to avoid the truth.

Soonyoung was definitely just doing his job. Talked to the woman, peppered a few kisses on her cheek to butter her up, got her to introduce to a man who was maybe probably definitely his target, and then he walked out again, fixing his coat over his shoulders as he returned alone. He took you home after that.

You squirm just at the thought. Nightly zephyrs pinch at your skin as you stand in the backyard, but as you feel Soonyoung’s gaze burn into the back of your head, your body warms nonetheless.

Even turned away from him, you can practically feel the way his eyebrow cocks up. “Like what?”

You scoff and roll your eyes even though you know he can’t see you. Oh well, he probably knows anyway. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not sure I do, angel,” he replies without hesitation. Your mind races at the nickname, not because you think it’s a term of endearment, but because you’re almost sure that he’s mocking you. Angel. Fuck, everyone knows you’re anything but a damn angel, and you’d be an idiot to think Soonyoung meant anything other than to belittle you right now.

“Sure,” you mutter dryly, running one hand down your face, before turning around to face him. Kwon Soonyoung is hot, as always, with his dark messy hair falling right over his eyebrows, one of which has a little slit carved into the edge, his plump lips and sharp eyes that watch you carefully.

Even under the dim light of the night sky, he seems to glow beneath the moon.

“Are you going to be all pouty like this for the rest of the night?” When you don’t respond, he huffs loudly. You don’t want him to be annoyed with you, but you cross your arms over your chest and press your feet into the soil stubbornly anyways. “Am I going to have to call Taehyun to drive you home?”

“What, you don’t want to bother doing that yourself?” you snap. Fuck, you don’t even know why you said that. It isn’t Soonyoung’s job to take care of you in any way. Sure he indirectly does that by heeding your father’s order—by killing off any threats when they pop up, but nowhere in his title’s description does it say he needs to take you home, to coddle you, to watch over you.

“You want me to take you home?” he asks, and you want to fucking strangle him because if it wasn’t painfully obvious, then to make it clear once more, yeah you want him to take you home. You want him to pull you to his car and press a hand on your thigh and then creep it up your legs until your squirming under his touch and—

You need to stop getting ahead of yourself. Your relationship is—god, you want to say it’s professional, but you can’t even call it that. You and Kwon Soonyoung, your relationship is somehow both less and more than professional.

It’s so intimate—he’s your father’s most loyal worker, he’d go to any lengths to keep your family, to keep you, safe. And yet, even after you’ve seen the blood on his clothes and the imprint of his gun in his pants, he’s a stranger.

Not because you don’t know his favorite color, or because he doesn’t know what kind of food you like, but because even as a million thoughts run through your head, you’re pretty sure he can’t figure out a single one of them.

Finally, you speak up, reverting the topic without answering his question. “Do you really not know what I’m talking about?” Your voice is smaller this time.

“Are you trying to play a guessing game with me?”

Your glare hardens on him. “Fuck you,” you spit out, and Soonyoung puts his hands up in a surrendering motion. “The galleria—did you have fun? Did you like it?”

“Well angel, I hate to break it to you but I was just doing my job. Not that you would know, since you’ve never had to work a damn day in your life, but I don’t necessarily love my job. So if that’s what you want to know, then I guess you have your answer.”

“And with her? Did you—”

“What are you talking about?” he cuts you off harshly, and you’re slightly taken aback by the way his voice booms louder.

“Didn’t know kissing pretty women was a part of your job,” you murmur gruffly before finally making your way to the door that leads back into the house.

“Where’re you going?”

“I also didn’t know that keeping track of where I’m going was a part of your job.”

“You’re not making any damn sense right now, I hope you know that.”

Slipping on some socks, you go on, “Is listening to me a part of your job too? If not, I suggest you just leave me alone and—”

“God, what the hell are you goin’ on about, with all this job shit? Since when did you care about what I do to get a job done?”

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” you conclude, going to open the door before Soonyoung’s hand stops you.

“Stop being a brat,” he hisses, causing you to press your lips together tightly.

“I am not being a brat,” you scoff, ripping your arm away from him. “If anything, you’re the attention seeker who—”

“Excuse me? I’m sorry, attention seeker?”

“Well you were basically throwing yourself at that woman and—” Your breath hitches when you realize what you’ve just said, and you slap a hand over your mouth as you look down.

Soonyoung clicks his tongue, but it’s not as disappointed as you except … if anything, he sounds … sorry. “What do you want from me? You know it’s my job.”

You scoff, shoving your head in your hands out of humiliation. “I think you know exactly what I want from you,” you mutter. Now you’re not really sure what you’re expecting from Soonyoung but it’s definitely not his strong hand on your wrists, forcing you to look up at him.

“Do you want me to take you home or not?”

You look at him, mortified at the bluntness of his suggestion.

“I—what?”

“Look, you’re not very discreet and—”

“Oh my god, stop talking. I need to go and—”

Soonyoung grabs your face. It’s gentle, but his touch is firm and his eyes don’t break away from yours for a moment. His fingers press into the plush of your cheeks, and there’s a both nerve-wracking and alluring aura to it.

“Let’s take you home, or I tell your father where you were last night. How you left your cozy little apartment without your dear Mr. Choi who, if I recall, is supposed to accompany you wherever you go.”

You gape at him—there is no way he’s threatening you right now. You blink once, and then twice, and Soonyoung’s gaze remains unwavering.

Fuck.

Which is how you find yourself seated patiently on Soonyoung’s couch, thighs pressed together and hands on your knees cutely as you watch him fill up a glass of water. You wonder if he can hear the beating of your heart.

If he can, he doesn’t comment on it, instead breaking the silence when he walks over to you, “I hope you know what you’re signing yourself up for.”

You grin immediately. “Some fun, of course,” you reply, mentally marveling at your own wit.

Soonyoung fucking laughs at you. His eyes are peering down at you carefully as he juts the glass of water to you, and he doesn’t have to say anything for you to know that you should just take the damn glass and drink.

His gaze doesn’t waver when you bring the glass up to your lips, slowly but surely downing all its contents and letting the cool water attempt to put out the flames that burn in your stomach. “Good job,” he murmurs, smoothing one hand over your head when you place the glass on his coffee table, the simple but impactful words sending shivers down your spine.

Making the risky decision to test your luck once more, you bat your lashes and bring your arms closer together in front of you so that your tits bunch up, giving Soonyoung a perfect view from above. “So? When’s the fun gonna start?”

Something in his eyes darkens, but you choose to ignore it as Soonyoung slips his dark work coat off, letting it fall behind him on the coffee table. What follows is a heavy thud and clank and your stomach churns at the thought of what caused such a sound.

“Listen,” Soonyoung says, his voice firm but not as demeaning as before. “I need to know where your head is at.” he pauses.

You pout and then raise a challenging brow. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

Soonyoung chuckles, and reaches back for his coat, rummaging through the inner pockets for a moment as your blood runs cold in realization. He unsheathes a heavy black gun from the dark fabric, holding it close to his dress shirt as he smooths a finger over the barrel.

You try to move your fingers but they’re frozen in place as he watches the look on your face contort into some odd look of awe.

“Let me rephrase that,” Soonyoung murmurs. “I need to know how far you’re willing to go.”

The air is stuck in your throat and your lungs squeeze and writhe for some semblance of sanity, but the way his thick fingers caress the heavy metal of the gun has your vision going blurry. He’s tracing over all the dips, the curves, the crevices, and you can only imagine what it’ll feel like if you had the cool, heavy, pistol pressed against your skin while Soonyoung’s fingers are all over you.

Your eyes are clouded, and he stills for a moment, subtly sliding the gun past his side and hiding it behind his back with one hand, using the other to grab your chin and tilt your head so you’re craning your neck to look up at him.

“So be honest with me right now.”

He doesn’t say it, but you know what he’s asking for. You don’t have to think about your answer, not one bit, and that’s because through everything, you trust Soonyoung. You trust him with your life, and you trust him with more.

“I’m willing to do whatever you want,” you tell him almost immediately. There’s no hesitation, no apprehension—Soonyoung knows when he looks you in the eye and he swears he feels his heart grow ten times in his chest when your pupils dilate.

Slowly, he brings his hand from his back to the front, the grip of the gun pressing back against his lower abdomen as he squeezes your cheeks together with his other hand. Your lips bunch together in a pucker and he pinches the bottom lip for a moment, rubbing the pads of his fingers against the drool that slides down his chin.

“That’s a pretty bold statement, princess,” he finally says, a sharp clicking sound resonating through the room when he shifts the gun in his hand.

“I can take it,” you insist through squished lips, looking up at Soonyoung with some kind of determination that boils his blood with pure passion.

“You’re confident …” he mutters, holding the gun close to your cheek, pressing the cold metal against your warm skin. You can’t be sure if action helps you cool down or only heats you up anymore, but a wanton whimper escapes your lips and suddenly you have your answer.

Soonyoung watches how you swallow at the contact, fingers quivering by your side and he lets his hand relax for a second, holding the gun by his side. “It’s unloaded.”

“I-I wouldn’t care either way,” you mumble, slightly annoyed that Soonyoung dropped his hand. “I trust you.”

Soonyoung smiles, letting go of your cheeks and instead gripping the back of your neck, running his thumb up and down your collarbone. “It’s okay to be scared, angel. Two taps to stop,” he tells you, pointing at his wrist.

You roll your eyes tentatively, unsure if it’s the right move. When Soonyoung quickly presses the muzzle against your lips, you deduct that rolling your eyes was, in fact, the best thing you could have done.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he mutters, feigning discontent as he tries to ignore the way his dick twitches in his work pants when you part your mouth and let the gun sink further into your mouth.

The taste of metal on your tongue is unfamiliar, and frankly the hardness of the gun is quite uncomfortable but when you press your tongue against the base of the barrel, and swirl it over the sides, you imagine it’s Soonyoung’s cock in your mouth instead.

He’s steadying you with his hand pressed at your neck, holding the gun at an angle above you without moving it. The sight of you sucking and struggling, drool dripping down your chin and skin flushing—he’s in heaven he swears.

Cute eyes looking up at him with such desperation, pleading with him silently because you can’t speak—not with the way his gun is stuffed between your pretty lips. “Fuck, how does it feel princess?” he groans at just the image alone.

You’re silent, because of course, how could you say a thing. The only sounds that bounce off the walls are the filthy slurping of your tongue and the hollowing of your cheeks, tears peeking from your waterline as Soonyoung presses the gun further down your mouth, the now slick barrel sliding easily past your teeth.

Your jaw aches and you gag as you adjust to the feeling, but the reality of it all starts to hit you, and it’s dizzying. Soonyoung—fuck, he’s here in front of you with his gun shoved down your throat and you’re looking up at him like he has all the answers to the universe and more.

And more is exactly what you want, and Soonyoung can tell because even as squeaks erupt from your throat and your fingers tremble when they fly up and grip at his thigh, you don’t pull away and you don’t tap out.

It’s worrying for a moment, because here you are with tears streaming down your cheeks but he can hear your silent pleas of don’t stop, please, please, please, don’t stop, and he feels he might go insane at the thought that you’re just as deranged as him.

“So pretty,” he praises, and you press your lips down and whine at the way the words have your cunt throbbing. Slowly, Soonyoung starts to pull the gun out of your mouth, your jaw going slack at the feeling of your tongue being free, but your face is on fire and you just need to do more.

You continue to lap against the gun, swirling it over the circular muzzle when he’s just about pulled it out all the way, not breaking eye contact with Soonyoung for even a moment. It’s addicting, the way he watches you—bottom lip lodged between his own teeth and jaw clenched tight as he imagines it’s his cock inside your mouth instead.

“God fuck, you’re insane,” he says when you kiss the side of the barrel one last time before he carefully places the pistol behind him. For the first time tonight (and ever, for that matter), Soonyoung kisses you. He grabs your warm face and leans down to smash his lips against your swollen, tired mouth.

You’re fatigued already, he can tell, and takes this as his chance to press his tongue against yours and explore the very mouth that sucked against his gun just moments earlier. He can still taste the metal on your tongue, letting your lips melt together as one for just a moment before pulling away.

He can tell there’s a complaint threatening to leave your lips, but he makes sure it shrivels when he shoots you a knowing look. “You deserve a reward, don’t you think? Did s’good for me …”

You nod eagerly, and Soonyoung is thoroughly surprised by how quickly you’ve bounced back, trailing his fingers down from your face to your waist, pulling you up to stand on your feet. Your legs are wobbly and for a moment, you stumble forward but Soonyoung catches you, his arm steadily belted around your hips.

“Already done?” he asks, but it’s more of a tease than anything. Still, you take it as a challenge and shake your head as he leads you to his bedroom. It’s dimly lit, only the moon through the window and its reflection against a mirror leading you the way to his bed as he hops on, laying back as you stand by the foot of the bed.

He raises a brow. “What are you waiting for? Strip.”

“W-what?”

Soonyoung is still fully clothed, legs spread slightly as he hikes one knee up and watches you expectantly. “Princess,” he coos, “I said strip.”

You shudder at the request when it finally sinks in, and you quickly follow by pushing your pants down and pulling your shirt off your head, leaving you completely topless, your lower half donned with nothing but a set of black satin panties.

Soonyoung swears his heart stops at the sight, and just as you’re about to push them down, he holds his hand out. “Leave them on, come here.”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice this time, and you crawl onto the foot of the bed before making your way in between his legs, only stopping when Soonyoung places his heavy hands on your shoulders and smoothes them down your bare arms.

You sigh contently at the contact, instinctively shooting one hand between your legs to rub at the growing ache. You hardly make it though, Soonyoung’s hand shooting out and stopping your wrist halfway. “Thought you wanted a reward? Getting ahead of yourself, huh …”

You shake your head vehemently. “N-no—I jus’—need something, need you, Soonyoung,” you confess, leaning forward in hopes that he’ll meet you halfway for a kiss.

He doesn’t, opting to watch you amusedly as you squirm on all fours in front of him. “Show me how much you need me,” Soonyoung rasps out, helping you settle over yourself over his thigh before placing his arms behind his head and leaning back against the headboard casually.

Your eyebrows knit together, and you place your hands on his chest for hardly a second before he swats them away. “W-what?”

“Did you not hear me the first time?” he asks, and he’s definitely mocking you with his tone. “And keep your hands to yourself—you only get to touch me if you can prove to me you want this.”

“I want it, Soonyoung, so bad! So, so, so bad, you don’t understand!” you whine, bouncing yourself up and down to punctuate your word but gasps leaving your lips at the friction it leaves behind.

“Yeah well,” he sighs, adjusting his body so he’s laying even further back down. “Make me understand. Make yourself cum.” Your plush lips part, agape at his proposition. Why he can’t just fuck you into the sheets right here and right now is beyond you, but Soonyoung’s eyes light like a flame and you aren’t sure if you want to add fuel to the fire or put out.

Tentatively, you rut your core against the hard muscle of his thigh, the friction of his dark dress pants shooting pleasure through your flimsy panties. You have half a mind to rip the damn fabric off, but the rubbing of cloth that bunches around your clit is more pleasurable than anything.

“See,” Soonyoung murmurs, as you repeat the motion of rocking yours forward and back in a slow rhythm. “Pretty angel does know how to work for something. Let’s see if you can keep it up,” he hums, and you glower down at him.

“I-I know how to work,” you huff, grinding down extra hard as a means to prove your point, but your argument falls flat when you whimper, hands falling forward on his chest as your body lurches forward. Soonyoung’s own firm grip lands on your wrists, yanking them off of him.

“Do you, now?” he scoffs. “Can’t follow simple fuckin’ directions,” he says under his breath, and instead of glaring, your eyebrows furrow as you hold your arms close to your chest, massaging your tits yourself to keep your hands occupied.

“‘m sorry Soonyoungie,” you say softly, losing the attitude that held your head up and replacing it with a wave of compliance as you cling onto the friction against your cunt, desperate to not let your far-away orgasm to ebb away.

“Soonyoungie, huh?” he mutters, watching the way your tits bounce when you work your body in a harsher up and down motion, letting the soiled fabric of your panties to stain his own pants. “Cute name, but you’re gonna have to work a bit harder,” he comments, and he’s true to his word because Soonyoung does think it’s cute. He thinks you’re cute, and hot, and pretty, and the only person he wants to stick his dick into, but fuck, if he doesn’t want to make you beg, make you sob for it …

Fervently, you start to find a pace that’s steadily increasing, thighs burning and twitching at every brush of your sopping pussy over him. You’re wet—so wet—and you know Soonyoung can feel it through his pants. How he’s so still and composed is beyond you, and while you try to think about what’s running through his mind, your brain goes empty the second you feel one of his hands on your hips.

“So spoiled,” he chides, and you want to shake your head and protest, ‘cause no! You’re not spoiled! But you know damn well that’d be a lie, and as you feel Soonyoung flex his muscle beneath you and use his hand to help swivel your hips, it’s only confirmed.

“Hnggff—S-Soony—”

“S’okay,” he groans, when the knee that’s wedged between his legs brushes against his crotch that holds his undeniably hard cock. You both shudder at the feeling—Soonyoung because of the small but relieving stimulation, and you because of the anticipation of feeling him inside of you. “Go on, baby, can tell you’re close. Fuck yourself like this—I know you can do it.”

“Hurts,” you sigh softly as your legs begin to tremble and give into the fatigue. “Soonie, I can’t, I—” you cut yourself off with your own high pitched moan when he hikes his leg up a little higher, causing you ro shift forward and arch your back so that your clit was pressed perfectly against his thigh. “God, fuck.”

“What do you mean you can’t, angel?” he coos in that both infuriating and pulsing tone of his. “You’re doin’ it for me right now …”

“I—I …” the words dry right on your throat when your orgasm crashes into you, the ghost of Soonyoung’s name on your tongue as you fall forward. You know he told you no touching, no holding, none of that, but fuck, even he can’t be mad when you press your face into his chest with low mewls bubbling up in your throat.

Securing an arm around your waist, he bounces his thigh upwards to push you through your fall, squeezing out every last bit of pleasure you’ll allow him until you’re whimpering from the overstimulation but too exhausted to pull away.

“‘m tired,” you whine through broken gasps, as you pull away and look up blankly at the ceiling. Soonyoung watches the way your tits shift with every inhale and exhale, and before he knows it he’s fumbling at the buckle of his belt and shoving his pants and boxers down so his dripping cock can finally breathe.

The sound of his length slapping against his firm abdomen has you blinking into reality quicker than you can think, and you glance at Soonyoung who sits in front of you. His cock is standing up, pulsing tall and proud, adorning a pretty, angry tip that smears precum over his defined abs.

“Too tired?” he piques, but with the way that drool dribbles at the corner of your lips, he knows he already has an answer. Grinning when you shake your head vigorously, he shifts himself so his bare legs hang over the edge of the bed, his hands placed behind him as he leans back. “Get on the ground.”

Two hours ago, you would have shut down the proposition immediately. Getting on the ground for a man? Completely out of your scope. Unfathomable, honestly.

But Soonyoung’s voice is so … it’s—he isn’t proposing, or suggesting, or asking, no … Soonyoung is demanding and you’d be damned to let him think you’re anything less than obedient. Quickly, you push yourself up and crawl over to where he’s sitting before slipping off the bed and slotting yourself between his legs.

As you sit back on your heels, the wetness of your core slides down your thighs and as your legs press together, the arousal smears against your supple skin, undoubtedly making a mess. It feels so dirty and lewd but as Soonyoung watches you with dark eyes, you feel like the most beautiful person on the planet.

Gentler than you were expecting, he uses one hand to hold your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Angel got a smart mouth, huh,” he says, as if he’s talking to himself as he runs a thumb over your lips, starting from the top then circling down to the bottom. He scoops up some of the drool that you hadn’t wiped away and then pushes it all back into your mouth from the corner of your lips. “You think you can put it to good use?”

“‘course I can,” you say a bit more proudly than Soonyoung enjoys. You’re cute, yeah—fuck yeah—but you look up at him like it’s some sort of challenge and he just needs to remind you of who’s really in charge.

And so he holds you by the crown of your head, guiding your mouth close to his cock which dons a dribble of precum. You stick your tongue out at the sight, eyes wide in anticipation as he uses his other hand to guide your own fingers to your thigh. “Same thing,” he tells you, “two taps and I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” you agree, verbally this time with a nod before pushing your tongue back out in hopes that he’ll speed it all out because fuck, you haven’t ever wanted to feel a cock in your mouth this badly. But who can blame you? It’s so long and thick and—god, it’s so heavy when he taps that tip against your tongue.

You open your mouth wider, anticipating him to push it down further like he did with the gun, but you should’ve known better. Should’ve known that Soonyoung likes toying around with you.

Soonyoung lets you lap precum off his shiny tip, swirling over the slit for just a second before he’s lifting his cock and then slapping it back down on your tongue this time. The contact is light, but the thickness of it all and the ache in your core has you pleading for more.

When a desperate whimper rips through your throat, Soonyoung grins. And so he does it again. And again. And again. Slapping his cock on your tongue until he can’t handle it anymore, cock throbbing at just the thought of you sucking against him like you did his pistol, and slides his length into your mouth without warning.

“Fuck,” he moans, and you vaguely wonder if there could be anything that sounds more melodic. You press your tongue against the length, hardening the tip and tracing it over the curves, the veins—anything and everything you can feel—as if you were trying to memorize him bit by bit.

Soonyoung basks in it, the image of you stuffed with his cock in your mouth, lips puffy but eyes somehow begging for more. He loves it, he tells himself in his head. Such a spoiled girl, but then again, his spoiled girl.

“Ready?” he asks, stiffening his hold on your hair and giving you a knowing look. Meekly, you nod with his cock still spreading your lips, and with nothing more than a nod, Soonyoung pushes you down his full length, nose pressed against his pelvis as you struggle to breathe through your nose.

And it hurts so good—your jaw is sore and you’re on the verge of gagging because he’s so big but something about the way your lungs burn and throat tightens has your mind set on not stopping.

Soonyoung is watching you intently when he finally lets go, pulling you off of his length and allowing you a moment to breathe. He wonders how far is too far with you, but when you just pant heavily, looking up at him with your tongue stuck out once more, inching closer to him, he figures he’s still got a long way to go.

