#my wife is a gangster 3

[skzdarlings]

the rescue ; skz; aotm!hyunjin x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood: ❛ i'm simply enjoying the view. it's not every day i get to fuck someone so pretty. ❜ would 100000% fit Hyunjin 🩶 + requested by anonymous: ❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜ with hyunjin? thank you

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: artist of the month!hyunjin was inspo here. gangster stuff, reader has been kidnapped and is in a see through nightdress, most violence off page though, bad guy hyunjin who is actually a good guy, arranged marriage, multiple smut scenes, not great communication but gets better lol. smut includes fingering, blow jobs, pussy eating, piv, spanking, light choking, husband/wife kink. word count: 6300 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

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“I’ve already explained,” you say, equal parts frustrated and exhausted.  “My husband isn’t coming for me.” 

The gangster cronies still don’t seem to understand.  You are tied to a chair in their basement (because they are preposterously corny goons, tying you up like a comically silly damsel in a ridiculous film) while they berate you for your husband’s tardiness.    

You have tried explaining, over and over, that Hyunjin is not coming, but they won’t accept that answer.  The fools try in vain to reach him again, but his line leads straight to a dial tone. 

He went radio silent after the initial video contact, when your captors demanded a price for your healthy return. 

Hyunjin was quiet on the call.  Your husband is a quiet man in general, though he knows how to use his charms and work a room, and he has certainly perfected the art of severe intimidation.  When your marriage was arranged, one mob family to the other, you mistakenly assumed you were marrying a monster. 

Hyunjin is very reserved when not conducting business.  He doesn’t engage in any of the more debauched sides of the business, unlike the men in your family.  Evenings at home are silent and still, the penthouse view of the glittering cityscape the only real bustle. 

Maybe that shouldn’t have surprised you.  When he took over his family’s business, Hyunjin altered a lot of their practices, cutting the crueler sectors, opting for illicit crimes of more practical varieties. 

The country is in a political chokehold, government affairs conducted none too differently from the criminal underworld.  The cops are all dirty, the politicians corrupt, the wealthy depraved.  Hyunjin has taken it upon himself to alleviate the pressure suffered by the regular people, the civilians who truly pay the price of a broken system.

In a world with no good guys, sometimes only villains can be heroes.    

You think of his face now, how he certainly looked the part of a villain on the video call.  Hyunjin has a very austere demeanour, exacerbated by his severe appearance: sharp marble features and dark, vicious eyes often further darkened with heavy lining, sleek black hair, scattered scars and tattoos, and the sort of regard that judges at a glance.  He is young, but he has the air of a man who has already traversed the universe and found it wanting.       

You think of his face now, the silent perusal he gave your bound body on that video call.  You are dressed in your favourite nightgown, your underthings partially visible through the light material, but it was not willingly donned.   At the time of your kidnapping, you were attired appropriately for the wealthy wife of a famous gangster.  You were returning from a family visit when your captors intercepted you in transit from the airport. 

Either to intimidate or threaten or just because they could, they made you remove all your jewelry and fine clothes.  They rifled through your luggage and demanded you change into the nightgown. 

Hyunjin recognized the nightdress, realized you must have been stripped, and likely inferred the very worst. 

“Address,” was the only word Hyunjin said.   He ended the call seconds later.    

“Oh, he’ll come,” your captor says.  He points at you with a hand that feels more threatening than a knife.  It makes your terrified heart leap into your throat.  “Or else.” 

“He won’t, though!” you exclaim.  “You’re wasting your time!”

They are not listening.  They leave the basement, slamming the door behind them.

You huff and settle back in your bonds. 

It is only a matter of time before they realize you are telling the truth.  Hyunjin will not waste the money or resources to rescue you.  He has always been respectful of the marriage arrangement, but your husband is not sentimental.  There is a professional distance between you.  His decision will be based in the logic of all his strategies: nothing personal, just a matter of business. 

You sometimes see a different side of him, something buried under that quiet intensity.  He collects fine art and spends hours poring over his favourite pieces, listening to music, losing himself to artistic fantasies.  He always comes back, but you know there are other worlds in his mind. 

Every attempt to bridge the gap has been gently rebuffed, but there have been moments when your husband seems curious about you.  You often catch him staring.  He gets a wistful look that softens his face, even with that shield of make-up.  His eyes are gentle when you talk about your passions.  You never let his quietude deter your friendly penchant for chatter.   He seems more than content to listen.  He remembers everything too. 

You know he finds you attractive, if nothing else.  He has caved on that front several times over, though not right away.  He didn’t touch you on the wedding night, nor the honeymoon.  He left your beach holiday early to return to business, leaving you in a villa with security and his credit card.  It was the first time you realized the material world was no replacement for true companionship.  You missed his dark eyes.

Your family also had expectations.  There would be consequences if the marriage fell through.  You would be blamed, not him.  Worried he would renege on the nuptials, you did everything to try and seduce him. 

He politely rejected you at every turn. 

Just when you were resigned, he arrived home after a job.  It was almost three in the morning when he entered the penthouse.  You have separate bedrooms but they share a connecting bathroom.  You could hear him cursing above the running water. 

You only meant to peek.  The sliding door on your side was partially ajar so you tip-toed over. 

Hyunjin was standing in front of the mirror, shirtless, pressing a rag to his wounded shoulder.  There was a mess of blood streaked down his back, making you gasp at the terrible mosaic of pain, his body littered with violent scars. 

That gasp contained multitudes, for the horror, for his beauty.  His dark eyes were as severely lined as ever, expression intense as he breathed hard through the pain.  Smooth black hair fell across his face when he tipped his head. 

He froze at the sound of your gasp.  His turn was very slow, eyes peeking through the curtain of his short hair.  They captured yours.   

You held your breath. 

Eventually, he straightened, flicking his hair out of his face.  He looked in the mirror and sighed.    

“You can come in,” he said.   “This is your home too.” 

