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thegnomelord · 9 months

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A Little Bit Of Heaven

CW: NSFW, FTM subbot Gaz, domtop Male Reader, oral, scar kissing, soft fluffy sex, body worship, lingerie, fem language, reader is whipped for Gaz

PS: This is inspired by @ramvur 's art piece of Gaz, @el-chonkus you wanted to be tagged so here you go :D

The last few months have been Hell on both of you; mission after mission, drill after drill, chasing away exhaustion and sleep deprivation with copious amounts of caffeine in an attempt to put a dent in the stacks of paperwork you've been given. Despite spending most of your time together, be it training recruits or as battle buddies on missions, it feels like you and Kyle never have time for each other, the only time you two have to be intimate being when Kyle sleeps on your shoulder during the long plane rides.

So when Price tells you you two are cleared for a week of military leave, you jump at the chance to have a proper vacation. Once you get the tickets you put it in an envelope, going out to find Gaz.

You find him in your shared bunk room, peacefully snoring with a book splayed over his chest. Even in his sleep he's on edge, fingers twitching occasionally as if pulling the trigger of a gun. You're quiet as a mouse as you walk to his bed, kneeling to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

Kyle's eyelids flutter open, your familiar outline in his blurry vision calms him before military grade instincts can kick in, having to blink a few times to focus on you. "Mhm, what'ime isit?" He slurs as he sits up, the few minutes of sleep doing nothing to lessen the bags under his pretty brown eyes.

"Still early." You say, keeping your voice low. "I'm sorry for waking you,"

"Is fine," He waves away your apology, reaching out to wrap a loose arm around your neck, pulling you closer. "Did you need something?" Kyle's still groggy as he nuzzles your cheeks together, aiming for your lips but winding up kissing your nose.

"Yeah," You take a moment to relish the intimacy, not that Kyle minds, breathing in your scent with a happy sigh; God knows how long you'd spent in an intimacy deficit. "Guess what I did." You say with a humorous tone.

That sobers him up enough to lean back and give you a critical eye. "If you hid Price's cigars again I'm not hiding you." He warns, but there's obvious amusement in his voice.

"No, no," You snort, holding out the envelope for him. "It's something better."

"Do I even want to know?" Kyle raises an eyebrow but takes the envelope, opening it. Inside he finds two plane tickets to Greece, along with an invoice for a rented villa. "Are these. . .?" His voice dies down as he looks at you with wide eyes.

"You did say you wanted to go somewhere warm." You shrug a shoulder, trying not to show how much you hope he'll be pleased by this seeing as you two hadn't planned anything for your leave.

"Oh, mate," You can't describe the wide smile that graces his features, bright like the sun, one you'd happily let blind you. "Come here you-" He pulls you so close your foreheads bonk together, you can feel his grin as he kisses you. "-beautiful bastard." He sighs as your lips part but you don't, breathing in the same air.

"You're the beautiful one." Your comment has him giggling like a child; Kyle's laugh feels like silk on your ears, so infectious you find yourself giggling too. "Do you like them?"

"Do you even need to ask?" He teases, pulling you into another kiss.

. . .

Gaz is very smug on the day you're supposed to leave, cheeky as he gushes to Soap of all the things you two have got planned for your vacation, which of course has the Scot whining to Ghost about 'stepping up'. But it's all in good fun and you're sent off with a few demands to bring souvenirs.

Despite how tired you two are, the entire plane ride to Greece is spent learning about the local town near the villa you'd rented and all the tourist attractions there, learning a few sayings as well as how not to get scammed.

He's like a kid on Christmas when you finally get to the villa, exploring every room and the grounds around it; It's as pretty as it is old, spiderwebs of ivy and roses wrapping around the columns and sides of it, built on a cliff overlooking the ocean, but far bigger than what you two are used to, Kyle's animated assessment of every little detail in the frescos, evaporating the eeriness of the empty rooms.

And of course, the first thing you do when you get there is sleep a solid 24 hours, your exhaustion catching up to you two. You wake up the next day to Kyle still snoring next to you, much more relaxed and clutching you like a koala. He doesn't even stir when you get out of bed to make him and you a very late breakfast, receiving loving kisses on the cheek when Kyle finally stumbles out of dream land.

You spend your vacation doing all the typical couple things, thousands of photos filling Gaz's phone — you two dinning out or attempting to make some local dishes, several of you two donkey riding across the mountains (and one that he'd favored of a donkey trying to eat your clothes), silly photos of you two interacting with the statues in a nearby garde (you especially love the one of him imitating one), pictures of sunsets and sunrises and a dozen more of him coming out of the water, some selfies of Gaz with you haggling with a merchant in the background as well as your triumphant smirk as you hold a pearl necklace to Kyle's neck from behind.

Kyle likes to look at the photos when he wakes up before you, your body warm and pressed against his from behind while you sleep with your arms around him, his chest light as a feather from how intimate you two had been able to be, how lovely you'd been to him, a true gentleman and every bit the man he fell in love with.

And Kyle decides he wants to do something for you. And for him. A nice gift for the both of you.

He has to shove his pillow into your arms otherwise you wouldn't let go of him, a small giggle leaving his lips at how you nuzzle and hug the pillow like a koala. He tries to stay quiet as he goes to the dresser to pick up the small special suitcase he'd brought just for this vacation, picking out the clothes he'd wanted to wear just for you and him, but never got the time.

He watches himself in the mirror as he puts on the stockings, the material soft against his skin, the kitten heels fitting him perfectly. Kyle struggles with the bralette for a few minutes, but it's worth it when it frames his pecs in such a pleasing way, perking them up and hiding the top scars that run beneath them. Finally comes the long feathered robe, dragging behind him when he twirls in front of the mirror.

Kyle can feel giddy bubbling in his chest, heart beating just a bit faster. Back on base he would have felt ashamed at wearing something so frivolous and impractical, he was a soldier god damn it, but here, with you, he's just Kyle.

Gaz glances to your still sleeping form as he sits by the vanity to do his makeup, lipstick and mascara and a light blush, taking care of the small amount of facial he's managed to grow. He can't wait to see how you'll react when you see him like this. . .

A little mischievous smirk crosses his features and Gaz silently comes to your side of the bed, leaning down to kiss your face, leaving red lipstick marks all across your skin before leaving you to wake up to his surprise.

. . .

You wake from sunlight filtering through the curtains, the soft sound of Kyle humming rousing you from your dreams. You attempt to cuddle closer but soon enough figure out it's a pillow you're hugging. You grumble and sit up, your brain stuttering when you see yourself in the mirror. Bright lipstick marks dot a side of your face, from your forehead down all the way down to your jaw.

Kyle's work, no doubt, but you can't bring yourself to wipe his marks on you — a type of stigmata you'd happily wear. You don't bother with clothes, yawning as you follow the soft sound of his humming to the balcony.

You nearly swallow your tongue when you see him; wreathed in the soft morning light, his skin glowing like the golden bracelets on his arms, the pink roses blending in with his robe making him look like he's sitting on a cloud, soft feathers accentuating the robe like pearly sea foam he'd formed from. Your eyes roam from his red heels up the toned thighs, the sunlight softening the harsh scars decorating his stomach, the sheer material of the bralette both leaving nothing to the imagination and making you want to pull it off, his red lips like the red skin of an apple Eve had been tempted with.

If you were a Trojan prince, you wouldn't have looked at any goddess had Kyle been there, someone the sculptors of old times would have clamored to have as a muse.

If he told you he was a god, you'd take it as gospel, gift Kyle all your devotion just like the pearl necklace he's appraising.

"Holy hell." You mumble, scared to distract him, unwilling to pull him out of his own little world where his face isn't tense with unease and exhaustion, where his shoulders are relaxed and his instincts are blissfully sleeping, where he can just be.

But Kyle hears you, his warm brown eyes shifting to you, a bit of surprise flashing in his face before smiling. "I was wondering when you'd wake up." Kyle chuckled, a flush of heat spreading across his face at the way you look at him — eyes smoldering like coals with desire, a lovesick puppy just for him.

"You could have just woken me up if you were lonely." You hummed as you slowly approached him, brushing your fingers against his cheek. "You know I'd never say no to you."

"I know, I know." He huffs, pretty dark lashes fluttering as he pats your hand before pulling you into a kiss. You can taste wine on his lips, soft and plush against your own. He pulls back, holding up the pearls pearls. "Help me with these yeah?"

"Sure," You say, watching him shift so his back is facing you. You clip the pearl necklace around his neck easily, kissing the back of his neck just to feel him shiver. "There you go, handsome man."

"Trying to seduce me are you?" Gaz grins and quickly turns to you, pecking your forehead but pulling back when you attempt to kiss him.

"Can you blame me?" You nuzzle his neck, laying gentle kisses across his neck, your heart fluttering when he tilts his head back to give you more room. "You're absolutely gorgeous."

"Oh you," You can just about catch the way a blush darkens his face to a rich mahogany, his skin warming under your lips as you nibble on his collarbones. "charming bastard." He chuckles, holding the back of your neck as you go further down to trace the outline of his sternum with your lips.

"Just for you," Your hands rise up to cup his pecs over the bralette, lightly groping without attempting to take it off just yet. "Do you want to. . .?" You ask, rubbing your thumb over his pebbled nipple and god, if the soft silk pressing against his sensitive skin doesn't turn him on, nothing will.

"Fuck yes." Gaz whines so sweetly, holding your head close to his chest as you pull one nipple into your mouth, wetting the silk and making him shiver. You pull off to do the same to the other nipple, your hands roaming over his torse, tracing the harsh scars before going back up to push the bralette enough for you to be able to trace the top scars with your tongue. "Oh shit." He grunts as you kiss along the sensitive skin from one side of his chest to the other. "Love." He whines, embarrassed by his own eagerness, but if you don't touch him more he swears he's going to die.

You pull back and settle on your knees; Gods may be worshiped in blood and wine, but your devotion is all he needs. And you'll give it to him.

Your revenant fingers grope the muscle and fat of his thigh, slowly pulling down the pink stocking and following after it with your lips. Tracing the imprint the stocking had left at his mid thigh, pecking the bony part of his knee, kissing the small scars dotting his shin down to his ankle as you finally pull his heel and stocking off him.

Gaz swears he can feel his heart beating in his throat as he watches you repeat the process on his other leg, warmth lingering long after your lips have moved on. "Christ alive," He mumbles, the moment you peel off his remaining stocking he's spreading his legs for you, cheeks growing warm as your eyes settle on his cunt. A damp spot has grown on the feathered robe where his slick had trickled down, curly dark hair slick with his arousal, his dick starting to peek beneath it's hood. "Don't tease me now love." He whines out the last word, buzzing nerves threatening to force his thighs to close, but his need for you outweighs the embarrassment of exposing himself like this.

You're between his legs in a second, hiking his thighs on your shoulders and feeling the hard earned muscles tense around your ears. "Alright, alright." Is the last words you say before starting to really worship him, his hand brushing your hair as you press your face against his cunt.

Your tongue circling his hole and lapping up the slick dripping from it births a relieved and pleased sigh from Kyle's chest. The slow movement of your tongue exploring his pussy lips has his muscles relaxing, forcing him to recline on the bench, the railing of the balcony providing needed support as you slowly circle his hardening dick. You flatten your tongue to give his dick something to rub against, moving your tongue up and down as Kyle's hips twitch to meet your movements, lazily following after the pleasure.

You have no need to rush, listening to his pleased sighs and small little whimpers as you let him set the pace. Kyle can barely see you from how blurry his eyes are, soft sounds leaving his lips as you search out all his pleasure spots like you don't know where they are, like you're doing this for the first and last time; He has to bite his lip to give his thoughts something to latch on to lest his mind drown in the pleasure, embarrassment curling in the spaces of is belly not overtaken with heat at the thought of cumming so fast.

But you can feel how he comes closer and closer to an orgasm by the way his chest heaves, the way more slick continues to trickle from his cunt, staining your chin despite your best efforts to swallow his ichor down. His hand on the back of your hand keys you in to go faster, and without further ado you focus solely on his dick, swirling your tongue around it like it's a lollypop, dipping to lap beneath the hood.

His thighs tense like vices around your ears, threatening to crack your skull— what a wonderful death —is all your mind can think as oxygen slowly depletes, your sole objective to pleasure him. Distantly you can hear him chant your name, thighs shaking and hips twitching to grind his dick against your tongue.

Suddenly you wrap your lips around his length and suck.

His orgasm crashes over Kyle like a wave, pulling him down to drown in the depths of mind-numbing pleasure, sea foam popping in his belly as heat burns in his bones. You mouth opens to swallow all the slick gushing from his cunt and down your jaw, wet hair tickling your face as his shaking thighs clench around your head.

You don't pull away when Kyle's orgasm winds down and his thighs relax. "Sh-ah- shite!" Kyle moans when your tongue returns, feather light flicks against his pulsating walls collecting his slick like you've been in a desert for months. Your name falls from his lips, both a prayer and a curse, his thighs shaking as static dances across his nerves, his hand on his mouth trying to uselessly silence his moans as you lap up his arousal.

He finally manages to gather enough strength to pull your head back, both of you struck dumb by the other. You— by how ruined he looks, lines of mascara down his cheeks from where tears had laid a path, chest heaving and skin turned rich mahogany from ears to collarbones; Kyle — by how debauched you look, the lipstick marks he'd left earlier smudged all across your face, jaw and throat shining with his slick.

Fuck, he's aroused again.

He whimpers your name, tugging your head. "Need you." He whispers, eyes hooded.

In one smooth move you rise to your feet and pick him up, his legs and arms wrapping around you as he pulls you into a kiss, uncaring of his own taste on your tongue. You have just enough sense in your head to make your way to a laying couch close by, putting him down, your heart fluttering at how the feathered robe spreads out around him like a cloud.

"Hurry up," Kyle grumbles, a blush burning his cheeks even more as he splays his legs open for you, cunt clenching around nothing and dick hard as a rock, his arms still firmly wrapped around your neck to keep your mouths close.

You chuckle, the tip of your achingly hard cock kissing his cunt just as you do to his lips, "Breathe in and relax." You grip your dick in one hand to position yourself.

"'m not a bloody virgin." Kyle complains, his entire body so relaxed and pussy so slick that his cunt doesn't offer even a smidgeon of resistance as you push in, both of you groaning as your cock spreads his warm walls open.

"Let me treat you like one." You snort and distract any discomfort he might feel with a kiss, slowly sinking deeper and deeper until your balls rest against his ass, cock throbbing inside his clenching cunt. You stop, resting your forehead against his as you wait him to adjust.

Kyle breathes out a small grumble, "Only if you move." His leg wraps around your waist, heel digging into your back to force your hips to shift.

You grin and kiss him again, swallowing his moans when you pull back a bit and push your cock back in, his cunt greedily swallowing you back in and clenching around you like it doesn't want to let you go. But Kyle shifts his hips to meet your thrusts half way, his nails clawing scratches into your back when you start moving quicker.

"Oh, fuck- yes!- like that, just-" Kyle pants into your mouth, eyes hooded and unfocused, pleasure gnawing on his nerves as every deep thrust nails a pleasure spot inside him, the veins of your cock scrapping his sensitive walls, his slick wetting both of your pubes. He jumps the second you reach down to stroke his dick between two of your fingers, timing it to stroke down every time you bottom out inside him, the air around you filled with the scent of sex and Kyle's sweet moans and chants of your name.

"Fuck, I'm close." You warn as you increase your pace, your entire body buzzing with pleasure. "Do you want it inside?" You ask, biting your lips and trying to stave off your orgasm.

"Shite- yes, yes, yes-" Kyle throws his back as his orgasm sneaks up on him for the second time, slick warm walls clamping down on your flesh like vices as he cums. You follow suit soon after, bottoming out as you cum inside him.

You're both breathless and sweaty as you shift him around so you're not crushing him when you lay down, your head resting on his chest. Your eyes close as you listen to his breathing, and you swear you could fall asleep if his hands didn't brush your hair, scratching the back of your neck until you force your eyes open.

His smiling face greets you, soft and warm like the sun, "Thank you love." He grins, tugging you into a quick and soft kiss.

"Thank you." You hum, making him laugh a little. You lay there just enjoying the sound of the sea and the chirping birds for a bit. Then you feel him shift, grinding his hips back onto your soft cock still inside him. "Kyle?" You ask, your cock hardening slowly despite the pain of overstimulation.

"Think you can go again?" There's an impish smirk on his handsome face as he grinds his hips again, every bit a demanding god as he pulls you back into a hungry kiss, all tongue and teeth.

And you wouldn't dare refuse him. . .

#new year new me eh?#cod mw2 #x reader #top male reader #male reader #Centerpieces of the Hoard #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #kyle gaz smut #kyle gaz x reader #cod x male reader #cod modern warfare #cod smut #ftm character #kyle garrick x male reader

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elliesgaythoughts · 4 months

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HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! (mb) i wanted toooo request ellie or reader finding polaroids they took of eachother when they were drunk n messy???? weird req but its something ‼️‼️

i love this idea so much🩶

Drunk photos🤍

ellie x female reader fluff

warnings: mentions of drinking and smoking weed. universe crossover?🤭

You slowly drift back into consciousness as your senses take in your surroundings, the sound of Ellie’s snores and faint garage music, the smell of weed and taste of cheap cider, you take a long sigh.