So Soonyoung does it again; softly murmurs, “Take a deep breath,” and then yanks your head down until all you can feel is his cock bullying its way through your lips, your hollowed out cheeks, your throat. His loud moans egg you on, and you nearly start to tremble at the way you start to feel light-headed. He holds you down for longer this time, and this time, tears are gushing down your face but no, you won’t relent.

Its enthralling for the both of you, and it doesn’t stop. Soonyoung starts a pattern. Push down, hold, release, repeat. Push down, hold, release, repeat. And he does it until he feels his cock twitch in your warm mouth and has to almost push you back to hold off from cumming.

He just can’t do it, not yet. Not until he’s felt you flush against his skin, bodies intertwined as he fucks into you.

So when he pulls you off this time, you know it’s the last (for now, at least). You breathe steadily, in through your nose and out through your mouth as you recuperate, staring at the floor. Gingerly, Soonyoung hooks his hands under your arms and pulls you up so you’re sitting next to him on the bed.

“Are you okay?” he asks worriedly when he catches the clouded look on your face. When you slowly look at him and nod with a dazed smile, Soonyoung just knows he’s in love. You look so happy, so eager to submit and he loves the way you trust him, loves the way you know he’s going to treasure you.

“Sit here,” he instructs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your puffy lips as he stands up and walks over in front of the bed where his dresser is.

You frown at the idea of him being away from you. “Need it no-o-ow, Soonie,” you drawl out, standing up and making your way to Soonyoung, reaching out to place your palm against the hard muscle of his back. You run your hand over him, and for a few moments, he lets you.

You can feel the twitch of each hard earned, firm muscle as he moves around through his desk space, and you silently wonder what it’ll feel like to dig your nails into his back in another heated moment. Fuck, you’re so down bad.

“You’re so greedy,” Soonyoung mutters, finally turning around to grab your wrists. On one side, you feel something cool and soft press against your skin, and glancing down, you recognize it as the feeling of black satin against your arm. “I told you to sit down, didn’t I?”

You frown, but oblige anyways, shuffling over to the middle of the bed, sitting down neatly on your knees as Soonyoung stands in front of you by the edge. He’s holding the ribbon in both hands now, the silk taut as he holds it up to your head.

“You okay with this?” he asks, pressing the silk right up against your eyes that have since fluttered shut, but he doesn’t quite tie it just yet. You inhale deeply for a second and then nod. “Words princess. I need words.”

“Yes,” you comply. “I’m okay.”

As soon as you’ve given him the green light, he’s bringing the two ends of the silk behind your head and tying it into a tight knot. “Is it comfortable?” he asks sincerely, waving a hand in front of your face. “D’you see that?”

“Uhh, yes and no,” you respond, slightly confused and still getting used to not being able to see anything.

“Good,” he says to himself, and you feel the mattress dip, causing you to lose a bit of your balance, jutting your hands out to grab onto anything. Immediately, you feel Soonyoung’s hands on you, and your muscles lose their tension. “Relax. I’m right here.”

Those seem to be just the words you need to hear, because you’re sitting back down, sitting a bit more comfortably this time as you feel Soonyoung shift around on the mattress. This is Soonyoung, this is Soonyoung, you remind yourself, and he’ll always keep you safe.

“C’mere,” his thick voice breaks through your thoughts, and you flail around for a moment trying to trace his voice. There’s a hand on your shoulder soon, guiding you toward the direction of the headboard and you tentatively crawl over, yelling out in surprise when you quickly feel two hands wrap under your thighs and lift you up.

Your shock is soon replaced with a burning desire when Soonyoung finally places you on his lap, and you can feel his rock hard length pressing against your inner leg as you settle over his thighs. All you can hear for a moment is your sharp breaths, but then there’s a hard smack against your ass.

“Go on angel … you know what you want to do—what’re you waiting for?”

You want to curse Soonyoung right now, because how the hell d’he know? But then again, you don’t really care because here he is, egging you on.

So gingerly, you lift your hips over him and shuffle forward so that your stomach is pressed against his chest. You feel one of his hands find purchase on your waist while the other reaches between the dripping mess that starts to splay between your cores and positions his cock against your soaked folds.

And then he’s presses rough kisses into your neck and sliding his tongue over your collarbone, murmuring, “Go on princess, go on,” and you can fucking hear the own want in his strained voice. Soonyoung is just as far gone as you, but you don’t have the liberty to linger on that fact for more than a moment before your cunt takes hold of all your senses and you instinctively sink down on him.

The moan Soonyoung let’s out is deep, gruff, guttural, and has your walls instinctively clenching around him and your hazed frenzy. “Good girl,” he grunts as you steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders.

Your head swings around for a few moments as your eyes well up with tears from the initial stretch, but soon Soonyoung’s soft words of praise are pulling you down to reality and reminding you that he’s right here, that this is happening, whispering sweet and filthy nothings into your ear as you adjust to having him inside you.

“See,” he croons, stroking your chin with his thumb as you slowly grind down on him, both of you letting out soft gasps at the feeling. “Being so good for me, princess,” he hums, and you can’t even see the expression on his face but you know he’s not finished. “Wonder what the boss is gonna think of this,” he chuckles under his breath.

Your fingers tighten on his shoulders at his words, hugging his head close as you anticipate what he’s about to say next, trying your best to keep your soft mewls to yourself. It’s hard—really hard—because Soonyoung is big and he’s jutting his hips upwards sharply but sporadically, making it impossible to tell when he’s going to be punching moans straight out of your lungs.

“So good. Being so good for me, but so bad for everyone else,” he whispers into your neck as you start to bounce your hips to meet his thrusts halfway.

“Fuck,” you moan, both from the way he’s battering your inside, reaching so deep you don’t even know how he’s fit.

And Soonyoung doesn’t stop there, at least not with his words. “Sneaking out—” He snaps up harshly, his fat tip pressing against spots inside your cunt that have you writhing into him. “—Lying to your dad—” He continues to punctuate himself with more rough, emphasizing thrusts. “—Going out unattended—Breaking the rules—” He grunts out especially loudly at the last one, burying his head into your beck from the pleasure that radiates you both. “But you won’t do that to me, right princess? G’na be my good girl, right?”

“A-always,” you stutter out through strangled gasps for air as your body lurches around from the deep pounding of his hips. You’re so close—fuck it, you’re nearly there, and you pulse around him, digging your face into his hair from above as you try your best to swivel your hips but then, it all comes to a halt.

“Wha—what?!” you nearly shriek when he grips your hips so tightly that you both still, and suddenly the knot that’s been tying so carefully at the base of your stomach is unraveling and not in the way that you’d like. Your orgasm ebbs away into some far distance that you can’t reach, especially not in the frantic state you’re in after having lost just what might have been the best high of your life. “Why would you do that?”

Soonyoung watches your pained expression from below with the slightest hint of a smile on his lips, quirking an eyebrow at your accusing questions. He presses a hand down on your stomach when you try to buck upwards for some—any—sort of relief. “You already came once. You didn’t think you’d get the second that easily, did you?”

Any snarky remark you’d be able to come up with withers away and all you’re left with is a big fat frown. “I—” you stutter in short breaths before huffing out, “I was s’close.”

“I know princess. But you can be good, right? Good for me?” he mutters, caressing the side of your face with the back of his hand before tugging at the silk, letting the blindfold fall from your eyes and land on his abdomen. Your eyebrows are furrowed in a way that Soonyoung can only describe as cute, and from beneath you, he brings his palm down on your ass harshly, the sound of the smack resonating through his room.

As you blink your eyes into comfort, adjusting to the dim light, Soonyoung lifts his hip, causing his length to shift deeper inside of you, and you lurch forward at the sensation of him kissing your cervix.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, eyes pressed closed tightly as he steadies your hips with his hands and in one swift movement, flips you both over so your back is to the mattress and he hovers on top of you.

You’re overwhelmed with it all—being deprived of your vision for so long and now you get to take it all in—the beads of sweat rolling down Soonyoung’s pretty peaks and valleys of abs, his dark hair splayed all over the face, flush cheeks and furrowed eyebrows as he focuses his vision on where his cock meets your cunt—fuck.

“You wanna cum?” he grunts in your ear, grabbing your face and forcing you to look him in the eye as he draws his hips back, slamming back into your sloppy cunt. Then he brings his lips right by the shell of your ear and in a hoarse, mangled whisper, he demands, “Beg for it.”

And beg you do.

You wrap your legs around Soonyoung’s waist and dig crescent moons into his shoulders, draw pretty red lines into his back and you sob into the sheets, into his shoulder. And your walls hug him in again and again and let him whisper filthy words into your ears until you can’t even comprehend the depraved images he’s drawing into your head.

Ecstasy courses through your veins and your body knows nothing other than the enigma that is Kwon Soonyoung who pushes you so far, until you’re breaking beneath him—a wailing mess as you tell him how good it all feels, how his fat cock batters your cunt so well that you can do nothing other than choke out sweet ‘thank you’s and hoarse, ‘please’s.

And he makes you work for it, just like he promised, urging you to beg just a little more, swiveling his thrusts so that each stroke hits all your sweet spots, finally giving in when he mutters into your neck, “Let go princess, let go.”

And when you finally feel every string that’s been so meticulously woven together, teetering at the edge of breaking for ages, you let it all snap. Crying into his skin as you let him fuck you into an orgasm, hitting you harder than you could even imagine as every muscle goes limp and all you know is Kwon Soonyoung is here next to you, and he here to stay, because after a few more pumps his hot cum is filling you to the brim and more.

Soonyoung kisses you like he could swallow you whole. Like he could bathe in nothing but your arms and be the happiest man alive.

It’s the realization that hits you when he collapses over you, the smell of sweat and sex consuming you as your mouths connect in a maniac passion. More. It’s always more with Soonyoiung. He’ll protect you and more. He’ll hold you and more.Stroking the curve of your hips gently, you know—he’s going to love you and more.

a/n. first part of new rules is done, three more to go! chan will most likely be next, so stay tuned hehe! i hope u all enjoyed :3

tags. @synthetickitsune @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @whippedforjihoon @xiaoting999 @hipsdofangirl @valenhui @nikkixpenguin @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 @seokchannieworld @yunjinified @dnylwoo @nishloves @woozarts @etherealyoungk (strikethrough could not be tagged) join here!

#soonyoung scenarios #kwon soonyoung #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung x reader #seventeen soonyoung #soonyoung fanfic #soonyoung smut #hoshi #hoshi scenarios #hoshi imagines #hoshi x reader #hoshi smut #hoshi fanfic #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt smut #seventeen smut #📝 writing

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chuunai · 4 months

Note

Hi hi! Would love to participate in your event if that’s cool

I was wondering if we could hav a Fyodor with scenario 2 and prompt 14

Idk if you want more details but I discovered your blog and I kinda got baby fever too sooooooo

Fire away friend

I’m sorry for making you sick : (

✧˚ · . my days are yours, yours - fyodor dostoevsky

how can a baby control his heart?

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, established relationship (marriage with reader), babies, babies and babies, SFW → minor mentions of death and overall fyodor trying to be a daddy while juggling killing the entire world. Spoilers for the last episode of BSD season five and the latest chapters of the manga.

Lord, she looked so much like him.

Rounded purple eyes and thick strands of black hair, she was his copy. Of course, genetically speaking, she was half his. And half yours. But Fyodor had a greater influence on your baby daughter. A squirming seven month old named Avdotya Fyodorovna Dostoevskya. Ironic, wasn’t it? That his child’s name meant good while he was evil?

It made sense, though. Yin and yang.

Putting down his pen, Fyodor looked over at the small makeshift crib that was next to his desk. In it was the sleeping Avdotya—Dunya, for short—wrapped up in cozy blankets and stuffed animals.

He’d worked enough for today.

Carefully picking up the newborn, his pale anemic hands cradled her, supporting her head as he held her to his chest. His heart sped up a bit when Dunya stirred a bit, but she ultimately didn’t wake up. She looked so calm and content in the moment. Fyodor shared the same feelings. Besides awe, of course.

For all of his planning and manipulation, he had never planned for a baby.

Sure, you were his wife, but he’d always use protection. An infant wouldn’t work with his current dangerous plans. Yet he somehow managed to knock you up. A completely unplanned variable in his plans. Yet it seemed so right. As a man of god, Fyodor couldn’t deny the blessing that God gave him.

His study door soon freaked open by your arrival as you quietly walked behind him, arms sliding around his neck in a tired way as your cheek pressed against the fluffy material of his ushanka.

“She’s doing okay?”

As if his little angel would ever be harmed.

“Of course, дорогой.”

He replied in an equally hushed tone. He turned his head slightly to the left, placing a gentle peck on your arm affectionately. For someone who regularly manipulated people who trusted him (albeit in a scared way), he could never find himself using you or his newfound family for his plans. God would disapprove of a man who hurt his family.

“You should rest. I’ll watch over her.”

It was only fair.

You had been watching Dunya constantly—babysitters and nannies couldn’t be hired due to his prolific crime record—while he was gone setting up his plans and relations. Fyodor had seen you cry over the stress multiple times. Each time he reassured you all would be better in due time. And it would be. When all the sinners of the world were gone, angels like you and Avdotya would be safe.

In the meantime though, he’d make you as happy as he could.

Feeling a gentle kiss on his cheek, Fyodor faintly smiled as you left for some much needed relaxation and sleep. Tucking his baby’s hair behind her tiny ears, he hummed a small lullaby.

He remembered that as a child his mother would sing some to him. It was one of the few comforting memories he had.

And his Avdotya should have the same experience.

Reaching the second verse of the lullaby, his deep voice quietly filled the room. He slowly rocked his baby, warmth flooding through his usually cold body. A peck on her perfect head.

He’d have to teach you these sorts of lullabies and cradle songs. While you knew a bit of Russian—limited to affectionate nicknames and general greetings—, you could do better. Perhaps you two could study together when Avdotya would nap. Him struggling with kanji, and you resting your head on his shoulder as you stared at Russian characters and committed them to memory.

Fyodor relaxed back into his chair, content with the familial moment.

The finale soon came.

He sat there for minutes afterwards, just taking in the sight of the life he created. Dazai was wrong. Fyodor was no demon, no, he was a god. He had created life, and so had God. And while others may point out the billions of other parents in the world, he’d merely dismiss their claims. They had birthed normal children.

Not an angel like his Dunya.

Could other children have such awe-inspiring eyes? Or the affinity she had for music just like her father—how she babbled and cooed in your lap while he played cello for the two of you. He knew she’d grow up to be something great like him. A firstborn always took after their father, in his opinion.

Standing up with little Avdotya in his arms, he walked to the nursery, passing by your shared bedroom where you were sleeping by now. Creaking open the door, he carefully navigated the dark room, lowering his daughter into her crib before carefully covering her with a warm blanket and her favorite stuffed toy.

A fuzzy penguin gifted by Sigma.

A lot of the nursery’s decorations were bought by Fyodor, but there were a few given by his fellow DOA members. Sadly, a majority of Nikolai’s gifts had to be scrapped. Dunya couldn’t use clown makeup or the miniature cherry bombs. A pity, really.

Fatherhood suited Fyodor rather well.

Flicking on a small nightlight, he soon left after a goodbye to his daughter. His footsteps pattered on the wooden floor, making his way to your bedroom to finally sleep off the day’s events.

Once again, the door slowly creaked open as he walked in. He already had his pajamas on—a baggy long black shirt and some black pants—, sliding into bed next to you as one hand found itself on your stomach, the other already playing with your hair. Fyodor admired your body. It grew his angel, and now it nourished her.

While you were adamant that you looked worse after birth, he could only say the opposite. All of the Renaissance paintings and sculptures had been wrong in their depictions of goddesses and heavenly figures. He could only see you as a true goddess who fell for a sinner like him.

Would such a goddess permit him to have another child with her?

Fyodor had grown up in a small family back in St. Petersburg. Just him and his mother. His father had left him long ago.

He didn’t want Avdotya to feel the same. Lonely.

Siblings would prevent that. Maybe two? Even three, if you felt up for it. He hadn’t said anything about it since you were still recovering and getting used to being a mother just to one child, but he oh so badly wanted a bigger family. More look a-likes of him and you.

“My goddess.”

His lips nuzzled against your hair, murmuring sweet affections and praise. Even he couldn’t have predicted such a thing like this. A wife. A daughter. A family of his own.

And even when weeks later he was stuck in Meursault with four other men playing Nikolai’s twisted game of escape, he thought about you. The plan would work, and he’d see you again after he faked his death. Sure, it might take weeks or months, but he’d come back. He’d made sure of it—having thought of the betrayal of his subordinates a while ago.

And when Dazai would later tug his severed arm out of the helicopter’s crash site, it wouldn’t have a ring on the ring finger.

That ring would be snugly set on his other hand.

They could take his body, his wealth, his intelligence.

But they couldn’t take him away from you and the vow you two had made. Until death do you part.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts, @xxcandlelightxx

Help this took so long

#bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #aspiring writer #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuunai #fanfic #fem reader #baby fever #baby fic #fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #bsd tag #bsd imagines #bsd fluff #bsd spoilers

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

Text

Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh

Joel Miller x f!reader

NSFW 🔞

A/N: thank you @peterhollandkait for sending in a spicy ass prompt for these two 🥵 also thank you to @headspace-hotel for the original prompt! P.S. this piece can be read as a stand-alone, or filler chapter for ‘Burning in a Hopeless Dream’

Summary: after a close run in with some clickers while on patrol in Jackson, Joel is furious at you. The ride back to town is tense and once you arrive home, he wastes no time to strip you of your many layers. Growing increasingly frustrated, when he has to remove each one of your many concealed weapons before he can reach your skin.

~Word count: 5.0k~

Warnings: dark! joel, protective! joel, mean! joel,possessive! joel, you could have fuckin died! joel, swearing, tension, anger, mild violence, smut, consent, consent, consent, unprotected p in v (wrap it kids), sexual punishment, teasing, edging, cock warming, mentions of fingering, light choking, knife kink, praise kink, so many nicknames, angst, aftercare, some fluff, paraphernalia (puff puff pass) there’s a lot of filth. Like a LOT (+18) minors dni !

Songs used:

“Angel of Small Death” by Hozier

“Tonight You Belong To Me” by Patience & Prudence

“Tear You Apart” by She Wants Revenge

“No Good” by KALEO

“Devil’s Advocate” by The Neighbourhood

“Talk” by Hozier

You, Joel, and Ellie have been in Jackson for the past few months. The three of you have become immersed in community life. Joel, has been reluctant upon getting comfortable in this new domestic life. He’s used to being on edge constantly. Ellie is content working in the stables alongside Dina, while you and Joel patrol on horseback outside of town.

He doesn’t want to give up his natural protective nature just yet. He finds comfort in constantly having his gun by his side, and you of course. At dawn, the two of your ride out to your usual lookout point. It’s the dead of winter and you’re both heavily wrapped in many layers. The cold still manages to bite through to your skin. The horses don’t seem to mind the chill, or whipping icy wind. Their thick winter coats keep them warm, and you find yourself feeling jealous of their natural protection from the elements, just for a moment.

You both dismount from your horses and tie their reins to a nearby tree. Before you can grab your rifle from your pack, Joel is reaching for it. His shoulder brushing against yours and he feels significantly warmer than you.

“We’ll stick here for a bit. It was quiet the last time. Clickers must’ve moved on.” He held your rifle out to you, stealing a quick kiss.

“Sure as hell hope they have. It’s fuckin’ brutal out here. Freezin my tits off.” You were caught off guard when he had kissed you and you couldn’t help but grab him by the collar of his thick jacket and pull him back in for one more.

He grasped your waist and pulled you flushed against his chest. “This is how we get killed, darlin.’” He gruffly spoke against your lips, pulling away before things could get too heated.

You let out a low huff when you could no longer feel his radiating warmth against you. “Yeah well, that isn’t gonna happen, remember? You got me, and I got you.” You slung the strap of your rifle over your shoulder then.

He watched you closely then while he adjusted the strap of his own rifle. “Yea honey, you got me, I got you.” He gestured to the side, signaling you to walk in front of him, like the true Texas gentleman that he was.

As the two of you crept through the thick snow, rifles at the ready, doing your best to be as quiet as possible. There was always the possibility that the clickers hadn’t moved on like you both assumed. Better to be safe than sorry.

The surrounding trees grew thicker the further you walked. Suddenly, Joel was at your side, rifle aimed when he could hear the eerie sound of nearby clickers. A chill skated down your spine, it wasn’t from the cold of winter this time.

click click click

Joel turned his head towards you, his eyes locking on yours, holding your gaze as he brought his finger up to his lips.

The distinguishable low clicks were getting closer, and closer. You and Joel were both holding your breath as 3 clickers emerged from the snowy tree-line. Your finger was already hovering over the trigger. A damn branch snapping from the overloading weight of snow on it is what gave you two away.

It happened so fast, the clickers charged. Your rifle got jammed as one of the clickers ran at you, screeching. You were tackled through the snow, tumbling down the hill leaving Joel no other option but to deal with the other two clickers.

It felt like the wind had been knocked from you when your body finally landed at the end of the hill. You had no time to recover as the clicker was thrown ontop of you, you used your rifle as a shield, but when it was knocked out of your grasp and thrown to the side, you definitely panicked for a moment. You let out a scream filled with rage as you fought. Finally getting a grasp of your knife, you drove the blade into the deep cavern of the clickers neck. It let out a screech as thick, hot blood spurted through the gaping wound, splattering against your face. You pushed the once living creature off of your body, listening to it thump into the snow.

You were breathing heavily, wiping at your face as you sat up. The snow surrounding you was stained dark maroon. A stark contrast against the pure white fluff. Before you could even stand, you heard Joel yelling your name as he raced down the hill. He nearly stumbled a few times in his fury but when he reached the bottom, he was grasping the lapels of your jacket, yanking you upwards. His eyes were wide, frantic.

“Joel—”

“What the fuck was that?! Why didn’t you shoot?!” He had cut you off then as he started furiously checking for any bite marks. Pawing at your coat, pants, grabbing your face in his hands as he turned your head anxiously. His eyes were scanning your neck frantically.