You slid the door open, just enough to squeeze through.  Your attention was utterly transfixed on his bleeding shoulder.  You could see the wound was a thin stripe.  It was not deep so stitches were not necessary, but it was slightly out of his reach as it sloped towards his back.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you said, thoughtlessly taking the rag right out of his hands.    

In spite of the violence that raised you, or maybe because of it, you can’t stand to see suffering.   You and Hyunjin have had that in common from the start.  You were quick to help him clean the wound, wordlessly wiping all the blood then applying cream across the clotted cut. 

He flinched when the stinging cream made contact.  You went to apologize but your words evaporated when your eyes met through the mirror.  You were surprised to find him already looking at you, that expressive gaze as thoughtful as ever. 

“How did this happen?” you couldn’t help but ask, eyes rivetted to his reflection.   “You – you have people to protect you.”  You managed to rip your gaze away, looking at your task, feeling hot in the face. 

“I do,” he said.  “But I’d never ask someone to do something I’m not willing to do myself.” 

This did not surprise you to hear.   It is obvious that Hyunjin cares very deeply about the wellbeing of other people.  It is a fact known to few.  It aggravates you at times, but his reputation does not seem to bother him.  He would rather people think him a monster while he secretly does good rather than be praised in public while cruel in private. 

You have never known another man like him.  Looking at that scar that night, the realization truly struck you. 

Your fingers began to tremble where they brushed his bare skin, your eyes widening as you looked at the scar and many others.  If something happened to him, what would become of you?  Certainly, as his widow, you would be financially sound, but what did that matter?  This world would lose something irreplaceable if it lost Hwang Hyunjin.  This penthouse could be brimming with silver and gold and it would be empty, worthless. 

Tears in your eyes, you succumbed to desire, kissing him very gently on his hurt shoulder. 

“Hyunjin,” you said, your eyes closed, lips grazing his skin as you spoke.  “Please make sure you always come home, okay?” 

He did not answer at first.  When you lifted your eyes and looked in the mirror, those dark eyes were so enflamed that you were surprised nothing caught fire. 

“Hyunjin?” you said softly.   

“You mean that,” he said, not quite a question, more like a realization. 

“Of course,” you replied. You looked at his scarred back again, let your fingertips brush down the length of his spine.  It made him stand a little straighter.  “Have you ever known me to lie?” you asked. 

He finally turned around, looking at you with an long-engrained wariness, but also a hunger.  He was a starving man presented with a banquet, but one who did not easily trust when sitting at someone else’s table. 

“You’re a smart woman,” he said.  “I know that.  And I know that you’re – good.” 

Good was an exhale, like the word was too heavy for his tongue.  You realized that his wariness was less suspicion for you than hesitation regarding himself.  He was only starving because he though himself undeserving of the meal he wanted. 

“You’ve seen – and done – many bad things tonight, haven’t you?” you asked. 

Having the full force of his gaze was overwhelmingly heady.  You remember how it made your heart race like you were being chased, your breath catching over and over until you were almost panting. 

Arousal struck quickly, a sensation like you never experienced before.  You thought you understood attraction, but not until that moment when he released a breath, so close to your face, and you became truly aware of his proximity.   Of him, of all that he was, all that he did.  His character, his hidden depths.

Your husband. 

It made your racing heart thunder something fierce, your blood pumping hotly, throbbing places you did not know were so sensitive. 

You desperately wondered what was on his mind.  The gears in his head were spinning and whirring, delaying his response.  Was he feeling the same tension?  Were his thoughts the same realization?

 My wife.  

“Yes,” he finally said. 

“Is there something I can do to help?” you asked.

His tattooed hand cupped your head, tilting it just so.  It made your lips part with a gasp, eyelids heavy with anticipation for a kiss. 

He took his time looking at you, like he was scrubbing all those bad memories away, replacing them with the flustered look on his aroused wife’s face. 

“Yes,” he said again, and kissed you for the first time. 

You were so glad he rebuffed your previous half-hearted advances, clumsy seductions made out of obligation rather than desire.  It was so different to that kiss.  You would not have known how to even ask for a kiss like that.  You never knew what you were missing. 

Your quiet husband and his multitudes.  All that simmering intensity, hot just below the surface of his icy demeanour, burned right through his skin.  His kiss was ravishing, entirely possessive, like he wished to take your whole essence into him and hold it forever. 

He walked you backwards.  With a snap of his wrist, he slid the door open the rest of the way, so sharp that it tried to bounce back.  He continued onward, kissing you until you were dizzy with it.   

He picked you up just to put you on the bed himself.  Your kiss separated only then as you landed with a bounce and a breath. 

He loomed over the edge of the bed, this man who was both stranger and husband, hero and villain.   He looked at you like he already loved you.  He looked at you and saw the reciprocation.  You had fallen for him without realizing you had ever even stumbled. 

He ran his hands through his hair, the sleek black locks fluttering back into place.  His eyes were still rivetted to your face, to your body.  You were wearing the nightdress you are wearing now.  It is why it became your favourite. 

He looked down at you, the material translucent enough to see the details of your body.   It broke through that last layer of ice.  He surrendered with a choked breath. 

He unclasped a holster on his thigh, dropped a knife that was hidden in a pocket.   Once unarmed, his hands went to his belt.  You watched those nimble, efficient fingers, swallowing hard.   You were aching to an embarrassing degree, undoubtedly obvious in your desires.  No one ever warned you it would feel like this, just being looked at, never mind touched.

Then his belt was on the floor and he touchedyou for real.   His calloused hands moved up your thighs, pushing the nightdress up and out of his way.  He climbed on top of you, swift as a feline, mouth descending onto yours with that same desperate hunger as before. 

Recollection makes you crave another kiss.   You think you will always be starving for more. 

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, hands on his face, his shoulders, down to his chest. 