“fuuck” you groan opening your heavy eyelids to the scene of empty pizza boxes, drink bottles and clothes that’s been thrown off eachothers bodies mindlessly with no regard of cleaning it up the next day “ellie” you mumble “mmh” the girl that laid sprawled like a star fish on top of your back groans “ellieee” “whaaat” she whines back as you roll over and something jags at your waist “ow!” you squeal.

“what is it baby?” she groans, only regaining consciousness at the thought that you’re in pain as her eyes dart open and she looks around to try find out what’s wrong.

“ohh” she giggles picking the camera up that you rolled onto, waving the blurry piece of junk in front of your face “you almost broke it” she pouts, dusting it off and kissing it like it was the most precious thing on earth, you just roll your eyes and rub your side and she leans forward to kiss it better until you speak “does that piece of junk even work?”

she pulls back, a look of shock on her face “does it even work?!” she gasps “of course it does” she smirks at you knowingly and fear stikes you “what ellie?” you warn. “ohh you don’t remember? dina became quite the photographer last night” she taps the camera “wanna see what she got?” “fuck yeah” you giggle and crawl under the covers with her, resting your cheek on her shoulder as she sets it up and both of you instantly erupt into a burst of laughter as the memories flood your minds, laughing till your tummy hurts at the scene of Jesse shirtless and spilling out of ellie’s bathtub with a pair of Joel’s sunglasses on:

just as the belly laughs calm down they erupt again as you fold over and hide against ellies chest as she giggles, dragging her fingers through your hair “you look pretty” she coos “nooo ellie delete it” you whine as she whispers “okay” and does the complete opposite. keeping the image of her brushing your hair with the intentions of getting it printed out and put in her wallet:

“ohh what about this one babe? you remember this?” you look over your shoulder and a smile can’t help but creep onto your lips “yes, I do” and ellie hums sweetly, lost in thought as you lean up and kiss her softly on her plush lips, her mouth against yours feeling like home as you pull back and cup her freckled face “you look cute” you chirp at the picture of her kissing you:

“you think?” she smiles sweetly as she rubs your back and flicks to the next pic as you hum a “mhm”

and you can’t help but shoot her a side eye as she giggles flicking past the next pic of her as you remember her going into a mood with the police officer that dropped her off home and refused to let ellie hold her gun:

she just releases an awkward laugh and changes the image..

the air leaves ellies lungs as your eyes meet her ones that shot out of her head in fear as you both witness the image of your bestie, that you didn’t even invite, dipping Joel’s general grant into a cup of liquid, ellie was supposed to lock them up before anyone came over, she was going to kill him:

“fuck” she squeals in terror, jumping up and pulling a pair of underwear over her legs as you watch her contently and snuggle deeper under the covers, laughing at her “have fun baby” you shout as you see her run out the room “fuck you” she shouts back before she shuts the door in just a pair of boxers before she begins her hunt for the figurine for Joel getting home.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader fluff #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie williams fluff #ellie fluff #ellie williams x female reader

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bucks-babe · 6 months

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maybe angel!reader helping bucky thru a panic attack? like he thinks when he dies hes gonna suffer in hell for the stuff the winter soldier did and we calm him down and help him? u can add smut if u want but u dont have to !!

My Guardian, My Angel, My Love

Pairing: Bucky x angel!reader

Summary: For the first time Bucky gets to experience peace because of his sweet angel.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Angst?, actually a lot of angst, I don’t know how it got that way but it did, it gets happy though, fluff, smut (I can’t help myself), oral f!receiving, handjob, awkward sex talk, like really awkward, talk about heaven and dying, talk about life after death and immortality, angels based off of Supernatural but I changed a few things, blood, nearly dying, gunshots, reader doesn’t have a soul but can still love because I said so, reader knows when and how everyone dies but can’t tell them, reader has wings, 3rd person, age gap (reader is eons old), wings being a metaphor for sexual assault?, think Maleficent, no use of Y/N, so many emotions

A/N: This is not supposed to force any religion nor be an accurate representation of any religion. I din't go with panic attack, rather I had him almost die. I was feeling angsty

The moment Bucky’s knees hit the ground he knows it's over, that this is the end. He knew this was the way he would go out, on a mission, desperately trying to atone all his misdeeds. Tendrils of pain shot throughout his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers. When his side hit the ground, he knew it wouldn’t be too long before he went, limbs feeling too heavy. He couldn’t hear Steve screaming for help, scrambling for anything to stop the bleeding.

What Bucky did hear though, was a ruffle, almost like a flock of birds flying by, then a figure he’d never seen before stood above him. She’s here to take me. It didn’t strike Bucky as odd that she was the only thing that was clear, the rest of his view blurry and unfocused. He tried to speak, he really did, but no words came out, the breath leaving his lungs not enough to push any words out.

The woman crouches down, hand cupping his cheek with such softness tears leave his eyes, wiped away by Steve in the quinjet who seemingly can’t see her. “Close your eyes, my love. When you wake up, I’ll be there.” Fuck, this is really happening. Fear coursed through his body, scared of what punishment his sins earned him. I deserve to go to hell for what I’ve done.

A guttural whine passes his lips; Steve chokes back sobs next to his lifelong friend. “Shh, none of that, now. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise. You can rest now.” All at once, the pain is gone. Bucky feels like he’s floating - it’s wonderful.

Bucky has no problem opening his eyes. What the fuck? This is hell? Well damn. The most wonderful sound meets his ears - a giggle, soft and delicate. “No, my love, this is not hell and you’re not dead.” She comes into view. She’s gorgeous. Wait, I’m alive! Apparently, Bucky says that last part because Steve’s gasp enters his ears.

“Yeah, Buck, you’re alive. Gave us a scare though, didn’t uh, didn’t know if you would make it.” Bucky doesn’t respond right away, too busy looking around for his mystery woman, only to be met with the walls of the med bay. “Hey, I’m right here, Buck, look at me.” It’s not the woman, rather it’s Steve.

“How long was I out? What happened?”

“A few days. It was touch and go for some time but you bounced back. When we were on the mission, Hydra had a sniper posted outside. He got you right in the stomach.” Bucky could hear the emotion in Steve’s voice, the fear of losing his best friend still leaving him shaken up.

“Well, they’re a pretty shitty shot if you ask me. Could have gotten one right between the eyes with one of those shit guns we got in the war.” Steve coughs out a laugh, turning into a belly laugh a few seconds later. Bucky would laugh with him, but the bullet wound in his abdomen says he shouldn’t. He still doesn’t see the woman, though. Maybe I just made her up.

A few days later, doctor Cho gives him the all clear to leave the med bay; however, he’s off duty for the foreseeable future and not any amount of his grumbling changed her mind. Still, Bucky hasn’t seen the woman. He feels a little crazy that he misses her, well crazier.

Slowly, he makes his way to his room. Steve offered to help but Bucky wanted to do this on his own, having been tended to his whole stay in hospital. He puts in his password on the keypad Tony installed when Bucky first arrived, when the fear that Hydra would come back and take him was too much to bear. His room is the same way he left it, except for a woman on his bed. Not just any woman though, it was his mystery lady.

Someone’s gonna have to put me in the cuckoo's nest. She laughs as if she can hear his thoughts. God, I hope not. “God has bigger things to worry about than such an inconspicuous fear as that, my love.” She sits up, facing him, the most beautiful smile gracing her lips.

“Can you hear my thoughts?” He feels like he already knows the answer, but asks anyway. If this woman is made up, of course she can read his mind. She just smiles and rises to her feet, walking over to him.

“What do you think, my love?” She tilts her head, a soft smile still resides on her lips. He feels so safe with her and she isn’t even real, just a figment of his imagination, a ruse to comfort himself in what he thought were his last moments. “I am very real, I’ll have you know.”

Bucky doesn’t know why, but he believes her. He believes this woman who showed up randomly on a field, who his best friend couldn’t see, and who disappeared without a trace. “How then? How did you do it?”

“Do what, my love?” She grabs his hand and leads him to the bed, helping him sit, finding a spot next to him.

“Save me, hear my thoughts, hide from Steve, disappear, get into my room, all of it. It’s not natural. Either you’re a ghost, or a mutant, or a reaper who was trying to take me. I don’t know, but you’re something.” Another laugh escapes her. He should be terrified of her, but he can’t find it in himself to be, her presence emanating calm.

“Well aren’t you a clever one? However, I’m none of those things nor did I save you. It just wasn’t your time yet. I’m an angel, though, to answer your question.” Bucky just stares, not believing her. This has to be a joke. “No joke, my love. If you want, I can prove it to you.” Bucky doesn’t even question why she calls him my love, the sound of it just too nice to stop.

Bucky just nods, words failing him. She rises to her feet, turning to stand in front of him. He hears them before he sees them, the same ruffle he heard as he lay dying. Then he sees them. A pair of dark wings coming from her back. She doesn’t spread them all the way, too big to fit in the small space of his room. “They’re black.” She throws her head back, a loud, beautiful laugh fills his ears.

“That was your first thought? You don’t like them? Personally I think they’re quite nice.” It was the first thing that came to his mind, the rest blank. Maybe he should have asked for more proof, but he knows she would never lie to him. He doesn’t know how he knows, he just does.

“I don’t know. I guess I just thought they’d be white. With the whole angel thing, you know?” She hums.

“There is a lot humans have wrong about us. I mean, plenty of us have white wings, but they come in many colors. If you can believe it, this isn’t even my true form.” Bucky is confused, she looks so real. A tangible human, someone he can touch.

“What is your true form then? Can I see it?” That’s a little personal to ask, dumbass.

“Well, that is a little complicated. Only one human has seen my true form and it didn’t go well. I thought she could handle it, but when she saw me, well let’s just say she couldn’t see from then on.” Bucky’s eyes widened, not expecting that answer. “Anything else you want to ask me?”

Her wings are still out, folded against her back. They look so soft. “Can I touch your wings?” Her wings shift slightly. If he wasn’t trained to observe everything and everyone, Bucky wouldn’t have known that she was uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t know-”

“That’s okay. An angel’s wings are very personal. They’re sensitive and even for an ethereal being, it's very personal - intimate.”Clearing her throat, she changes the subject. “I know your name, my love. Might I say, it’s very pretty, but you don’t know mine.” Bucky picks up on her attempt to move his attention away from her wings.

“What is it then? I can’t call you angel forever, however fitting it may be.”

“Well I don’t exactly have a name. I’m a cherubim. The only angels who have names are the archangels, the first borns.”

It was Bucky’s turn to smile.”My little cherub.” She doesn’t tell him that cherub is the plural of cherubim. Until this day, Bucky didn’t know that angels could get shy, yet here his sweet cherub is, shying away from his piercing eyes. He bets if he felt her face he would feel the heat on them. “I have to ask though, my little cherub, why did you come to me?”

She became serious, staring right into his eyes. “Because God commanded it.”

“What does God want to do with me? Out of all the people in this world, he chose me?” A pained look crossed her face and she walked over to him, kneeling in front of him like he was her God. Her hands ran up his arms, goosebumps rising at the pass of her hands. He almost stopped breathing - he could feel her hand on his left arm. He hasn’t felt anything with that hand since he fell of that train.

Hands still rising, she cups his face with both hands, making him look into her eyes. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” It wasn’t a question. She knew. “That is why he sent me. He sent me because you deserve it. You deserve to let go.” At that moment, Bucky broke down. Sobbing uncontrollably, somehow without pain in his fresh wound.

She pulls him into her, wrapping her arms around him. His face buried in her neck, arms clutching her back. She hesitates for a second, no one having touched her wings in thousands of years, yet she cocoons him with them, shielding him from the world. It only makes Bucky cry harder, her wings holding every bit of softness he thought they would. The comfort she brings unlike any other he experienced before.

Her arms rub his back as she coos to him. Soft words spoken into his hair. “Shh, my love, I’m here. Nothing bad will ever happen to you again. I will die before I let that happen.” The conviction in her tone sets him off more, unable to comprehend someone would do that for him without a second thought. A being, older than he can even fathom, is ready to give it all away for a mesley human. A speck of dust in her life. His entire existence no longer than a second when compared to hers.

That’s how it was for a while, Bucky’s sweet cherub staying with him. At night she would wrap her wings around him, keeping him safe. Bucky knows that her powers are the reason his nightmares are gone. At first he was glad that he could finally sleep, but then the guilt crept in. Why should he be allowed to forget the horrors he committed? Their families didn’t get that condolence.

When he told her this she wasn’t having any of it, wings jerking in annoyance. It was something that he picked up on, how when she experienced emotions her wings would move in different ways, always giving her away.

“I swear, my love, you’re going to make my wings turn gray with all this. I have lived a long life, longer than you can comprehend, so when I tell you that I have seen the best and the worst of this world, I mean it. And you, my love, are a good man. There is a reason God sent me to you.” Her wings surrounded him and he felt himself relax. “There is no quest to send you on, no mission that the world hangs in the balance of. It’s just you. A man who needs to see the good in himself.” Bucky hangs his head in shame, not meeting her eyes.

“You think your purpose is suffering for the things you couldn’t control? My purpose is to save you. My love,” she cups his face in her hands, wiping away the tears he didn’t know had formed, “I have done far worse things in my life. Horrific things, yet I’m here right now, with you. Please, let me take your pain away.”

None of this was easy for Bucky. No one has ever had their sole purpose be him. Back in the forties he took care of Steve, he stepped up when his father left. When he was no longer the Winter Soldier, Steve helped him, but Steve’s care never felt like this. Bucky knows that he’s fallen in love with her. He knows that she knows, but what he doesn’t know is if she feels the same.

What he doesn’t know is that she is fighting the same battle, the feeling of love is one she has never had before. It all came to a head one night, Bucky wrapped in her wings, her head on his chest. “Cherub?” She felt the vibrations in his chest.

“Yes, my love.”

“You said that we could be together for the rest of my life, right?” She did say that when he was worried that she would leave him after her mission was complete.

“I did.” One thing about her is that she never gave long answers to questions, not used to having to talk with humans.

“What happens when I die? Where will I go? I want you to be there with me.”

She sighed, thinking about how to convey her words properly. “When you die… you’ll go to heaven. It has already been decided. If you choose, when you go, I will be there with you for the rest of our existence, but you don’t have to make a decision now. My body will age with yours, follow you to the end of your life. When your time comes, we will leave and go to heaven where we will both be young again.”

Without hesitation Bucky answers, “I want that. I want you to be with me for the rest of eternity.” There was no doubt in his mind. Even though he met her a few months ago, he knew. “I have to ask, what is heaven like?”

She sits up a bit, shifting to lay on his chest, wings still cocooning them, keeping them in their own little bubble. “There is no one heaven. Not everyone who ever went there is in the same place. Heaven is made up of small pockets of personal heavens. People who lost their loved ones meet again, your happiest memories are relived, there is no pain or sorrow, you can have anything you want.”

Bucky felt the pull of his chest, emotion bubbling up. “Is my ma there? And Becca?” The words come out thick, a lump forms in Bucky’s throat. “Please, don’t lie to me.”

She looks into his eyes. “Yes, they are. They’re together and they’re waiting for you. I have seen them myself, right before I left to meet you. They talk very highly of you, my love.”

Tears fall from his face, the pain in his chest all the time at the greatest loss of his life eased slightly. “Can I talk to them?” He knows it's a long shot, but if there is a chance he wants it.

“I’m so sorry, my love, but I can’t. Even I don’t have the power to do that. If I could, I would.” A pained whine leaves his lips. “Hey, you know who is waiting for you too?” She waits a beat before speaking anyway. “Your dog from when you were a kid. He’s in his prime, always will be. His days are spent chasing rabbits around the yard.”

“Balto’s up there too?” A small smile graced his face, crows feet appearing by his eyes.

“Yeah. If it is any consolation, time passes differently up there. The longing you feel right now for them, they feel the same only it’s made easier by us.” Bucky only nods, staring into her eyes, seeing nothing but truth. His eyes flicker to her lips and back up. “You can, my love, I want you to.”

That was all Bucky needed to hear. Gently cupping her cheek, he guided her lips to his. There was no rush, no sense of urgency. They had all the time in the world and then some. Bucky never felt anything this good in his life and he was only kissing her. When she licked his lips, he opened mouth without a thought, brain clouded with love just for her.

He moaned into the kiss, the feeling of her tongue on his incredible. At his sound, Bucky felt her wings flutter under him. Breaking the kiss, he giggled. Bucky actually giggled. She reared her head back, slightly affronted by his laugh when she just kissed him.

“I’m sorry, my little cherub, it’s just that your wings tickled me.” She huffs and a second later, her wings are gone the only sign they were ever out is the small black feather on the bed. “No, cherub, don’t put them away. I love them.” She wasn’t really offended, but she wanted to tease him a bit.

Her wings were always out around Bucky, comfortable enough to reveal the most intimate and personal part of herself to him. He was the first human in thousands of years to touch them, but he was the only one to be wrapped in them. The only time they were touched was when a man cut them off her back. It was a time when she trusted humans, not knowing the atrocities they were capable of.

Her wings were white then, when she was pure and unknowing of the hate humans possessed. God crafted her a new pair. Of course she accepted them, but her feathers turned black, scared she looked to her father. When he said that it was because of the wrongs his creations did, it broke something in her, took away her purity, teaching her a lesson. Father never blamed her for it, he knew she would heal with time. It was part of the reason he sent her to the man she lays in bed with.