“Joel! I’m not fuckin’ bit! My gun locked, I swear!”

He was holding your coat tightly in his hands again, he was furious. His brows were furrowed and his back was tense. “Your gun fuckin’ locked?! You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

Before you were even allowed to speak, Joel was yanking you up from the snow and into his arms. Holding you tightly to his chest. “You fuckin check your gun next time. Alright? You fuckin check it! Do you hear me?! For fuck sakes honey. Fuck!” His tone was harsh against your ear. Laced with the fear of the possibility of losing you.

You wrapped your arms around his broad covered shoulders as he hugged you tightly. He was pissed, he was radiating in anger. You could feel it through his damn thick coat.

“Joel, I’m sorry! I’ll check my gun next time. Okay? I swear I will!”

He muttered something under his breath as he helped you stand to your feet. His jaw was clenched tightly as he looked at you. Shaking his head.

“Grab your gun and then let’s go. I ain’t gonna ask twice. Grab it.”

When you hesitated he raised an eyebrow in your direction.

“Did ya hear me, darlin’? I said, move. NOW.”

You quickly reached for your rifle that was tossed into the snow by the clicker and slung it over your shoulder. As you walked past Joel, you could feel his eyes burning holes into the side of your skull.

Yeah, he was furious alright.

The walk back to the horses was a dead silent one. You were afraid to speak at all. He untied the reins of your horse from the tree and tossed them in your direction as you scrambled to catch them.

“Get on.” He grumbled. Grabbing the reins from his own horse before he placed the toe of his boot into the stirrup and hoisted himself back up into the saddle. You followed suit shortly after.

The tension between you two was palpable as you rode back into town. A knife couldn’t even cut through it this time. Someone was gonna have to take a fuckin chainsaw to it and even then, it wouldn’t have been enough.

Once you arrived at the stables, you dismounted from your horse. Quickly untacking and setting the saddle on the rack. Ellie had seen you two come in and then she saw the blood on your face, Joel’s pissed off expression and gruff nature. She knew something had happened.

“Are you..good? What the hell happened out there?”

You looked over at her, imagining how you must have looked in that moment. “I'm good, kiddo. Just ran into a few clickers.” You could hear Joel scoff alongside his horse.

“I thought they were—”

“Me too. It’s alright. I’m good, Ellie. Don’t worry, okay?” You gave her shoulder a light squeeze.

Ellie looked between you and Joel before she sighed. “Yeah, okay.” she mumbled.

Before you could comfort the girl further, you felt Joel’s firm grasp on your forearm as he pulled you out of the stables. He didn’t let you go as you headed back to your home. You struggled to keep up with his footsteps and you looked away when he gave you a warning look.

Once inside, he slammed the door shut and locked it. Hanging his rifle along the hook on the wall and yanked yours from your shoulder.

You watched as he un-jammed it with ease. Hanging it alongside his.

“Joel, I’m sorry I know I should have been careful and checked it before—”

“Save it. I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear it right now. You could have fuckin’ died out there. Fuckin’ stupid. That was completely preventable.”

His words and tone he delivered them in sliced through you like knives.

You could hear his heavy breathing from where you were standing. You saw his knuckles flex, before clenching into tight fists.

“Get over here.” He gruffly demanded.

Your feet were moving quicker than your brain could process it. You could feel your blood pounding in your ears as you stood before him.

He grabbed your face in his calloused palms, wiping fiercely at the dry blood on your face. His eyes searching yours. His pupils were dark in contrast to how gently he was handling you. You wondered for a moment how long that would last. His eyes flickering to your lips.

“You can kiss me.” You spoke through the stagnant cold air. He didn’t need your consent, you were fully ready to give it to him.

“I know I can.” He rasped out, his tone low, almost sounding like a growl.

He kissed you hard, backing you into a nearby wall with a harsh thud. He had completely encaged you against the wall as his lips kissed you feverishly. You could taste his hot breath on your tongue. His scent swirling around you, intoxicating your mind and body.

You went to move your arms up around his neck but he stopped you, grabbing your wrists in his clutch firmly, slamming them against the wall on either side of your head.

“No.” He muttered into your lips before he harshly bit down on your lower lip, drawing blood, tasting copper on his tongue as he released your plush lip from his teeth.

“Joel—”

“No. You’re gonna be a good girl. You got it? Don’t test me, Sugar. I ain’t in the mood.”

You meekly nodded and turned your head to the side slightly, taking your lower lip between your teeth as he attacked the bare skin of your neck with his lips and teeth, nipping, sucking, biting at the sensitive skin. You were definitely gonna need to borrow some makeup from Maria after this. That is, if Joel would allow you. He liked marking you up like this. Letting everyone know that you were his.

“The hell do you got in here, huh?” His words tore you away from your thoughts then as he was pawing at your coat. The sound of carbon steel clanking on the hardwood could be heard as Joel was finding your secret stash of weapons.

When you didn’t respond to his initial question, he asked again. Firmly this time.

“Where the hell did you find all these, huh?” He tore your jacket down your arms then, tossing it down to the floor with a thud.

“Around..” you spoke above a whisper as his hands roamed over your covered skin, on a mission to find more of your concealed weapons. He was in slight disbelief that you were this armed.

“Around, huh? That’s pretty fuckin’ vague, sweetheart.”

“Can never be too careful.”

He had reached behind you feeling through the thick layers that you were still wearing, and when he grasped the handle of a pistol, sticking out of your jeans, he chuckled.

“How the hell was it even comfortable to ride with that back there?” He pulled the pistol out then bringing it between you two before he tossed it down onto your coat.

“Maybe I’ve just gotten used to the pain. It’s not that bad.” You boldly spoke.

He raised a brow, grasping your hips firmly in his hands, he felt something hard sticking out between the fabric of your jeans.

“You’re jokin’. There’s more?” He reached between the gap of the tight fabric. Pulling out two sheathed knives on either side of your hips.

“Those were a bitch to fit in there. Just so you know.”

He tossed them down onto your coat.

“How many knives do you really need, honey?” He mused.

“Enough for you to keep finding them.” You spoke with zero hesitation.

He grabbed a handful of your ass then, giving it a good squeeze through the denim fabric. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, sinfully. “Am I gonna find anythin’ back here darlin’?”

You immediately lurched forward, not expecting him to grab you like that but you definitely wanted more.

“No.” You squeaked out. “Nothin’ hiding back there, cowboy.”

He chuckled lowly. The deep, smooth sound snaked down your neck, wrapping you in a delicious embrace before it settled between your thighs. Damn, you were fucked.

“Mmm. Alright, I believe ya, honey.”

He released your ass from his firm grip before his hands moved to the hem of your 2nd layer of clothing. A thick wool sweater. He wasted no time yanking the fabric over your arms and head. Discarding it to the floor beside his worn boots.

“There’s still more. Believe it or not.”

He paused then and looked at you trying to figure out if you were bullshitting him or not. You weren’t and it was quite obvious you both were getting enjoyment out of this little game. “You gotta be shitting’ me. Ain’t no way there’s more.”

“Oh, there is. You just aren’t looking hard enough.”

He grumbled under his breath at your response. It was frustrating for him. He just wanted to get to your skin already. He was absolutely craving it. The next layer irritated him even more. Course you just had to be wearing a sweater with fucking buttons.

“Seriously? I hate these fuckin’ things. Who the hell needs all these buttons? What is the point?” He spoke while his fingers started to undo the top buttons but when they wouldn’t immediately budge he growled under his breath and ripped the rest off.

You had let out an annoyed sound of protest as the buttons fell to the floor, bouncing and rolling off in different directions.

“Really, Joel? Was that necessary?”

He wasn’t even paying attention to your words. He was completely zoned in on the knife strapped between your breasts. Secured with a makeshift fabric holster.

“Sorry, not sorry Sugar. It had to be done. Now this? This is absolutely fuckin sinful of you. You do this just for me?”

You couldn’t help but smirk then. The look of disbelief on his hardened face absolutely egged you on.

“Oh, that?” You innocently spoke. “I completely forgot that was there. Whoopsie.”

His hand was at the base of your throat then. His eyes narrowed. His grip was firm, yet still gentle in his own way, his thumb was just barely applying pressure to your windpipe.

“You. My dear, are a filthy fuckin’ liar.” He spat the last part out.

You didn’t even flinch.

“So what if I am? You love it.”

“Yeah? You’re right, I do. I love it.” He admitted.

You watched with hooded eyes as he yanked the knife free from its confines between your breasts. He examined it closely before he used the tip of the blade to expertly cut through the fabric.

“No wonder you said you were freezin’ your tits out there. Ain’t got nothin’ coverin’ ‘em. Bet your pretty little nipples were as hard as fuckin’ rocks, eh?”

He couldn’t help but lightly drag the tip of the blade against the swell of your breast. He was extremely careful to not accidentally cut you as he dragged it against your peeked bud. The cool sensation from the steel had you nearly mewling.

“Now, Sugar. I’m only gonna ask ya this one time. You better give me the right answer too. No lyin’. You hiding anything else? If you are, I’m gonna find every last one of ‘em. I can promise you that.”

You shook your head, taking your lip between your teeth once more. This game was addictive. “No. I swear. That’s it. There’s no more Joel. Can you please fuckin’ touch me already? This is torture.” You nearly begged him.

“No? Are you absolutely sure? Cause if I find any more..” He trailed off. Dragging the tip of the blade down your navel before he slowly dropped to his knees before you. He used his free hand to feel up and down your thighs. Squeezing here and there as he looked up at your face to see if you were lying to him or not.

“There’s nothing. I swear on my life.”

“That’s a pretty risky thing to swear upon, honey.”

Once he reached your calves, he wasted no time tugging the bottom of your jeans from where they were tucked into your boots. There he found 2 smaller daggers strapped around your thick socks. He pulled both of them out and tossed them on your coat before he moved to the other boot and found 2 more in the same position.

“Well, I think that answers my question. Don’tcha think? I’m impressed, honey. You lied though. Even when I gave you the chance to fess up.” He pressed a kiss to your covered knee as he slowly stood back up.

“Oh no, you caught me! How did those even get there? What are you—” your words were abruptly cut off when he had cupped you firmly through your jeans. He could only imagine how wet you already were just from his teasing alone.

“You’re skatin’ on some mighty thin ice, sweetheart. But ya know what? I’m feeling a tad generous.”He moved his thumb over the button of your jeans and popped it open before he dragged the zipper down slowly. “I’m gonna reward ya. Just this once, for the fact you somehow managed to store that many weapons under your clothes. You’re filthy. I just want you to know that.”

“I know I am. You bring it out of me.”

The hand that was still holding your knife moved upwards then. In one swift moment, he had embedded the blade into the thin wood on the wall, right next to your head before he was swiftly yanking your jeans down over your hips. The rough denim scraped at your thighs from the quick movement.

“I know I have, honey. I’ve taught you well. Done me so fuckin’ proud.” His fingers had dipped in between your panties, feeling how wet you were for him already as he teased your slick folds. Slowly dragging his fingers against your clit in a circular motion.

You couldn’t help but let a small moan slip out. You were absolutely aching for his touch.

“Joel, you gotta give me more than that. Please, baby.”

“You want me that bad, huh honey? You gonna beg for it? Gonna beg for me? C’mon pretty girl, let’s hear you say it.” He sped his fingers up slightly, applying a bit of pressure before he dipped them down, teasing your entrance before he slipped them in. Immediately curling them against the warm spongy texture of your walls. His other hand wrapped around your waist, his fingers splayed against your lower back as he pulled you in so you were firmly flushed against his chest. His lips barely brushed yours as he teased you with a half kiss. Pulling away at the slightest when you tried to properly kiss him.

“Please, goddammit. I’m not gonna last long you mother fucker. Give me your fuckin’ cock Joel or I swear to god—”

“Mmm. There she is. There’s my pretty girl. You want my cock? Huh baby? You want me to fuck you against this wall? You want me to be so fuckin’ deep inside of ya, you can feel me in your guts? I’ll give it to ya honey. You just say the word.”

You were nearly on the edge from how slow he was pumping his fingers inside of you. You could feel just how much you were clenching around him and it was clear he wanted to drag this out.

“Yeah. Give me your absolute fuckin’ worst Miller. Fuck me against this goddamn wall.” You hissed out.

“Oh, alright, Sugar. If you insist.” He kissed you finally. His lips entirely capturing yours in a sloppy kiss. His fingers had slowly slipped out of you. They were coated in your arousal and he wasted no time popping the button off of his own jeans and dragged the zipper down. He didn’t even bother pushing his jeans down. He wanted you to feel the bite of his denim on your thighs. He pulled his cock free from the confines of his boxers hissing under his breath as he rubbed his thumb over his tip that was already leaking with pre-cum.

You kissed him back immediately. wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him in as physically close as possible. You threaded your fingers through his salt and pepper hair and gave it a firm tug.

He gave himself a couple good tugs as mumbled against your lips. “Hike your leg up over my thigh, sweetheart. I gotcha.”

You wasted no time to do just that as you brought your thigh around his hip. Driving the heel of your boot firmly into the back pocket of his jeans. While he used his freehand to grab a hold of your thigh. Digging the pads of his fingers into your skin as he held you up with ease. Your other leg stayed firmly planted on the ground for support.

He dragged his tip along your folds for a moment as he continued to kiss you deeply. Your teeth were clashing together from how hard you were kissing when he had finally slipped inside of your warmth. He stuttered out your name as he brought his other hand against the wall. Grasping the hilt of the blade that was still embedded next to your head.

“Fuckin’ hell.” You both moaned out in sync. He started with a delicious slow roll of his hips into yours. You could feel the harsh denim of his jeans rubbing into your thighs as he rolled his hips. It was a delicious combination.

“Takin’ me so well already honey. You want more?” He groaned out.

You responded by biting down on his lower lip hard letting your nails scrape against his scalp as you hissed out. “Fuck me already.”

He gave one harsh thrust then, causing your head to knock back against the wall slightly. He did it again, and again before he found a good rhythm, jutting his hips into yours. Drinking in each one of your moans that slipped past your pretty lips as he pounded into you mercilessly.

You both heard the sound of fabric ripping. It was your jeans of course. The friction of his movement and tightness of your thigh wrapped around his waist was enough to split the already worn fibers. You could care fucking less.

“That’s it baby. Doin’ so well for me, honey. Gripping me so well with this pretty little pussy. Keep doin that, okay? Don’t fuckin stop.” He gritted out as he drove himself deeper inside of you. He was all the way at the hilt now and he was gripping the handle of the blade embedded in the wall so hard, his knuckles were turning stark white.

You were a mess beneath him, crying out his name as your lips fell from his, breaking the kiss. “F-fuck Joel! Keep going baby, I’m close please don’t stop, please!”

He let out a low grunt in response and buried his face against your neck, biting down on your already broken skin. He swore he could taste blood as he soothed the skin with his hot tongue. “Keep fuckin’ screamin’ my name, darlin’. Want the neighbors to fuckin’ hear that you’re mine.” He mumbled against your skin.

Your thighs were already quivering as you reached down between your connected bodies. rubbing your already sensitive clit between your fingers.

“That’s it, honey. Get yourself off on me. You’re so fuckin’ filthy. Gonna cum all over me? Gonna coat my cock? C’mon baby I wanna feel ya!”

His thrusts were beginning to get sloppy as he got closer to his own release. He had released the blade from his grip on the wall only to secure his hand around your throat. His lips had moved from the skin on your neck to nipping at your jaw and chin and finally kissing you once more.

“Cum for me, Joel. Fuckin’ fill me up, honey.”

His hips gave out as he moaned out your name like a fucking chant. Just as you came undone around him. You were both a hot, sticky mess by the time your orgasm passed. His forehead was slick with sweat as it rested against yours. His back muscles were quivering as he was absolutely spent.

Even as he went soft inside of you, feeling yours and his cum dripping down your thighs, he stayed buried inside of you. While your fingers played with his sweaty hair gently. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle. You were absolutely high off sex.

“Hey, we should like..do this more often. I would absolutely love it if you rammed me up against a wall every now and then. Maybe bend me over a counter next time?”

He chuckled. Slowly and gently bringing your leg down from around his hip as he finally slipped out.

“Yeah? Sure honey, I’d love to bend ya over a counter. I’ve got a few ideas myself. Oh and, sorry about your jeans.” He gave you an apologetic, sweet kiss then.

“Oh, the jeans? Don’t worry about it Joel. They were on their last life anyway. I’d love to hear your ideas. Can only imagine what you come up with in that filthy head of yours.” You kissed him back sweetly and watched as he tucked himself back into his boxers and fixed his jeans.

“Oh, they’re filthy alright. You hang tight, kay sugar? Gonna get ya some fresh clothes and clean you up.” He left the entryway then headed upstairs, where he grabbed you a fresh pair of panties, one of his shirts and a towel. Returning to you in a matter of minutes. He yanked the blade from the wall before he got down on his knees and carefully cut what was left of the remaining fabric of your jeans, and tossed the shreds of fabric to the side before he unlaced your boots and set them down as well.

Aftercare, as you learned, was extremely important to Joel. Just as much as consent was equally important to him. You almost enjoyed this intimacy more than the actual sex. You watched as he gently wiped between your thighs. Cleaning you of your cum and his when he noticed the redness on your skin from where the fabric from his jeans was chafing against you.

“Does it hurt? I’m sorry about that doll. Ellie, or Maria probably have some lotion somewhere.”

“Joel, I’m good. It kinda stings but it’s not bad. I liked it. Enjoyed it, honestly.”

He slowly rose back to his feet then and helped you into the fresh pair of panties and his shirt before he scooped you into his arms bridal style and carried you into the living room, setting you down on the couch. “Alright pretty, you just get comfy, okay? Gonna start us a fire.”

You watched as your man was bent over the fireplace, adding logs expertly before he lit a match and tossed it in. He grabbed you a glass of water, food, which was abundant here, and a little something extra; Weed. Thank god for Ellie and Dina.

He plopped down on the couch beside you then, handing you the glass of water, stealing another kiss before he rid himself of his boots and jeans and the rest of his layers. He was just now in his boxers, bare chest and joint between his plush lips as he lit it.

Your mouth literally watered at the sight of him. You were mesmerized, infatuated.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He chuckled as he took a long drag, the tip of the joint turning bright red as he inhaled, blowing the smoke up towards the ceiling. He reached over, handing it off to you with his fingertips brushing yours.

You found your foot resting against his bare upper thigh as you took a long drag. “Where the hell did you get this, huh?” You blew the smoke out to the side before taking another hit.

“Dina and Ellie. Don’t tell ‘em though. I definitely did not steal from their stash.” He wrapped his hand around your calf gently, rubbing his thumb against your warm skin.

“You’re a bad man, Joel Miller.” You handed him the joint once more, a small grin gracing your features.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You love it though.” He mused.

“I do. There’s no denying that.”

He took another long drag, closing his eyes as he let the drug relax him. “Say, you think you can show me how the hell you managed to fit that many knives under your clothes? Cause..it really just fuckin’ kept goin. ‘You secretly Houdini or somethin?”

You laughed and took a long sip of your water. You were parched and he wasn’t helping.

“I’m sorry, honey. A lady can never reveal her deepest secrets.”

He squeezed your calf gently while he held the joint against his lips as he inhaled once more.

“Fair enough. I’ll figure it out on my own.”

“I’m sure you will, cowboy.”

Ellie had later found that one of her perfectly rolled joints was missing. She had a sneaking suspicion that it was either you, or Joel. Probably Joel though. Definitely Joel.

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darkdevasofdestruction · 1 year

Text

Angel of Birmingham ~ Alfie Solomons x Reader

Summary: Before he meets Tommy Shelby, Alfie gets the pleasant surprise of encountering the lovely Angel of Britain, and from then on, he swears to always protect her from all the dangers of the world.

If she were to ask herself who was the first to call her that - That undeserving nickname - She’d have to guess it might have been Arthur. He always had a way with words without realizing, and it all happened when they were children... More or less, considering she is closer to John’s age than his, and she would patch him up after fights and whatever marks of ‘good behaviour’ he got from playing around.

Seeing how great she was at taking care of him and his brothers, Aunt Polly suggested she tries to become a nurse or something. She saw potential in the little girl. Intelligent, charming, beautiful and pretty damn innocent. She shouldn’t stay too close to their dark side, it may taint her, and neither of the Shelbies wanted to see her upset. She was too much of a ray of sunshine and they desperately clinged to her and her kindness.

In the bleak midwinter.

But the girl was also highly ambitious and she didn’t want to settle with being a simple nurse - No, she wanted more. More and more and more. She was smart, she was greedy and she was a conqueror.

Veni. Vidi. Vici.

Until they received a beating sister with death and they suddenly opened their eyes towards the Godly truth in front of them.

She was going to become the only surgeon in Birmingham and she will succeed without a doubt, despite her young age.

The Shelbies already had connections with some important people so it was easier to deal with uncooperative people who dismissed her for being a woman and didn’t even look at her amazing knowledge and skills.

For a while, she had to be away and work in the London’s hospital as she studied medicine, despite her very young age. She hated being alone from her family and her second family, as she always called the Shelbies, but despite her timid personality, she still made some pretty good friends, albeit with the nurses, as most of the girls didn’t have the right connections and the money to bribe their way so high-up the medical field.

For now, that is. Y/N wanted to change the world. She aimed high and jumped higher. With the right money and influence, things will change. She was sure about that.

It was all going splendid for her, until the First World War began and her three Shelby brothers were enrolled - She was desperate to keep them home, but she knew she couldn’t.

So the next best thing was to go with them.

She was a doctor and they needed war doctors to take care of the wounded, so of course, she was accepted without a second thought.

She had to go to Verdun and to Somme, and she had to see so many people being brutally taken away from life - Bombs, gunshots, wails of anguish and despair, fear, cries, agony and shivers.

If Y/N could describe war with a single word, it would be simply ‘Hell’.

There was no better word to describe it, without a doubt, and an angel in hell always gets her wings burnt horrifically painfully.

She prayed day and night for her three brothers to be alive and well by the end of all this, at least physically, since mentally, she knows neither of them will be the same, that’s for sure.

And this hell went on for four agonizing years that went by, day after day, at an alarmingly lethargic pace, as if time and space were enclosed into a continuous loop of no return, a dark void from which they will never return.