He took your hands and laced your fingers with his, pinning those hands to the bed.   He kissed you again, long and slow.  It was all more sensual than desperate.

His voice, however, was desperate when he begged, “Let me make you feel good, please.”  He kissed down your face, your jaw, your throat.  “Please, my wife.”  He kissed further down still, through your nightdress, tracing the curve of your breast with his tongue, wetting the material and awakening every nerve beneath it.   “My wife,” he repeated. 

“My husband.”  The words left your lips in a dizzy, delirious whisper.   

It was all the confirmation he needed.  Those deft and skilled hands, so quick to assemble weapons and pull triggers, applied themselves with a startling gentleness.  He took you apart and put you together with the same efficient ease.   

He hooked his fingers in the only material between him and his desire, tugged it out of his way.  His fingers went to you, slipping through all that wetness.  Those intense eyes rolled back even though it was just his fingers inside you, then he closed his eyes like it was too much, and it seemed he had to temper himself, murmuring nonsense as he let his fingers sink into you. 

He kissed you again, drinking down every sigh and gasp and moan while he fucked you with his long fingers.  It was like he could taste your pleasure, like he was trying to get drunk on it, every noise you made filling his mouth.  He gave them back and brought you over a peak, first with his hands, then with his mouth.  He laid between your legs and put your thighs around his head, losing himself entirely in you. 

He did not remove a single article of your clothing nor his pants, not that first time.  He simply held the material to the side as he unzipped and finally got inside you.  It made your whole body keen, coming to life like it never had before.  You forgot all your sensibilities and let every wanton sound and action loose.

He responded in kind.  His kiss tasted like your pleasure, his heart pounding as fast as yours where your chests pressed together.  You were careful near his injured shoulder, fingertips dodging scars.  Your soft touch made him whimper, this powerful man entirely undone by a few caresses. 

His skin was hot and he worked up a sweat, but his stamina seemed endless.  He always wanted more. 

You fell asleep tucked in his arms, content to believe the walls had crumbled.   However, they revealed themselves in the morning light, as concrete as ever.  He slipped away and left a note to excuse his absence as he was called away to business.   You thought about phoning or messaging him, but those lines were not always secure, not for such intimate conversations. 

When he returned a few days later, he hid behind those concrete walls, but too much had changed.  There was now an awareness of your proximity and your distance.  The lack of intimacy was not called into question before, the absence of something being a nothing.  But now that nothing was something, or had been something for a moment, and it made you both very aware of how it was now missing – and anticipating always when it might again appear.

He tried very hard to keep away, to stay cordial at best, his habitual quietude even heavier than before.  But while his silence was significant, so was his glance.  Every time you turned around, he was already looking at you, a longing in his eyes and a thought on his lips that he never dared to speak aloud. 

You granted him some distance for a time.  When it became abundantly obvious he was holding himself in check, you realized that your own vulnerability was required to bridge the gap. 

One night you crossed through the bathroom, slid open the door on his side.  You found him at his desk, dressed down in a white dress shirt and pants.  His blazer was discarded on the floor, his face still made up. 

He stood quickly when you entered, though he didn’t say anything. 

It was strange to imagine this man would need any reassurance, but you felt that was the case.   His fingers fidgeted at his sides, his roving eyes studious.

You said nothing.  You approached him, laid your hands on his chest, and gently guided him back into his chair.  He sat slowly, his eyes on your face the entire time, even when he had to tip his head back to peer up at you. 

You ran your fingers through his hair.  When you entered the room, his face was tightly screwed in an expression of aggravation, but all those harsh lines softened as you traced a thumb down the sharp slope of his cheek. 

There were some wipes on his desk.  You took one and began to carefully remove that shield of dark make-up.  His hand lifted but not to stop you, simply to rest his palm on your waist.  He began to really touch you, feeling the shape of your body through your robe as you helped him come back to himself. 

“Hello,” you finally said, looking at his bare face.  Still impossibly beautiful.

“Hello,” he replied. 

His fingertips dipped towards the hem of the robe.  Before he could distract you with your own pleasure, you sunk to your knees in front of him.  This startled him, his hand frozen in the air as you fit yourself between his open knees. 

He caught your hand, his reflexes fast, before it could reach his fly.   You could see he was already affected, a heavy bulge in the black material making your mouth water and core tighten. 

He squeezed your hand and you looked up at his face.   He tipped his head, blinked rapidly, an expression of mild confusion.

You took your hand back and unknotted your robe.  The silk fell from your shoulders and down, sliding like water right off your body.  You were completedly naked underneath. 

It clarified everything, his confusion gone, replaced with surprise.

“You—” he began.  It was interrupted when you put your head in his lap, resting on his thigh.  You led his hand to the back of your neck and kissed him through his pants.  It made his fingers clasp tighter around you.  

“Please,” you said. 

He would never deny you anything.  Not the smallest gift nor grandest gesture.  When you started a new charity to further your combined philanthropic efforts, he spared no expense in aiding the endeavour.  You shared passions, and now you shared this.

He was stiff at the start, but gradually let himself go lax in his seat.  His hand kept a steady grip on the back of your neck, not guiding but holding, like he thought you might disappear otherwise.  He murmured your name, letting his head fall back as you worked him in your mouth. 

You intended to make him finish like that, seeking nothing for yourself at that precise moment.  He had other ideas, needing more of your shared pleasure to take him over that brink. 

He lifted your face, adjusted his pants, and was on his feet in a matter of seconds.  That hand on your neck dragged you up, up, up until your naked body was pressed against his clothed one.  He clung to you needily, claiming your mouth in a wanting kiss. 

His hands moved over you, every new inch of skin making him moan as he walked you towards the bed.  The kiss only broke when you both sat down, his lips against yours as he breathed, almost smiling, “My pretty wife.”

“Hyunjin,” you said, shaking your head, feeling suddenly shy just because of a simple compliment. 