Bucky didn’t know this, he didn’t know how much she was betrayed by humans, only for her to trust him and him alone. She playfully glares at him before bringing her wings back out, sitting up on his lap. Gently, more gentle than he has been in years, Bucky reaches out to touch them. She lets him feel them whenever he wants, even wrapping him in them as he sleeps, but this was a completely different setting.

She was so vulnerable at this moment. Her wings flapped, a nervous tick of her’s, making Bucky pull away immediately. “Cherub, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She swallows before meeting his eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to touch them. It’s just that only one other human has touched them. There was a time where I was naive and innocent, not knowing what humans were capable of.” She pauses and Bucky sits up, back against the headboard and laces his fingers with hers, feeling the softness on his metal hand.

“It was a man, he had a family, a kid and a wife. They struggled to survive, trading their valuables for a slice of bread. Father sent me to help them, take away their sorrows. Said he was an honest man trying to make an honest living.” Bucky senses where her story is going, hoping that it doesn’t end the way he fears, but the pain in her eyes is palpable, a human emotion angels almost never experience.

He waits for her to continue, not forcing her to speak. “At first, they were grateful, having everything they needed. They had their health, food on the table, but the man grew greedy. He wanted more. One day, as I was watching his child in a field, keeping her safe from the horrors of the world, he snuck behind me with a sword he got from a blacksmith, sharper than any blade. He-he cut my wings right off my back.”

Tears fell from her eyes, not having relived that moment for thousands of years. Bucky felt his heart physically ache. She was sent to heal him, but it was his turn to do the same. “You know, my wings used to be white?” She looks into his eyes, red with tears. “When he hurt me, Father took me back to heaven, crafting me another pair. They were white but when he gave them to me, they turned black.”

A whine leaves her lips and Bucky pulls her into him, careful not to touch her wings. “Oh, my sweet little cherub, I’m here and I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I’ve never felt as content as I have with you, never so happy and I will do anything to keep you safe. I love you, no matter what you have done, I’ll still love you.” This only made her cry harder. Human emotions were foreign to her, but spending so much time with Bucky caused her to develop them. It was almost overwhelming, going from not having anything to having so much fill her body.

“Father said that it was because the man took my innocence, showed me the evil of the world. I’ve never seen him apologize for anything, yet that day he was broken, realizing that his creations, even the ones he thought were good, are capable of unspeakable atrocities. They will never turn white again because I’m ruined.” Tears welled up in Bucky’s eyes. His sweet cherub thinking she is anything less than perfect breaks his heart.

“My cherub, you saved me, now let me do the same for you. Let me heal you like you have me.” Leaning back slightly, she took his hands in her own, drawing them up her waist to her back, moving them to touch her wings. At his touch, she gasped, eyes closing forcing more tears to cascade down her face. The feeling of his gentle hands, hands that have done so much harm, resting on the most violated part of her body was something she never thought would happen.

She didn’t know she could love until she met Bucky, finally placing a word to the indescribable warmth that spreads throughout her body every time she thinks of him. “I love you too, my love. Forever and ever, til you die, til the end of time, in heaven and on earth.” They were both crying, neither experiencing the tenderness of love before.

He brings her down, kissing her with as much passion as he possibly could, tasting the mixture of both of their tears. Her arms clutching onto him, trying to get closer. He did the same, one hand running across her wings like he was trying to wash away the taint of betrayal his kind caused.

Shifting on his lap, she feels the bulge of his cock, half hard pressed up against her. Gasping, she pulls away. “Cherub, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it just-.” She silences him with her lips, drawing a groan from him, subconsciously grinding down onto him. “Cherub, we have to stop, I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’re vulnerable right now, I can’t do that to you.”

Her hips stutter on his. “My love, I want to, I need to. Need to be closer to you, please grant me this.” His hands run up and down her sides, soothing the heat of her skin.

“Any time you want to stop, or don’t like something, you tell me. Okay? This is about me showing you how perfect you are.” She nods, kissing him one more time. Bucky’s hands slide up her shirt, resting on her soft skin, palms feeling the goosebump under his touch. Looking up at her for permission to take her shirt off, she nods.

Bucky did that with every piece of clothing, every move he made. Soon they were both naked, her wings splayed out on the bed, twitching in a way he never saw before - arousal. “My, my love, I have to tell you something.” He pulls his eyes away from her wings to look into her eyes. “I’ve never done this before. Angels, we don’t do this, I don’t know what to feel right now.”

Hands cupping her cheeks, he smiles at her, relaxing into his touch. “Do you feel safe?” She nods. “Do you feel like you have to do this for me?” She shakes her head. “Do you want me to please you?” She nods once again. “We don’t have to do anything with this,” he gestures to his throbbing erection.

“I want to, I just need you to show me what to do.” The thought that she trusts him enough to take care of her makes his cock pulse, aching for some type of relief.

“Let me make you feel good, okay? All you have to do is lay back and tell me how it feels.” She nods her head in understanding, worries slowly fading away. He kisses down her body, taking the time to swirl his tongue around his sensitive nipples, grinning at the small gasp it draws from his cherubs lips.

Going further down, his face is right in front of her pussy, smelling her intoxicating scent. “Keep your eyes on me, cherub.” She gulps. For a minute, Bucky just stares at her pussy, breathing her in, memorizing how wet she is before his tongue flicks out onto her clit.

“Oh, that feels good. Can you do it again?” She was so sweet, asking so kindly for him to deliver her pleasure.

“Of course I can.” And with that, Bucky dives into her pussy, restraining himself from devouring her. He groans into her cunt, already addicted to her taste, the moans she lets out are soft and breathy, yet it’s one of the most beautiful things he's ever heard, only competition being her laugh.

“My love, I don’t, what is happening to me?” Bucky pulls away from her cunt, reaching up to lace their hands together.

“Just let that feeling wash over you. It’s okay, I’ll catch you when you fall, I’m here.” He goes right back to her pussy, lapping her juices up, eyes boring into hers. She was twitching on the bed, hips bucking up to meet his tongue. Bucky chuckles when he sees her wings flap, not knowing what to do with the pleasure coursing through her.

Her orgasm comes as a surprise to her, never experiencing one before, nor knowing what they were. Her eyes shoot open, wings beating wildly, body almost convulsing on the soft sheets. Bucky pulls away, not trying to overstimulate her. He almost cums at the sight of her, it was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

It takes her a while, but she comes down, wings falling limp on the bed as Bucky crawls up her body, resting in between her legs. “My love, what was that? I thought I was about to die.”

Barking out a laugh, Bucky leans down. “That was an orgasm, sweet cherub. How did it feel?” She whines, not able to put what she felt into words.

“Like nothing I have ever felt before. It was incredible.” Her eyes close. Bucky is perfectly happy to hold her, not caring about his own orgasm, but her eyes shoot open, wide and curious. “Can you have one, too?”

Another laugh leaves him. “Yes, cherub, I can. It’s a little different from yours though.” Her eyes squint in confusion, clearly not understanding what could be different. “Well, for one, what I have looks a little different to yours, doesn’t it?” She nods. Bucky never thought he would be giving “The Talk” to an angel, but here he was. “When I have an orgasm, stuff comes out of this tip, right here.” He grabs his cock to show her.

“Can I see it? How do I make you do that?” It was Bucky’s turn to be surprised.

“Cherub, you don’t have to do that.” Her glare is enough to make Bucky continue. “Um, there are a few different ways. I could put it inside of you, that feels good for you too.”

“In where?” Bucky huffs, not in annoyance, but this talk is turning him off. Not that he’s mad at that, but the conversation feels like talking to a child, someone who hasn’t experienced anything sexual and it wasn’t exactly turning him on, it felt wrong to have this talk naked.

“In this hole right under where I was touching you. There is another one under that, but it’s different from the other. Or your mouth, but also a hand. Pretty much anything that could rub against that area.” Bucky felt his cheeks heat up. His cock was going soft right in front of her eyes.

“Can I do one? I want to see you orgasm.” Her eyes were so bright and eager, he couldn’t say no to his cherub. He nods, only for her to glance down at his soft cock. “Why is it smaller now? I think it’s kind of cute.”

This has to be the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him. No woman has ever called his dick cute, or made a comment on its size when soft. He gets compliments on how big he is when he’s hard, but soft is a different story. He’s a grower not a shower. He has to admit, his encounter is damaging his ego a bit. “It gets bigger when I’m aroused, but if it’s not touched it gets softer.” He’s lying straight through his teeth, he can stay hard for hours without touching his dick.

“If you touch it, it gets big again.” She switches positions, having him on his back, resting between his legs, face right next to his cock. He feels himself twitch and she jerks her head in surprise, giggling at her own reaction. She begins to almost pet him, it feels good but not what he needs.

He reaches down, guiding her hand to gather the precum at his tip, slowly pulling it back down, tightening her grip on his dick. “Oh, wow, it’s getting bigger. It’s so hard.” Her amazement at something so simple as a dick getting hard is endearing.

Bucky grunts when he twists her hand. “I liked that sound.” Her words make him groan again, cock all the way hard. His hips buck into her hand and he lets her hand go, trusting her to keep her pace. It’s slow but firm, driving him insane. He wants her to go faster, harder, but this is about her, letting her discover at her own pace.

“Spit on the tip, it’ll make it easier to move.” She does so without hesitation. Bucky’s head flies back into the headboard, moaning at her soft hands working his cock. “Just like that, cherub, you’re doing so good. This feels incredible.” Bucky meant every word of it. Her hand honestly felt better than the full blown sex he’s had in the past. Maybe it was because he loved her with all his heart, or maybe it was because she was an angel, either way, Bucky didn’t have it in himself to care.

“You look so pretty like this, my love. I love this, making you feel good.” Bucky’s hips pick up speed, feeling his orgasm building up in the base of his cock.

“Cherub, I’m going to cum. Please keep going just like that.” She figures he means orgasm since he is jerking just like she was. The urge to make him orgasm was almost too much to bear, wanting him to show her how beautiful he was when he lets go. “Oh, cherub, I’m about to, oh fuck.” He moans long and loud, cum spurting out of his tip. She gasps at the force of it but doesn’t let up her pace. She had never seen anything more beautiful than her love in this moment.

He has to stop her, not knowing that he needed a break. “Love, I want to make you do that again.” She scoops some of his cum off his stomach with her finger and just stares at it.

“You can taste it if you’d like.” She eagerly licks her fingers, eyes bulging at his taste, dropping down to lick the rest of it off his body. “Come here, cherub.” He pulls her into a kiss, tasting himself on her tongue. He pulls the cover over their bodies, her wings instinctively wrapping around him.

“Thank you, my love, for always taking care of me. I was sent to save you, yet I feel that it’s the other way around.” Bucky doesn’t think so. He knows that she saved him. They fall asleep together and in the morning they will find that her wings are just a bit lighter than the night before.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky smut #sebastian stan x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes au

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lis-likes-fics · 1 year

Text

A Deal’s a Deal (Pt. 2)

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Gold!Reader Word Count: 10.4k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, spoilers, swearing, smoking, death, angst, phone sex, masturbation, age gap (Tommy is late 30s, Reader is late 20s), oral (f!receiving), heavy praise, breeding kink, Tommy is nice... A/N: So I decided to write a second part to show a completely different side of Tommy bc of course. This is not filthy as it is angsty. This contains spoilers for seasons 4 and 5 if you have not already watched them. I hope you enjoy this part, I put a lot of time into it! Thank you!

You wrapped Tommy’s jacket around you, draping it over your shoulders and admiring the weight of his scent wrapped around you. He’d just left you in the bedroom, left only in a bedgown as you waited for him to return to you after dealing with business that had shown up on the front lawn. But you were curious.

As you ventured toward the window, where the blaring lights from the car out front were shining through, even from the height of the first floor, you looked over the chaos of muffled shouts and cries. You tilted your head as you continued to quietly observe, trying to figure out who it was causing such a disturbance here so late in the night.

When you realised that you recognised the person yelling at Tommy, you were out of the door in seconds, panicked as you rushed through the hall and down the stairs. Once at the bottom of the stairs, you caught Charlie trying to peek out of the door in search of the situation which had caught his attention.

You knelt in front of him, offering a kind smile as you focused his attention on you. “Hey, Charlie,” you said in a sticky sweet voice. “Why don’t you come sit down while I go see what your father is up to, eh?”

He looked at you, only half interested. “Screaming,” he spoke in his tiny voice, referring to the men arguing outside.

“I know. Isn’t it just so annoying?” You stood and took his hand, leading him away until you could hand him off to a freshly woken Mary to take elsewhere. With Charlie out of the way, patting his head as he departed, you went back to the front door. You didn’t leave yet, choosing to stay there with the gun hidden underneath the table by the door and watch the men argue.

Aberama looked a mess, covered in blood and sweat. He was hysterical, and you could not understand a single word he was saying. Johnny Dogs was by the car, just as hurt as your father seemed to be, though less frantic as he clutched his side in pain. All you could hear were threats, loud, desperate threats spouting from Aberama’s mouth in Johnny’s direction garbled by anger and something deeper.

“Listen to me!” Tommy shouted, trying to catch his attention as he cradled his head and attempted to hold him still to get him to calm down. He forced him to look at him as he spoke.

“How can a one-armed man avenge the death of his son, eh?”

Your heart dropped in your chest and then leapt to your throat. The ground shook and the air stood still. You swallowed hard, wide eyed and not entirely sure you were still breathing. The word came out of your mouth but it was muffled in your ears as you took a step out of the door with breath caught in your lungs.

“Dad?”

Everything stopped as they all turned their gazes on you, a variety of emotions crossing their faces before settling on sudden realisation. You stared your father in the eye, ignoring the sting of tears as you took it all in—the suffocation, the shock. When did the world become so blurry?

Aberama looked away from you, his grief deepening as he turned his gaze back on Tommy with a new kind of rage. “They crucified my son…” he huffed, “for you.”

You felt paralysed as you stood there, helpless to find a way to fix all of this. You were supposed to fix it. You were the older sister, the family’s caretaker. You had to fix it, but you didn’t know how.

You were ripped from your spiral at the struggling grunts your father made breaking away from Tommy and grabbing the firearm discarded on the ground. He stumbled away to stand between you and Tommy, pointing the gun right at him. “You stay away from my fucking daughter!” he shrieked.

The blasting sounds of bullets shot into the air and stopped everything. You hadn’t even realised you were the gun shooting until words were leaving your mouth and you felt the tingling of blood leaving your hand from being held in the air for so long.

“Put down the gun, Dad,” you said, calmly at first as you stared him down with eyes that had not yet caught up to your body.

He looked at you and mumbled your name, nearly defeated as he watched you. The next words to leave your mouth were not so calm as they scratch at your throat with the force you used to scream them and aimed your gun at Aberema with an anger to be reckoned with.

“I told you to put down the fucking gun or I’ll shoot it out of your hands!”

He hesitated, taking you in before obliging. Slowly, he set the gun down and put his hands up to show peace. You didn’t lower your own weapon, though your hands shook and your jaw trembled with barely contained tears. Everyone stood still and watched you try not to unravel.

You took in a shaky breath. “Yes or no…” Your sigh was watery as you closed your eyes to steady yourself before looking back at your father. You licked your lips, “...Is my little brother dead?”

Aberama’s hands fell to his sides, swinging there as he let them go limp. His gaze broke from yours. He was slow to respond, not quite present but not as dazed as part of him wished to be. His voice was low, nearly inaudible. He opened his mouth, struggling to speak, “...Yes.”

You closed your eyes and gaze a silent sob one breath to escape. The tears that had been piling in your eyes finally slipped out. One, two, three slid down your chin and dripped to the gravel beneath your feet. You inhaled again, composing yourself again.

“Are my sisters safe?” you asked.

His eyes could only meet yours for a half second. “They’re with family.”

“Do they know?”

“Not yet.”

The sound of gravel crunching under someone’s shoes has you turning toward the sound with the precision of a trained marksman as you aim the barrel of the gun at Tommy, glaring at him trying to come nearer to you.

“Tommy, I swear to God, if you come any closer, I’ll fucking shoot you.”

He assessed you, taking in your anger, your pain, and deciding from there whether your words were empty. With another step, you gripped the gun tighter, but made no move with the trigger. He approached you slowly, testing you and your threat. By the time he was standing in front of you, you had done nothing but stare at him with a shaky grasp and breath. He placed his hand on the gun, pushing it down and snatching it from your hands. Emptying the barrel, his eyes didn’t leave yours as you watched him limply.

When his arms wrapped around you, the fire in your bones ignited. You were so much like your father in that way—your brother, too—a fighter, all of you. You fought him, you kicked and screamed and punched as you tried to get him to get off of you. Your brother was dead, your baby brother was gone, and you could never get him back and Tommy was standing here trying to hold you to him when you could never hold your brother again?

The touch was much too warm, the confinement stifling. You couldn't breathe, couldn't get the air to your lungs as your gasps made your throat hoarse and rough. The fight left so quickly as Tommy endured against your fight, keeping you locked in his arms until your anger relinquished and you dissolved into nothing but sobs into his shoulder. He held you as you stopped screaming, held you as the tears soaked his clothes. He held you as you trembled, too exhausted to keep fighting. Your legs were on the verge of giving out. He was the only thing to hold you up as you broke down against him.

“He’s dead, Tom,” you sobbed, finally putting your arms around him and holding him tighter than you ever have, your nails digging into him for something to hold on to. “He’s fucking dead. My baby brother’s dead.”