But they did.

And when they did, they were welcomed with hugs and kisses and lots of love from their families...

Yet they reciprocated with a dead look in their eyes.

They died in War, and this was just a second attempt at living, like a dead man roaming the world again.

The worst that happened was Tommy getting shot during his tunneling, but Y/N made sure he would be treated properly, and yet, there was one thing she couldn’t do, no matter how perfect her healing skills were, and that is to erase their mental and emotional pain and all the nightmares and PTSD they had to suffer from.

She tried to stay strong for them, to smile and be radiant as before, to try to take away some of their unseen pain, to talk to them, to sooth them... God knows they needed it.

She would crawl in Tommy’s bed at forsaken hours and hold him tightly whenever he’d wake up screaming in fear, afraid that the shovels will breach through the walls and he’d get shot again, and she’d talk to him, reassure him and tell him he’s not there anymore and nothing will get to him again, she will protect him from any danger, and her wings were there to shield him.

She would leap out and hug Arthur from behind, dragging him away from murdering or fatally beating more men who looked at him the wrong way, so he wouldn’t lose control of his mind and body again, and she will shoo everyone away while she holds him and lets him cry out his fear and stress and pain.

And John... Poor John... Ever after being home, he was still in a state of shock, and he was so confused, and would look down at his hands, trying to wash them so much that he got burns and irritation, only to get rid of the ocean of blood that he created by killing hundreds of men, and witnessing a thousand more.

And yet...

There was nobody there for her.

Nobody to hold her down whenever she wanted to lash out into hysterics and tear everyone apart limb from limb. There was nobody there to reassure her that she didn’t fail anyone for not managing to save the man split in ten pieces after falling prey to a bomb. That there was nothing wrong with taking lives as long as you protect your own. There was nobody to reassure her during a nightmare or embrace her protectively whenever she’d flinch, jump or panic from the louder noises or frequent gunshots all over Birmingham.

She needed a change. She was going further down and down, spiraling into the horrible abyss that the bottomless pits of anguish and torment she was succumbing to, and she knew that, no matter how much she’d smile and say ‘I’m alright’, she’d only drown deeper into her darkest despair.

And that’s how she chose to cope with all her pain. Work herself into exhaustion, study, practice, work, learn - Do anything but sleep or stay idle - As long as her mind was preoccupied with different things, there was no way she’d recognize her downwards descend into hell.

Thus, with continuous work, gunshot threatenings and more influence and bribes, she managed to become the Head of the Birmingham hospital, as the only capable surgeon in the city.

But now that she achieved this, she needed something new. She couldn’t fall into platitude, or she’d go insane. She constantly needed stimulation, because if she relaxes, even by a little, she will remember she is a human being with human emotions and that’s when shit will hit the fan hard, and she was afraid that was the point of no return.

So she extended her influence in London, went to conferences, met new people and ironically, the big hospital was close to The Angel and Camden Town and she became sort of an administrator - section chief around, so she could organize every patient and treatment the way she wanted. Everyone reported to her.

She was Britain’s Angel.

Things were going very well for her, she got a lot of money, people loved her, she was neutral with all the gangsters, mafia, police and every normal peasant or royalty - Healing did not discriminate against any social criteria made by the higher ups - And she had a very lovely, small house and a beautiful flower garden, a lovely maid who helped her keep things tidy, a decent car ( although she preferred walking ) and a few dogs to keep her company.

Another day, another struggle to keep on going. Y/N got up, drank her morning tea in peace while listening to the gramophone. She combed her long hair, letting it cascade down her back, completely disregarding the fashion of the Roaring ‘20s, and went to look at her wardrobe. She chose a black turtleneck thin blouse with high-waisted black pants, a pair of leather boots, some accessories and an elegant trench coat which she wore over her shoulders. It was Spring, so it wasn’t truly cold enough to dress warmly, but not hot enough to wear a sundress either.

The most peculiar thing happened while walking to the hospital - She heard a groan of pain from a dark alley and going to investigate, she saw a fair haired man whose white shirt was stained with red.

“Is it yours?” the woman asked him as she carefully stepped in front of him, completely disregarding the two dead bodies from the ground.

“Some o’ it. Most o’ it is theirs, poor fellas.” he tilted his head to the side left and right, almost comically.

“Fairs. Let’s get you to the hospital, I’ll treat your wound. Free of charge, of course. Let the state pay for something for once.” she chuckled lightly, extending her hand for him to take - To accept her proposal.

“Who are you, Miss? I don’t recall ever seein’ you ‘round. A new nurse from the hospital?” he asked as he almost skeptically stepped by her side, following her.

“Oh, yes, of course, I’m sorry, I forgot my manners. I am Y/N... I’m sort of the head of the hospital nearby. And, uh... I’m a surgeon.” she grinned at him serenely, almost as if to defy and shock him by his previous assumptions.

“A woman doctor, aye? Now that... That’s top. How’d ya do that? I thought they didn’t accept women at University ‘n such.” despite his words, he seemed genuinely interested and wasn’t mocking her.

“Well... Yes, not wrong. And I want to change that. Hmm, how do I explain this without scaring you away... I’m a pretty smart cookie I guess!” her laugh was crystalline and lovely, and if weren’t for the pain from the bullet he took, he would have laughed as well rather mirthfully.

“That you are, lass, I’m sure.” he grunted as he nodded, a bit robotically.

“Ah, we’ve arrived. Before we go in, are you from a mafia gang or something? Some social... Political... Something? It’s not that I care, but I have to put people in different wings for their own good, you know?” she chuckled awkwardly, fidgeting with her fingers a bit.

“I’m not sure I understand, lass.” he raised his eyebrow, analyzing the soft-spoken woman, trying to understand her intentions, whether they were good or bad.

“Well... My hospital accept everyone, you know? But at the same time I don’t think most people want to be rooming with coppers. Or... I know there are some gang wars around... Italians and Jews I think, or something like that. To put some Sabinis and some from Solomons’ gang in the same room, I not only fear for their lives, but also for the good of the rest of the patients and my hospital, you get me? That’s why I at least have to ask. Who knows, maybe I have some of your peers around for you and you can chat and feel better together.” she shrugged at him, feeling a bit uncomfortable being stared like that by him.

“Alright, alright, I get it, lass. Let’s go to the Jews, right? Y’got some o’ those, don’t ya?” he asked, following her as he watched her smile and greet sweetly every person she was walking past.

“Oh yes, of course. Yesterday came a boy called Oliver... Oh, I mean Ollie. He gets upset when I call him by his full name. And there’s this one called David. They said they work for Alfie Solomons, so I put their occupations as bakers. Would you like me to do the same for you as well?” she asked as she hurried inside the room and asked where he would like to stay, and thus preparing the bed.

“Ye even got flowers ‘round ‘ere. This looks more like a home than a hospital if y’ask me.” he chuckled softly as he let himself fall down on the bed, taking off his shoes.

“Oh, yes! Studies show that if patients feel welcomed and are well taken care of, they have higher chances of recovering at a much faster pace. I wanted to test this theory, so I made a contract with the flower shop down town to always bring me flowers. Isn’t that lovely?” she smiled sweetly at him, which rendered the man speechless and in awe.

“Boss, what happened?!” suddenly, Ollie’s worried voice resounded through the room as he leapt from his bed, by the mysterious man’s side.

“Just some dead fish, don’t you worry, lad.” he downplayed his injury as the woman watched the wholesome exchange between those two.

“Oliver - Uh... Ollie, I mean, forgive me. I have to extract the bullet from Mr. Solomons’ body. I will have to ask you to please not worry, I promise to save him, okay?” why was this woman so sweet with everyone? Was that how a doctor should be? Or was she just some exemplary woman?

“...Alright, miss...” the boy muttered, dejected as he watched the woman leave the room, no doubt to get the right equipment for the extraction.

“Honestly, lad, you worry like some maiden. Let the girl do ‘er job.” the Jewish boss chuckled reassuringly at the tall brunet boy.

“She’s no girl, Mr. Solomons. She’s Britain’s Angel. Haven’t you heard o’ her?” Ollie went to sit on the boss’s bed, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“That’s ‘er? Really?” Alfie’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quite understood now why she earned the reputation.

“Aye! She grew up with the Peaky Blinders and their influence and bribes got her into University, but she’s like super smart! I ‘eard they call her Angel or somethin’, especially after her services in the War. Can you believe that?! A woman voluntarily enrolling into war?! That’s insane, who’d want a free ticket to hell?!” Ollie’s voice became a bit higher as he gossiped with his boss.

“Someone who wants to protect her family.” a feminine chuckle broke the conversation as the two Jews snapped their heads towards the entrance, seeing her casually leaning back on the wall, looking at them with an amused expression, mock-reprimanding. “Don’t you know it’s not nice to gossip?”

“Sorry, lass. This one has quite the chatter mouth to him! ‘e just can’t seem to ever shut it!” his over the top gesticulation, among with Ollie’s shocked expression made the girl hide her mouth to laugh as she shook her head and pushed the tray with the needed instruments to Alfie’s bed.

“True. If he didn’t call you Boss, I wouldn’t have known who you were, Mr. Solomons. Now, I would have to ask you to let me unbutton your shirt so I can begin the procedure. It won’t last long, and with the local anaesthesia, you won’t even feel a thing... For the most part, at least.” she chuckled awkwardly as she sat down on his bed, smiling calmly at him.

“Nah, lass, no fancy ana-thingy, I want none o' that. Ain’t gonna get some drugs to put me down. I’ve been through this before in war, right, and ya didn’t have anaesthesia in war either, so that’s that.” as he said those things, he immediately noticed the smile disappearing from her face as a dark look flashed before her eyes that used to sparkle with fake happiness.

“It’s local anaesthesia, it won’t make you sleep. Besides, I used cocaine in war. It still works. Don’t be like that, Alfie. Please.” she seemed to almost desperately want to use that numbing solution for some reason.

“Why do you insist on going against your patient’s wishes, miss doctor?” he challenged her, narrowing her eyes, as if he was trying to peer into her mind.

“I can’t stand people’s raw cries. You heard Ollie. I’ve been to war, but a part of me never returned home. If I can do something to absolve the pain from someone, I’m gonna do it, whether they like it or not.” her dark voice seemed to make a complete 180 from the sweet one from earlier.

“Do you do the same with coppers too, lass?” his light question, as he unbuttoned his shirt, came as a begrudged agreement to her proposition.

“Nah. I just hit them over the head with a bottle of alcohol. Works every time.” her devious, vague smirk made him wonder whether what she was saying was true or not.

“Now that -- I really wanna see that, right. Would’ya call me next time you gotta do that?” Alfie chuckled as he attentively watched her gently wipe the blood from his skin.

“It’s usually a spontaneous decision, really. I get impulsive too, sometimes, you know? I’m not perfect. But, should the time come, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have an audience that would be pleasantly surprised by my act of aggression.” she smiled softly as she carefully administrated the novocain around the area where he got the bullet.

“So where’d ya serve?” he asked, as the girl encouraged him to talk and get his mind away from the procedure.

“Somme and Verdun. I asked to be deployed as close as possible to the Shelbies... I’m sure you got that by what Ollie just told you. Y’know, the tunnels Tommy dug and all that? Wasn’t fun. And you, Alfie? ... Ah, actually, forgive me, I shouldn’t address you so casually without asking for your permission, I got ahead of myself. You can call me by my first name too. I prefer it that way, kinda. It’s more casual and light-hearted.” she chuckled awkwardly - Alfie realized she wasn’t the best at social interactions. He wondered if this was just how she was, or it was a post-war effect.

“No, s’all right, ya can call me Alfie, no problem. I was a Captain in war, right, I was a Captain and I led tons of lads to their death, yeah, but we killed more than we got killed, so that’s that, I guess. Meddled with gas’n’bombs’n shit like that.” Despite trying to keep things light hearted, he noticed the upset look on her face.

“As long as you’re alive, anything is justified.” She muttered, more to herself than to him as she started poking the area under anaesthesia to see if it got numbed down properly.

“Oi, lass, how about I tell you a story, aye? ‘S pretty funny, I reckon.” He suggested, seeing as she smiled softly and nodded at him, putting on her gloves, ready to extract the bullet old-school.

“Sure, Alfie, I’d love that.” She gave him a quick look as he fingers dug inside his wound, making him flinch.

“So, this happened during war, right. My regiment had some nasty Italians around, and they pissed me off so fucking much, yeah. Well, I tell ya, I once carried my own personal form of stigmata on an Italian.” He used one of his hands to gesticulate wildly, as if to keep her engaged in the story whilst he grunted from the discomfort and pain he felt as she rummaged inside his wound.

“Ohh, the Italians. This is going to be a very good story, I’m sure. What did you do?” her smile widened slightly as she felt the bullet shards and started extracting them one by one, putting them on a napkin until they all formed a complete bullet.

“Listen, Y/N. Listen, right. I pulled his face up against the train and shoved a 6 inch nail up his fucking nose and I hammered it on with a duct board, aye.” As he told his story, Y/N had to turn around and slouch a bit, unable to contain her laughter.

“Oh my God, Alfie, that was horrible!” but despite the words used, she just laughter harder.

“It was fucking biblical, lass, I tell ya!” his voice went a bit higher, as he started chuckling as well.

“Okay, okay, say that again, but this time slower. I-I want to imagine – To, to get a better image of this in my head. “ no matter how much she tried to hide her laugh, she couldn’t, which only fueled his wish to amuse her.

“So, this fucking margherita bastard came to me and started throwing around those cross fingered hands back and forth like he wanted th’ gouge my eyes out o’ somethin’. Just! Like! this!” Alfie started aggressively mimicking the Italian hand gestures as the girl had to put down the needle and thread from shaking so much.

“G-Go on!” she encouraged him quickly.

“Yeah, so, listen, I grabbed him by the fucking head, yeah, and I saw this bigass nail, like this big, and shoved it up his nose, y’know, like the fuckin’ Egyptians hooked the brain out through the nose, right, with the mummies and shit.” He had no idea why, but he really enjoyed making her laugh like this.

“I think I’m getting a nose bleed just by imagining this!” she covered her face entirely as she swung left and right from laughing so hard.

“He’s leaning back on the train now, yeah, and he’s hazy like he’s fuckin’ high on pepperoni or some shit, and I see this board just layin’ there on th’ ground, innocently, begging to be used somehow. So I pick it up nicely, yeah, I pick it up and SLAM it into his face. Once. Twice. Thrice. More. Dunno how many times, until I can’t see the nail anymore… But I guess, by then, he didn’t really have much of a face anymore, kinda just became a jam pancake or somethin’.” The girl needed a few minutes of laughter to calm down and wipe her eyes from laughing so hard.

“Oh, Alfie, I haven’t laughed so hard in my entire life. That was wonderful. I-I have no words. I can’t… I can’t… Okay, I’m good now, I’m good. But don’t say more stories, I won’t be able to sew up your wound if I laugh like that again.” She grinned at him, grabbing the needle and thread.

“Fine, lass, fine, I won’t say more stories today. How about you say one, then?” the Jew leader smirked at her with amusement.

“O-Oh, uhm… I-I’m not exactly the funniest person in the world, you know. Actually, I’m not even sure I know what to say. I’m a horrible conversation maker.” She chuckled nervously, as she continued to make knots and stitch the wound.

“Doesn’t matter, anything works, really! I just wanna hear an angel speak.” Mr. Solomons was truly an amiable one.

“Well, alright then, let me think. So, I think you’ve heard already of the Peaky Blinders and how there are quite a few Shelby siblings, yes? Well, they used to have a baby cousin, before he was taken away by some nasty coppers and put in foster care. I was also pretty young back then, but I remember Arthur used to throw baby Michael out of the window repeatedly for either John or me to catch. Mind you, it wasn’t the ground floor.” She chuckled lightly, remembering the stupid kid things they used to do before the war, when life was so simple.

“Really, now?! Poor lad, must’ve grown up with some serious height fear!” Alfie barked a laugh.

“That’s one thing. John put him in a shoe box and kicked him down Watery Lane. Sometimes when cars were passing by too. It was insane, really, growing up with them. But it was fun. If you ignore the copious amount of times we got in trouble and almost died.” She mused, finishing the procedure and applying some marigold ointment before bandaging the wound properly.

“Thanks, lass, that was quite the experience. Well, I’ll be off then, I won’t bother you anymore, yeah.” He said, trying to get up, only to quickly get pushed down on the bed.

“No! You need to rest and get better, as well as that, you can’t do effort or brusk movements or you risk breaking the stitches.” She explained as he saw worry in her eyes.

“Let’s compromise, alright lass? I’m these guys’ leader, yeah, I’m the leader, so I can’t stay here, I ‘ave to go home’n all that. But I promise you I’ll take it easy and only do office work, yeah, that good? And to thank ya, I’ll even call you by the bakery, how’s that? Nice and warm fresh cookies? How’s that sound?” he asked, as he saw the girl clasp her hands together to her chest.

“Well… Alright then, I can’t really refuse you. But please do be careful. At least let me walk you home or something, I don’t think anyone will attack you if I’m around.” She muttered, still worried.

“Oi, lass, I am the gentleman here, right, I am, so I should offer to walk you home, not the other way around, aye. Let me walk ya home and tomorrow I’ll come by with cookies.” as he got up, he was ready to button up his messy shirt, but the girl stopped him.

“Alright, Alfie, you win. Let me find you a new shirt, I’m sure we have some around. Before I leave, I have to check up on one of Sabini’s men. It will be pretty short, but I still have to make sure he’s alive and kicking.” The girl offered him a smile as she rushed out to find him a new blouse.

Much to his surprise, she returned rather quickly, even dressed in her normal attire, as when she first came by, and they were ready to leave that wing. However, as soon as they exited the room, the girl was pinned to the wall by none other than Mr. Sabini himself. Alfie was ready to react and throw him off her, but a stopping signal from her did the trick, albeit, he was still confused.

“Mr. Sabini. How many times must I remind you not to greet me in this inappropriate way? I lost count after twenty.” she smiled sarcastically at him as she roughly pushed him off.

“I simply cannot help myself around una fiore cosi bello! You have to understand me, mio angelo, it is your fault for being so beautiful. And how many times have I told you to call me my by name, bella?” The sleazy Italian smirked perverted at her.

“It is inappropriate to display such behaviour with your patients, as well as that, I do not feel comfortable addressing you in any way but the formal one. I will also have to ask you, again, not to use compliments with me, I will not, under any circumstance, accept your courting proposal. Not to mention, you and your men have your own ward at a completely different floor, so I will have to politely ask you to please stop bothering my other patients who have the same rights of being treated as you do.” Her voice was so cold and venomous, as a sword’s edge cutting deep into flesh. Alfie was shocked to see the angelic woman capable of such a demeanour, considering how sweet and shy she was previously when she was laughing so much that she started tearing up.

“But Y/N, amore mio, mio Tesoro, I can give your lovely hospital monthly charity cheques, to fund it, bring you only the latest technology in pharmaceutical and medical stuff! I can buy you anything you want, only say so, and I will bring it to you! I will –“ he continued boasting about his money until he got quickly cut off by the girl.

“Enough. I don’t need your money, Mr. Sabini, I have my own. Not only that, I will also really want to ask you to stop bothering me already. I have to remind you, you have been harassing me for quite a long time now, and I have all the right in the world to choose the patients I’m admitting, considering this is now MY hospital, and if you don’t stop your desperate cry for attention, I will completely eliminate the Sabini ward and divulge all your secrets to the other mafia gangs. And don’t you dare pull out your stupid gun and threaten me, I’m not afraid of you or of death. I already died in war, now I’m just living a second chance. Good bye, Mr. Sabini.” And with that, Y/N turned on her heels, motioning for Alfie and Ollie to follow her as the click of her shoes echoing through the corridors emanated the angry aura around her.

“So you’ve got the same kind o’ personal vendetta against those stupid Italians too, aye?” Alfie chuckled, hoping to lighten up the mood for her.

“Yep. That story from before – I’d do it with Sabini without thinking twice. Or I’ll have you do it, I don’t think I even have the physical strength to pick up a duct board. I have noodle arms.” She let out an amused breath as the Jew looked at her with a smile.

“Ya bet I’ll help ya.” And thus, they arrived in front of her house, being greeted, as usual, by her barking dogs who jumped on her from happiness.

“So… Tomorrow, yes? When should I be expecting you?” she asked, trying to pacify her excited puppies.

“Maybe ‘round noon?” and thus, the agreement stood and the girl waved at him sweetly as she went inside the house, followed by her furry babies. “Y’know what, Ollie? This one is a woman that comes once every thousand years. I dunno how Thomas Shelby could let go of her, but he can’t be as smart as he thinks he is.” Alfie chuckled, nodding to his right hand man to begin walking.

The next day, as expected, Y/N woke up early to make sure nothing is out of place everywhere in the house. Maybe it was her weirdly acting up over-perfectionism, but she couldn’t stand still if something wasn’t where it should have been.

After all, she hasn’t had visitors in… Well, never. It was always her who would visit the Shelby family, but other than that, she would meet up with friends in pubs and clubs, not at home.

Before she knew it, noon arrived and the sound of barking announced Alfie’s arrival. As she opened the house’s door, she noticed he was on the ground, getting loved by all the dogs.

Shocker.

“They say dogs can always tell a good person from a bad one. You passed their test, well done.” She gave him an amused side-smile, leaning on the door frame.

“Anyone who has so many dogs is trustworthy in my books.” He cackled as he got up, walking towards the girl, holding the basket up so the four-legged beasts won’t steal it away.

“I taught them horribly bad. They eat at the table with me, I cook for them more than I cook for myself. And now, look at them, those rascals, they will do anything for food as if they’re famished! Spoiled brats, I’m telling you!” she smiled as she removed the flower vase from the table and poured some tea, aromatic and very nicely smelling.

He admired the tea pot and the matching cups – They were a soft, light blue with painted pink flowers. – Very cute, he thought, and very fitting to her own sweetness. He’s seen so many women affected by the bitterness and anger of having to be unheard, submissive and mistreated, in this ugly, monochrome, wet Britain, so meeting Y/N was like a breath of fresh air, completely different, not afraid of being as sweet and kind as she wants, without implicating herself in any trouble or business and just doing her own stuff.