He did not allow you to curl into yourself with any shame.  When you tried, he seized you, pulling you onto his lap so you straddled it.   His eyes moved up and down your body, hands following, from your thighs to hips to waist and up. 

 “What are you doing?” you said, laughing helplessly when he kissed somewhere ticklish on your throat.  The sound made him smile, even softer than before, though it turned a little wicked as his mouth went lower. 

“I’m simply enjoying the view,” he said, then wrapped his lips around the stiff peak of your breast, ran his tongue up and over.  He licked and kissed back up to your mouth.   “It’s not everyday I get to fuck someone so pretty.” 

As he said this, he opened his pants again, eyes on yours as he grabbed your thighs and moved you so he could thrust up into you.  His hips moved with a slow roll, letting you adjust to him.  It had been a little while, and this angle was different.

And Hyunjin is not small.  Your husband is built in perfect proportion, his body a long, hard, slender build – everything inside you at that moment was no exception.   This angle made you whimper, clinging to him like  he was a life preserver in a storm.  The roll of his hips kept coming like waves and you were sure you would drown otherwise. 

Your arms were around his neck, his graceful but strong hands digging into the meat of your thighs as he fucked you.  He felt impossibly deep, every upward stroke feeling like it was bursting past something, pushing everything inside your body up to your throat. 

You swallowed again and again, the taste of him still on your lips, the feel of him inside every inch of you.  You clenched and tightened involuntarily, just pure animal reaction, and it made him moan and find all those sweet spots to make it happen again.    

“Help,” was your somewhat nonsensical request, blurted in the midst of some moaning babbling.

Fortunately, he was and is a smart man.  He understood.  He clasped you tight to his body and fell back on the bed, thrusting up into you with sharper, more focussed determination, faster until you were weeping on his chest, delirious with pleasure.  His shirt was unbuttoned and you accidentally ripped a few buttons right off, trying to press your face to bare skin. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said as you tumbled over a height you never reached before.  You never knew you could come just from that, stimulated somewhere so deep inside you, but it made you come undone in his arms. 

He watched you unravel and it made him follow, clinging to you as he just barely pulled out before coming between your dripping thighs.  It was all so messy and wet, your legs trembling, but it felt so good that it hardly mattered. 

He caught his breath, then looked at your face just lose that breath again.  He moaned and dragged you in for another kiss.

Then you were on your back, the night far from over. 

That second night is the one that truly opened the door to more.  Though your husband can be reticent in other regards, he is not quiet when he is inside you.  You have come together again and again, a conversation with your bodies as you look for pleasure in a dangerous world.   You always find it, tucked in the protective circle of his arms, wrapped around every inch of him. 

You have been out of his arms for too long.  Your visit to your family grew tedious before long.  Your home is with Hyunjin now and you were eager to return. 

Now it seems you may never see it again.  You may never see him again. 

No.

Just like the night when you took control for yourself, you must take control now.  You realize if anything is to happen, then you must take the reins of your own rescue.  You would not want Hyunjin to compromise himself or his important business.  You know if something bad happened to you, it would weigh on his conscious, even if it was the better business decision.  You must eliminate the need for choice. 

It turns out, comical rope bindings are truly best suited for silly movies.  When the men come to check on you again, you have slipped free of your bindings.  There was an array of weapons in the room, so carelessly disposed because the assailants never assumed you would get free – or, if you did get free, that you would not know how to use them. 

It is true, you do not like violence. 

That does not mean you do not understand it. 

You leave the two men unconscious in their basement.  Unfortunately, you cannot find your suitcase and you do not want to hang around, so you venture outside in your nightgown.  You are debating your next move when a car pulls into the driveway. 

You back away quickly, raising the gun you stole as more men get out of the vehicle.  You only stay your hand because you recognize one of them, though it takes a second to place him as one of Hyunjin’s lieutenants. 

Then Hyunjin emerges.   You have seen your husband before and after a confrontation, but never during it.  If you thought he was an intimidating figure in the aftermath, he is all danger and darkness as he storms up the driveway now.   There is such an energy radiating from him, it makes you stumble and forget yourself entirely. 

Then he stumbles, recognizing you.  You are both startled, staring at each other with the gun raised between you. 

He looks nowhere but your eyes. 

“Hyunjin?” you finally say. 

“I—”  He looks at you, the gun, the nightdress.  He shakes his head.  Some of that bravado returns when he says, “I’m here to save you.”

“Ah,” you say.  You slowly lower the gun, at a loss how to reply.  You were so resigned to the idea this was all still business.  The reality of your husband risking himself to rescue you from unknown hostiles is making your heart pound.  

In the end, all you can think to say is, “Sorry.  You’re late.” 

That wicked smile crosses his face, his tongue pushing at the corner of his mouth.  He is suddenly nothing but amused, looking at you, then at the house.

“I can see that,” he says. 

He whistles sharply and gestures to the house with a gloved hand.  His lieutenants run past you and charge the door, no doubt heading inside to finish the job you started.        

You turn to watch them go.  In your distraction, Hyunjin grabs your arm.  He is fast, effectively disarming you.  He catches the gun with a twirl before tossing it aside.

It is not the gun he wants; it’s you.

Still holding your wrist, he tugs you into him.  You throw your arms around him.  The hug is surprisingly chaste, his face in your neck as he squeezes you like it is the only thing keeping him alive and standing.

“Are you hurt?” he asks. 

When in his arms, it seems impossible to consider you could ever feel any pain. 

You shake your head, daring to kiss his cheek.  He turns his face to yours, your lips close enough to brush in a swipe. 

“I’m all right now,” you say.  “Sorry I beat you to the punch.  I – I wasn’t sure if—”

His brow crinkles.  That gloved hand goes from your wrist to your chin, seizing it between thumb and forefinger.  He tips your head so he can look at your face.  He always regards you like he does one of his masterpieces, like he can never get his fill, like there is always something new to find.  He is enchanted every time. 