“I know, I know,” he shushed. Tommy cradled you as you rambled, trying to soften your cries as he listened and felt your sentiment too close to heart. The wounds of his own little brother’s death burned in his chest, and he hated you going through it as well. “I’m sorry about your brother. Really, I am.”

Your hands tightened around him, your nails digging deeper until your eyes met your father’s, watching the both of you with a look you couldn’t identify. Your grip on Tommy loosened, and you remembered yourself—the oldest, the caretaker, the voice of reason among voices pleading reparation and revenge. You let go of him, parting with a new numbness as he watched the anger, the emotional agony, disappear into a stone cold mask you’d pulled over your face to offer your father in accompaniment of his pain.

“I need to be with my family,” you said after a moment, your voice already sore and scratchy, your words full of frail strength.

Tommy watched you walk away from him and into your father’s arms, laying your chin on his shoulder as he pulled an arm around your back and held you. You didn’t reciprocate, you couldn’t. Not right now. Aberama held onto you for strength, and Tommy felt like he could see it draining from you by the way your shoulders began to sag.

Anerama’s cold, fiery gaze bore into Tommy, one full of despair and ruthlessness. Tommy sighed, raising a finger toward him. “If you want to take on the Billy Boys, you need me alive,” he warned, looking between the both of you with a variety of thoughts flashing in his head. “Everyone fucking needs me.”

You pulled away from your father, placing your hand on his shoulders and dragging your gaze along him. He was hurt. So was Johnny Dogs. You needed to take care of them. “I’m calling an ambulance,” you said, your voice a monotone droll of duty first. “Hold on, both of you.”

You supported your father’s arm around your shoulders, pulling him into the house to get him cared for as Tommy moved to do the same with Johnny.

Flames rose high, making the air around it dance from the heat and life rising with it. Your sisters, tucked under each of your arms, clung to you as they watched their brother's wagon burn, reduced to ash and dust of a life once lived.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you watched the fire rise and rise, sucking the tears back in as you remained strong for your grieving sisters. You turned your chin, resting it atop the youngest's head. You glanced away from the fire, and your eyes caught a much darker figure lingering further from the scene, cap pulled over his head and cigarette between his lips as he watched you.

You both watched each other for a moment, neither moving or looking away. By the time your eyes were averted, you'd already made your decision.

When the fire had not roared so wildly and your sisters' quiet sobs were gentler tears, you passed them over to one of your aunts watching the fire burn. Your father was still recovering in the hospital, too hurt to move too far from the bed but too upset to sleep as he sat in bed and watched the time that marked as his son's funeral ticked away minute by minute. With a nod, she gestured you away to take care of them for the moment while you spoke with your mysterious visitor.

Tommy Shelby stood silently where he was as you joined his side. Neither of you looked at one another, your eyes still fixated on the flames. It was silent for a while. You stuffed your hand in the pocket of your jacket and hugged it close for a comfort you felt selfish for wanting.

"They killed him."

Your voice was nearly strained as you spoke, quiet and nearly raspy with the overuse of crying—or keeping from crying—over the past week. You were still having trouble coming to terms with the fact that it had been the first week in the rest of your life without your baby brother.

Tommy cleared his throat, taking his cigarette from his lips. He rolled it between his fingers, considering a response before he gave it. "Your brother will be avenged, Y/N." He flicked it away into the grass, stomping on it with the tip of his shoe to put it out. "I promise you that."

You sighed, late to a reply as you shook your head at his promise to you. "Do what you want, Tommy." Your eyes strayed where they always had, right back to your sisters huddling to your aunt, stricken with grief. You shook your head again turning to Tommy as you swallowed thickly. "But don't make me lose any more family. My sister's stay safe, my father's life or death will be left to his hands or mine."

He turned to you, tilting his head and raising a brow. "You don't want me to keep him alive?"

You looked down at his shoes, thinking for a moment to get your thoughts in order from the messy hurricane they had been in the past week. "Before Bonnie died, I was dreamin' of a big, black bird. Then he did die, and I thought, 'This was it. It got what it wanted, now it'll leave us alone.' But when I managed to sleep that night… that bird was staring me down, much bigger and much louder than before."

You let out a shaky breath, steadying yourself before you continued. "Someone is goin' to die again, Tom." You nearly shuddered at the idea, meeting his gaze. "Don't let it be my sisters."

Tommy looked over you—your well-hidden grief of concealed red-rimmed eyes, trembling lips, messy hair. You were so good at hiding it all, he realised, well-versed in composed disposition.

But you couldn't hide all that pain from him. Reading you was like looking in a mirror.

He took a small step closer and reached down to brush your fingers with his, swiping his thumb over the back of your knuckles momentarily before letting go of you and nodding. "Your sisters will be safe. You have my word." He looked your face up and down. "No black bird will come for them."

You stared at him and blinked once. With a short nod, you looked away from the intensity of his eyes. He lingered there for a moment, your warmth mixing together for a few seconds in the cool air. Without a word, he turned to leave you.

He'd gotten a few steps away before you spoke into the air. "Tommy."

He looked back at you again, waiting expectantly for you to continue.

You swallowed hard. "Stay alive."

His eyes bore into your own, staring as he processed your words. He began walking back over to you, digging his hand in his pocket as he invaded your space. He took your hand in his big palm, setting something in your own and closing your fingers around it before you could see what it was judging the object only by the feel of it in your hand.

He turned and left, didn't spare a single word as he strayed from you.

You opened your hand and stared down at the penny he'd left you with, finding a ghost of a smile in your mind but not yet on your lips as you turned around to rejoin your sisters.

Things changed after that. With your brother gone, you realised all too suddenly how fragile this family of yours was.

Throwing yourself into work and family was the easiest part. Your kids at the school were important to you, your sisters even more so. The children kept you tender, kept you from hardening with the loss of your brother as you held on tight to your joy in life. Your sisters, impossibly dearer to you now, were cherished and loved and you made sure of you. The older of the two got married and was working on her first baby. The younger was joining you as a teacher, which meant she stayed closer to you. That made you very happy.

The hard part was separating from Tommy.

It wasn't intentional. Your late nights with him became more and more scarce as time went on. Being with Tommy, basking in the throes of passion with him during the darkest parts of the night, wrapped in his bedsheets and screaming his name, was a joy you couldn't match with anything else in your life. He was a guilty pleasure, an escape from reality that allowed you to fulfil the darkest desires within your heart that could not be found anywhere else.

You'd tried, once or twice, to push Tommy from your mind by finding another man. You were known to be Gold's prettiest daughter, there were men lining up to have a chance with you, but they were frightened off of it when Tommy Shelby had staked a claim. Now that he wasn't so dominant in your life, they had chances.

And you gave a couple of them chances—you needed someone else, someone safer. But he had his claws so deep inside of you, buried in your body and bitten into your flesh, like he had fired that bullet and left himself permanently marked in your soul.

There was no man like Thomas Shelby.

Slowly losing him was not just a physical thing, though. You hadn't realised how deeply you'd attached yourself to him until he wasn't around as much as he used to be—especially when he'd gone away to America on business. Finding excuses to see him every once in a while included your father meeting him for business and you following after, you wandering into the pub some evenings when you were feeling especially lonely (or simply just missing him) on the off chance that you just might find him there…him calling you late at night desiring you in his bed once more…

He'd called you one night.

You were just getting ready to go to bed, muscles aching and feet sore from working. Just as you were pulling the comforter from your bed, the trilling ring from the telephone screamed through the night air. You sighed, a tired moan slipping from your throat as you dragged yourself to answer.

You picked it up, a soft answer of your name through the line encouraging the person to speak. He hadn't realised how much he missed the sound of your voice until he'd heard it.

"Hello, Miss Gold," he said, his voice deeper, rougher than usual.

You held your breath and felt the sparks of delight in your chest at the sound of his voice. "Tommy…" you breathed, holding the phone closer and sinking into your chair.

"Did you miss me?" he asked. He sounded cocky. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke to you.

You nodded gently. "I still do…" He hummed, and the sound made you shudder. Your eyes flicked to the clock on your wall. "It's the early hours of the morning for you, isn't it? The sun isn't even up yet. You should be asleep, darling."

He hummed again. "Sleep was never really my friend."

You breathed a sigh. "You sound like you just woke up… Was it a nightmare, Tom?"

He didn't answer that. Instead, he let silence linger for a moment before he sighed. "I've been thinking about you."

You licked your lips slowly. "Me, too." You smiled a little. "But I think America is a little too far for me to go just to share your bed." Your smile faltered slightly. "I'm sure you could find some other woman to fuck tonight. A man like you has got plenty of options."

You weren't hostile as you spoke. Your voice remains gentle, if not dismayed by the proposal. Tommy supposed you sounded almost jealous.

"Maybe," his voice came. You swallowed thickly. "But none of the women here seemed to know how to fuck me like you." You heard him sigh. "None of the women here come close to you."

It was oddly comforting, but not comforting enough to be rid of your unreasonable agitation that he has, in fact, been with other women there. But what else did you expect? He wasn't going to stay celibate for you.

You brushed the fabric of the hem of your nightgown between your fingers, licking your lips. "Are any of them pretty?"

"Not like you."

The way he said it, his voice so soft and deep, brushed against your heart some kind of way. You found yourself wishing you were in his bed, not moaning with your back arched, but resting with your head against his chest. You wanted to feel your skin against his, his heart under your hand, his breath on your skin.

"I wish we spent more time together, you and I," you whispered, your voice soft as the whispers of wind. "I'm sorry we fell apart. I miss you." You didn't care how desperate you probably sounded repeating yourself like that. You let your eyes close, imagining him close again.

"Don't apologise," he said. He didn't go further, he simply left it at that with the implication that you knew what the rest of his meaning was. And you did.

"I want to be there with you." But my family needs me.

"I know." And I care so much that I am willing to wait.

You wanted to kiss him. You needed to kiss him. But you were oceans apart, and there was no getting past that quite soon.

You closed your eyes, inhaling the silence. "Say something to me, darling."

He sighed gently on the other side of the lines. His voice spoke in a way that made you shudder, absorbed in the depth of his timbre.

"I think of you every night, dove… I think of your body in my hands and your lips on mine."

If it weren't for the tone of the line, it'd almost be like you were right there with him, watching him stand over you as you listened to him speak. "What else?" you muttered.

"I think of your legs around my waist and your breath in my ear," he continued. "My name on your lips…"

The slightest whimper escaped you at the sound of that. You breathed in deeply, flattening your palm to your belly. "What would you do to me if I was there with you right now?"

"Oh, I'd fuck you," he put it bluntly. He hummed, and the sound rolled in his throat. "I'd push you against the wall, lift you up, and fuck you until you couldn't stand."

The idea made you weak already. The thought of him taking you rolled in your gut and whispered at your cunt as you clenched around nothing.

"And I wouldn't stop there," he continued, controlling your body with nothing but words as you buried your hand between your thighs and rolled your hips into it. "I'd throw you to the bed and spread your pretty legs apart. I'd taste you, feast on you until you came so many times, you shook. And then I'd fuck you again."

You whispered his name, your breaking trembling.

"I'd put you on your hands and knees, and I'd fuck you into the bed until my name was the only word you knew."

Your breath caught on a moan. You rubbed your finger over your clit, massaging it as you imagined him fulfilling his words. "Would you use my mouth?" you asked breathily.

"Until you could no longer speak."

You cursed under your breath, craving his touch all the more as you fed on the filthy images he put in your head. "I need you, Tom," you whimpered, chasing a high you could not achieve well enough without him.

"I know," he husked. "Keep moaning like that for me."

You did, pleasuring yourself as well as you could. You heard a quiet grunt in his voice across the line and smiled. "Are you touching yourself, Tommy?"

He huffed a breath, listening to you whimper again. "Yeah," he groaned. "Yes, I am, love. You make it hard not to with sounds like that."

You spoke between moans. "I am, too." Obviously, he knew that, but the admission made it all the more erotic. "My hands aren't as big as yours and my fingers aren't as skilled…" You sighed gently, "But your voice is enough to get me off."

Your fingers plunged inside of you, not half as fulfilling as Tommy's as you worked at your clit. "What else would you do to me?"

The sounds of his hand pumping his cock, fast and wet, reached the phone as you listened to the slick sound behind his sighs and groans. "I'd hold you down," he said. "I'd hold you down and shove my cock so deep inside of you." He cursed under his breath as your moans became a little louder, your limbs tingling with a daunting release. "I'd make you fucking scream for me when I hold you down and fill you up."

You moaned loudly that time, so close. Just brushing the edge of pleasure. "Tommy," your voice was insistent, higher-pitched and desperate. "Fuck, Tom."

He was breathless as he listened to you. "I'd fucking breed you," he whispered. "I'd fill you up and breed you, and you would carry my child."

You muffled a rough moan before gasping for breath. "I'm gonna cum, Tom. Fuck, I'm gonna cum for you."

"Then fucking cum."

Your release hit you then, washing over you like a refreshing wave. Not half as powerful as his hands would have made it, but certainly not discontented. His name fell from your tongue again and again as you came, clutching the phone tightly in your grip and wishing it was him.

"That's it," he rasped, his breath choppy. "That's right. Say my name, love."

"Oh, Tommy," you sighed.

You listened to a dark groan rumble in his throat, your brain becoming dizzy with the sound of his panting breath as his own orgasm burst through him. Your name was the word falling from his lips, as if your hands had been the one wrapped around his cock (as you wished they had been). Your heart pounded in his chest as you listened to him cum.

Silence settled as your highs subsided and your breaths steadied. The buzz of pleasure dulled until your hazy mind was cleared enough to think straight.

You were the one to break the silence, to long for his voice so much that the comfort of the quiet was not pleasing enough to keep you from feeding your addiction.

"When are you coming back, Tommy?"

He sighed. There was a pause. "When business here is done."

"When is that?"

"Soon," he said. "Soon." He almost seemed as dismayed by the answer as you.

Your chest ached. "I miss you." That was the third time you said that, bringing far too much truth and desperation to the words as you both let it settle in.

"Just keep talking," he spoke, his voice taking on a different kind of depth as it became soft once more. "Tell me about school. How are the children?" You heard the sound of Tommy's lighter as he flicked it on for a cigarette. "Or your sisters, how are they?"

Your eyes wandered to the clock again. "But it's late, darling, and you need sleep."

"I don't need to sleep right now," he dismissed.

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, you do."

He paused, and the silence built for just a moment before he spoke again. "Why don't we flip a coin then?" You raised a brow. "Heads, and I'll go to sleep. Tails, you tell me about your sisters and the school. Deal?"

Your lips twitched in a tiny smile, and you sighed. "Okay. Flip a coin, then."

You listened to some rustling for just a moment, and then relative silence on his end. When he spoke again, he seemed to be smiling. "What is it?" you asked.

"Tails."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Yes."

You laughed, actually laughed. He called you pathetic when you were moaning underneath him, but there he was lying to keep you on the phone for the pleasure of your company. And, although he'd never admit it, he was definitely the pathetic one when he was weak at the sound of your laughter.

"Okay," you said once your laughter eased to a small giggle. "Well, my littlest sister has officially started at my school. She's teaching the year beneath me. I'm so proud of her."

Tommy sat there and listened to you talk, keeping you there for hours. Every time you suggested it had been too long, he found another excuse to keep you talking, and you complied because you couldn't think of anything you'd enjoy less than ending your call. He may have been selfish, but so were you.

Even as the morning sun was beginning to bleed through his curtains, he listened to your voice. He listened to it slow, dragging behind as the exhaustion creeped in more and more. He listened to your words becoming quieter and quieter until you no longer finished your sentences. And when your words stopped altogether, he stayed back a little while after that to listen to your gentle breaths.

Then he hung up and pushed himself to his feet. He had business to take care of.

Fire and ash and dust. That's all your family seemed good for at this point.

Aberama Gold was dead.

Your father was dead.

Granted, a lot of people died that night but fuck. You'd lost your brother, and now your father has joined him in that shithole of a death and left your sisters in your care. Again.

It had been three years of relative peace. You had thought that maybe—just maybe—he would die a normal death. Tommy had returned from America after the stock market crashed, business got bad and foes entered the arena again. Your father, naturally, went to his side. You'd begged whatever cruel gods there were that what took him would be something natural—old age or fucking illness.

To be murdered the way he was… He wasn't supposed to die that way, he wasn't. You hadn't taken care of your family as well as you had for both your brother and father to be so violently killed.

Now the flames licked at the remains of his life, engulfed in fire and likely damning his soul to hell.

You were so tired of losing people. You hoped and prayed for it to stop as you tried to sleep that night. You begged for it all to end when you met that bird in your dreams once again after three short years of silence, feeding off your grief like a vulture.

Tommy had never seen you at such a low.

He'd seen the blaring lights of your car in the front, watched them shut off through the window. He didn't know, at first, that it was you. He just assumed it was someone coming for business—despite the hour—and that he would handle it when he got to it.

But when he heard voices in the main room, voices that were very clearly not from any man and wouldn't be from his sister, he stood from his desk and went to meet it.

He found you there with Charlie, holding one of his toys and laughing when he laughed as you played with him. Tommy watched, fine at first at the way you handled him, so gentle and sweet, a natural caregiver. Charlie's enchanted by you and your sweetness.

But something was off, and he knew it. You'd just lost your father and now you were here, likely waiting for him.