“Tea, lass? I haven’t had tea in ages, yeah.” He chuckled as he carefully put the plate of still steaming cookies along with some challah bread.

“…Oh. I forgot most people prefer alcohol. Oh My God, I’m so sorry, I don’t have any kind of alcohol in the house-“ she freaked out a bit, only to be stopped by Alfie’s chuckle.

“I’m a tea guy too, lass, don’t worry so much over silly things like that, right? Tea’s fine too. What’s it got?” he asked, easing her worries quickly.

“Vanilla, cinnamon, cherries and a bit too much honey. I like sweet things.” She smiled at him as she raised the tea cup and clinked it to his. “Cheers.”

“Sweet things like you, little lady, love things just as sweet, yeah? Cheers! It’s quite nice, aye, not bad, not bad at all, I think I’ll want more.” He blinked in surprise as he saw the girl immediately get up and pour more tea into his cup.

“Woaw, Alfie, you’ve made these? I’ve never eaten chocolate chip cookies before! They’re amazing! And this bread… It’s so soft and it tastes like honey! If you ever wanted to stop your underground business, you could definitely make a fortune opening up your own bakery! Imagine this… Alfie Solomons, the sweetest man in all Britain, loved by every citizen, earns a Royal Warrant from the Queen for baking the best cookies in the world!” Y/N praised the man as she ate what seemed to be the 4th or 5th cookie by now.

“Bah! Who cares ‘bout that old hag with a crown on her head? If the right person likes it, it’s all that matter, right, nothing else matters to me, and you already like my baking, so that’s that, yeah, that’s just that!” Alfie laughed, making the girl in front of him make a cute kitty smile and look down, her cheeks becoming just a tiny bit rosy.

“Alfie, now you’re just being too nice with me. You don’t have to do that just because I treated you.” She chuckled softly, surprising the man.

“You think I’m being nice to you because o’ that? That’s silly of you, lass, yeah, very silly, that’s not the case in the least, that’s just who I am!” he protested vehemently, his golden chain bracelet clinking softly with each movement.

“So you just like me? Just like that?” her eyes widened in shock.

“Why’re you looking so surprised, lass?” his voice became gradually much calmer and sweeter, seeing the genuine emotions from her.

“Oh, I just… I haven’t heard that in quite a while, I guess that’s why. Apart from the doctor work I do, and all the people thanking me for saving them, I don’t have much social interaction, so someone saying they like me for my personality, as Y/N, not Britain’s Angel who saved them, is… You know… Unexpected.” She admitted, smiling shyly at him.

“How would you like to hear another story?” it’s true that he wanted to see her so bashful in front of him, but he also loved hearing her laugh, so why not give it a try with one more of his famous stories.

“Oh, I’d love that! You have the best stories, Alfie!” she immediately cheered up, putting her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her hands oh so cutely.

“Now, now, don’t flatter me, lass, it’ll go to my head, yeah, I’ll get used to you cute words.” He leaned back on the chair, getting a better look at her.

“That just means I’ll have to say them more often.” Oh, how cheeky, Alfie thought as he grinned at her.

“Right, perfect plan! So, there you go! Tommy Shelby came by recently – Just a few days ago, right – And he, he started being a cheeky bastard with me, so I wanted to teach him a lesson. Got the gun out, cocked it in his face. I said – Look, let’s say I just shot you already, right, in the fucking face, and the bullet goes bone, mush, bone, cabinet over there.” Alfie made a finger gun with one of his hands, pointing it at the smiling girl, and then pointed behind her, where a pretty landscape painting was hanging.

“Oh, Tommy in London? I’m surprised he didn’t tell me anything about coming here, or at least visiting me. What a shame. I’m not surprised by his behaviour though, he’s become a bit of a jerk after the war.” She nodded in acknowledgement, smiling at him to continue.

“Right, it’s a shame, it really is, because that cabinet is fucked. I gotta get rid of it. So, what I do is this, I said. It’s fucking simple, mate.” And thus, he intertwined his fingers together on the table, playfully putting on the intimidating look of his.

“You burn it to splinters?” she tilted her head serenely like a cute puppy.

“Nah, even better. I cut that cabinet in half, don’t I? I do, I’ll just cut the cabinet, I cut… I cut the cabinet literally in half, mate, I said, and threw him a rag to wipe that bleeding nose of his. He was looking at me like a fucking dead body, lass, beaten up and bruised, by Sabini’s men, but still got the cheek to play coy with me on my turf!” Alfie told her the truth, knowing she’d want to know about her old friend.

“Tommy got beaten up by Sabini? What in the world did he do…? That boy never knows when to stop, does he. Anyway, so you cut the cabinet in half. Now what do you do? Throw it in the ocean?” she asked, quickly forgetting about the Shelby boy.

“No! I take half of that cabinet and I put it into a barrel, and take the other half of the cabinet, and all its pieces, and I put that into another barrel.” His hands shifted between left and right to show off imaginary barrels.

“And you fill them up with gun powder and make them explode in your enemy’s factory?” she grinned excitedly at him.

“Gosh, lass, no! But now I hate that you have more imagination than me! But listen – This barrel – I send this barrel off to… Mandalay.” He flapped his left hand around dismissively, making the girl bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. “And the other barrel off to somewhere like… I don’t know…” and he looked deep into Y/N’s eyes, unblinking and trying to come up with a funny city name, as she smiled with expectation for the punchline. “Timbuktu! You ever been?” the line was successfully delivered as the girl had to hang her head down and hide her face in her hands as she burst into laughter.

“Mandalay? Timbuktu? Where the hell are those?” she asked, unable to control herself.

“Fuck if I know, lass, but that’s the best of it! And y’know what? Know what, lass? I saw Tommy Shelby, right? Yeah, I saw him. All gloomy and dark and stuff. But I always thought he’d have a great, big, fucking gold ring in his nose!” Alfie joked around, and the girl was almost afraid she’d faint from laughing so hard.

“Oh, Alfie, you are the funniest man alive. So what did he say, how did he react to that?!” she urged him to continue.

“Nothin’! Nothin’ at all! He was silent as a fucking lake, lass! That Shelby boy has got no funny bone in his fucking body! Can’t even make a joke with him! Shoulda learnt from you, your company is a delight.” He saw Y/N quickly nod in agreement.

“Yeah, that’s right, Tommy has no sense of humour at all! He hasn’t smiled or laughed since the war. He’s changed completely. I know he’s been through a lot, you know? Everyone has. He still has that kind heart, and all he does, he does for his family… But it wouldn’t hurt him to be more genuine with them, or accept the fact that he’s not the only hurt one who can’t get over the war. I mean – I mean John, he’s my age! Got married, has like 4 kids already, married again and he’s still a brat as always! And you, Alfie! You said you were a captain, but you are the greatest person I ever met! He has no excuse for being a jerk. If he had a nose ring, like the bulls have, you could’ve just gotten a hook and tied him to a car and had him paraded around the streets of Camden Town!” she giggled in amusement, roasting her old friend shamelessly.

“Y’know lass, I think you’re as much of a fairy as I am, aye. You look all angelic and pure, but you have a wicked sense of humour!” the girl couldn’t help but let out a mock gasp of hurt and offense.

“Me? Wicked? Never! My, Alfie, you hurt me - How ever in this world could you possibly call me the Devil, when I’m known as Birmingham’s Angel? Recently, Britain’s Angel?” she laughed, almost as though she was making fun of her own nicknames.

“I think I’d much rather hear you being Alfie’s Angel.” Y/N’s smile froze, and her cheeks warmed up instantly, her gaze looking down at the tiny crumbles left behind from the tasty cookies. “Wha’chu say, lass?”

“I... Think I would like that very much, Alfie.” she could barely contain her timid smile.

“Wonderful news, lass!” Alfie merrily got to his feet. “Well then, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, pretty Angel. Don’t forget to serve your little companions their dinner at the table, a’ight?” he bent down slightly to plant a small kiss on her cheek, a little ticklish from his bear, before nodding his head at her, a cheeky smile on his face, and he left, not without all the dogs desperately seeking affection from him.

“Alfie’s Angel, huh? Doesn’t sound half-bad.” Y/N giggles softly to herself, only to hear her maid coming out of nowhere and cheering for her for landing such a good man, though not without warning her not to get into trouble with the very many gangs and their wars. She was a sweet girl, Y/N thought - Perhaps Ollie would like to date a lovely lady like herself.

Many days and weeks, and even months passed, and Alfie visited Miss Y/N daily, never skipping a single day, or missing to bring her the prettiest flowers, and the freshest cookies and bread. He was going to spoil her rotten, that one, and he loved every bit of it, especially the shy look she always had on her face, and the hesitation of accepting so many gifts - He just loved pampering her, what could he do? It was in his nature after all.

And Y/N absolutely loved whenever he’d come over, and each day, with a new story to tell, and new jokes and rumours and gossips - He was an absolute delight, and her dogs loved him perhaps a little bit more than they loved her, at this point. It was no wonder, after all - Alfie started baking food for them! And Y/N thought she spoiled them!

For once, Y/N stopped feeling the terrifyingly heavy pressure of anguish and torment weighting down on her very soul and being. She didn’t feel the need to work her mind into exhaustion, not tire out her body to the point of fainting asleep. She didn’t need to do any of those anymore, to feel alive and human. She only needed to look at those beautiful eyes of his, and those kissable lips, always forming a mirthful smile; to feel vitality returning into her body, and any sense of fear and anxiety escaping her very being. She remembered what it was like to have a sense of care and possessiveness over her own life, and finally, after so long, she wanted to be free - As free as it could get, unbound by any rule and regulation - To just have fun and thrive in the bliss of romance and happiness.

Once Alfie heard that, he kissed her sweet lips for the first time, admitting to wanting to retreat from the mafia life, and retreat to a calmer area where no one would be searching for him. Margate. A small cottage, cozy and warm, by the sea, where nobody would care to scold them for shooting those noisy seagulls, and Cyril and her dogs could run around aimlessly and run day in and day out, while they spend their time reading and baking and all the cutesy things that couples in love are supposed to do.

Before that, however, a few more things had to happen - Retirement wasn’t an easy process, after all, not in this business, and shrouding yourself into the veil of the unknown was even more difficult a task. People wanted their vengeance, after all, and they’d stop at nothing to achieve it. Nothing, including threatening the beautiful, benevolent Angel who was supposed to have neutral immunity from all kinds of parties. That is what she thought. That is what everyone thought. It was the catalyst of Alfie’s decision to speed up his retirement process and get this done and dealt with already. He never felt as angry as he was now.

It came during a time when Tommy rang Y/N asking for a favour, though rather uncomfortable. Alfie didn’t agree with this at all, he warned Y/N it would be dangerous - Deals with Italians were unpredictable, those bastards, and Sabini was a lecherous fuck who wanted to steal her away - But how could Y/N deny doing a favour to the man who helped her reach such heights though his influence? The man she went to war to protect? The man she took a bullet for? Her brother from another mother?

“Y/N, lass, you’re going to get fried to death if you approach that pasta fucker. I can’t just let you go.” Alfie grumbled worriedly. “And it ain’t just Sabini I’m worried about, love, it’s Changretta too. ‘course, all the fucking pizza fuckers came ‘round to screw things over, but Sabini keeps saying he ain’t working with that other fucker.” he paced nervously around the room, to and fro, fro and to. “Y/N, listen - Listen, a’ight? LIsten. It’s not Sabini I’m worried about, y’know? We’ve been at each other’s throats since school, it ain’t flash news, right -- I can deal with ‘im somehow -- But the other one? I know shit about ‘im. Came over from fucking America, and now he thinks he owns the whole fucking world, that one. And y’know what, hun? ‘e can fuckin’ have it, for all I care. Let Tommy Shelby fight with him. But you --- I’ll be fucking damned before I let him take you away from me.”

“Alfie, sweety, look at me.” Y/N got up from the bed, and approached the frantic man. She cupped his face and brought him into a tender kiss. “There’s no force on earth that can keep me apart from you. Besides! The hospital, remember? Even if Changretta comes over, I will just tell him of the deals, and the treatment and... He won’t hurt me.” without even realising, Alfie’s arms were wrapped around her smaller form, holding her close to his chest, pouting like a clingy child. “Alfie~! Come on, don’t tickle me with your beard! I promise I’ll give you attention all the after this is over, okay? But family is family, and I promised to help out. It won’t take long. And... It’s supposed to be some private party, right? A party with lots of people. He can’t just threaten me in front of everyone, right?”

“I don’t like risky things like this, Y/N. Can’t blame a man in love for worryin’.” He muttered against the skin of her neck. “But better tell Tommy I’m not gonna let him send you do his errands for him anymore, a’ight?”

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell him.” she couldn’t help her sweet, uncontrollable giggling, all because of him playfully running that trickly yet well kept beard of his over her soft skin.

Just as promised, Y/N dressed in a very pretty dress, making her look like an innocent, sweet flower blooming in Spring, overshadowing all around her with her beauty, thought there was no Tommy Shelby there waiting to escort her at the party. She didn’t think much about it though - She hadn’t a watch at her, so she couldn’t tell whether she was fashionably late or not, and he just went on ahead to do some of his work dealings with his gang friends. It was none of Y/N’s business, she was just supposed to be there as a peacemaker, a mediator, considering she was neutral with all, thanks to her position as the head of the hospital.

She grabbed herself a glass of champagne from a waiter and waited by the sidelines, watching the party unfold, with gorgeous dancers and the orchestra playing songs of all kinds. When a slowed song began, she awkwardly played the wallflower, not wanting to gain any attention to her, but of course, her not so favourite Italian came by, gallantly asking for a dance. Of course, she couldn’t refuse, more or less because she was a diplomat, and despite all the harassment from the past, all of them taking care in the hospital, at a party, it was all fine. Still, she hoped Alfie could have been there - It would have been more bearable.

“A gorgeous lady like yourself shouldn’t be all alone at a party.” Sabini said, making Y/N give a polite smile.

“Well, I was sure Tommy would be busy talking business with you, Mr. Sabini. I’m surprised you’re here, with me.” the man rose a quizzical eyebrow, hearing that.

“My dear, Thomas Shelby never once spoke to me today. In fact, I was not aware he was here at all.” Y/N’s body froze, and their dance stopped.

“What do you mean?” she asked in a whispery voice. “Tommy said he needed me here, as a mediator between the Peaky Blinders and the other gangs of London. If he’s not here -- Why would he ask me to be here?”

“Ah, bella, bella, bella, so your naivite and innocence only makes you more endearing.” he gave a smug smirk. “Luca Changretta asked your dear Tommy, to have a... Pleasant conversation. Negating deals. Business talks... Men talks. Signorina Y/N, he sent you over to receive a message, as he feared for his life, but counted on our long lasting friendship.” his chuckle sent shivers down her spine. Suddenly, she felt terrified for her life.

“I... Don’t want to get involved in your business matters. I don’t do business. I just heal people, that’s all. I wanted to do Tommy a favour, as he is my brother, but I want to have a peaceful life, away from all the gang wars. Please, let me go home, Mr. Sabini. If you want me to send Tommy a message, I will, but I won’t get involved any further than this.” the Italian nodded his head, an almost nasty smirk on his face.

“By all means, no one wants to hurt you, Signorina. It would be terribly rude of us to kill the messenger... Though Signor Changretta’s father was ruthlessly killed, in front of his wife, for no reason, by your brothers. But us, bella - We, Italians, care for our family above all, and Signor Changretta admires your devotion to your own. He is going to love meeting you.” Y/N slowly removed her hands from the man’s shoulders and offered a small smile, trying to keep her composure. But she was terrified to the core, almost as much as she had been during the war. Not only did Tommy betray her, but he threw her in a pit of vipers... Like a weaponless gladiator, forced to fight a hundred starving lions in the Colosseum. She was a healer, not a fighter! Damn it, Tommy!

“It was a lovely evening, Mr. Sabini. I will be taking my leave now.” with a certain elegant swiftness, Y/N was able to slip past Sabini and hide her presence in the sea of people, trying to make her way to the exit of the grand mansion, only to bump into another man, much taller than Sabini was, and he was towering over her, a passive smile on his face. It was much clear now, the whole place was filled only with Italians. She was trapped.

“Signora, what kind of man was vile enough to make a woman cry? Tell me, please, I will not have such disrespect in my family.” his accent was heavy, and his aura was dangerous, with a mysterious darkness. The stranger rose a hand to cup her cheek and rose her face to wipe the wet, gleaming under eye of the woman.

“Uh... Forgive me, Mr... I didn’t mean to bump into you and disturb you. I... I am not a very sociable person, I don’t do well with crowds. I... Was hoping to return home.” she offered an uncomfortable smile. This man was trouble.

“Don’t worry, bella, I will make sure to discipline my men better.” he nodded, chewing on what looked like a toothpick... Or a match? Was that a match? “You will have to forgive them. Anyway, may I escort you outside and call for a car for you?” something made her feel as though she hadn’t any choice in the matter.

“Y-Yes, please.” she nodded meekly, her voice barely audible from all the noise of the party.

With his arm around her waist, the stranger gentlemanly escorted the lady outside of the mansion, and outside, into the darkness barely illuminated by the lights from inside the house. Were it not for the loud music and all the chattering from the mansion, the graveyard silence would have been entirely ominous, save for the soft cricket and toad melody.

They were all alone.

“Do you wish to kill me, Mr. Changretta?” Y/N asked, frightened out of her mind.

“Kill you? Oh, Signora, no, no, why in the world would I wish to harm an beautiful lady like yourself?” he let out a sardonic chuckle. “Sabini tells me they call you the Angel of Britain. May I call you... Angelica?” Y/N didn’t answer. “Have I frightened you so, bella? Mi dispiace, it wasn’t my intention.” though, based on the sarcastic slur of his words, he was having his fun tormenting her.

“Mr. Sabini said you wished me to deliver Tommy a message. What is it?” the woman asked, holding her hands together tightly.

“Ah, yes, of course. Very brave of Mr. Shelby, sending his dear sister to do his dirty work. How shameful. You see, bella, we never put our ladies in danger. Sabini especially says he’s taken a liking to you for quite some good years. I can see perfectly well why. I’ve never seen a woman beautiful and intelligent such as yourself.” Luca’s hand found itself caressing her face, his long fingers reaching up to her hair, strong her long velvety hair. “I love how you defy this decade’s fashion, though you manage to look more elegant than most.” he kept complimenting her.

“Mr. Changretta, please... I am already dating a man, and we are soon going to move in together. I would appreciate it dearly if you would not continue your courting, though I am very flattered that one like yourself would find me attractive.” the man looked up at the sky, a dry smile on his face, watching how the lady tried to step backwards every time he inched forwards, only to end up with her back flush against a tree.

“Somehow, I don’t quite believe that. You are far too terrified from the simplest gesture. Admit it, Signora, you’ve never been with a man before, have you?” his smirk only widened watching her face burning with a sweet blush. “You needn’t say any word, your body betrays you.” he chuckled, getting uncomfortably close to her. “I hate making ladies cry. My mamma taught me better than this. She taught me to respect and cherish women, for they are a treasure - And I agree. I will not hard you, Signora Y/N. But perhaps you need to be reminded of the importance you play in this gang war... And maybe even remind your dear brother, as he seems to have forgotten about you and how much you worth. Would he react at all, if I were to laugh in his face and tell him I’ve claimed you? Will he even get angry, if I tell him I killed you? Thomas Shelby finds himself to be rather the undefeatable businessman and politician, but from our latest interaction, I say, he’s a man as much as any other, and he has easily exploitable weaknesses. It is really too bad you had to get caught in the middle of all this. I bear you no ill will, Angelica.” he leaned his face closer and closer to her own, to the point of feeling his warm breath on her skin - She tried to move away, though he fixed her head, cupping her cheeks forcefully. He truly just wanted to steal a little kiss, nothing more! He wanted to get a taste of her pink, plump lips that looked like the softest rose petals, bathing in shiny morning dew.

Instead, the loud, resounding sound of a gunshot made the man close his eyes in anger, whilst Y/N squeaked in fear, trying to fall to the ground and defend herself; an awful habit she couldn’t break even after the war was over. Luca used the woman as a shield, one hand buried in her hair, the other, holding a pistol to her temple.

From the paved street the soft sound of a cane was heard, as Alfie Solomons appeared, looking all dressed for a party. He looked alone. Was it him who shot, or was it another? Surely, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to come by all alone, even if it was to rescue Y/N - And if he did, it only meant her worth was a hundred times more than he expected. Was he the man she mentioned just previously?

“Ah, Mr. Solomons, what an unexpected surprise. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure. I’m Luca Changretta.” the Italian smirked, chewing on that match, approaching his face to touch his cheek to Y/N’s.

“Oh, yeah, I know who you are. You are a bit of a failure, aren’t you? You come all the way over here, to this country, yeah, in order to kill Tommy Shelby - But, I mean, well - He’s not dead, is he?” Alfie smiled fakely at the Italian, forcing himself not to look at the whimpering look of his beloved.

“He would have been, were he not saved by Angelica over here. But he cowarded out, didn’t he? Can’t even have a conversation with someone who hides behind his sister’s skirts.” Changretta sneered mockingly.

“That’s it. I’ll tell you what, right? I didn’t want to come ‘ere, in your home, without a gift, yeah? It woulda been rude - And Jews are known for their hospitality, of course. Here - It’s free. A souvenir.” Alfie rose a single bottle of his rum, showing he was unarmed. “Now, why don’t you let go of that lady over there, and we say our goodbyes?”

Changretta smirked darkly at him. “Signora, why don’t you take the bottle and have a sip? Rum is sweet, for women. Men prefer dry, strong gin.” with trembling hands, Y/N extended her arms to get the bottle from Alfie. It was almost excruciatingly painful, being so close to his protective arms, yet so very far away... “Go on, Angelica, take a sip.” Alfie frowned, watching Y/N’s face contort slightly - She didn’t drink alcohol, she hated it. Even if rum was sweeter than most alcohols, it still wasn’t anywhere close to her sweet teas with too much honey in them.

“This clown wants me to run his shit rum into New York.” Changretta let out a dry laugh, insulting the Jew in Italian.