“You’re mine,” he says.  “And I take care of what belongs to me.” 

You gasp when those fingers go from your chin to your throat, just enough to pull you in that last breath of a space.  He kisses you there in the sunlight, utterly shameless. 

“Do not ever doubt that,” he says.  His eyes are soft with his affection, but his voice is hard, skirting the edge of a threat he would issue an adversary.  It makes you tingle from head to toe.  “Do I need to remind you?” 

You never actually answer.  You are not sure if your answer would have made a difference, as Hyunjin is determined to show you the very second you are home. 

You reach the penthouse. There is no time to shower or decompress once you cross the threshhold.  He sweeps you off your feet, your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist.  You are wearing his blazer over your nightdress to preserve your modesty – not that it will last long.

He carries you to the bedroom where so many slow and subtle exchanges took place.  Now, he is not slow or subtle.  He is a force of nature.   He tells you that he held no greater fear than losing you and he tried to keep his distance, but he regretted it the moment he saw you on that video call. 

“You’re my wife,” he says, peeling his blazer off your body.  “I’m your husband.  There is nothing I should be holding back.” 

“Yes,” you say, running your fingers through that smooth black hair.  You shiver as he bunches the fabric of your nightdress, the material spilling over his fingers.   “Don’t hold back,” you say, mouth open against his, stealing his every breath.   “Do whatever you want.” 

He tells you exactly what he wants, using his words for a change, finally letting those walls come down.  He whispers every filthy thought into your ear, between kisses, between bites.   You shiver at every suggestion. 

And so, moments later, he is sitting on your bed.  He arranges you to lay across his lap, facedown in the pillows while he runs his hands down your spine and over the curve of your ass. 

“You’re my wife,” he says.  The first tap of his open palm is through the thin material of your nightdress.  It is truly just a warning tap, just enough to make you bounce.  “Don’t ever doubt me again,” he says, swinging that strong hand a little harder.  

This time a yelp escapes your lips.  You wriggle until he pins you down, a hand on the back of your neck and the other lifting your dress.   He already stripped your underthings, his open palm smoothing down all that bare skin.  

You tingle with anticipation, braced yet still unprepared for the sharp smack he next delivers.  You feel it tingle all the way up to your head, as well as the next one, and the next.   You squirm under his firm grip, groaning his name as your thighs get tense and press together. 

“Don’t say my name,” he says, and smacks you again.  “Who am I?”

“M-my husband,” you say, practically mewling like a kitten when he next brings his hand down.  “My husband,” you say again. 

“And you are—”

“Your wife,” you say, though it comes out almost like a sob, a desperate gasp as he slips his fingers between your thighs and finds a new way to torture you.   With your backside hot and stinging, the pleasure of his hand in that sensitive place feels amplified by a tenfold. 

“Husband,” you say, hips bucking.  His free hand goes from the back of your neck to your lower spine, holding you in his lap as he slowly finger-fucks you.

“Yes?” he says.

You do not even remember what you were going to say, or beg, or plead.  You are overcome with sensation, tingling all over, intensifying the press of his fingers as he curls his fingers into that soft, soft place.  Then you are really squirming, helplessly, instinctively, whining into the pillows. 

“I make you feel good,” he says.  “I take care of you.  You, who are so good, and so smart, but so—”

You cry out when he angles his hand just a little differently.  Your vision swims with stars as he speeds up. 

“So soft,” he says, his own voice going soft, just a whisper as he makes you come all over his hand in a throbbing, aching, desperate wet mess.  “Just for me,” he says in that whisper.  “Just for your husband.” 

“Mmmf,” is all the response you have left in you. 

Your thighs are trembling and your pussy throbbing with aftershocks when he picks you up.  He stands and turns, laying you on your side in the bed.  You are grateful, as your backside still stings, though you suspect he is not done yet.

He strips out of his clothes, tearing through his shirt, leaving the pants in a heap.  He forgets to remove his necklace.  All that silver is cold against your hot skin as he lays down behind you.   You do not have time to linger on it, as he gathers up the hem of your dress and adjusts himself behind you. 

He has taken you many times, in many ways, many positions.   When you are on your hands and knees, he is overtaken by a primal urge, your hips as leverage in his hands as he pounds into you like it is a chase.   When you are on your back, he sinks into you slowly and deeply, rocking his hips into yours like he intends to fuck you forever.  When you are in his lap, he rolls his hips in steady, needy waves, captivated by the sight of you in his arms. 

He lays behind you now and wraps his arms around you, coaxes your thighs apart.  Your nightdress is bunched every which way, leaving nothing to the imagination, and you feel especially exposed and vulnerable in this position somehow.  Perhaps it is the fact he is the one holding you open, keeping you in position so he can take you.

You let yourself fall into it, fall into him.  You let him tell you, with words and actions, exactly how he feels. 

Before it ends, you change position.  He lays back and you straddle his hips while stripping off your dress entirely.  He keeps rolling up into you, only stopping when you plant your hands on his chest to slow him down.  Then he practically sinks in the mattress, murmuring your name.  His make-up is smudged, his calloused hands rough on your body.  Whatever pains you experienced have been overtaken by his hands, by the smarting on your backside, still tender as you bring your body down onto his again and again.  He has completely claimed you for himself and you take the same in turn. 

“Hyunjin,” you say.  “My husband, oh—”

He kisses your hand, long and hard, like he needs his mouth on some part of you desperately.  Your fingers are curled into his pretty mouth when he comes, his hands on your hips and his cock buried inside you. 

“Oh,” is your final sound before you slump on top of him, skin to skin. 

He rolls you onto your side, though he keeps you wrapped around him, his arms around you in turn.  His hair is already a sweaty mess and you rub your thumb through some of his shadowy make-up, but those familiar dark eyes are gazing at you with so much warmth.   There is no more ice, no more cold concrete. 

“I should let you rescue me more often,” you say with a laugh. 