"Mary," Tommy called gently. You only noticed he was standing there then as you turned your head and gave him a wide smile. Your eyes were droopy and glazed over as you slouched where you sat.

Mary arrived quickly, awaiting instruction. "Take Charlie to bed please." She did, walking up to the little boy with a smile as she took his hand. He waved at you, and you waved back.

When Charlie's gone, you stare off in the direction you left with a sigh. "Your little Charlie's so sweet, Tom," you smiled, turning to face him for a moment. You sighed and let your hands fall to your belly, "I want one of me own one day."

He hummed, walking over to you. "Until then," he leaned down and lifted you to your feet, "you need your sleep."

"No." You shook your head quickly. Your words slurred together. "No, no, I don't need to sleep." He walked with you down the hall, and you fought him (although not effectively, just insistently). "If I sleep, I dream. If I dream, I dream of a big, black bird."

You turned around and started walking the opposite way down the hall as he tried to usher you toward the stairs. He followed after you, wrapping his arms around your midsection and holding you there as his lips lingered behind your ear. "The black bird came and went."

You shook your head, leaning your head back on his shoulder and staring at the ceiling with a far off look and a smile that didn't match your grief. "He's still there, darling." You sighed shakily. "Gets bigger every night."

He stood there for a moment with his arms around your waist before dipping down to pick you up in his arms, carrying you up the stairs like a bride. "No one is dying, Miss Gold," he ensured. "Not your sisters and definitely not you."

He carried you all the way up as you turned to face him, worry in your face. "And what about you, Tommy?" You stared at him as he continued down the hall. You raised a hand to his cheek cradling it for a moment. "Are you dying?"

He stared at you, standing in the doorway of his room. He could smell the liquor on your lips, he could see the glaze in your eyes as they stare at you, unfocused. He shook his head. "No," he said. "Not today." He licked his lips and walked farther into the room, closing the door behind him. "My work isn't done yet."

You chuckled, brushing your fingers along his jawline. "The black bird comes for us all." Your smile turned sour as you stared at him before your eyes dropped to his lips.

Tommy sighed. "Not tonight." He lowered you onto the bed, grabbing the covers to try to put over you. "Now go to sleep."

You pushed the covers off you, sitting up on your knees and taking his face in your hands. "I don't want to sleep, darling."

He held his hands to your waist. "No? What do you want?"

You put it bluntly, your words sticky and attempting sultry seduction. It's harder when you're drunk.

"I want you," you moaned, kissing his lips briefly as you speak. "I want you to fuck me. Want you to pin me to the ground and shove your cock in me, sir." You leaned back on your elbows, spreading your legs for him. "Take my mind from the pain in my heart and put it on the pain in my knees."

Tommy watched you. He leaned forward and cupped the side of your neck in his palm. His dark eyes looked up and down your face, lingering on your lips as you smiled at him. He shook his head, "I'm not going to fuck you." Your smile fell, and you looked like you would cry. "Not until I know you're okay, and right now, you need sleep."

He shifted you to lay back against the pillows. You still wouldn't comply, placing a hand on his chest and keeping me back. "Don't make me sleep, Tommy." You seemed almost desperate, but the fatigue was still etched in the expression on your face, there in the depths of your eyes. "Please. I can be such a good girl if you let me."

He was unyielding, urging you back with gentle hands. "Be my good girl and lie down." He kicked his shoes off, undoing the top buttons of his shirt to pull it over his head and unfastening his belt.

"Tom," you mumbled, still refusing, even if your movements are becoming weaker by the second.

"Come on, next to me," he said gently, settling into the bed with you as he pulled you close to him.

"Thomas," you whispered.

He shook his head, "Sleep now." He pressed his lips to your forehead, trying to soothe you. You shifted and kissed his lips, moving your leg over his body to sit on top of him as you smoothed your hands on his chest. You reached down to undo the button of his pants.

Tommy wasn't having it. You wouldn't be getting your way tonight if he could help it as he grabbed your hands. He rolled you over onto your back as he now hovered above you. His hands held your own at either side of your head, keeping you pressed into the bed as he stared down at you.

Your eyes bore into his own and you held your breath as he leaned forward. You lifted your head as much as you could, wanting to meet you in the middle. His face stopped just out of your reach as he shook his head. "Sleep."

He moved off of you, laying down and pulling you onto his chest. He took your hand in his, holding it as the other one rubbed soothing into your back.

You stared at him as he eased you to sleep, and he did the same. He watched your eyelid grow too heavy for you to keep open. He listened to your breath even out. He felt your body go limp against him as finally…you fell asleep next to him.

He kissed your forehead and rested back to do the same.

Breath filled your lungs as the bite of consciousness nipped at your heels. Your eyes fluttered open and you looked around, finding yourself in a familiar place with the familiar feeling of Tommy Shelby's chest under your cheek.

And for a split second, you forget everything. You forget the death of your brother, the death of your father, the grief of your sisters and yourself. You forget it all in favour of this moment with Tommy, peaceful and undisturbed.

But then it all came back, and you were shoved back to the reality where your family was dying and you still had to hold it all together.

Your mind was clearer now, the alcohol had washed away and made the weight of it all heavier to bear. You were tired, you were miserable, and all you wanted to do was wade off into the stream and sleep.

Your breath caught in your throat and shook. The pain in your chest and in your stomach twisted, wetting your face and encouraging the tiny sob you tried so hard to keep in. You didn't want to disturb, not when he slept so peacefully next to you with an arm tucked around your body. But your cries, however quiet, roused him from his rest.

He eased up to look down at you. Shushing you softly, he pulled you in closer and placed a hand to your cheek to have you look at him. His thumb wiped your tears away as it came, smearing them on the skin of your cheeks as he placed a tender kiss to your forehead. You want to cherish it more—tenderness is not a word associated with this man—but you can only lean into it and nothing more.

You buried your head into the crook of his neck, hiding your face there. "It hurts, Tommy," you breathed.

"I know it does," he said. He stroked a hand along your head, rubbing your back. "Go back to sleep."

You shook your head. "I don't want to sleep."

He sighed, pulling you from his neck to stroke your cheeks as he looked at your face, streaked with tears he wiped away. "Maybe not, but you need to."

You shook your head, placing a hand over his chest. "I want to feel something else, Tommy," you confessed. You smoothed your hand up the length of his chest, up the side of his neck as you cradled him. "I want you. I want you to take me like you did the first time." Memories of that night flooded into you. "Be rough with me, Tommy. Be hard and mean, make me cry."

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his as your eyes fluttered closed. He leaned into you, slotting your lips with his as the kiss sank into a depth he knew too well with you, a depth he knew he shouldn't have had with you but did anyway. You sighed at the feeling of it, and he did the same.

As the kiss broke with a tiny smack, he cradled your cheek in his large palm. He sighed, "No."

You frowned and ducked your head against his chest. "Please, Tommy," you whispered, broken and helpless.

He lifted your face again, pressing his lips to yours once more in another very slow and very soft kiss. The warm feeling washed over you and provided a comfort you find it hard to keep. "Don't worry, love," he said as he pulled away. "I'll make you cry."

He sat up, turning over so you laid on the sheets and he leaned over you, his hands on either side of your head in the pillows. "But I'm not going to hurt you," he kissed your lips, "and I'm not going to yell," your jaw, "and I'm not going to call you names," your neck. His hand stroked up your chest, and you thought he'd clasp it around your neck. Instead, he held his palm gently against the side of your neck and kissed you again. As he pulled away, he stared into your eyes, his piercing blues and little less piercing and a little more soothing. He looked at you like you were the stars.

"I'm going to make love to you."

He leaned down and kissed your neck again, tilting your head away to give him more access to press his lips against the skin of your throat. They slid down, not a trace of teeth, only lips and tongue and a kind of tenderness that made you shiver.

One of his legs, buried between your thighs, shifted up to ghost over the ache there. You bit your lip, a small mewl slipping between them at the feeling of your pleasure.

But you didn't want tenderness. You didn't want him to make love to you. You wanted him to shove you to the floor and fuck you like you weren't worth anything. You wanted him to take you over his lap and smack your arse. You wanted him to make you take his cock down your throat and keep it there until he decided it was enough.

But that was not what he did.

Tommy kissed you and kissed you. He ghosted his hands over your body and stroked your skin like you were made of glass. He slipped your clothes off of you and set them neatly to the side, doing the same to the rest of his own. He grazed his lips along your body and let his tongue adore the flesh he could reach. He tasted the sweetness of your skin. He filled your body with pleasure and intimacy and so much care.

"Relax," he whispered, his voice rumbling in his chest as he spoke. "You're alright, love. Let me take care of you."

You couldn't take it. It was too gentle, too fond, too much filling that ache inside of you that had become so permanent in your life, you'd forgotten it was ever even there. Even as you tried to press his head closer, he was gentle. Even as you moved your hips up to meet him, he was gentle. Even as you dug your nails into his skin, wanting to rile him up until he forgot his care and took you like a dog, he was gentle.

Because you needed it.

He lifted your thighs over his shoulders, settling between them as he darted his tongue out and licked a long strip up your pussy. You sighed when his lips closed around your clit and he suckled on it. His tongue licked you up in slow, soft laps, dipping between your folds and curling.

"Tommy, please," you begged, tangling your hands in his hair and tugging. The feeling was too nice, too kind. It writhed in your gut, tingled in your fingers. You needed the burn, you needed the fire. But he would only give you the warmth and closeness that made your throat tight.

His finger played at your pussy, coating him in your slick before slipping into you, a slow thrust in and out as he pushed it in deep. You watched him, whimpering pathetically and hoping your weakness will make him dangerous.

That's how it goes right? Taunt a beast with fresh blood and he'll attack?

But Tommy didn't seem to be holding the values of a beast tonight. His kind fingers filled your pussy and stroked inside of you. He licked and kissed and stroked until you began to tighten around him. His thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing slow, sure circles into it to build you higher and higher.

You were so used to his cruelty, the way he brought you to your pique with gentle hands was so foreign as you moaned. The pleasure wasn't blinding. It unfurled in your belly and then spread over the rest of your body. It loosened all the tension in your muscle and bone, it soothed your blood and lessened the crushing weight on your shoulders. You opened your legs wider, spreading yourself open for more as you keened for his touch.

"Good girl," he whispered to you, his fingers still working away. "Good, breathe." He didn't stop, even as you were coming down from your high. His fingers kept at it, his lips kissed the slick from your folds and whispered praises to you that you never thought you'd hear from him. "I'm right here. You're not alone."

"Tom," you huffed, cradling his cheek in one hand. "Thomas."

Your breaths filled your lungs, made you dizzy with him, surrounded by his scent and his touch. "I know, love," he said. "You're doing great."

His lips met your clit again. His tongue delved into your cunt and licked the wetness off of you. He kept you spread open wide for him as he painted his empathy into you.

He continued to whisper to you as he stroked your clit through to your second orgasm, watching your back arch and your chest expand and listening to your breath shudder through your weak moan. The pleasure washed over like waves on the shore of a beach.

Tommy let your legs down and kissed your belly, an open-mouthed kiss that let's his tongue graze your skin. He moved back up your body, aiming to kiss you again before stopping at your breasts. He took one of them in his hand, squeezing gently and brushing his thumb over your nipple.

Shivers rushed down your spine at the feeling, even more so when he leaned forward and took your nipple into his mouth. His tongue flicked it, hardening it to a peak as he licked the tip into your nipple. He rolled it in his mouth, playing with it in the way only he knew how, feeding off your sighs of pleasure.

When that one was hard enough, he switched to the other side, giving it the same treatment as he rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger. You brought your hands to his hair, your grasp much looser as you held onto him.

"Tommy, please kiss me," you sighed as he spent too much time away from your lips. He relented to you, roles reversed as he moved to do exactly that. His lips were warm and plump against yours, still tasting of your slick as his tongue brushed your own and he sucked gently on your bottom lip.

He pulled at you, staring with pupils wide as dimes. His knuckles grazed along your jaw. "Do you want my cock, love?" he asked.

You nodded, crossing your arms at your wrists above your head and wrapping your legs around his waist. "Yes, sir," you nearly begged. "I want it rough."

It was a last ditch effort.

But Tommy shook his head, taking your wrists and pulling them back down to kiss. "No," he said. "You're not getting it rough." He moved your arms around his neck, and you held them there.

Your frown deepened. "Please, sir."

He shook his head. "Use my name."

"Sir?"

"Use my name," he said again, his voice holding a whisper of the dominance you were used to while remaining the soft and gentle whisper you weren't. "What's my name?"

"Thomas Shelby." You were really just trying to get a rise out of him. Again, last ditch effort. Maybe he'd break and fuck you like you wanted it. So hard, you forgot everything that had been hurting you.

"What is my name?" he repeated himself. You felt like it was the last time he would.

"Tommy," you whispered, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his. He did the same, kissing your lips quickly.

"Do you want me?"

"Badly."

"Then I'll give me to you. I'm going to make love to you," he lined himself up with you, stroking the hard length of himself a couple of times. "I'm going to be gentle," he kissed your lips, "and I'm going to be slow," he pressed the head of his cock at your folds, "And I'm going to make you cry."

With one thrust of his hips, he pushed himself inside of you, splitting you on his cock and filling you with his length. A deep sigh slipped out of both of you as your eyes fluttered. He pressed himself all the way inside of you, buried to the hilt and lingered there.

"I'm going to do this because you deserve it," he continued, his voice strained with a slight grunt. His hips eased back, pulling out slowly to the tip before pushing back in. "Because you are gentle," he rolled his hips into you, "and loving," he pulled out to the tip again, "and you don't get nearly enough of it back." He filled you again, you gasped.

His body weight on top of yours was a comfort. He didn't drop all of his weight on top of you, but what he did give was a pleasant pressure on your body. You wrapped yourself as tightly around him as you could, trying to bury your face in his shoulder and being stopped when he pulled you back to look him in the eyes. He stared at you, gazed into the depths of your eyes as he continued to speak, his words a whisper and his tenderness a salve to a broken heart.

"You deserve so much," he grunted. The drag of his cock inside of you was intoxicating, and you wanted more. But he did not change. His pace was slow and steady and filled you with so much emotion, you felt you were going to burst. You were struggling to hold it all in.

"You're beautiful," he said.

You shook your head, "Stop."

"You're lovely."

You tried to turn away, he kept you looking him in the eyes. "Tommy, please."

He held your jaw, still kind, and gazed into your eyes like he was afraid you wouldn't hear him otherwise. "You're fucking perfect."

You broke into a sob, quiet but all-consuming. His hips didn't stop, he kept thrusting in long, deep strokes, grinding his hips into yours and wiping your tears. "You hear me? Eh?" he said, kissing you again. "You're fucking perfect."

His praise was too much for you. He was too nice. You were too used to nice, but kindness coming from a person like this—a man who had fucked you into the floor and called you a filthy whore, a man who had bought you with a penny and used you like a toy—it gave a kind of pleasure you couldn't quite explain as he stroked your cheeks and wiped your tears and told you that you were perfect.

"Anyone who tells you different is a fucking liar," he whispered in your ear, grinding in deep. "You're fucking beautiful and you're lovely and you're perfect. I need you to know that, I need you to know how fucking perfect you are."

You cupped his face in your hands, cherishing him as he spoke, as he thrusted into you, as he filled you with his care and praise and promise. "Do you hear me?" he asked as you closed your eyes shut, overcome by your tears. "Open your eyes and look at me. I need you to see me when I call you my fucking girl."

You whimpered, sighing with every thrust of his hips and holding him to you with your legs and arms. His breath shuddered as he pressed himself deep inside you, your bodies pressed flat together, and rolled his hips into you, stroking that deep part of you that had you gasping for breath.

"Thomas, ahh," you keen, your breath catching on a moan.

He was pressing kisses into the crook of your neck, ghosting his lips where he could reach pressed so closely to you. Your breath shook and your eyes fluttered as you focused on nothing but Tommy, being his girl, being his. You wanted it more than you wanted to admit.

One of his large hands pressed to your cheek as he turned you to look at him. "You said you wanted a baby of your own, eh? I'll put one in you right now. I'd have you growing round with my fucking child." His hips jerked once, a stuttered thrust pulling a moan from you at the idea. "The perfect mother for my child."

A broken sob pulled from your chest at his words, the thought of him having such a claim on you intoxicating you with warmth. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you still pulled him in closer as your bodies were pulled flush together.

She watched him above her, his eyes not quite as cold and piercing, his lips two kisses from swollen, and his cheeks pink with the blood rushing through his veins. His hands on your hips tightened as you met his gaze. Then he let go of you, and you missed the warmth of his palms until his finger intertwined with your own and his thumbs brushed the meat of your palms. He pulled them above your head, pulling both hands into one of his and burying his other hand between your thighs to play with your swollen clit.

"Thomas," you whispered, your voice shallow and breathy and teetering on a moan. You whispered his name again, and again, and again as you felt the pleasure building within you.

His rhythm began to falter, his hips not as steady as before as your whispers of his name beckoned him closer to his release. He cursed under his breath, his chest heavy with breath and something else.

He felt as your pussy tightened around him, squeezing and warming his already hot cock as you grew closer to that tender embrace of ecstasy. "Fuck," he muttered. "Cum for me, love. Let it all go."