“Damn fucking straight, mate, otherwise you wouldn’t still be thieving my oxygen and patience, would you? Because I have 200 barrels a month, yeah, cleared by your people, distributed through your teamsters.” Alfie continued with the straight business deal.

“Didn’t you just hear me? People want gin these days.” Luca repeated.

“I heard you wanted to come over with a proposition for me. I hate waiting, yeah - So, that’s why I came over, to quicken things up a bit, before they get stale, right. I already know what you want. I just want to hear you say it out loud so I can check how ridiculous it is.” Alfie inched closer to the two, not once breaking his overly dramatic mannerism.

“Ah, bella, what will I do, I am losing my patience with him.” Luca shook his head in disdain, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Based on the twitch of his enemy’s eye, he had hurried over with a half-baked plan. No doubt, Thomas Shelby must have gone over to him to search for an ally in him. To come in the enemy’s den for a woman - Alfie Solomons was a suicidal maniac. “There is gonna be a little fight, a boxing match, between your boy and Tommy Shelby’s boy, and the whole Shelby family is gonna be there.” Alfie hummed, already knowing all this. “And you, Mr. Solomons, you too will be there.” Luca started stroking a lock of Y/N’s hair, intentionally taunting the Jew. “You know, they say you’re a smart guy. You already know what we want before we say it. That’s funny because I believe I know what you want even before you say it. Yeah. You want the girl back, that’s why you’re here. Maybe for the barrels too. But the girl... Yes, I get why you’d want her back. Can’t miss out on claiming a treasure like her.” he pressed a kiss to her temple, his lips lingering and going down, towards her ear, whispering a small threat and softly slipping the sleeve of her dress a little down her shoulder with the barrel of his gun, revealing flawless skin, before leaning down her neck, and to her bare shoulder. Y/N tried to struggle away from him, whimpering from the uncomfortable fear she was feeling, and how violated she felt by the Italian, but the tight grip on her hair only brought out a whimper of pain and disgust from her.

If someone could look deep into Alfie’s eyes, they could see a wrathful fire raging inside his soul. He wanted to make pasta sauce from that fucker for daring touch his sweet lady and making tormenting her so. He had to play his cards well, feign ignorance and uncare, otherwise, he was afraid that wop will be taking Y/N as a bargaining chip and blackmail him, to the point that not even Tommy Shelby playing God would be able to save the sweet lady. “I want some cash too. Don’t worry, ‘cause I’ve broken it down here.” from the pocket of his coat, he took out a neatly folded paper. “A list of costs pertaining to the assassination of a dear friend, all right?” from his other pocket, he took out his glasses, putting them on as he read the terms and conditions to their deal. “Now, a normal dispatch, well, it’s, you know, 500 pounds cost, but you’re going to have to have to add another 100 to that because Tommy Shelby, like me, is from an oppressed people... And... I need you to put another tonne on top of that because his brother is a fucking animal and he will come after me.” Alfie kept reading, frowning every so often at the inconveniences he was listing. “And then you will need to put another 100 on top of that, because, well, you’re a fucking wop, mate, hmmm?” Changretta remained speechless, looking at the mess of a Jew who found himself hilarious, messing with him. “And then... We have to deal with the ugly business of which I’ve been incredibly clear of, before I’ll need another 500 pounds, because, like I stated, Tommy Shelby is a very, very good friend of mine.” though he wished to wring his neck for throwing Y/N in danger like that. “And... Another 500 pounds for threatening my wife. And 500 more pounds for making her cry.” Alfie folded back the paper, handing it to his enemy. “Total is down there, in black and white. All right? Crack on.”

“Mr. Solomons, I’m gonna be very fucking clear with you. I don’t need you to kill anybody. I have people that I trust, okay? So you are gonna take my boys and you are gonna bring them to the ring as seconds.” Alfie frowned at the Italian.

“Well, in order to qualify as my seconds, right, they would first have to qualify as being Jewish, yeah? And in order to do that, they would have to replace their natural Italian fucking arrogance with a Jewish air of absolute certainty. You see, my good friend, Tommy Shelby, he will know the difference.” he warned the unbothered Italian don.

“You see, these days, back in the old country, a lot of the, uh.... You know, the Jewish people, they, uh... They are having to pass themselves off as Italian.” Changretta chuckled menacingly.

“All right, well, you’ll have to add another ton onto your bill - For being a cunt, mate.” Alfie refuted with a chilling calm. “All right?”

Luca looked away briefly. “You will bring my men to Birmingham?”

Alfie nodded his head, hoping his crazy humour was acting as reassurance for his lady. “You will circumcise them?” Luca was mute. “Yeah, you will have to circumcise them. Because the Peakys will check, yeah?”

“If they’re going to have their pretty doctor check, surely, she wouldn’t quite know the difference, would she?” the Italian jabbed at the Jew, who was imagining different ways of torturing this fucker.

“Don’t bother your little wop brain over what my wife does. She won’t be there.” Luca smirked, knowing very well his uppercut landed perfectly.

“Okay. Any other requests?” he asked, laxing his grip on her hair. “Two hundred fucking barrels, we have a deal.” Alfie frowned, looking at him with disinterest. “What’s the matter? I said we have a deal.”

“Eh, you just made a deal without a negotiation, didn’t you?” Alfie stared him down. Luca affirmed that statement. “Yeah, Tommy Shelby was right about you, wasn’t he?” then, for the first time, Y/N heard the man speak in his own, native language. “You plan to kill us all.” though she didn’t quite understand what he said, the look in his eyes was enough to give her a good guess. Still, with the deal in place, Luca Changretta smirked in triumph, and with one last gesture of condescence, he forced Y/N into a deep kiss, before pushing her towards the Jew. “Sogni d’oro, mia bella Angelica.”

Alfie instinctively lunged forward, catching and gathering his lady into a tight embrace and watching carefully as Changretta stepped inside the mansion. He could feel Y/N’s soft trembles of her small body as she cried in soft whimpers - She was trying desperately to stay composed, but after everything she’d gone through, he couldn’t blame her. That margherita fucker must have creeped her to hell and back. “It’s okay, darling, cry as much as you need. I’m here, love, I’m here, okay? Alfie’s here, and I’m not gonna let go of you again.” she felt so warm, so safe in his large arms. “Let’s go home, yeah? No more of this gang shit. I’ve done over my plans, and we’re leaving faster. I’m not gonna let any of this fuckers even look at you ever again.” he massaged and stroked the back of her head, where that jerk hurt her, and he kissed her forehead and her cheeks and even her nose, before guiding her to the car, with Ollie driving them to the comfort of her own home, with her many dogs, and a shit ton of guards all around.

Y/N couldn’t say anything, and when they got home, Alfie had her maid draw her a warm bath so she could relax. He made sure to put a nice vinyl on the gramophone, and had Ollie return to their house to bring the emergency cookies for comfort, whilst he continued to internally curse Thomas.

He wasn’t sure how long she calmed down in the bath, with her maid comforting and chatting with her to get her mind off of the anguish she was put through, but when she returned, she was wearing one of her beautiful silk nightgown that barely went down to her knees, and she let herself plop on the bed, cuddling into his arms like a kitten seeking warmth. “How did you know?” her soft voice asked as he pulled them to lay down, stroking her hair and her face dearly, occasionally planting kisses and calling her sweet things. When Ollie finally came back with the cookies, her maid had brewed the sweetest tea in existence for them.

“Well, I always did pride myself with having good intuition, you know, but when Tommy came by my bakery, I realised - Shit, my sweet lady’s in trouble.” Alfie spoke, watching her cringe softly at the mention of the Shelby. “Asked him what the hell he was doin’ over at my place, instead of being there with you, and he said - Who would hurt you? Sabini wouldn’t, surely. There’s no person with more immunity than you, right?” he mimicked the man. “Thought I was gonna lose my mind, hun, hearing that. I was this close to beating him to death, yeah, nobody dares touch my sweet girl after all. He said some things about those fucking greasy wops, and it got me thinking - I already knew things were going to shit, and very fast, right, and I knew I had to make our exit as swift as possible - But when I heard you were all alone, with a bunch of sleazy fucks, my mind went crazy.” he gesticulated dramatically, before pinching her cheek playfully. “I promised Tommy Shelby a beating at some point, and I managed to land one good punch on him before coming to my darling’s rescue. Glad I got there just in time, but fuck, I’m so pissed - So fucking pissed you had to go through all that. I should’ve never let you go. Should’ve trusted my gut.” he grumbled, clearly angry at himself.

“Alfie.” she had an upset, pouting look on her face. “I’m sorry I let him kiss me. I wasn’t strong enough to fight him off.” she hung her head in shame. “If you hadn’t come when you did... I fear what he’d have done.”

“Y/N, lass, what the hell are you apologising for?!” he exclaimed, his hands immediately going to raise her face gently to look at him. “As if a weaponless woman could fight a grown ass man with a gun. If anything, I should be the one to apologise for not being fucking able to protect you as a man should. I thought playing the wife card, and the extra billing, would get that cheapskate fucker let go of you already. Fucking cunt. He’ll pay, I’ll make sure of that.”

But Y/N frantically shook her head. “I don’t care about that, Alfie. I don’t want revenge, and I don’t care what happens to any gangs, okay? I’m sorry, Alfie, I’m sorry I- I’m selfish, okay? I don’t want to do this anymore. I just - I can’t. I really can’t, you know? Always in the middle of danger, always in the middle of war -- I just want to go live out a happy, peaceful life, with you, and our dogs, and a shit load of seagulls to shoot whenever they wake us up with that annoying screech of theirs. And then -- Then, I wanna go have a good travel, maybe. Let’s -- Let’s go to the mountains, I heard it’s fun hiking. The forests are very pretty too. We can hide away from everyone, we’ve got enough money, don’t we - And if you wanted to, I told you, you can open up your own real bakery, and live perfectly comfortable with those earnings. Anything - Anything, just to get the hell out of this God-forsaken, war-riddled, decrepit, barren city, and away from this awful, exploiting people who care for nothing but their damn fucking business.” the way her eyes were gleaming with both hope and desperation shattered Alfie’s heart. “Can we do that, Alfie? Please, can we do that? Just the two of us -- Maybe Ollie and Annie too, if they wanna - And our dogs too - Just us, a nice, big family.”

Alfie’s very soul felt honeyed from her words of love, and her wish of staying together with him - And it was tempting too, taking Ollie and her maid with them, he had to admit. They would finally be living the god damn peaceful fucking life that they deserved. He had been dreaming during the day, and during the night, of a life spent together with her, all away from this shit city, away from the shit gang wars and what nots. He was exhausted, he wanted to let his guard down for once, and he knew he could do that with Y/N. He wanted to provide her a beautiful, comfortable life, a peaceful once - She’s never been to the beach, and he really wanted to show Margate to her. Just them, and the sound of the ocean waves breaking against the shore, walking barefoot into the wet sand and playing in the water.

Perhaps it was a little close for comfort to both France and London too - Maybe some day, they could go further north, further away from the capital. Perhaps they can even change their names, take on new identities, retire completely. Sure, he’ll still be taking care of his Jewish community, but he would stop the mafia dealings - Let the younger generations get themselves in trouble a hundred thousand times per minute, he was completely done for.

“Yeah, my little cookie, we can do that, and we’ll fucking do it, and very soon, yeah? Very soon, I promise you that. I’ll keep you safe, and comfortable, and happy. First, in Margate, and if we get bored, wherever the hell we want, a’ight? With Ollie and Annie if they wanna join, and with our spoiled dogs, ‘course.” he leaned in, capturing her lips into a sweet kiss.

“Alfie?” she called his name, her cheeks flustering lightly, unable to meet his eyes, despite the beautiful smile on her face.

“Yeah, meyn ketsele?” Y/N always blushed so hard whenever he’d call her his little kitten.

“Is the... Erhm... Wifey spot still open? I’d like to apply.” Alfie couldn’t help but start laughing mirthfully at her bashfulness, only to pull her into a loving embrace, peppering her face with kisses all over.

“Ikh hob dikh shtark lib - I’d love nothing more than to be your husband.” Y/N felt faint from all the suffocating love and affection she was receiving all at once, but she couldn’t help but melt to the sound of Alfie speaking in his native language, saying that he loves her so much, that she was the love of his life and what more. It was almost funny, how quickly he became smitten beyond repair for her, but he simply couldn’t help it. Women like her only came about once every thousands of years, and he was just so happy, just by seeing that shy smile of hers, or waking up to her in his arms. How could he ever let her go?

Y/N wasn’t Birmingham’s Angel anymore, and like hell was she Britain’s Angel. She wasn’t an angel, she was a little wicked fairy, the sweetest lady there was, and any other overdosing sugary sweet and entirely embarrassing term of love that Alfie could ultimately generate from the top of his head, just to see her adorable blush, but by hell, he was feeling trapped and addicted to her magic, and he was never going to let go of his darling honey bunch lady.

And Alfie was going to make her the happiest woman alive, and their wedding was gonna be fucking biblical.

#peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #ada thorne #polly shelby #michael gray #luca changretta #darby sabini

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pathologicalreid · 25 days

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spenwer weid hanahaki pwease 💐💐💐

perennial | S.R.

unrequited love brings spencer to his death bed, unless you can rescue him

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: hanahaki au, spencer reid gets a degree in yearnology, terminal illness, happy ending, surgery, doctors, this is a made up disease, mentions of other diseases like cancer and briefly mentions reid's addiction and schizophrenia, and death. word count: 3.01k a/n: if you don't know what hanahaki disease is, neither did i until bri asked. look here for some background. i did not come up with this concept. im not that creative.

He had never quite been able to pinpoint the date he fell in love with you. He wasn’t sure if it was the say you laughed at his jokes or the way your hair shone in the sunlight. He just knew that he loved you, and it was killing him.

It wasn’t killing him in the colloquial sense, it was physically going to end his life. The deep, brutal love he felt for you had been slowly chipping away at him for well over a year now, ever since you waltzed into his life. Haphazardly, he tossed the packet that his doctor had given him onto his coffee table, the papers ungracefully fanning out over the oak surface as he did.

Leaving his apartment today had effectively drained him of energy, prompting him to call out of work – something he had been doing with alarming frequency these days. Luckily, Hotch was able to give him leeway, but it couldn’t be long until Spencer got into trouble. Someone else would notice, he was sure you already were.

Yours was the face he always saw when he closed his eyes. If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn your features were tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. Despite his exhaustion, he was wary of falling asleep. He didn’t want to see you in his dreams, lest it cause his health to deteriorate even more.

Trying to take a deep breath, something caught in his throat, causing him to stumble over to his pathetic-looking balcony. Leaning over the railing, he lost himself in a coughing fit, letting the petals that were poisoning his lungs fly out of his mouth.

Once Spencer got his bearings back, he straightened up. Blinking tears out of his eyes, he watched the purple flower petals float away in the wind. He was watching the petals when he noticed you, walking determinedly along the sidewalk, your jacket flowing behind you. Was it five o’clock already? Had you already gotten out of work?

Splitting himself in two, he hoped you weren’t going to come to his door while also hoping you were headed to see him. He knew that the dull ache in his chest only grew worse when you were closer, but the possibility of seeing your beautiful eyes provided him with the bravery that he needed to confront that pain.

Watching you disappear into the apartment building, he waited until he heard a knock at his front door. He took the wobbly steps required to reach the front door, clearing his throat, and letting a petal fall to the floor just before he undid the lock and deadbolt.

You swung the door open, not even waiting for him to open the door. He waited as you studied him, eyes flittering across his body – just taking in the state of him.

Spencer had never been overly large or muscular, he had been lanky pretty much from the get-go, but over the past year, he had become frail. You swallowed thickly as you took in the way his sweater practically hung off of him, “Hi, Spence.”

His chest ached at the familiar nickname, everything about you was familiar. “Hi, Y/N,” he greeted politely, and he watched your confidence falter for just a moment before he silently pulled the door open. “You can come in if you want,” he felt as though there were an angel and a devil on his shoulders. One would beckon for you to enter the apartment, and the other wanted to banish you. The only problem was that he wasn’t sure which was the angel, and which was the devil.

Nodding, you stepped into the apartment, your shoes tapping against the hardwood before you took them off. His throat tickled at the recognition that you remembered his preferences for shoes in his apartment. Shoving your hands in your jean pockets, you peered up at him, “What happened to you?” You asked with concern violently apparent in your tone.

Narrowing his eyes, he cocked his head to the side, “What do you mean?” He had to bite his tongue from saying you happened to me.

“Hotch said you called off, and I noticed you had been doing that a lot recently,” you said, your voice a gentle caress.

Your observations of him sent him into another coughing fit, and he silently hoped you wouldn’t notice the flower petals that scattered the floor. Purple anemones created a pattern of lovesickness in the entirety of his apartment. His skin burned where your hands landed on him, gently ushering him to the couch.

Gratefully, he accepted the tissue that you had held out for him, allowing him to conceal his flowers. “I’m worried about you, Spence,” you confided in him, unable to hide the silver that lined your eyes.

He waved you off, shaking his head as he launched into another coughing fit. Once he gathered himself, he looked up, avoiding your eyes, “I had a doctor’s appointment.”

Your eyes widened in recognition, “Did you finally get your cough checked out?” The inquiry was innocent enough, but he couldn’t help but cringe inwardly at the words that had come out of your mouth. How was it that something as pure as worry could cause him so much pain?

He didn’t answer your question, leaning back against the supple leather of his couch. With a sigh, he allowed his body to meld into the cushions, it was almost enough for him to just fall asleep.

Flinching as you set a hand on his knee, he finally met your eyes, “Spencer, are you sick?”

He knew what you were asking, you wanted to know if he was ailing. Maybe if he had cancer or something that could be removed from his body. Maybe his opioid addiction had finally caught up with him. He didn’t think he looked jaundiced, but maybe his liver was failing.

Perhaps you were thinking about something more psychological, he was at the age where he could have a schizophrenic break. You knew very well that that was a fear of his.

There was also a strong probability that his years in the BAU were just starting to catch up with him. “Spencer?” You breathed, holding your breath as you were afraid of what he could be hiding from you.

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” he was sick. A patient in the doctor’s waiting room had called him a love-sick fool, and they had been right.

You spluttered for a moment as you searched for the right thing to say. Telling him you were sorry felt like a waste of words, an apology couldn’t help him now. “Is there a cure?” You asked him softly, leaning closer to him until he could smell your floral perfume – the world was cruel.

Taking a moment to clear his throat, Spencer answered your question while tucking a flower petal up his sleeve, “There’s a surgery, but it comes with… risks.”

His answer didn’t satisfy you; risks weren’t enough for you to sit and watch him die. You pulled your hand off of his knee, sitting on the floor and folding your hands in your lap, “But without it, you’ll die.” It was clear to you that whatever was going on with Spencer was serious, and if his illness was fatal, you would do anything in your power to help him.

“Most likely,” he confirmed, the both of you knowing he had already run every probability relating to his own survival. It was all he could do to not reach out to you as your teary eyes finally flooded over.

Wiping furiously at your face, you scrunched up your nose in frustration, “You have to do it, Spence.” Your voice was insistent.

Sighing, he shook his head despondently, “I can’t.” He noticed the way you bristled at his answer, but he couldn’t elaborate.

The risks that came with his surgery would be devastating. He would lose you. You wouldn’t die, but every memory that he had of you would die. That was a sacrifice that Spencer wasn’t willing to make.

Truth be told, he was afraid. He was afraid of forgetting you. Forgetting the way you sang along to every song on the radio – even if you didn’t know the words. Forgetting the way you liked to dance in the kitchen while you cooked. Forgetting the way you protected the people you cared about so fiercely.

Forgetting you was a nonnegotiable term. He’d rather die in love with you than live in a world where he had never known that feeling.

His fear of forgetting you greatly outweighed his fear of death.

He took a deep breath, which only resulted in more coughing. Your soft hands guided him tenderly, helping him to lie down on the couch. “Will you look after her?” He blurted, looking up at you as you returned from the kitchen.

Setting a glass of water down on the coffee table, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “Look after whom?”

“My mom,” he clarified, his voice gravelly from all of the speaking he had done today.

Your lips parted in surprise, evidently that had not been what you were expecting him to say. “You want me to take care of your mother after you…” you couldn’t even finish the sentence. “You won’t even fight to stay with her.”

He couldn’t find the courage to explain his sickness to you, so he let you form your own conclusions. If you wanted to operate under the assumption that he was a coward, so be it. At least he still had you. “I can’t fight it, Y/N. I don’t expect you to understand, but I do want you to respect that.”

Shaking your head, you looked down at the floor, not meeting his eyes anymore. Looking at your pretty eyes was a privilege he had lost, it seemed. “I can’t,” your voice wavered as you stepped backward, stumbling over a pile of books on the floor before you turned and walked out the door, taking bits and pieces of him with you.

Laid back on his couch, Spencer wiped his own tears before that too became arduous. Left in his apartment to rot, he thought about this disease. This unexplainable disease that he had never even heard of before being referred to a specialist.

There was one cure for Hanahaki Disease, and that was to turn unrequited love into requited love. You had the ability to cure him, and all you needed to do was tell him you loved him.

And it had to be the truth.

Even if he did get the surgery, he could return to work. He could meet you again, which would confuse the entire team, including you, but he’d still be damaged. His doctor had told him just that morning that his lungs were past the point of no return.

You deserved better than that. You deserved someone who had the lung capacity to kiss you breathless. You deserved someone with the guts to tell you how they feel.

All of that was purely hypothetical because in order to re-meet you, he’d need to survive the surgery.

The surgery he refused to get.

Either way, he was going to lose you. That realization knocked the air out of his lungs, causing him to turn over on the couch in a fit of coughs. Bringing a new meaning to ‘hacking up a lung,’ he continued his fit until there was a pile of purple flower petals beneath his face.

It was fitting that the flower petals were anemones. He had thought that from the very beginning. Anemones were perennials. Perennial, meaning lasting for an infinite time – enduring. Just like his love for you.

When the surgery was first offered to him, he challenged the doctors. Insisting that his love for you could endure any surgery. He was a man of science; he didn’t fully comprehend how a cardiothoracic surgery could affect your memory. Then again, he was coughing up fresh flower petals on the daily.