He doesn’t laugh back, but he does smile softly.  It should be incongruous with his severe appearance, but it somehow comes together, layers of him exposed all at once as he strokes your cheek.

He looks at you like his favourite work of art. 

“You were the one who rescued you,” he says.   “Just like you rescued me.” 

You cannot find the words to reply, so you kiss him.  It speaks volumes, and he replies, kissing back. 

You lose yourself to the sweetness, to the heat, to the passion, to all those things more, knowing there are many more to come with this man as your husband. 

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Gangsters Wife

♥ masterlist | request rules

♥ pairing: mafiaboss!carlos sainz x fem!wife!reader

♥ synopsis: things start to change for you and your marriage-of-convenience husband after you stitch up his wounds

♥ one-shot - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing and vague descriptions of smut - p in v (wrap it before you tap it) !!!

♥ a/n: i wrote on my vacation lol. i’m a little nervous to post this since it’s uncharted writing territory for me but i hope you enjoy reading it <3

You sat on the black satin sheets of your bed, waiting for your husband to come back from business. You knew you should probably be asleep; that he wouldn’t want you up worrying for him, but here you were wide awake. 

It wasn’t like the two of you married for love, anyway. It was much more out of convenience. His job was… interesting, but you weren’t complaining about the luxury that you now lived in due to the arrangement. 

Your breath hitched as you heard the door unlock, assuming it was Carlos. He made his way towards the bedroom and immediately locked eyes with you. His hair was slicked to the side and he had a couple of cuts on his face. He was wearing a red shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, black dress pants, some black shoes, and an expensive watch. 

“Go to bed,” he demanded, removing the ticking object from his wrist and laying it down in a drawer with the rest of his collection. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, rustling in the bed sheets. 

“I’m alright if that’s what you’re wondering,” he swiped his thumb over the blood on his bottom lip. “Get some rest.” 

You slowly stood up and strolled over to him.  Your gaze dropped down to the ripped fabric on his side, presumably from a fight. 

“Were you stabbed?” you asked in a whisper. 

“Lightly.”

“Lightly? What does lightly mean?”

He began unbuttoning his shirt, though it didn’t take long before it was off of him. The moonlight from a small open window illuminated his body, his muscles were strained, covered in sweat, and there was a wound flooded with blood on his abdomen. 

“It’s not that deep,” he murmured.

“Literally or figuratively? Because it looks like the knife went in pretty far.” You softly grazed his skin with the light touch of your fingertips. 

You walked over to your nightstand and pulled out a small stitch kit. 

“Sit down,” you commanded him, nodding towards the edge of the bed. 

“I’m fine. I can do this on my own.” 

“I said sit. down.” 

He took a deep, agitated sigh and did as you told him. You dampened a rag in the bathroom and returned to clean the blood off his wound.

You threaded the needle and pierced it through his skin, beginning the first stitch. 

“Are you sure you’re qualified for this?” he asked. 

You nodded, “I wouldn’t have married you without knowing how to do this.” 

He hummed and your left hand went to his waist to hold him still. He could feel the coldness of the silver wedding ring he gave you only a few months ago. 

You finished pulling the last part of the thread and cut the excess off. 

“There,” you said, pressing your palm gently against his abs.

He pulled you onto his lap and his hands firmly gripped your thighs. You made a soft sound and ground down onto his belt. 

“Tomorrow, amor.” he stopped you and whispered. “Let’s go to bed.” 

-

You woke up first at 7. You had rolled over to find your husband awake, messaging someone on his phone.

“Go back to sleep cariño,” he mumbled, running one of his hands over your hair.

You grabbed his hand and kissed his palm, slowly making your way up his arm.

“Amor,” he warned.

“What? You said tomorrow… it’s tomorrow.”

The next thing you knew he had you pinned down by your neck. His phone rang on the nightstand and he used his free hand to pick it up, still thrusting into you as he did so.

“Leave us alone,” he said and hung up instantly.

Leave. Us. Alone.

You woke up again at 9, this time alone in your bed. You wandered into the kitchen to see your husband making breakfast.

“Carlitos?” you ask, a faint smile teasing your lips. “Where’s the chef?” 

“I sent him home.”

“You’ve never cooked for me before,” you took a seat on the barstool at the counter. 

“I’ve never cooked for anyone before,” he admitted.

He set some pancakes on a plate and handed it to you.

You hummed, “No syrup?”

He shrugged “I don’t think we have any. I usually eat mine just the dough.”

It was odd having a conversation like this with Carlos. The two of you weren’t used to making small talk.

“Uhm, how do you feel? Are any of your cuts infected?” you asked.

“No, I feel fine,” he said putting cooking supplies away as you ate. “The stitching you did is good but i’ll probably still get my doctor to look at it.”

“Yeah that’s a good idea,” you replied, picking at your food as his phone rang.

He flipped it open to answer a call from an unknown number. From the muffled spanish voice on the other end you assumed it was from Fernando. 

“Sí, I’ll be there soon.” Carlos said and hung up the phone. 

“I’ll be back,” he told you, walking out the front door without a goodbye.

Your eyes caught the abundance of bodyguards that entered the room to block the exits and entrances. You sighed and slouched, tapping your nails on the marble counter. Great. Just when things were starting to get good. 

[kiddotarot]

Vedic Astro notes

♤ Mars is the only planet which can give you power to handel blood and courage so of its placed solid it can make you fighter, army person and a surgeon and if influnsed my rahu it can also made you gangster.

● Punarvasu natives are survivor , and very caring( like a crab , lickly cancer ) there features are also very soft and feminine by there nature , very calm after the previous nakshatra Ardra.

■Venus and mars connection or relations and conjunction can give you attractiveness + aggression. This kind of peoples are mostly bold and very charming.

●If you want to check your spouse spending nature you should check 6H ( because its 7th from 12 ) which can give you some idea about how your wife/ husband going to spend.( tell me if you are already married i would like to know it accuracy ).