And you did. Your back arched and your jaw went slack, your muscles tightened and you fluttered around his cock as you came. A loud moan rolled out of you like the tidal wave that washed over you. You stuttered out his name as you felt him bury his cock deep inside of you as he ground his hips, groaning roughly as he finally came with you.

You wrapped your legs tighter around him as he spilled inside of you, filling you with his cum and making the warmth of it all spread throughout your tired limbs. "Tommy," you whimpered, your voice caught in the pleasure. "Fuck, I love you."

It was a string of words that left your lips in a rush, a fantasy that clawed its way to the surface and revealed something you weren't quite sure you knew yourself. It took you a moment to even realise what had left your mouth, you were so drowned in the dreamlike state he put you in.

Tommy's thrusts slowed to a stop as he stared at your face, his lips parted and plump. He didn't pull out of you or say a word. He lifted a hand to your cheek and brushed his thumb over your skin. You stilled as you stared at him, your heart pounding in fear of his response.

He still didn't speak for a while, watching your face and wiping away the fallen tears streaking on your skin. He licked his lower lip.

"Say it again."

Another tear slipped as you watched him, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I'm sorry," you murmured. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it. It's nothing."

He lifted his chin slightly, rolling his thumb on your bottom lip before releasing it gently. "So you don't love me?"

You didn't respond. You couldn't lie to him, even if you tried. You had only just realised it yourself, only just succumbed to your rogue subconscious and blurted out a secret thought in the heat of the moment. A thought too true for you to deny as you stared at the blue eyes you had spent months—years—memorising, the plush lips your own had kissed a million times over.

"Do you love me?" he asked, his face barely an inch from yours once again. "Hm?"

You swallowed thickly, your voice was hardly a whisper. "Yes."

"Then say it again."

You sighed shakily and licked your bottom lip. "I love you…Tommy."

He closed his eyes and breath in deep, letting it out slowly and softly as he repeated the words in his head like a broken record. You waited in anticipation of his response.

He leaned forward and met your lips with his own, the kiss slow and soft and endearing, brimming with care.

"Good," he whispered back, his voice rough and quiet. "Because I love you, too. Right here, right now, without a doubt… I love you."

You brought your hands to wrap around his neck and pulled him in. He thought you were going to kiss him, but you just held him tightly against your body as you closed your eyes and cried. For the longest time, with your bodies pressed together, with his cock still snug inside of you, with your tears slipping down your cheeks and into your hairline, you cried.

He petted you, stroking his hand along your hair and holding you to him. He let you cry without interruption, without shushing you and telling you "it's okay". He let you sob against him with all the love and grief and care and anger in your heart.

And when your cries subsided and you were able to breathe again, he rolled onto his side and brought you with him as he kissed you again, just as tender and loving as the ones before.

You laid your head on your chest, sniffling gently as your finger smoothed along his skin. "Do you really love me?" you asked quietly.

He nodded, thinking on the way holding you right then made him feel, the nostalgic feeling that filled his homes at the reminder of a love he'd once held in the past, one that still haunts him to this day and only eased with the idea of you. "Yes."

You nodded gently. "You ever been in love before?"

He was a little more hesitant this time, but he still nodded once more as his hand stroked your shoulder. "Yes." He glanced down at you, "Have you?"

You shook your head, "Not like this…" He didn't reply, and you swallowed thickly. "Do you…" You let out a tiny breath. "Do you think I'm going to have a baby now?"

He looked at you and grinned, a look that made you warm. "Hopefully," he chuckled. He leaned back again and closed his eyes, "Gives me an excuse to put a ring on your finger."

You sat up and looked at him, surprise written across your face. "A ring? Already?"

He opened his clear eyes again, still smiling. "I've already decided I'm not letting anyone else have you. So, yes, already." He leaned forward, meeting you halfway in another kiss. "I'm marrying you, love."

You smiled slowly, letting it grow and grow and grow until your cheeks hurt and then after. Glancing away from his face, you let out a tiny chuckle. You eased your way out of the bed, out of his embrace, and went to his coat where you fished a coin from his pockets.

Slipping back into bed next to him, you fiddled with the coin between your fingers. "I'll flip you for it," you smiled. "Heads–"

He took the coin from your hand. "Heads, you marry me. Tails, I marry you. Either way, we're getting married, we're having that baby, and you're stuck with me forever." He tossed the coin away so it landed somewhere on the floor where you couldn't see it with a loud drawl.

You bit your bottom lip, failing to contain a beautiful smile. You nodded, "Okay." You kissed his lips, grinning still as you just kept nodding. "Okay."

"Good," he said, holding you close again and stroking your side. "You're mine, Mrs. Shelby."

You couldn't hold in the chuckle that slipped from your lips. "Well," you sighed happily. "A deal's a deal."

Peaky Blinders taglist: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @goblinjnr @papichulo120627 @globetrotter28 Tag yourself here...

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader smut #tommy shelby x female reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader smut #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #reader insert #female reader

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chaniceroses · 3 months

Text

Bad Boys Ride or Die (Armando x Reader) Part FIVE

(Audio to listen to while reading. :)

youtube

Pulling into the driveway, there was a thick dreadful moment of tension in the car. “Would you like us to come in and check it out for you. "Mike asked, looking at you through his mirror. You shook your head and got out of the car, the world felt dark and every shadow that was near the trees reminded you of the guy in the van. It took you a while but eventually you were able to unlock your door. Once you turned around and gave Mike a small smile, they pulled out the driveway and left.

Grabbing your gun from the holster that was wrapped around your leg. You went inside to be met by multiple figures inside your living room. Before you could respond, you found yourself on the ground with a pounding feeling coming from the back of your head. Your vision was blurry and the room was spinning.

“What the fuck.”, you whispered trying to pull yourself off the ground. You watched as a man walked up to you and kneeled down to your level.

“You know I've missed you, right?”, he laughed, picking you up and setting you in a chair. You thought to yourself, maybe you should’ve asked Marcus and Mike to search your house, then again, someone still needs to be alive to prove Captain’s innocence.

“What do you want?”, you sighed, holding the back of your head. You felt a warm substance on your head, and could feel chills move across your body. Blood.

“I hate it has to be this way. Especially between us.”, a hard rugged voice replied sitting right in front of you. You could see the lights being turned on, which made it hard for your eyes to be adjusted. Once your vision became clear, there he was. Sitting in front of you with a smile that could haunt you even in death.

“McGrath,”you muttered. Your eyes-widened in shock, what is he doing? Why was he doing all of this?

“You’ve finally recognized me. I was hoping you wouldn’t forget who I was or my name.”, he stated caressing his hand across your face. You threw your head back in rejection, which quickly made you regret doing that.

“I know you didn’t think I would forget about you and the things you did to me. Having me tortured…nearly killed years ago.”, he explained getting up from in front of you.

Memories started coming back from that night. Watching him and his team getting beaten by the Cartel. You had no choice, you were undercover and accidentally fell in love with him but had to choose your career. The only difference is, that you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place.

“McGrath, you know that I didn’t want to do that!”, you exhaustingly yelled. “I had no choice, they were my family too. I have no one now.”, you continued.

“And whose fault is that?”

You threw your head back in defeat, he had a reason to feel that way. You put yourself first instead of him, the person you had loved. He had helped you get to where you are now and showed you the way. All you could do was stare at him, the way his short gray hair stood up and the way he caressed his goatee mustache while being deep in thought.

“I cared about you then…and still do now but that shit doesn’t even matter.”, he continued standing up and walking to the backroom. You watched as he went down your hallway, what was he doing. Suddenly you heard a loud cry from your room.

“McGrath!”, you screamed in terror. The cries were getting louder and louder each step that was taken. You watched intensively to see who it was and when you saw him, your heart dropped.

“LadyBug…”, you cried, feeling a tear come down your face. “McGrath, please.”, you pleaded slowly, trying to get up from your seat only to be pushed back down by one of McGrath’s workers.

“McGrath, kill me. Please!”, you begged. “Kill me, he’s done nothing.” You watched as McGrath’s face softened while looking at you.

“I hate that in order for me to see you care for someone, is like this.”, he replied, keeping his grip tight on LadyBug while grabbing a pillow.

“The money is in his computer file, you know that already so why are you doing this.”, you replied hysterically. At this point your vision was blurry from crying and you forgot all about the pain on your side and neck. McGrath was sinister and believed in revenge. You knew that he would take LadyBug out because you cared about him. You had to figure something out.

“Let me help you.”, you sighed looking around at his workers then back to McGrath. “Please, I can help you. You know I can.” You slowly got up but before you could take a step, his assistants grabbed your shoulders.

“Let her come.”, McGrath demanded, holding the pillow behind LadyBug’s head.

You walked up to LadyBug and stared at him.

“Home. Late.”, he quietly replied, pointing towards the clock. When you turn to look at the clock and then the window, that’s when you put two-and-two together.

“You’ve been in my home the whole time?”, you sobbed looking at McGrath. There was anger and pure hatred in his eyes while he looked at you. You could feel it however, you felt the same. You grabbed LadyBug’s hand and started to caress it with your fingers. You knew if you were to tell him that everything was going to be okay, that would be a lie. So all you could do was wipe his tears.

“Mc…McGrath. Take me, kill me, torture me. Do whatever.”, you stuttered, swallowing a lump that you didn’t know that was developed in your throat. You watched as he searched your eyes for an answer.

“You look so beautiful when you cry y/n.”,he heckled, taking his other hand to hold up your chin.

You stared at each other for what felt like forever, until you felt your ears begin to ring. You felt yourself holding onto something but afraid to look down to see what it was. No more tears could fall down, you felt empty.

“I still love you.”, McGrath smiled, kissing you on top of your forehead. For that kissing placement to be such a soft gesture, it felt hot, hard and evil. You stood there holding onto whatever was in your hands as McGrath grabbed his things and headed towards the door.

“I want Mike, Marcus and Armando. You have some decisions to be making so I'll be saving you for last.”, he continued opening up your front door and holding it for the others to walk out. You felt alone, for the very first time ever. First you had to make a decision when it came to your career however, now this is different.

“I won’t be coming home, so don’t wait up for me but make sure you clean up.”, he sarcastically said, looking at you one more time before closing the door.

“LadyBug…I-”, you stuttered, holding his body up towards your chest. You could feel his body leaning against yours. You kneeled down until you were able to completely sit on the ground while holding his body to ensure that he wouldn’t get hurt.

“My badge…LadyBug, I can…my badge.”, you silently repeated. You were afraid to look down, to see his lifeless body being held in your arms. From the little boy that would come over your house, talk and eat with you everyday, and play in your yard to now being dead is in your arms. The boy who would stay up and hike out in a tall tree to be sure that you would make it home every night. The little boy with the sweetest spirit and the most soft spoken voice, was now dead while you held him ,lifeless.

You finally got the courage to look down to see that one of his lenses in his glasses was broken. He was covered in bruises and blood was coming from the top of his head.

“LadyBug, I’m so sorry LadyBug!! I’m so sorry!”, you screamed, grabbing his body and holding him tighter than before. Hours had passed since McGrath had killed LadyBug and you were still on the ground holding LadyBug close to your chest, until you heard a knock on the door.

“Help me!”, you loudly whispered, pushing LadyBug’s hair out of his face.

You watched as your door was kicked open and saw Marcus and Mike rush in. They stopped in their tracks and examined your living room until they saw you on the ground holding LadyBug.

“Y/N, WHAT THE HELL…”, Mike yelled running over towards him.

“He came, he came…and he killed LadyBug, he killed him. He came! McGrath!”, you whispered repeatedly rocking LadyBug back and forth.

“Y/n we have to call for help. Let us help-”

“NO! We leave him here! We have to kill him, we have to kill him before he kills us and Armando. We need Armando, I need him.”, you yelled looking at Marcus and Mike. They had a concerning look on their face.

“Why do you need Armando?”Marcus replied, coming closer to you. At first you were hesitant but now everything must go out on the table,

“It’s a long story.”, you sighed, sniffing the snot that was trying to come out of your nose. “We have to leave now, help me”, you pleaded, falling into Mike’s arm while holding LadyBug’s in yours. You watched as Marcus carefully picked up LadyBug’s body and carefully laid him on the couch and covered him.

“Come here…”, Mike whispered, picking you softly bridal style. You winced in pain from the bruise on your side but soon found yourself comfortably in Mike’s arm.

“I couldn’t get my things, I couldn’t save him Mike.”, you cried as Mike carried you to his car.

“It’s not your fault, y/n. We will catch that son of a bitch. I promise you that.”, he replied, taking off his jacket and covering you with it.

You thought things would change and be different. If you would’ve known that McGrath would’ve come back and chased, you like a dog and caused all of these problems. You would’ve killed him years ago, to avoid all of this, especially Ladybug’s death. Your mind felt cold, and you wanted to be sure that McGrath saw the pits of hell. His death belonged to you, and you were sure you were going to get it. That was the last thing on your mind before you passed out.

#armando x reader #jacob scipio #armando armas #bad boys armando #bad boys ride or die #bad boys ride or die armando #armando aretas #x reader #Youtube #will smith #martin lawrence #mike lowrey #marcus burnett #new writers on tumblr

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alloftheimagines · 2 years

Text

joel miller | don't let me drown

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

words: 2.4k

warnings: drowning, hurt/comfort, angst, lil bit of nude cuddling for warmth reasons but nothing steamy, strong language, inspired by ep six but i changed it up so the bridge is unsteady for the purposes of *drama*. hint towards age-gap with reader in their thirties. they/them pronouns. no y/n.

synopsis: in which the reader falls into the river of death, and it's joel's job to save you and find shelter. featuring ellie. not requested!

You used to think snow was pretty. Magical, even. Now, you only think it’s a bitch to travel through, especially on foot with the harsh mountain winds blowing off the river.

Of course, you can’t complain because the fourteen-year-old and fifty-six-year-old aren’t, and you’re probably supposed to be fitter than the two of them put together. But inside… fuck. You’re exhausted, freezing, and desperate to get to your next destination so you can sleep on something other than ice and mud.

When the bridge comes into view, relief washes through you. If you can get away from the open water, maybe the winds won’t be so biting and you’ll finally be able to feel your cheeks again. You puff out a visible breath and glance at Joel, who is both pale and rosy-cheeked from the cold. Ellie follows behind, watchful as ever. You can’t imagine what it must be like for her, trekking so far from where she began. Seeing so much. It’s been rough on all of you, but you’ve made it through together. Whatever comes next should be a breeze.

“Keep a lookout,” Joel warns, poising his handgun and nodding at you to do the same. You’ve been warned that nothing good can be found by the river, and it’s left an unsettling silence between you since you started your journey.

You dip your head, preparing your own gun as Ellie does the same. But if anything is here, you don’t see it — not on this side of the bridge or the other. It’s a rickety old thing, but if it gets you across… it’ll do.

“C’mon,” he grunts. The bridge creaks beneath your feet, and you follow Joel’s footsteps to avoid any weak spots. Until gunshots sound somewhere in the distance. You all jump, but it’s you who loses your footing as a chunk of rotten wood disappears beneath your feet. Before you can find something to grab onto, you’re falling, screaming, clutching thin air. Joel yells your name with a fear you haven’t heard in a while, but his voice is lost as the rushing water swallows you up.

Freezing. So cold it makes you burn. The river turns your world grey and endless, as though you’re floating in a void. You thrash, trying to kick up to the surface, but the shock is jolting through you, making you numb, and you can’t remember how to use your limbs.

You cough and gulp down an unbearable amount of water, and that’s when you know. There’s no air, no way of making your lungs work. They just keep burning, squeezing for something that no longer exists. Your vision goes blurry and then disappears completely.

***

Joel watches it in slow motion. The splintering bridge. The fall. The ripple in the river as it chews you up and doesn’t spit you out. He doesn’t realise he’s screaming your name, doesn’t realise he’s even running, until he reaches the other side of the bridge.

“Stay there!” he orders Ellie with a warning finger, fear ricocheting through his voice, through the trees. You’re gone is all he can think. You’re gone, and he can’t fucking do this without you.

His knees ache as he half-sprints, half-slips down the embankment, kicking snow into the river. After shucking off his shotgun and placing it down, he takes off his jacket in a moment of clarity, knowing you’re going to need something warm. And then he’s plunging into the river, cursing at its low temperature. His teeth chatter as he shouts your name, searching for any sign in the steadily flowing water. But there’s nothing. He dives under when he gets closer to the bridge, skin becoming ice as he searches the murky depths.

He has to come up for air twice before he finds you sinking to the riverbed. He’s never moved so fast, snatching you up in both arms and pulling you to the surface. You’re deadweight in his arms, and panic lances through him when he finds you’re eyes closed.

He calls your name again, urgency sharpening his words as he pulls you to the embankment. Despite his orders, Ellie waits there, eyes wide and afraid. He doesn’t have time to scold her. He’s too busy carrying you out, water pooling at his feet as he staggers to solid ground and lays you down.

“Baby?” He shakes you, droplets falling from his face and onto yours as he kneels over you. “Come on. Come on, baby.”

He presses an ear to your chest: finds no sign of breathing.

“Shit.” He begins compressions then, counting to thirty before giving you mouth to mouth. Your lips are ice cold, and so are his, his knuckles reddening as he presses the heel of his hand down again and again and again. “Come on. Come on. Breathe.”

“Joel,” Ellie whispers, terror in her voice.

He squeezes his eyes closed, unable to face what it means. What might be happening. He isn’t losing you today. Not any day. “Come on. Come back to me. Come back to me, darlin’.”