The click of the latch on his door caught his attention, and you stepped through the door. He was surprised to see you, and even more surprised to note the red rimming your eyes. You had been crying – over him. “I thought you had left,” he murmured, watching you carefully.

Nodding absentmindedly, you kicked off your shoes. “I did, I… I was going to go home, but on my way to the metro, I passed that deli that I know you like. You need to eat, I know you haven’t been eating right - or at all, actually.” You took a deep, shaky breath, setting the deli bag on the coffee table. “It’s just soup, I thought it might help soothe your throat,” you informed him, rubbing the back of your neck as you crouched next to him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Spencer insisted, even if the smell coming from the bag made his mouth water.

Wiping a hand down your face, you cleared your throat, “I was thinking about you. What if I went with you to your next doctor’s appointment? There could be a clinical study or something available. My college roommate works at Johns Hopkins now, maybe she has an in.” The hope in your eyes was almost enough to break his heart.

He smiled at you sadly, “There’s nothing, I’ve asked.” That part was true, he had called in every favor that he had in order to find answers and solutions. Either no one knew what he was talking about, or they told him things he didn’t want to hear.

Tears welled in your eyes again and he reached out to wipe them from your cheeks, his hands trembling in time with your bottom lip. “I refuse to believe that this is the end. This can’t be how it ends.” You looked at him pleadingly, “Are you sure you won’t get the surgery?”

He nodded regretfully. Losing all of his memories of you was a fate worse than death.

Bowing your head, you let loose a sob, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Spence.” You apologized incessantly to him, “There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

His own eyes grew teary until he was just looking at your outline, a blurry visage of the girl that he was dying for. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he insisted, reaching over and smoothing down your hair. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me,” he whispered, having a hard time speaking as emotions caused his throat to swell.

“Please get the surgery,” you spouted, eyes widening as if you hadn’t even expected yourself to say that. “Please, Spencer if you don’t do it for yourself, then do it for me,” your words started to merge into pleas.

Silent, Spencer watched you as you unknowingly begged him to forget you.

Taking a shuddering breath, you looked at him, watery eyes boring into his. “If for no one else, then save your life for me.”

“It’s not that easy,” he breathed.

You brushed off his excuses, “Spencer, I need you. I need you to get this surgery because I absolutely have to have you in my life. Please, you’re my- I’m…” you faltered over your words. He watched as you desperately searched for the right thing to say, “god, can’t you see I’m in love with you?”

Spencer’s chest ached as he grew fearful. You didn’t know what you were saying.

“I love you!” You shouted, surprising even yourself. “I love you, and I need to keep loving you. So, I need you to get this surgery.” You swallowed thickly, “Please, Spencer.”

He felt like he was out of tears to cry, “Just so I understand, what kind of love are we discussing?” Platonic love wouldn’t do it, not for this.

Leaning your head back, you stared at the ceiling helplessly, “Like the soul-crushing, yearning, I’d-marry-you-tomorrow-if-you-asked kind of love.”

Nodding slowly, Spencer leaned forward, and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, prompting you to kiss him back. It was soft and careful – the two of you were oh, so careful. “I love you too,” he said, knowing damn well that his yearning had nearly killed him. “But for the record, I’d do a much better job of asking you to marry me,” he pointed that out because he did plan on marrying you one day.

Laughing despite the tears that were still flowing down your cheeks in steady streams, you tilted your head at him, “Does that mean you’ll do the surgery?”

For you, he’d move heaven and earth, but he knew that the surgery wouldn’t be necessary. “Come with me to my next appointment, you can meet my doctor, I’m sure he’d love to meet you.” Spencer’s doctor had, after all, heard everything about you.

“Okay, of course, I will,” you told him, burying your face in your hands. “I’ve been sitting on that for almost a year now,” you admitted, causing his heart to clench.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he eyed you curiously. He wasn’t expecting to return to his old self immediately, but Spencer felt like there was some sort of weight lifted from his chest – like getting over a bad cold. “Hey, Y/N?”

Your eyes widened, “Oh! Your soup!” You moved to get up and grab a spoon from Spencer’s kitchen.

Quickly, he reached up and grabbed your hand, tugging on it until you toppled down onto the couch. You landed gracefully, being careful so you didn’t hurt him. “Actually, I was thinking about something a little more along these lines,” he said, poking his head forward and kissing you again.

Nothing but slow, gentle kisses today. The two of you had all of the time in the world. He leaned back onto the pillows, never separating from you. Finally, he let the scent of your floral perfume drown his senses.

For once, it didn’t fill him with dread.

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jigeuminunbich · 27 days

Text

digitally yours | lee donghyuck (haechan)

synopsis in which after a night out you already expect to come home to your boyfriend, donghyuck, grossly hunched over his desk with his face illuminated by his monitor screen, playing god knows what— but what you don’t expect is to find him playing an entirely different game than usual

genre nonidol!au, fem!reader, established relationship, comedy, and fluff

warnings minor suggestive comments & death/suicide mention (hyuck is just extremely dramatic)

word count 1.5k

a/n my nct brainrot has obviously reached a peak and please bare with me since i haven’t written a one-shot in AGES lol (anyway, enjoy lots!)

“So you want me to kill myself is what I’m hearing,”

A sigh passed your freshly glossed lips, darting your eyes to your boyfriend’s reflection in the mirror.

“Hyuck, it’s just a few hours,”

“Exactly. Enough for me to end it all.” Donghyuck muttered— the pout on his lips evident in his speech, retreating to his gaming chair where he sat boneless. Sparing you the most solemnest, and the most pathetic glances he could muster just to make sure you were still paying attention.

Truth be told, you knew there was absolutely no point in reasoning with your boyfriend. You knew he was gonna draw out every situation with his dramatics to the point where you would just give up and give him the win.

Ignoring his attempt to get you to change your mind last minute, you collected your things so you could swiftly breeze through your door and begin your night out.

“Goodbye, Donghyuck,” you reluctantly decide to grace him with a brief peck on his pouty lips. Breaking him down from his sulky attitude to the point where said lips stretched into a satisfied smirk.

Before you could lean yourself back upright, Donghyuck’s hand had circled the back of your neck— bringing your lips back to his own to further the kiss you had shared. You indulged him for a bit, bracing yourself with both hands on the armrest of his chair, but eventually decided to cut him off before he actually started effectively convincing you to stay home with him.

“Alright, seriously, I’m going now,” your feet move to separate yourself from Donghyuck before he could reach out for you once more. You rub your lips together, noting to retouch your gloss before you got to where you were going.

Donghyuck sighed, accepting his defeat.

“Okay, okay. Have a good night, baby,” he chirped as you made your way to the bedroom door. As your hand brushed the knob, you glanced over one last time to see Donghyuck returning his attention to his monitor.

“And Hyuck,”

“Hmm…”

“Please don’t stay on League all night.”

Haechan snorted dismissively. “I won’t.”

He reassured you, signaling you with a shooing motion to finally exit from your shared bedroom. You cut your eyes at him, not believing a word he says but also not having enough time to spare to bicker with him about his habits.

Illuminated by his monitor, Donghyuck flutters his pretty lashes at you, feigning innocence. “I promise I won’t, angel,” his nickname of choice for you eliminating a third of the unease you were holding.

You huffed, finally peeling the door open to slither your way out. Before completely taking your leave, you throw a final threat suggestion to him.

“And go to sleep at a reasonable time!”

“I will!”

ii.

“God,” you jumped, clutching your chest at the sight of your boyfriend half-way deep inside your refrigerator.

He glared at you with his bloodshot eyes as wide as saucers, the bright light of the fridge illuminating his face making him look strangely ghost-like. Unfortunately, this wasn’t your first time catching your beloved boyfriend at what you could only describe as his worst. His back curved viciously, scavenging in your kitchen (curbards and all) looking for anything to qualm his late night cravings.

Your eyes flickered down to his favorite choice. A crisp cold red bull fit snugly in his fingers, you sighed— your shoulders coming down from your initial fright.

“Hyuck, what did I say?” You spoke as if you were an owner disciplining their disobedient pet. Only this pet stayed awake till ungodly hours and drank energy drinks like water.

Donghyuck whined, already knowing you were gonna reprimand him for doing exactly what you told him not to do. He closed the fridge door and waddled toward you, purpleish bags circling his eyes.

You braced yourself as he wrapped his arms around you, his chin landing on your shoulder— anticipating the way he was gonna try to pry himself out of this situation with what he thought was his best asset: being annoying.

“You can’t blame me, ___,” your name floated from his lips in a sing-song manner, Donghyuck’s breath tickling your neck.

“I can’t blame you for staying up and playing League with Jeno?” You inquired, not letting him have an effect on you (or at least trying not to let him have an effect on you).

Donghyuck snickered, craning his neck up, his half-lidded doe-like eyes glittering in clear exhaustion. “That’s because I wasn’t playing league with Jen’…” he smirked.

You sighed, already exhausted with his antics. “Then what, Hyuck?”

“Lemme show you,” his head returned to the crook of your neck, his breath making you shiver. Your eyebrows knitted together— shrugging off your want to not further fuel him, finally (unsurprisingly) giving into his actions. Donghyuck circled his arm around yours’, dragging you to your shared bedroom.

To say you were surprised to find out he actually wasn’t pulling your leg about not playing with Jeno would be an understatement. Donghyuck hummed his way to his desk, settling down his drink of choice and pulling you into his lap— a position you were familiar with.

The screen re-illuminated itself at the tap of Donghyuck’s fingers, soon graphics you hadn’t seen in months filled his monitor. You blinked at the scene in front of you— a house in build-mode— in confusion, it wasn’t like Donghyuck to play the Sims. He had only installed it on his PC for you— and you hadn’t touched it in at least six months.

Your eyes fell to the bottom of the screen, two characters that dangerously resembled you and your boyfriend idly in the bottom left corner. You couldn’t help but giggle at what was unfolding, Donghyuck had presumably stayed up for the past five hours simply making you and him in a simulated game.

Donghyuck’s face nudged into your shoulder once more, “Ya’ like?” He inquired, his speech a bit slurred from his evident lack of rest.

You giggled lightly, turning your head to meet his sheepish gaze. “I love,” you rivaled.

A sleepy, yet triumphant smile spread across Donghyuck’s face. He sat back in his chair, it bouncing with his shift in weight. “As you should. I busted my ass off in create-a-sim,” he proclaimed, a hint of bitterness laced in his words. Your eyes flitted to the screen, squinting to see your simulated look-a-like. You had to give it to him, they were pretty accurate.

“They are really good, Hyuck. It’s like a mirror,” you mused. Donghyuck hummed, clearly basking in your compliments. Before you could get off any more, he interjected– a sneaky hand climbing up your spine over your jacket that you still hadn’t removed due to Donghyuck’s eagerness to have you in this position.

“Should I download wicked whims to test their realism?” You didn’t have to look at your boyfriend to know he was wiggling his eyebrows expectantly, and that he was when you snapped your head to him at a neck-breaking speed.

“Moment ruined,” you spoke sourly, placing your palms on Donghyuck’s desk to balance yourself as you tried to get up. Hurriedly, arms were encompassed around you to pull you back down into his lap.

“Kidding, kidding,” he mumbled with his lips against your skin, a for now being muffled lowly into your neck just moments after.

You sighed, reluctantly allowing yourself to become comfortable with his touch once again. “All right, pro simmer, now that I’ve seen your accomplishments— can you please go to bed for me?”

Donghyuck yawned on cue, leaning in to click past you and shut down the screen he had become acquainted with all night. With his computer no longer needing his attention, your boyfriend circled his strong arms around your waist. “Anything for you, angel,” he chirped.

“Tsk. You said something like that earlier—“ A slender finger was placed gingerly on your lips, hushing you promptly.

“Shh, let’s not dwell on the past, love,” Donghyuck’s hand fell to come back to its rightful place on your torso.

You snorted, shaking your head at him. Though annoying, there was something about Donghyuck that you’d always find endearing— without fail.

Comfortably, you leaned in to have your lips angled against his own— catching him by surprise for a fleeting second. Exhaustion aside, Donghyuck always had enough energy to give you affection. He slanted his head opposite of yours, humming in satisfaction as your lips moved in harmony. There was a disgruntled whine that crawled its way out of Donghyuck’s throat upon your disconnect.

“More once you get some sleep,” you placed a final peck on his pouty lips. You could visibly see Donghyuck fighting back the urge to argue with you but his exhaustion must’ve gotten the better of him because without a word, he scooted his chair away from his desk— signaling that he was ready to get up.

Proud you were wordlessly crowned victor of your non-existent fight, you kindly moved off of his lap to grant him room to launch himself from his chair to the middle of your shared bed. You laughed at him, beginning to finally strip yourself of the clothes that seemed to weigh you down after wearing them all night.

Much to Donghyuck’s delight, it didn’t take you very long to climb into bed alongside him. Cuddling into his warmth, and allowing him to sling a comfortable leg across your torso to cling onto you more effectively.

“Love you,” he mumbled tiredly into the crook of your neck, emitting another yawn.

“I love you too, Hyuck.”

“Also my sim is having an affair with Don Lothario, so don’t be shocked when you log in next time.”

“What?!”

#nct dream fics #nct dream x reader #lee haechan x reader #haechan x reader #haechan x y/n

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auspicioustidings · 2 months

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Ae Fond Kiss - Part 1

Winsome Wee Thing

Summary: This is the start of a story from this concept. You fall in love and you learn loss more ways than one. Words: 3.9k TWs: major character death (temporary), miscarriage

Parts: 1 2 3

You and your boyfriend's Lieutenant disliked one another immensely and immediately.

For you it wasn’t so much that the hulking idiot was in a balaclava, although you found the skull pattern so teenage boy edgy that it caused a cringe deep enough to feel right through your molars, it was the obvious dismissal he had for you. For Simon it wasn’t so much that Johnny’s newest pretty little bit was a smart arse, although he could practically feel the ‘not like other girls’ radiating off of you in waves, it was the obvious disdain you had for him. The first impression set the tone for what became a horrid relationship.

–

“This is my Lieutenant, they call him Ghost but I believe he prefers to be called-”

“That’ll do.”

There was something about the way he cut the puppy dog that was your boyfriend off that riled you a little.

“Nice to meet you, Ghost. Is that your gamer tag or something?”

“Never been one for games. You a gamer girl?”

“Not enough to have such a cool nickname.”

“Oh I’m sure we could come up with a nickname that would suit you princess.”

Gaz, who you did like, spent the rest of the night meditating while Johnny remained clueless to the simmering hostility between the two of you. Price didn’t really seem to know what to make of it all, but you found you had a natural respect for the Captain and as time went on, he was the one that could always tell you and Ghost to knock it off if he could see a fight brewing.

–

Johnny had been so excited to introduce you to his team and his team to you and the only thing you and bonehead could seem to agree on was that you would pretend to be civil when Johnny was around. So the jokes were underhanded but could be brushed off as humour, the vitriol was kept for when his back was turned, the eventual birthday presents were tactfully meant to appear innocent but actually be biting insults and the all out war that was had around a pool table was played off as healthy competition.

If it has been anyone but John MacTavish you’d have dumped him purely so you would never have to see Simon Riley again, but fuck you fell hard and fast for Johnny. You didn’t even fully remember your first meeting. It had been a blind date and you thought you had been stood up so got well past merrily drunk at the bar of a nice restaurant. You had not been stood up, your date had broken down in the snow and in the hours you had been drinking the flurries had become a full blizzard. But that wasn’t going to stop Johnny. In the middle of a backroad with a blizzard beating down and no signal to call he had hiked his ass all the way to you, getting there just in time to catch you wobbling out the door.

He had been a gentleman, hadn’t taken advantage. You woke up the next day with a handsome man bringing you breakfast in bed and apologising profusely for the whole thing. He had slept on your couch and admitted sheepishly that he had walked you home. From what little you did remember, you had made it difficult by starting a snowball fight and wanting to make snow angels every 5 minutes. You remembered the scent of pine and a roaring fire that enveloped you when he had bundled you in his jacket, breathing in and being transported to a log cabin in the Scottish highlands in winter, safe and drinking something warm with a hint of whiskey.

If you hadn’t already been falling for him after his bashful teasing that morning, you were flung head first into it when you spent the next week looking after him when his gallantry earned him the worst cold known to man. He was a big baby when he was sick and that combined with the terrible sense of humour that he had made you desperate to learn more about him.

–

“Ye cannae be mean tae me, I’m naw long for this world!”

For such a large man, he really was like a little kid bundled up in blankets and whining.

“Uh huh, that’s very valid and very sad but you still need to take your medicine.”

“I was never any good at swallowing, maybe ye can give it tae me as a suppository.”

Ridiculous man.

“Aww come on, swallow like a good boy and maybe we can talk about that suppository when you’re better.”

“Fuck, where have ye been all my life?”

His loopy grin nearly made you plant a kiss on his lips regardless of how ill he was, but instead you just ruffled his hair when he knocked back the pills and wondered how you were ever going to keep from loving this man.

–

The second date he had left you with a fond kiss at the doorstep after a wild night of earning enough tickets at the arcade to win him a little plush skull toy. He had been obsessed with it when he had first seen it, had told you he needed to win it for his Lieutenant. You thought that was adorable and had put your frankly suspiciously good reflexes to work absolutely rinsing the whack a mole for every ticket you could get from it. Of course had you known then that Simon Riley was the biggest ass on the planet you’d have hoarded your tickets and gotten 300 packets of Haribo instead (or so you’d like to think, but you knew deep down you could never have denied Johnny knowing how bright he smiled when he had traded the tickets for that stupid plush).

By the third date you wanted him so badly that you felt like a bitch in heat. You started to think that maybe you were making a fool of yourself with how calm he seemed whenever you sneaked a touch or whispered a filthy promise. God you liked him so much, it was killing you that maybe he didn’t feel the same. You needn’t have worried as it turned out, date number 3 was when John MacTavish had completely ruined you in a way you had not expected.

–

“This was really nice” you said, a bit embarrassed if you were honest and avoiding his eyes after he walked you to your front door.

You had been a menace the whole evening. You had never been some sex kitten but fuck he just brought it out in you without even trying. He probably thought you were ridiculous now with how you had tried to be all sultry the whole way through dinner. Fuck, your hands had wandered something awful during the movie as well and you felt the humiliation from it burn from your ears to your toes. He didn’t want you the way you wanted him and you had pathetically thrown yourself at him. He probably couldn’t wait to lose your number.

“Open the door.”

Shit. He sounded almost angry. The first guy you had really liked in a long time, maybe ever, and you had totally blown it by being over eager. You shakily unlocked your door and blew out a breath, prepared to go inside and cry over a glass of wine. Instead you were grabbed by the waist and slammed against the door to close it behind you so fast it made your head spin.

John MacTavish’s tongue was down your throat and he had your wrists pinned above your head in a bruising vice grip. You had only just found the sense to kiss back when his lips were gone and instead his teeth were sinking into the delicate skin of your throat. The whine you made at that was all animal, as was his answering growl.

“Next time ye misbehave like that I’m going tae bend ye over the dinner table and fuck ye hard and proper in front of all those nice, fancy people.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You had never gotten so wet so fast in your life. The nice lace panties you had on under this dress were soaked right through. He bit off a curse and your legs nearly gave out when he suddenly let you go and backed right off, dragging a hand roughly through his hair.

“Fuck, sorry. Dinnae hate me, I wanted tae… our first time I mean, I had it all planned oot. Which makes me sound like a creepy, presumptuous bawbag. And now I’m being a fucking reprobate and pinning you tae the door without even asking first.”

Oh my God. You could not just fall in love with a man after 3 dates. And yet looking at his blown out eyes, how his body thrummed with barely contained lust for you and how he nearly vibrated with the effort of holding himself back because he wanted to treat you right… you had fallen in love with a man after 3 dates.

“I thought…” you said, your hand coming to rest on your flushed chest as you tried to find the words. “I mean at dinner and then at the movie, I um… well I wanted you to, you know. I thought maybe you didn’t want to? Which is fine obviously. I mean if you didn’t want to.”

The whiplash from going from lust to humiliation to lust and back to embarrassment was not something you were enjoying. You looked at him, he looked at you and after a few long moment the two of you burst into laughter. What a bloody pair you made. He came over and wrapped you in his arms, that wonderful scent that just gave you a feeling of contentment deep in your bones sinking into you.

“I want to. Was hard for the whole film, couldnae move that popcorn bucket or someone was getting an eye oot. Wanted tae spank ye red raw for all that teasing” he confessed into your hair, so sincere and blunt about it that you weren’t sure your pussy was likely to forgive you if you didn’t go out of your way to tease him next time.

“Wanted?”

He laughed, probably because you sounded somewhat like a petulant child, and leaned back, hands going to gently cup your face. Looking into his eyes felt like a gentle falling. Falling into a warm bed on a cold morning after a hot coffee, falling into the first fresh powdery snow of the year, falling in love with a man you hardly knew but felt so much like coming home.

“Was planning on asking ye tae come with me up North. Got a nice cabin in the Highlands that I usually rent oot since my Captain is always going on about having a backup plan. Want it tae be perfect.”

“You don’t have to go to all that trouble.”

Nobody ever had before. In your somewhat limited experience men wanted to get to fucking as soon as they could and while a few had made sure you came first, none had ever put much thought into getting you into bed in the first place. It just sort of happened. You would never have said you were insecure, but at that moment you felt the crushing weight of feeling that you didn’t deserve this man making such a grand gesture just to get inside you. You already wanted him. And there was no way he wasn’t experienced, how would you ever be good enough to warrant all the effort he was going to?

“Hey, look at me beautiful” he said quietly, thumbs rubbing soothingly across your cheekbones and coaxing your eyes back to his. “I really like you.”

Those four words ruined you entirely. John MacTavish put his heart out there with such simplicity that it stunned you. He could have thrown you on the bed and fucked you rough and savage and you’d have enjoyed it, but instead here he was butting his forehead lightly on yours in affection despite his evident arousal because he wanted more than that.

“I really like you too.”