■If you have male planet in 3h chances you can have a younger brother. ( me and my cousin both have Jupiter in 3 h and have younger brother).

●If you want any advice i prefer you find purava akshadha natives around you. They are most knowledgable person.

■Dimples on chin can be sign of great venus placement specially in mens they can have high sexual drive.

@kiddotarot

[kadwrites]

a man with a reputation | T.S

read the next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary ; you cannot talk your way out of this , for the first time in your life, you're given no choice.

warnings ; angst, cursing, mild violence i guess??? , arranged marriage trope.

a/n ; maybe i'll turn this into a series? who knows, let me know what you think <3. also the accent is a mess, but im trying.

_

"no!" your eyes are wide , glassy with anger filled tears "i will not be treated like some piece of land."

"would you listen? your father and i are thinking of your future." you mother is looking at you with a stern face, sitting beside your father as you stand in front of them

"what future do you think i'll 'ave with thomas fucking shelby?" you raise your voice

"do not speak to me like that , i am your mother."

"we're old, i'm sick with god knows how many illnesses." your father speaks, his cane in his hand as he leans against it, still on the sofa

"don't start with that talk" you shake your head with a chuckle, you sniffle and turn your head away

"i don't know if i'll live another day , i am too sick to work, too sick to care for the farm, there is nothing left for me to give you" he speaks slowly with a serious voice, and it makes your heart sink "this isn't a joke or some game, i've survived the war and lived long enough to see all of you grow , but i know that my time is near, i cannot risk dying and leaving you with nothing"

your father never spoke to you like that, he was always jovial , happy.

it seems like it hits you for the first time, how much your parents have aged, how much the illness took from your father, how his sicknesses have changed him.

"celest got to marry who she chose and so did oliver and so did abraham, but i don't get to do that? i dont get to choose my own husband?" your tears start falling, your voice cracks

"i need to know you'll be taken care of , that you'll be in good hands when im dead and gone."

"and you think his hands are the good hands you speak of?" you cant help the humorless smile that graces your face, hot tears stain your cheek "you can't be serious"

"he is the most feared man in birmingham," your mother chimes in

"you are willing to sell your daughter! to some gangster!" you raise your voice again

your mother stands and faces you

"i am not selling you off, i am securing you a future, with a wealthy man, who can give you everything you can possibly want. you'll live like royalty" her words come through gritted teeth "i am not giving you away to some old pig, you're marrying a respectable man, a man with a reputation."

"a reputation? don't you know what 'appened to his first wife ? you are securing me a grave" you come nose to nose with your mother, both of you almost vibrating in anger "you are killing me is what you're doing, you're selling me off to the highest bidder"

the next thing you hear is the sound of your mother's palm against your cheek, the sound of the slap echos throughout the empty house, your head is turned, your cheek stings

your parents never laid a hand on you, even as a rebellious teenager when they caught you sneaking out the window or smoking on the roof.

your head turns slowly, eyes wide as you look at your mother, she looks mortified at her own actions,

you turn and run off and up the stairs to your room, hearing your father yell at your mother for what shes done.

at some point during the night, you had fallen asleep, but not for long. you were awake when the sun rose, your back pressed against your bed frame, looking ahead at the painting on the wall, it was a family portrait, and you were sitting on your father's lap.

you knew your sister was here when you heard the sounds of her five children, running around the house.

she knocks softly but doesn't bother to wait for an answer when she opens the door after a few seconds, she walks slowly, and sees you on the bed.

your eyes stuck on the portrait , your face almost emotionless, your tears have dried and stained your cheeks, she wonders for how long you cried, your back against the wood of the bed frame, no pillow thrown in her direction for waking you up, no annoyed words saying "you couldn't fucking come in the afternoon?" . the curtains are parted, letting the light in, which is very unusual for you.

you hear the bed creek under her weight when she gets on it, laying next to you

"i heard about yesterday" she says softly, her head turned to look at you

you only glance at her , but your head doesn't turn, then you look back at the portrait

"they're doing this for you, they want whats best for you." she's not sure if it is you she's trying to reassure you or herself , this wasn't ever supposed to happen.

her little sister was supposed to marry a man she wanted, a simple man, a man capable of love

you hum, or you make a sound at least , acknowledging her.

"he isn't all that bad, you know."

a weak chuckle escapes you at her words "in what world is thomas shelby not a bad person?" your voice is hoarse , from screaming and crying all night long no doubt.

"he can give you a good life."

"ya 'ave a good life don't you? with the man you chose, the man you love." your gaze doesn't move, still staring at the painting "its not fair, you lot got to be happy, and i don't."

"ya don't know that." her voice is full of sympathy or maybe pity, you didn't want to know.

you finally turn to your sister, "do you honestly think that i can be happy with 'im ?"

your sister hesitates , she licks her lips "he's a powerful man."

you chuckle at that too "that tends to 'appen when you're a gangster."

"i tried with them, i really did." her voice is weak too, it cracks.

your eyes well with tears again, you didn't know you could even cry anymore "i know..." your voice is a whisper

you knew she'd be against it, she wouldn't agree, maybe oliver would tell you to consider it, abraham would too, just to please your father.

but celest wouldn't

"what are ya goin' to do?" she whispers back, her tears start rolling too

"what can i do?" you ask "i dont 'ave any other choice"

she looks at you as if she didn't expect that. you were always stubborn, always talking your way out of anything you didn't want, you always got your way with your parents, thats what she taught you.

but this time, you don't want to fight back.

"you're goin' through with it?"

"i cant live knowing i disobeyed my father's dying wish."

your father was sick, and getting worse everyday. you were a stubborn woman, but the little girl inside of you couldn't bear to disobey her father.

celest wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding you to her chest, her hands runs up and down your arm , like she did when abraham would bother you to tears, or when oliver wouldn't let you play with him.