Your breath gutters, and instinct has him rolling you onto your side as you cough up more water than any person should be able to.

“Fuck,” he’s saying, rubbing warmth into your shoulders. “Ellie, grab my coat.”

She does, and he wraps it around your quivering body before pulling you close. “I got you,” he’s whispering. “I got you, darlin’. I'm here."

More coughs leave you, and he brushes your hair off your forehead to look for any sign of injury. Your lips are blue, and it terrifies him. Cold water shock can kill, and the way you went under… Shit, it’s a miracle you’re here, upright.

You’re shivering so violently that he knows the worst isn’t over. Hypothermia. Pneumonia. Those are just some of the things he’ll have to watch for. He can’t take you anywhere like this, can’t protect Ellie or you, but you can’t stay here either. You need to warm up. You both do.

“We need to find shelter. Somewhere to light a fire and get warm.”

“I saw some rock overhangs deeper in the woods,” Ellie said.

“Can you grab the bags?”

“Yeah.” She slips a backpack on each shoulder and then props Joel’s shotgun under her arm. Not ideal, but he can’t think about that now either. Not when you’re barely opening your eyes.

He breathes your name and then: “Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

A faint nod.

“Good. That's good. We're gonna get you warm.” He pulls you into his chest, hooking an arm under your knee and the other around your back. You sink into his warmth, but you’re so limp that it terrifies him as he carries you up the embankment, following Ellie’s lead.

Sure enough, she guides you both to a deep overhang beneath snow-topped crags, and he dips his head to fit in the low space. He places you against the wall, already unravelling the bed rolls.

“Get a fire going,” he says. He’s certain that he had a few matches left last time he checked, and Ellie rifles through his bag before producing them. With shaky hands, she gathers a pile of sticks and surrounds them by rocks just like he taught her before lighting the match and letting it spread.

The twigs are damp and produce a lot of smoke, but sure enough, an amber glow lights the dark shelter a moment later.

“That’s it. Good,” he whispers.

Ellie glances at your hunched form warily. You’re so pale, so cold you’re practically convulsing. “Are they gonna be okay?”

“Have to be,” Joel mutters. He slips off your sopping wet coat and sweater, and Ellie turns away as he gets rid of the rest.

“You still with me?” he asks you.

You hum in response, folding into yourself in your nudity.

“Here.” Covering her eyes, Ellie hands him a spare long-sleeved shirt and a pair of sweats from her own pack, luckily from Bill’s stash of adult clothes.

“Thanks,” he replies, urging your arms up so he can slip on the shirt. It’s an uncomfortable ordeal with your clammy skin, but he needs you warm. Now. Even when you groan, skin no doubt stinging painfully. “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

He has to pull you up for the sweatpants, and then he’s rolling thick thermal socks onto your feet and tucking you into blankets and bedrolls. “How’s that? Feel warmer?”

You shake your head, and he helps you shuffle closer to the fire.

“Now?”

A nod that has him relieved. He can’t help but place a kiss on your damp forehead, realising too late that he’s cold and shivering too. He only has another flannel in his backpack, though, and he can survive until he’s at least gotten you warm. Protecting you from his damp clothes using the bedroll, he wraps his arms around you to keep in the heat.

“Gave me a damn heart attack,” he mumbles into your hair, squeezing his eyes closed to chase away the darkness creeping in. The thought of losing you. All the other scenarios where you didn’t end up here with him after the fall. He should have been smarter. Shouldn’t have taken you across that damn bridge.

The ghost of a smile crosses your flame-lit face. “Sorry." And then: "You’re… cold too,” you rasp between shivers. “Get in here.”

He glances at Ellie. No way in hell is he going to strip off with her here. As though understanding, she raises her brows and shifts away. “I’m going to go find out if bears really do shit in the woods.”

“Don’t go away,” he orders. “Just… give us a couple minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” She disappears, and her crunching footfalls outside keep his concern at bay.

His concern for her, at least. Your face still lacks colour, your breaths sounding watery and wrong even now. He grinds his teeth, reluctant to pull away from you for even a minute. But if he dries off, he can give you his body heat, so he quickly tears off his clothes and replaces them with the one dry shirt he owns. He doesn’t bother buttoning it up, instead crawling into the bedroll with you and enveloping you in an unyielding hold. You lean against him, eyelids drooping but shivers finally beginning to ease.

He begins to warm up after a few minutes and can only hope you are too. When he notices your eyes closed, he stiffens. “You still with me, darlin?”

“Think so,” you murmur, your cool hands travelling across his bare chest. He tries not to flinch as he directs them up to his chest. His mouth. He kisses your knuckles before cupping his own hands around yours and blowing. Then, he rubs, generating friction.

“Keep talking to me,” he pleads.

“‘Bout what?”

“Anything.” Anything, as long as you don’t leave me. As long as you stay. “What was your favourite book growing up?”

You were barely fifteen when the pandemic hit all those years ago, but you smile as you remember that old bookshelf your dad put together full of worn paperbacks. “You don’t read, Joel. You wouldn’t know even if I told you.”

“So tell me about it.” He’s still using his hands, pushing feeling back into your body bit by bit.

“I’m okay,” you whisper finally. “I’m okay, Joel. I’m gonna be okay.”

“I know that.” But he won’t stop, won’t give up, even when your cheeks turn pink once more. God, he’s missed the way you glow like that, the way it looks brighter in the snow.

You take a ragged breath. “I liked Gulliver’s Travels.”

“Yeah? Who’s that by?”

“Joel…” Your eyes flutter shut. “Please. I’m tired. I’m warm. I’m okay.”

But he can’t trust it after he’s just put breath back into your lungs; can’t trust it to stay there. He holds you tighter, placing a gentle, terrified kiss into your hair, even if he’ll never admit that he is terrified. That he can’t breathe if you’re not breathing. He realised that the moment he jumped into the river without caring if it got him killed too.

You’re all he has to hold onto, and he could never let you drown.

“I just need… I need you to keep talking to me for a little longer, baby. Just until I know you’re okay,” he says.

“Okay.” So you tell him about your favourite book, drifting in and out of the conversation. Soon, you stop shivering against him and the bedroll warms with two sets of body heat, just as he’d hoped. The fire keeps up until Ellie finally comes back to refuel it with more sticks, offering Joel a smirk that he returns with a gentle glare. You barely seem to notice, still muttering.

“Sounds like a great story,” he says finally. “I think Sarah had that one.”

“Yeah.” You smile, cheeks swelling this time as you nestle into his chest. But then you cough, and he frowns. God, is this what it’s gonna be like now? One cough’ll leave him frozen with fear?

“I can read you guys a great book!” Ellie volunteers, and of course pulls out her pages of puns.

Joel groans. You chuckle, and his heart warms at the sound.

“Tell me the one with the penguins again,” you ask.

Ellie grins and flips through the pages, and you get a million more cheesy puns that make you laugh until you can no longer hold your head up. You’re certain Joel’s bare chest ripples with stifled amusement at some points.

“Joel?” you ask as Ellie turns the page.

“Yeah.”

“I’m so tired.”

Another wave of dread. He masks it clearly, examining your features. You look and feel warm, and you sound like you. If you need the rest, he can’t keep asking you not to take it for his own selfish reasons. For his own pathetic fear.

Finally, he surrenders. “Okay, darlin’. Get some sleep. We all need it.”

“Night,” Ellie says, getting comfortable in her sleeping bag.

Your eyes shut instantly and don’t open again, but your chest rises and falls smoothly against your interlocked hands. He listens to it as the shelter quietens, the fire getting lower. He listens all night just to make sure you’re still breathing. When light returns the next morning, he finds Ellie has done just the same, wide awake and unwilling to tear her gaze away from the two of you.

“They’re okay, right?” she asks.

Joel can only hope that it’s the truth when he says, “Yeah. They’re okay.”

“Good.” She nestles into her makeshift pillow — her backpack. “You’re a real grouch when they’re not around.”

He rolls his eyes, tempted to point out that he is always a grouch, though Ellie’s right. He needs you. He will always need you.

And god, he hopes he never comes close to losing you like that again.

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nervousd · 9 months

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DRABBLE — RUN RABBIT!

TW: blood, not very descriptive

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“ where are you? Is there something happening?— If something happened, we can talk about it” Adrenaline courses through your veins as you pushed against the leaves and bushes that got in your way. The endless forest stretched out beyond your eyesight— in a way it was haunting. You ran as if a wolf was nipping at your heels— you supposed it wasn’t far from the truth. You leaped behind a tree, pressing your back against the rough bark.

“ You hiding from me? “ you could hear your name being screamed out as his hysteria grew. The wind wailed between the trees, Coriolanus swore he could hear your voice— taunting him. The leaves crunched under his foot— walking deeper into the forest. He was close— too close for comfort. You could run for it— you should run for it. But your legs felt like jelly and your knees were locking together.

However, the fear of getting caught by him and the fate that awaited you was terrifying— so with a racing heart, you ran like mad. The trees beside you blurred as you continued running. You had thrown away stealth and instead gone for speed. At the corner of your eye you swore you saw a glinting metal aiming at you.

There was a loud ‘ BANG! ‘ and your body had hit the floor. Blood was pooling beneath you as a scream ripped out of your lungs. You gripped onto your pant leg as you tried to hold your cries of pain. Tears leaked the corner of your eyes as pain coursed throughout your entire body. Through your blurry eyesight you saw him— Coriolanus Snow heading your way with a gun loosely held in his palms. He looked down at you, with eyes narrowing. Piercing through your very soul— “ you were running from me “

Terror washed over you, raising the fine hairs on your back. He shot you— now your bleeding out in the forest all because you had ran from him. Was he going to kill you now? Because of your disobedience? Or was it because you knew too much? The color quickly drained from your face. Oh god— he was going to kill you and leave you here to rot.

He raised the gun towards you, “ You’ll regret running from me’ “ he vowed.

#dark coriolanus snow #yandere coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #Coriolanus snow x reader #dark Coriolanus snow x reader #yandere coriolanus snow x reader #yandere

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uptondixon · 4 months

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Upstead Foster Daughter

Did you ever wonder how Upstead would be as foster parents for a teenage girl? Like Hank and Erin, Hailey and Jay welcomed Olivia to their home when she was 16. Olivia holds a lot of grudges and is full of mischief, but she is also incredibly sweet and has a tremendous need to feel like she belongs. To her surprise, Hailey and Jay will give her exactly that.

Masterlist

[Chapter I] "If I was dying on my knees you would be the one to rescue me"

Jay is shot and help comes from an unexpected source.

Blood was no stranger to Jay Halstead. Nor is being in the aim of a gun. But actually being shot, bleeding out? This is something you never get used to.

Jay had been lying on the cold concrete floor for about two minutes now, unaware that minutes had passed. Everything happened so fast. The bullet missed his bulletproof vest and hit his side, invading him with pain and knocking him to the ground.

Jay made an effort but failed to reach for his radio that he dropped when he fell. Being alone, bleeding out from a hole in your belly, is enough to send anyone into a panic. But not him, because Jay knew that was not how he would die, chasing a stupid drug dealer who shot him down an alley in the middle of the day. He wasn't even supposed to be there alone in the first place.

His team would find him. Hailey would find him.

Half a minute later, Jay hears footsteps coming from the other side of the alley. His hands loosened the hold on his side where he was stanching the bleeding with a piece of his plaid shirt. They got to him, he could relax now.

The footsteps were soft, they were probably from Hailey or Kim, even Hank coming-

“Jesus Christ! Sir, what happened?” Jay's head moved in the direction of the voice so fast that he felt pain shooting through his entire body.

His vision was getting blurry, be he could make out a teenage girl who could not be older than fifteen. She was staring at him from 10 steps away and the strain his neck was doing to look at her was making him even more uncomfortable. He resumed his previous position with a loud groan, pressing the piece of fabric tighter against his side again.

The action calls the girl's attention to the wound, the amount of blood making her gasp and kneel on the ground beside the man. Although she had never seen a gunshot wound before, she knew it was one. She noticed his vest, his gun, and his radio on the ground. He was a cop and he was bleeding out on the pavement right in front of her. She had to do something.

Her hands flew to the wound, joining his bigger ones in stopping the bleeding. She took out her coat, pressing it to the wound.

“My belt” Jay said, reaching out to it. He had attempted to remove it earlier, but his hands were shaking excessively and he lacked the strength to do so. Just like he couldn't reach for his radio to call for help.

She got the message and took his belt. His badge and gunholder coming off in the process. The girl knew she had to do a tourniquet, so she wrapped the belt around his side, finding some difficulty in doing so, but still managed to succeed. More grunts of pain left Jay as she tightened the belt.

Her hands and clothes were covered in blood, and her face had some splashes from when she tried to get her hair out of the way.

What to do now? She couldn't carry him, she couldn't leave him here alone to die either.

“The radio, take my radio” Jay's voice was weaker now, he was using all his strength to not pass out.

She looked back and stood up to retrieve the radio. She came back and kneeled beside him again, waiting for more instructions. It was crazy how he could still think rationally in these conditions. She felt so powerless because he was the one dying, but he was still managing to tell her what to do. She knew, however, that he was probably trained for moments like this.

“What's your name?” Jay said after a moment trying to catch his breath.

“Olivia” She answered, her voice shaking.

The girl glanced down at the name carved on his vest “Halstead, Intelligence” she read out loud.

“Yeah, yeah, you-” he coughed. “You pull this switch and press this button” his blood-soaked hand showed her how to do it.

“Call for help, tell them the address” were Jay’s last words before he started to feel his consciousness fading away.

He turned his head to the side, feeling the cold on his cheek. His vision went completely black but he could still hear Olivia's voice in the background.

Jay could not make out what she was saying but the last thing he heard before passing out was Hank's voice through the radio “Who the hell are you?!”

You all recognize the lyrics from the title, right? Thank you for reading and let me know what you think! It's my first time attempting to write a story with multiple chapters so any form of encouragement is much appreciated ♡

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yxxdel · 1 month

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𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 FT. LEON KENNEDY 𖦹°‧ ** leon remember your first and last encounter

W/C : 650

C/W : mention of death/blood/zombies

𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟑𝟎, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟖. It was the day Leon Kennedy would never forget. The cop inside him died that day. His heart died that day. Because he lost faith in humanity.

Because he lost you.

Leon sighed as he leaned back against his couch, closing his eyes. It has been six years since that day, since your death.

At night, he did have nightmares of those monstrous creatures, but he also dreamed of you.

He dreamed of your smile when you first met; he dreamed of your light chuckle at his stupid joke, even though the hell you two were in, your lips softly kissing his…

He grinned sadly, alone in his apartment, putting his hands over his face. How pathetic he was, he thought, for still thinking of you even after all those years…

“Are you a cop ?”

Your voice echoed in the car as he showed you a little proud smile.

“Yeah, Leon Kennedy. And you ?”

You smiled at him, but you were still scared about what was happening in the city.

Leon thought your name suited you well- a lovely name for a lovely woman.

And your smile, God, he wished he knew you sooner because now he wanted to see it every day. But unfortunately, the situation didn’t give any hope to smile.

Grunting in pain, you fell to the ground as your hand held your stomach. Sensing you weren’t behind him anymore, Leon rushed by your side with a worried expression.

“No, no..”

He pressed his hands on your injury, his blue eyes scanning your face.

“Are you okay ? Can you walk ? Come on, we’re almost there.”

He said, he sounded desperate.

Because this was supposed to be his first day, and it turned out to be a hell. But at least he was with you, you, who were just a survivor. You who stuck by his side.

“Leon..”

You whispered with a soft smile, one bloody hand cupping his cheek. He shook his head; he didn’t want to believe it.

“It’s too late, go before it’s too late for you too. Please.”

He pressed harder, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Bullshit. I’m picking you up, there’s no way I’m leaving you here—“

You cut him off by pressing your lips gently against his, offering him a sweet kiss. His body froze, trying to understand what was happening.

Your tears mixed with his as you pulled away, your thumb caressing his cheek.

“I won’t forgive myself if you die, please, save yourself when you still can.”

He rested his forehead against yours at your words, closing his eyes.

“No, I-I must save you.”

The sounds of the groans of the contaminated people got closer, and you gently pushed him away.

“Leave, now.”

You stood up with difficulty, blood was still coming out of your injury as you paled even more. He watched you with his ocean eyes, whispering your name.

Then, when the zombies arrived where you two were, you jumped on them with open arms so they wouldn’t reach Leon.

You screamed in pain as you felt your skin be eaten, your eyes meeting his scared ones.

“Please, run away. For me.”

Those were your last words, before you closed your eyes. Leon wanted to scream, raising his gun. But deep inside, he knew it was too late.

So, with the heart heavy, he ran away. His blurry vision caused him to fall a few times, but he kept running.

For you. You gave your life for him, so he swore he would live for you.

Opening his eyes, he exhaled through his nose as he straightened on his couch.

He got a call today for a new mission. He was supposed to save the president’s daughter.

And he promised, to whom well, he himself didn’t know, that he would succeed in this mission in one piece.

Like he has sworn to do since your death.

For you.