Instead of fucking, he held you while you cried like a baby, overwhelmed by the care he took with you. He only made it worse when he whispered to you how you deserved to be treated with adoration. He called you beautiful, bonnie thing, mo leannan, winsome wee thing (that one made you laugh). He refused gently when you wanted to take care of him that night, instead laying you down softly on the pillows and lapping between your legs to bring you to slow orgasm after slow orgasm until you were boneless and sated, slurring your speech as he bundled you in his arms and you spoke about everything from your childhood pets to your great hopes and dreams until you drifted off into the best sleep of your life.

–

Your first time with him inside you was in that cabin like he had wanted and it had been the most perfect few days of your life. He had made sure you felt safe and comfortable, insisting you gave the location to your friends and going over maps of the area with you, pointing out where you’d need to go to get signal to check in with them. He bought ingredients for all of your favourite meals and stopped for a snack run on the way to boot. He showed you his test results but stressed that he was putting no pressure on you either way and if you did want to have sex he would have condoms if you preferred. And after all that he made it clear that you did not have to have sex with him if you didn’t feel like it. Johnny would be happy to just hold you for a weekend. As soon as you arrived he taught you how to use the sat phone if there was an emergency. The voice on the other end was gruff but soothing somehow, safe sounding (that at least was something that never changed about Simon, despite not liking the man, you always felt safe with him).

You were ready to explode by the time he finally laid you in bed. He stroked deep and slow inside of you, steady and solid and torturous. You understood then the difference between fucking and making love. It was the first time anyone had ever shown you the latter.

He then proceeded to show you the former in great detail on every surface inside the cabin and on quite a few outside. Your pussy was battered and your clit bruised in the most delicious ways. Your throat was raw from screaming and from being fucked. After a lifetime of swearing up and down it was never something you were interested in, you wound up practically begging for his cock in your ass because there was not one part of you that you did not want dripping with him. And of course he was only too happy to make sure you understood everything he would do to prep you by letting you do it to him first. You couldn’t fucking sit down for a full day after he had indeed spanked you red raw for the teasing you had done on that 3rd date.

A week later you met his family, the week after that his brothers in arms. And then he was gone and you were so worried about him that you constantly felt nauseous. It took years for you to be able to settle when he was deployed, to not spend the whole time imagining him not coming home to you. Because by that time that was what you had built together, a home.

You and Kyle became friends throughout the years. You really did like him, he was easy going and would laugh and let you bitch about Simon whenever you wanted. Captain Price came to feel like an older brother. He was there whenever you needed him, whether it be a car breakdown or because you were in a panic about a handsy coworker (poor guy had broken both hands in an accident the next weekend). And Simon? Well not too much changed there, you dealt with each other when you had to and were it not for your shared love of Johnny you suspected you’d have killed one another.

At least until Las Almas.

–

You didn’t know how you were going to tell Johnny. In fact, you probably wouldn’t. What good would it do? It had sorted itself out. That was how you tried to think about it. Food poisoning had made the pill ineffective for a day, you had gotten pregnant unplanned and unwanted and had lost the baby before you’d even started showing. It didn’t matter that while Johnny was somewhere being a hero you had heard a tiny heartbeat at the doctors. You told yourself over and over again that you didn’t want it anyway. You tried to think about how awful everything felt all the time. The morning sickness, the fatigue, the mood swings.

It was probably just the shock of it, waking up wet from the blood and thinking you were dying. If your first thought had been that you’d rather you die and the baby lived then you tried not to dwell on that. She would have had Johnny’s eyes. He would have wanted a mohawk so he could match his daddy. You forced an image of you telling Johnny and him being upset and not wanting a baby. It was useless. You knew that man. You loved that man. And that man would have gently made sure you wanted to keep it before bursting into happy tears and kissing you senseless.

You couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t break his heart the way the last few months had broken yours. Maybe it was selfish, to want to keep this pain for yourself when you knew beyond a doubt that he’d be desperate to share it, to take as much as he could from you and turn it to gentle comfort the way he always did when you were hurting. But you wanted to be selfish over this.

It was a whole new pain when you answered the door and Ghost was standing there. Your knees went from under you and you collapsed with the weight of why he would be at your door. Why would he be here without your Johnny? It was the first time Simon Riley caught you.

You never spoke about the way he held you gently and told you that Johnny was ok, he was alive but injured. He made you laugh through your tears and snot by telling you what a bad patient Johnny was being, how he was about ready to beat up every medic on base to get back to you because “I dinnae need fucking morphine I need tae eat my bird’s pussy”. His Scottish accent on that impersonation was truly dreadful.

Simon never thought he would find himself comforting you. He didn’t like you, he never had. Johnny had never been so serious about anyone and it drove him nuts that you made him so happy. Happiness like that was an easy thing to ruin and you could ruin it if you wanted, that scared the shit out of him. It was even scarier when Johnny had shown him the ring he was planning to offer you.

He never told Johnny how you had broke in his arms that night. How you had told him about the miscarriage in the dark, bled your pain all over him and let it sink into his skin. He had taken it gladly. In the light of the morning you went back to your dislike of one another, but something had changed in the dark.

–

You never did tell Johnny. You and Simon settled then on some sort of begrudging respect for one another. You still argued and bit at each other, but with the knowledge that now you would be part of one another's lives forever through Johnny given that only a few days after he came home he had slid a ring onto your finger.

Frankly you were fucking terrified when you came off of the pill. The only thing that got you through it was, unbelievably, Simon mumbling to you in the pub over a game of pool that you were going to be good parents. Of course Johnny had told him you were trying, but you found you didn’t really mind as you grumbled back an awkward thank you.

You could have strangled Johnny for having such strong fucking swimmers. You hadn't expected to get pregnant almost as soon as you were off birth control and it meant your wedding dress had to be altered to account for the small bump there. The bump he could not keep his hands off. Honestly the man was already insatiable, but fuck he loved you pregnant. He was already talking about more kids and you hadn’t even had the first one, he fucked you and groaned about wanting you pregnant all the time.

Your husband, something you thought you’d never get sick of saying, drove you mad once again in the late stages. You were hornier than ever and he was determined to treat you like you were made of glass all of a sudden. He certainly still gave you as many orgasms as you demanded, but gone was any rough and feral fucking. You loved making love with Johnny, but fuck if you didn’t miss the fucking.

You’d never tell Simon it had been your suggestion, not under pain of death. Neither of you had been attached to any name in particular, but you knew how much Johnny loved his Lieutenant. He was his best friend and they owed one another their lives several times over. There was a good chance that you owed him your life. Your husband had kissed you with so much love when you had asked if he’d like to call your son Joseph and after talking about it late into the night you had agreed that the little human inside you was your wee Joey.

A wee fucking bruiser is what he was, coming into the world kicking and screaming. Ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. You joked that he must have screamed so loud he had damaged his own ears when he was referred to the audiology clinic after a second newborn hearing test. They stressed that you shouldn’t worry over it, but you hadn’t been anyway. Joseph was the strongest most wonderful thing you had ever seen, whatever came of it he had two parents who were going to make sure it never made his life anything less than a grand happy adventure.

Johnny had hated leaving him. Price had hated to ask it, had sent you enough flowers to start your own florist in apology. You understood though, your husband was off saving the world after all. Your heart was in your throat when he kissed Joey’s head and then kissed you soundly. Something felt off with him. The kiss felt different somehow, mournful. Maybe it was just a trick of your memory, hindsight tainting what you hadn’t known was the last time you would see your husband.

–

Simon Riley caught you a second time. John MacTavish was dead.

#mhairiwrites #cod #fanfic #soap x reader #ghost x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x john mactavish #eventual happy ending #my guys I wrote this in one go this evening so have mercy on my soul #enjoy all the sprinklings of trauma in here that are surprise tools that will help us with angst later

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imtryingbuck · 20 days

Text

Seventy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 3,104

Warnings: angst, heavy use of pet names. fluff. swearing. death (cancer)

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

In the fifteen years that has passed Bucky and Y/n became grandparents to a whopping eleven beautiful grandchildren. Each one of them being well and truly spoiled by their grandparents.

Georgia and Billy got married six months after they proposed to each other, two months later they found out they were having a baby. Natalia was born three weeks prematurely, though still tiny she was strong, always kicking her little legs out and had a set of lungs on her. Two years after Georgia gave birth to another baby girl naming her Scarlet after Billy’s favourite superhero character the Scarlet Witch.

Another two years go by and she gives birth to another baby girl named Aurora, or Rory as Y/n always calls her. Four years later Georgia rings her mom to say she’s pregnant again, the whole family getting a shock of a lifetime when they find out that she was pregnant with triplets. Two girls and a boy, Marya, Django and Rebecca, named after Wanda and Pietro’s parents and Bucky’s sister.

Jamie had three children with his now ex-wife, Nicole, though they divorced and she remarried they remained good friends and were amazing at co-parenting with each other. Ryder, Levi and Angel. Angel was born on Bucky’s birthday which he did not shut up about.

Stevie and his boyfriend Ryan had adopted a baby girl when she was a month old, she had the most brightest green eyes Y/n had ever seen. She was born with a cleft lip and her biological mother didn’t want her which was truly a shame as Quinn could melt anyone’s heart just by looking at them.

Sammy and his girlfriend Eva surprised everyone by announcing that she was pregnant, she had been told when she was younger that she was never going to be able to get pregnant which was something she had come to terms with, but she gave birth to a healthy baby boy who they named James, after Bucky and Eva’s dad.

Howard passed away in his sleep two years after Georgia got married. Y/n and Tony held his hands when he passed. He was buried with his one true love, Maria. With Grace on one side and on the other was George and Winnie.

Grace and Bunny’s Haven became successful, another two Havens in different locations had been build and were now being used by men and women. There were plans to build a fourth Haven but it had to be put on hold.

In a year they must have seen hundreds of faces and heard similar stories. No matter how many times she heard them it didn’t stop her heart from aching each time.

Bucky’s and Y/n’s marriage was just as strong as it had ever been, Steve mocked them once for being sickly sweet so Bucky grabbed Y/n by her hand and pulled her into him and kissed her, both putting on a little show for their friends. That was until Georgia was sick.

She was pregnant at the time.

That’s their defence anyway.

The love that they had for each other continued to grow as the years went on. He was still her Ducky and she was still his Bunny. Natalia once asked Y/n if Bunny was her real name and she had to explain that it was a nickname, then explained why her grandpa called her Bunny, the little girl smiled before running to tell Georgia that her grandmas real name wasn’t Bunny.

Two weeks before Y/n and Bucky celebrated their thirty ninth wedding anniversary Y/n started coughing up blood, Bucky rushed her straight to the hospital panic filling his veins the whole time he drove there.

After blood tests were done a doctor sat the couple down and told Y/n that she had cancer. It was terminal.

It took her back to when Maria had been told the same thing, and just like Maria she didn’t cry no she asked questions whilst Bucky held her hand tighter and tighter to the point where it was hurting her but she never once removed her hand away from his. She needed him. Needed him to help ground her.

Y/n begged Bucky not to tell anyone, at least not until after their anniversary which he hesitantly agreed.

They spent their anniversary at the cabin they had been renting for the past thirty nine years to celebrate the date they became one, through the whole week they were there Bucky cried, he couldn’t understand why it was her that had cancer, to him it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she out of all people had been diagnosed with cancer, it’s wasn’t fair after all her kindness and love she shared and gave to others that she was going to be dying a slow death.

He couldn’t understand how she remained so calm throughout her diagnosis and the week they were away.

“I’ve lived an amazing life Ducky, everything will be okay I promise” she told him as she held him in her arms, wiping his tears off his cheeks and kissing his forehead.

A week after finding out that she had terminal cancer she and Bucky sat their kids down, their hearts breaking at seeing and hearing the most important people to them crying, shaking their heads in denial, Y/n got up and grabbed a hold of her children squeezing them into her chest tight, telling them how much she loves each and every one of them. She couldn’t stress enough of how proud she was of them. Bucky joined in on the family hug, all six of them crumbling together on to the floor.

Telling the group plus Tony was difficult too, all of them in denial about what Y/n was telling them. Each of them couldn’t believe that the strongest one out of them all had been diagnosed with a vile disease such as cancer.

Even with getting chemotherapy to try and slow down the cancer she was becoming weaker not like it stopped her from doing her work at Grace and Bunny’s Haven. Bucky tried and failed to get her to slow down but she wouldn’t, couldn’t as she wanted to continue being there for those who came to her for help before she passed.

“Nanny sweetie” Y/n looked down to see Quinn staring up at her with those wide green eyes that she loved so much.

“You want a sweetie darling?”

“Yes pwease nanny”

“Who am I to say no to you huh? Go ahead and get one sweetheart”

“You spoil her too much you know mom” Stevie said as he came into the living room where she was.

“I know I do but look at them cheeks”

Stevie stood by the couch and stared down at his mom, his heart ached at seeing her looking weak, something he never thought he would ever see or say about his mom. To him she was the strongest person he had even known and possibly would ever know. It had been just over a year since her diagnosis and though she was getting chemotherapy it wasn’t doing much other than delay the inevitable.

Two months prior Y/n and Bucky celebrated their fortieth anniversary, their children planned and organised a party for them at their home. Family and friends were all there to celebrate the love and memories of their time together.

Y/n cried at the surprise and seeing all their loved ones all together, Bucky cried knowing it was the last anniversary they were going to celebrate.

“H-how are you feeling today mom?”

“I’m okay don’t worry about me pumpkin”

“Mom-“ he sighed softly he knew she was still putting up a front, still trying to keep up a positive outlook though all those around her could see her smile fading everyday. “How are you, really?”

“I-I’m scared of dying if I’m honest Stevie, b-but like I told your dad I’ve lived a great life so I’m okay with what’s happening”

Stevie sits next to his mom holding her hands as he started to struggle with keeping his tears at bay. The strongest person he knows had just told him that she was scared. He didn’t realise that he had tears falling from his eyes until Y/n reached out and wiped his cheeks.

“Oh don’t cry my dear boy, everything will be okay I just know it”

“B-but you’re going to die mom, your d-dying an-an-and I can’t do anything to s-stop it from happening” Stevie stuttered out, he was always the one out of the four siblings that wanted to help everyone and anyone, he always felt like he had failed somehow if he couldn’t help people.

“St-Stevie look at me- oh my sweet boy everything is going to be okay I promise. You can’t control this and neither can I but everything will be okay”

“B-but what do I do without you momma?”

“Live your life to the fullest, love until your heart and soul are content, make memories and for the love of god keep being yourself Stevie. And when things get tough just look up at the sky night or day and just know I’m looking down on you, even though I’m not going to be here physically doesn’t mean your getting away from me, alright?”

Stevie nods with tears running down his cheeks, hugging his mom tightly and promising her that he will do everything she told him too. They separate when Quinn comes stumbling over with chocolate all over her face, smiling widely not understanding the conversation between her dada and nanny.

A month after having that conversation with Stevie, Y/n took a turn for the worse. Bucky knew the end was near for his Bunny, when that realisation hit him he went to the toilet and puked up.

On Wednesday 20th August, Bucky stood from the doorway watching his wife, his one and true love, his Bunny sleeping in their bed, his coloured eyes went from her face to her chest to make sure it was still rising.

“Y-you watching me sleep Ducky?” Her soft voice whispered filling in the quiet room.

“Of course my sweet Bunny”

“Duck-“

“Not today baby please”

“I-I don’t think I have another d-day in me Duck”

“Pl-please Bun”

Y/n smiled weakly, slowly patting the bed for him to come over. Holding his hand she raised his hand to her lips where she placed a lingering kiss to his knuckles.

“I-I don’t want the kids being in the room when I go Ducky, please promise me that they won’t be here.”

“Why?”

“It’s not fair on them to see me go Ducky, so please promise me”

“I-I promise Bunny, I promise”

Hand in hand for about thirty minutes, Bucky slowly stood and stumbled downstairs to grab his phone. Ringing Georgia his voice shook as he told her that she needed to get everyone to the house so that they could say their goodbyes, leaning heavily against the counter his heart cracking when he could hear his oldest child breaking down on the other end of the phone, he could hear Billy’s voice cracking in the background as he tried to get their children ready.

Coming off the phone to Georgia he rang Jamie to tell him the same, he knew he was currently with the twins. He rang Tony, then Steve asking his longest friend if he could tell everyone else, he simply couldn’t have that conversation once again. Climbing the stairs and heading into their bedroom Bucky sighed a breath of relief when he noticed her chest still rising and falling, he let her know that everyone was on their way.

“Duck, have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Every day for the past forty three years” Bucky admits with a smile.

“Thank you for the best years of my life James, you’ve al-always made me happy you know? You’re my world, my light, my better half my love, I’ve lived a life full of happiness and I’ve known true love because of you, so thank you Ducky”

Bucky makes no attempt to wipe the heavy stream of tears away, he tries to find the words to tell her how much she means to him but before he could find them the bedroom door opens revealing his greatest achievements.

Their children.

Bucky sits back and lets his children and best friends say their goodbyes in their own ways, his heart feeling heavier and heavier the longer they are there. He sits there with his hand in hers watching his Bunny smile at each member of their very large family, he knows that she accepted her fate the moment the doctor told her the news, he knows even though she’s scared of death and of the unknown that comes with it, scared of leaving her loved ones behind and of the thought of never seeing any of them again.

Despite the ending of her story coming to an end so soon she still keeps a smile on her lips, trying to show her family that it’s okay, it’s okay that she’s going to be going to sleep soon and never waking back up.

After an hour of being surrounded by the people who meant the world to her she gives Bucky a look silently telling him that it was time. Choking back a sob he tells his children and best friends that they needed to leave, each of them confused until Y/n speaks up and tells them that she doesn’t want any of them being there, each of them trying to protest - fear and the truth of what was happening making them stay in place, until Bucky gave them all a single look.

The family they created stumbled out of the room, holding on to each other. Before shutting the door behind him Tony took one last long at his baby sister, his heart breaking at the sight in front of him.

Bucky climbing into the bed next to his only love clinging to her like a lifeline.

“I love you Bunny, I love you so much Y/n thank you for everything. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to be yours. I-I love you, I love you.” Bucky whispers as he sees the eyes belonging to the only woman who he’s ever loved purely and deeply, the woman who he watched give life four times, the woman who gave his life meaning. The woman who he’s loved since he was an innocent little child who didn’t really know the meaning of love, starting to flutter closed.

“I’ll be with you soon my love” he again whispers, so terrified to speak any louder as she would hear the way his voice cracks, he needed to be strong for her. He couldn’t let her down.

Georgia walked into the room with slow timid steps. Falling to her knees with a loud thud she releases a gut wrenching sob which has her brothers, uncles and aunts flinching and bowing their heads.

“Wh-when do we get to give nanny her birthday presents?” Rory asks innocently, completely unaware of why everyone was crying.

Standing in front of so many people, many she knew, many she didn’t. Georgia though her heart ached as she stood at the podium next to her mommas coffin she smiled. Smiled at seeing that so many people had come to say goodbye and pay their respect to her beautiful mom, smiled at seeing them all dressed in bright clothes. Georgia told everyone that she didn’t want anyone wearing black.

Georgia smiled at seeing all the people who had gone to Y/n to seek help had arrived at the church. The air got caught in her throat when she saw the four women and the first man who were the first people to arrive at Y/n’s sanctuary were all sitting together.

“My mom was the greatest woman I had ever met, strong and beautiful. Her heart knew no bounds, she always saw the good in people. My mom was my best friend, the person so many people could turn to for help or a shoulder to cry on o-or just someone to hold them. My mom is and will always be my hero. Her laugh was infectious and so was her smile, my mom would make jokes about things that weren’t really funny but she would laugh and you just couldn’t help but laugh along. She truly was an inspiration to me and too many others. Her love for my dad was beyond words, she loved him so deeply and wholeheartedly, so purely. I am beyond proud to say that I am the daughter of Y/n Barnes”

She looks towards Billy who nods slowly as to encourage her to continue. She wipes the tears from her eyes.

“My dad was incredible, funny, loving and one of the kindest men I had ever met. My dad was the reason why my mom was able to create Grace and Bunny’s Haven, he supported her every step of the way, supported strangers and friends. His love like my mom’s knew no bounds-“ the feeling of her throat drying and closing has her coughing lightly.

“I’m sorry. The love my dad had for my mom was so strong that everyone who knew or just saw them together could see how much he loved her, could see that my mom was his whole world. I am beyond proud to say that I am the daughter of James Barnes”

Looking sadly at her father’s coffin lying right next to her moms she breathes deeply. “On behalf of my family I would like to say thank you to all those that have come today, thank you for donating money towards Grace and Bunny’s Haven, thank you for your kind words and stories of how our parents touched your lives. Tha-thank you”

Steve watches his niece as she steps down from the podium, her hands shaking as she moved towards Billy who stood up and took her hand in his. “I’m so proud of you baby” he whispered into her ear. He smiled at the memory of Bucky doing the same to Y/n when she spoke at Maria’s funeral.

He looks at the two coffins lying there, knowing that his two best friends were in them, knowing that one died of cancer and the other of a broken heart, made his eyes sting with unshed tears.

Y/n passed away in the arms of her Ducky.

Bucky passed away with his arms around his Bunny.

And side by side they were buried next to their parents.

A/N: I was listening to Elvis Presley Bridge Of Troubled Water and Always On My Mind writing their deaths…and when I say I was sobbing I mean I was s. o. b. b. i. n. g.

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx @kneelforloki @kandis-mom @sagebarness @sandyruston @scott-loki-barnes @nikkivillar @saltedcoffeescotch @scentedharmonymiracle @examinarei @sarcastickiddo @sadboiabby @unholyhuntress @8crazy-freak8 @ijustneedpopcorn @moonbeampillgoth @imcinnamoons @elmo-1066 @violetwinterwidow01 @suz7days @adoredire @ozwriterchick @randomrosie01 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @emerald-writes @justafangir1 @sibsteria @spencerreidisagorgman @sapphirebarnes @bruher @hawkinsavclub1983 @onlyonetifosi @parisadams @unabashedstarlightcrown @nash-dara @allofffmypeaches @loki-laufeyson68 @behindmygreyeyes @missvelvetsstuff @pigeonmama @lizslibrary @gloriouspurpose01 @gaya-is-weird-af @capsbestgirl77

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