#yxxdel ꩜#re2 x reader #re2 remake #re2 leon #re4 x reader #re4 leon #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon x reader #leon x you #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy angst #re2 leon x reader #re4 leon x reader

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forjongseong · 1 year

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free fall // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: doctor!jay x agent!fem!reader

genre: secretagents!au, lovers to strangers(?), suggestive, slight angst // warning: mentions of gunshots, blood, violence // wc: ~1.3k

summary: you were tasked to eliminate a target, which should be just another day in your life, but what were you supposed to do when said target was your ex-husband whom you had left months ago?

author’s note: I don't know if I should call this a drabble or a one-shot, but for now let's call it a short one-shot...

I know I did a poll and that I should be releasing bodyguard!jay first but Lord help me this particular scene just played in my mind and if I didn't get it out of my system I would be haunted by it in my dreams... which would be exhausting.

anyways if you have watched Salt before then you might notice some similarities. except I do like to think this one has an implied happy ending.

no song for inspiration for this one! I just hope you like it.

taglist (please send an ask or DM if you want to be added or removed!): @end-hyphen @excusememissiloveyou @shinkenprincess-oh @nyanggk @yoursjaeyun @thots4hee @maggstar @bucketofhiros @dimplejaehyuncutie @mochimchimo @jongseonglogy

The sounds of gunshots and explosions were deafening to your ears, and the amount of dust and debris floating almost impaired your sight, but you pushed through, as you always do. You had one mission—to eliminate the target, so you slowly but steadily made your way up the crumbling apartment, hoping to locate your man soon.

You heard static in your ear, and you nudged the piece back in place, quickly putting your hand back on your gun. Your footsteps were silent, and the area soon quieted down too. You were slightly worried that the murmur of the radio would be noticeable, so you turned down the volume as you closed in.

With a slight tap, you pushed the front door slightly open, and you kept your movements to a minimum as you carefully entered the room. You heard the sound of clinking and rustling, like someone was in a rush to pack their stuff, so with a firm step you slammed the bedroom door open and pointed your gun to the source of the sound.

The man froze, letting go of his tools that were halfway on their way into his bag. At the sight of you, his hands fell to his side, and it bothered you how his face showed no fear. It was almost like he was glad to see you.

“Y/N,” he called you by your first name.

You frowned and strengthened the grip on your gun. He flinched slightly and raised his hands, only up to his chest. You did not know how long you both stared at each other until his eyes moved to your waist and widened at the sight.

“You’re bleeding,” he muttered.

You heard your handler’s voice calling for you through your earpiece, and you squinted your eyes at his demand. He was ordering you to retreat as soon as you killed the doctor in front of you, and you were seriously considering it for a second. But then you started to feel your blood seeping through your top, and you were getting a little lightheaded—maybe from your wound, from the intense running, or from running into your ex-husband.

“One second,” you whispered.

Jay wasn’t sure if you were talking to him or the earpiece. You shifted your aim only slightly to the right before firing your gun, missing Jay’s ear by several inches and hitting the wall behind him. Jay barely flinched, he only blinked as he felt the short gush of wind go past his face.

You collapsed to the floor as you pulled your earpiece off, kneeling on the ground and smashing the device with your fist to effectively destroy it. Your gun slid off your hands and at that exact moment, Jay rushed to his feet to catch you in his arms.

“Y/N…”

Your vision became blurry as you tried your best to muster the last words coming out of your mouth before you lost consciousness.

“Don’t call me that.”

---

You woke up in a room that was lit with a warm shade of light, its walls painted dark green and the furniture in it a complementary shade of copper. You moved your right arm and immediately winced, feeling a sharp sting on your waist. When you looked down, you found yourself bandaged and your top had changed into a loose shirt.

The door swung open and Jay entered, holding your sling but without your gun in it.

“I found this,” he said, showing you the tracker on the wider side of the strap. “What do you want me to do with it?”

You felt like he already knew what your answer would be, but you replied anyway.

“Get rid of it,” you breathed. Jay calmly ripped the tracker off and crushed it with the heaviest book on his shelf before chucking it in the trash.

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

You frowned at the sudden question. You always knew that Jay was straightforward, but you didn’t expect him to directly ask you about your business, especially when you were clearly still in pain.

“That was what you came for, right?” Jay asked again. “I was the only doctor in the building. They want me gone. Am I wrong?”

“Stop,” you whispered, bringing your hand up to your temple. For some reason, you were starting to get a headache. “Not now.”

“Then when?” Jay stepped away from the desk, initially having his back towards you. He was now looking at you and standing by the side of the bed. The bed that you used to share.

“I just said not now,” you repeated yourself.

“It has to be now,” Jay continued. “Because if I wait until you get better, you will leave. Again.”

You were quick enough to turn your head away to not let Jay see the single tear trickling down your face. You took a deep breath and licked your lips before you spoke.

“It’s nothing personal, Jay. It’s just work.”

Jay scoffed and stepped away, walking towards the windows to make sure the blinds were closed. He had disabled your tracker long before you told him to destroy it, so he didn’t have to worry about being spotted by whoever was hiring you to do your job. Regardless, he had to ensure that nobody was around and that you were completely safe.

He wanted you to be. He couldn’t care less about his own safety.

“They told me not to fall in love.”

Jay turned his head towards you at the sound of your voice. “Pardon?”

“When they briefed me,” you continued. “I remember when they gave me your file. And when I reported back to them months later.”

Jay stood in silence as he listened to you.

“‘You were supposed to recruit him, not fall in love,’ they said,” you spoke in a hushed voice. You looked up at him and your eyes met.

“But how could I not?”

Your lips trembled as you tried to hold back your tears, and what Jay did next just made you fall apart.

He cradled your face in his chest, pulling your body only slightly towards him as he tried to comfort you. You grabbed his arm as you sobbed, tears staining his button-down. He gently placed his hand over your covered wound, making sure you weren’t putting unnecessary pressure on it, and it made you cry even more.

“It’s okay,” Jay muttered. “You’re safe here with me.”

You shook your head, still pressed towards his chest. “I might be, but you’re not.”

“Enough with the excuses, Y/N.” Jay pulled back, bringing one hand to cup your face. “I’ve told you I’ll go wherever you will go. Be it safe or not.”

“That’s a dumb decision,” you replied. Jay chuckled softly.

“People make dumb decisions when they’re in love,” Jay stated. He swiped his thumb across your cheek in an attempt to dry your tears.

“It’s not going to be easy,” you said in between your sobs. “We will have to relocate every month. There has to be surveillance at all times.”

“I’ll take it.”

“I will be a burden to you, Jay.”

Jay shook his head, clasping his hands over yours and bringing it to his mouth. He kissed your knuckles before shaking his head again, tears also threatening to fall down his face.

“You were never a burden to me,” he spoke against your skin. “You never will be.”

You started sobbing again and Jay made shushing noises as he pressed his forehead against yours. He began stroking your hair steadily, alternating between caressing your face and your shoulders too, and once he noticed that your breathing had leveled, he placed a finger under your chin.

“I belong to you, no matter what,” he said before kissing your lips.

When you felt the heat rush against your lips, you were reminded of how it was easy to be with him, how passionate it was to make love to him, and how regretful you felt on the day you decided to leave him. For loving Jay was like flying through a free fall—thrilling, fast, and intoxicating—and you could only pray that you’ll land safely, hopefully in his arms.

-END-

!!! do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work to any other platform.

#writtenbynana #fic: free fall #enhypen #jay #enhypen jay #jay enhypen #enhypen jay x reader #jay x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen jay smut #jay smut #enhypen angst #enhypen jay angst #jay angst

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shmaptainwrites · 6 months

Note

Hi hi thoughts on Wilson dating a first responder who comes into the hospital time and time again after calls and such?

Also lemme claim this emoji 🧸

yayyy you picked an emojiiii hehehe and bestie this was so good i blurbed it 💀🫡 also it’s unedited cause i’m lazy

Pairings: James Wilson x GN!Reader

Warnings: mentions of gun shot wound, injury, surgery

Emergency

Wilson rarely found himself in the ER, but an easy way to get doctors moving around to places they weren’t used to going to was a nurse’s strike.

Today he was doing his “nurse-doctor rotation”, as they were calling it, in the ER. It was interesting working in the high pressure, fast paced environment when he was used to slowly forming connections with his patients and those who counted on him. Right now, he was probably just a blurry face to most.

“We’ve got another one coming in!” an occupied doctor called and Wilson rushed over, saying he would attend to it, gathering the information from the first responders to create a chart while they wheeled the patient in.

“47 year old male, GSW to the shoulder, went into V-fib on the way here, we shocked him and his rhythms are normal again.”

“Any preexisting conditions you found out about?”

“Penicillin allergy.”

Another doctor came to deal with the gunshot wound and Wilson kept scribbling down more information on the chart, but paused when the firefighter addressed him.

“You don’t look like an ER doctor.”

He looked own at his clothes, the dress pants and a button up with a tie and his white coat. They were right about that.

“I’m not usually,” he chuckled nervously. “You know the strike and everything.”

“Wilson, what are you doing!” Cameron came and took the clipboard from him. “I told you, you can’t be writing charts anymore, no one can read your chicken scratch, this is the ER, people’s lives depend on this.”

Wilson could feel his cheeks begin to heat up at Cameron’s assertions in front of the very pretty firefighter.

“Yo! Twinkle-Toes! We gotta go!”

You looked back at your crew and then back at Wilson, wishing him good luck with the rest of his shift before jogging back to the engine.

At least he wouldn’t find much of a chance to embarrass himself further and he thought it was a shame he’d probably never see you again.

—

A few weeks later…

“Did you get those patient files from Mercy? They were supposed to send them yesterday, but they’ve been delayed,” Wilson sighed, leaning against the reception desk.

“I don’t think they’ve come in yet, but I’ll double check, just give me a second.”

“You’re an angel, thank you,” Wilson flashed her a grateful smile which seemed to put her in a good mood which always sped things along.

“Hi, sorry, I’m looking for Winston Green. He was brought in a few days ago, firefighting accident. I’m his coworker, I just wanted to come visit.”

Wilson turned his head over to the voice speaking to the other receptionist and had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

The pretty firefighter, just like the last time, only now in civilian attire.

You turned your head and noticed the doctor staring, a smile making it to your lips when you recognized him.

“Dr. Wilson, fancy seeing you here.”

“I could say the same for you,” he chuckled.

“Everything back to normal now?” you asked and he nodded.

“Back over in oncology. That’s where I like it. And you can call me James.”

“James,” you tested out the name, liking how it made him smile when you said it.

“I-I don’t think I caught your name. I mean I could call you Twinkle-Toes but I feel like that’s a workplace nickname,” he joked.

“Right, Isaac is always calling me that in front of people,” you rolled your eyes before properly introducing yourself. “I’ve gotta admit I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.”

“Neither did I. I’m sorry it ended up happening because your friend is in the hospital,” he said sympathetically and you thanked him for his kind words just as both you and Wilson were given the information you needed from the desk. “I could walk you to your friend’s room if you’d like, it’s on the same floor as my office.”

“Sure, I’d like that,” you smiled and walked side by side with the oncologist, who eagerly asked you questions about your work and what it entailed.

You were both a little sad by the time you reached your colleague’s room so you decided to take the next step and see where it might take you.

“Hey, I don’t know if you’re free later or something, but I have the day off if you wanna grab dinner?” you suggested.

“Dinner sounds nice,” Wilson nodded.

You pulled out a pen from Wilson’s pocket protector and grabbed an old receipt from your purse, scribbling down your name number before handing it to him.

“I’ll call you,” he smiled, accepting the paper. “Maybe over dinner you can tell me how you got the name Twinkle-Toes.”

“Oh, I think that’s maybe more of a tenth date story,” you patted his arm and tucked the pen back into his pocket.

“You predicting there’s gonna be ten?” he asked.

“I think I’d like for there to be ten,” you smiled, and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you tonight, James.”

Wilson turned away to head back to his office with his hands shoved into the pocket of his white coat and a faint pink tint to his cheeks

—

Wilson wished he could say getting woken up in the middle of the night by a cane rapping on his door was an uncommon occurrence, but since his last divorce it seemed more and more regular.

He tiredly walked over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open, seeing House standing on the other side.

“House, go away it’s 3 A.M.” Wilson groaned.

“Sorry, I can’t. Trying to avoid the team.”

“And you think hiding at your one friend’s apartment is going to do anything other than just make me suffer along with you?”

“Best case scenario, they leave us both alone, worst case, you get them to leave us alone.”

“No,” Wilson shook his head, “Best case is you leave and go home right now.”

“What is that shirt you’re wearing,” House deflected, noticing a difference in his friend’s sleep attire. “Is that a fire department shirt?”

Wilson looked down and nodded his head.

“Where’d you get it from?”

“Does it matter where I got it from-?”

“He got it from me.”

Wilson turned his head around and saw you standing by the hallway leading to the bedroom. You walked up to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek before looking over at House.

“So it’s your shirt?” House looked like he was about to have a field day.

“No, I got it for him as a gift,” you chuckled. “Any chance you’d be inclined to carry on this conversation another time? I have an early shift tomorrow.”

“You’ll answer all my questions?” he asked.

“Honey, I wouldn’t-,”

“Done,” you nodded and put your hand out for him to shake. “I run into burning buildings for a living, I think I can deal with some invasive questioning. Plus, you’ve met my colleagues they’re a handful and a half.”

“I guess I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it,” House winked and you wished him a polite goodnight before Wilson shut the door and followed you back into the bedroom.

“Be careful on your shift, okay?” he said once you were all curled up in his arms again. “I need to see how this thing plays out with House.”

“Glad you’re so concerned for my safety,” you teased and he shut you up with a kiss. “Sorry I came out, but I thought you could maybe use a hand getting back into bed.”

“You’re probably right,” Wilson sighed while sinking further into the bed. “He’s easier to negotiate with when you have something he wants.”

“He seems like an interesting guy, I’m excited to finally get to know him,” you admitted with a yawn.

“Really?” Wilson seemed surprised. House was an acquired taste for most, he wasn’t sure he’d met anyone who actually genuinely wanted to get to know him more after meeting him, well aside from himself.

“Yeah, he’s your friend. We don’t have to get along as well as you guys do, but it’ll be nice to know a bit more about him.”

Wilson kissed you one more time before encouraging you to go back to bed so you could get a little more sleep before your shift, having a feeling, deep down, you were going to be around for the long run.

—

Wilson often passed the ER on his way out of the hospital to get to his car. Today was no different, he had swapped out his white coat for a jacket and a scarf and was planning on going to grab something for dinner and maybe head over to your fire hall to drop in for a quick visit before going home.

“Hey, hey, have you seen a Dr. Wilson around?”

Wilson turned his head at the sound of his name, noticing one of your colleagues speaking to a nurse.”

“He works in oncology, he’s not usually-,”

“I see him. Yo James!” Isaac waved and he quickly made his way over to see what was happening.

“Isaac, what’s going on?” he asked.

“Look, man, there was a fire,” he started. “Twinkle-Toes and I ran back in to grab this kid that was trapped, but the structure was deteriorating and before I knew it I was pushed to the ground and a beam had fallen on their leg.”

“A beam?” Wilson’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach. This couldn’t be happening.

“We just came in, they’ve gone to surgery for it already. Everyone will be okay, but…just some recovery time I guess.”

Wilson could see how guilty Isaac felt so he felt the need to reassure him on your behalf. He knew it’s what you would have done, you were just doing your job and looking out for your friend.

“I-I’m gonna stay,” Wilson said. “I’ll keep you posted, okay?”

Isaac nodded and reluctantly went back outside to meet up with the rest of his team while Wilson went to talk to Cuddy about what OR you were in.

He felt a small sense of relief knowing Chase was presiding over your injuries, knowing you were in more than capable hands and while he couldn’t go into the OR, he would stand in the observation room until the procedure was completed.

“Chase, how’s it looking?” Wilson asked through the intercom.

“It’s a pretty bad set of fractures, but we’re going to set it with some pins and after some time and PT things should be all healed.”

“What about going back to work?” he asked, knowing how much your job meant to you, anxious to hear the answer.

“I can’t say for sure,” he admitted. “But if you keep a close eye and make sure all my post-op instructions are followed I’d say there’s a pretty good chance things will go back to normal.”

Wilson sighed in relief which made it much easier to wait until the surgery was done and meet you in a recovery room after calling Isaac to let him and your team know that you were okay.

When you awoke after the anesthesia has worn off, you smile a little at the sight of Wilson sleeping in a chair across from your bed, his jacket and scarf draped over the armrest. He looked so peaceful you didn’t really want to wake him up, but you knew he’d give you a hard time if you didn’t.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he grinned, rubbing his eyes awake. “How are you feeling?”

“Loopy,” you chuckled.

“That might be the morphine,” his hand came to hold your cheek, his thumb gently brushing across your cheekbone. “You had a pretty big fall. Or should I say a beam had a pretty big fall on you?”

“I’m alive, that’s all that matters,” you assured him. “And hopefully I can go back to work? Did the surgeon say anything about that?”

“Obviously not right away, but he feels pretty confident if you follow all the necessary PT and healing instructions you’ll be able to go back. Just can’t get away from running into danger, can you?”

“Why do you think I started dating you?” you teased and he laughed, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Of all the times you’ve come into the hospital I have to admit this is probably my least favourite,” he sighed. “Try and just bring us patients next time, don’t become one.”

“I’ll try my best, they don’t call me Twinkle-Toes for nothing,” you pinched his cheek. “I’m glad you were working that shift in the ER that day, though.”

“Me too,” Wilson reached over and gave your hand a squeeze, finding it funny how emergencies now made him smile.

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