"at least he's easy on the eyes, eh?" she tries desperately to lighten the mood, her lips pressed to your forehead

" hes old." you say with a weak laugh

"hes older, not old." she corrects, with a laugh too.

[tommyshelbysgoodgirl]

Just hold me tight

Summary: Tommy wakes up from a PTSD episode and he needs his wife’s comfort

Warning: fluff, vulnerable Tommy, PTSD, um idfk what to put here, anyway enjoy

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem!reader

The shovels were so loud; bang bang BANG BANG! Tommy tossed and turned in his restless sleep as he struggled underground, digging, hiding and fighting the enemies. Tommy was breathing deeply in his sleep as he struggled with an enemy in a small area of the tunnels he thrashed his arms around as the enemy choked him out. “NO NO GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!” Thomas’s eyes snapped open as he sat up in the dark bedroom, breathing heavily trying to get back into reality. The bedroom was cold and dark but he was still there, back in the war fighting for his life and listening to his fellow soldiers get shot down. He was rocking back and forth as he moaned quietly from the stress, he hated it, he hated feeling so terrified and having those horrible nightmares of that place.

(Reader pov:)

I woke up to Tommy rocking himself back and forth while hunched over, he was breathing quickly. I sat up in alarm and reached out cautiously to place my hand on his back, “Tommy, what’s wrong..?” When my hand made contact with his skin he jumped slightly then relaxed his tense muscles. I frowned as I heard him sniffle, and clear his throat. “I’m okay love, just a dream..” I pulled my hand back and looked at him for a moment longer then nodded.

“Okay well if you’re okay now I’ll just go back to sleep now.” When I went to go lay down, he turned around and quickly grabbed my wrist firmly, I looked back and felt my heart ache as I saw his blue eyes filled with fear and his face looked so exhausted, making him look fifty years older than he actually was. I reached up and caressed his cheek, he closed his eyes and slowly lowered his head to rest it against my chest. I slowly wrapped my arms around him and rested my chin on top of his head, “oh Tommy.. what happened..?”

I slowly rubbed his back soothingly, he was shaking and breathing heavily. “I had another horrible fucking nightmare my love…I was back in those tunnels and the sounds of war… I can’t stand it anymore.” I felt my heart clench when he softly trembled and began to sob softly, burying his face deeper into my chest, I just hugged him tighter.

“Please..just hold me tight for a moment..?” I leaned down and gently kissed the top of his head, “of course, Tommy..I’ll stay right here with you.” This wasn’t the usual cold and heartless gangster that people feared all around, Tommy was a traumatized and vulnerable man who was suffering so he had to fight and fight to keep strong, but deep down there was times the rough man wanted to crumble and cry himself to sleep. I sat there and held Tommy close until he finally let sleep take over his dark mind.

(This was just something quick because I was bored, hope you enjoyed)<3 😘

[writers-hes]

Eye of the Storm

SERIES SUMMARY: You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn't realize that war could change you both. (angst, depictions of abuse, poverty, prostitution, canon-typical themes, death, war, time jumps)

Chapter summary: Everything unfolds and you were the eye of the storm.

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3

PROTECTION SERIES TAGLIST | PROTECTION MASTERLIST navigation

LONDON, 1919

Something clicked in Simon after Johnny’s funeral. He restricted you more than he did before. He was more forceful sometimes. You knew, because you braced yourself to face it everyday. 1…2…3…4…5… You had to count to ten every time he got mad. How many seconds will it take for him to lay his hand on you again? 

“From now on, you can’t come to the garden without asking for my permission.” When he saw your mouth open to protest, he added, “Don’t push it. You’re lucky I’m still allowing you to go.”

“O-of course, Simon,” you tearfully obliged. “I— “

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.”

“Good. Now, come here, darling. You know I can’t stand when you’re mad at me,” he coos and you oblige, finding yourself perched on his lap. You hated this; hated how he was treating you. Hated how his arms immediately wrapped around you. “I know that you’re mad at me,” he starts. “Especially with everything that’s been going on but I’m only worried that Tommy Shelby’s gonna take you.” 

“He’s not…you don’t have to worry about him, Simon,” you whispered. “I didn’t know that he was alive,”

“I know, I know,” he said. “But do you know where that puts me? You’ve been his friend since before the war and I’m not anything like him. It’s not you I don’t trust…it’s him. He’s a Birmingham rat with no respect. I want you safe. I want you here. If you behave yourself, then I’d slowly give you everything back. Hm?” he asked. 

You nodded, the small smile on your face could never convey how cold you felt.

Simon knows that what he’s doing is wrong but what else can be done? Tommy Shelby was back and there was no way he’s giving you up to some Birmingham gangster. It was just impossible to do so. It would hurt him and his ego. He’s never been declined of something before as an only child of two rich parents. If he’d be declined of your love and affection, he will burn the world and everything in it. You were the only thing he truly wanted and if it came to you, he’d do everything to never let you out of his grasp.

When he first seeked you out, you were eighteen. He was already enamoured, watching you from afar. You laughed with the girls and stayed with Big Johnny most nights. You were innocent, a fragile little thing that he wanted—needed. You listened to him and even treated him as a friend. It was different from how the girls treated him there. The girls would ask for gifts, and he bought them but you…you dressed up immediately after every visit. You’d smile at him before leaving, going to Johnny for your nightly lessons. He sometimes went to visit you just to talk. You were the most intelligent girl there and he always looked forward to seeing you again. If you slip away from his grasp, he wouldn’t know what to do. It’s why he bought you that house; why he gave you jewellery even before you were married. He wanted you to be reminded of him everywhere you went. It was dangerous dealing with your past—he knew that; but danger was something he’d walk on if it came to having you.  

“Darling, I was thinking…it’s been a while since we last went on a holiday. Do you want to go somewhere?” he asked. Reports of Tommy Shelby in London reached him. There was no way he’d let you meet again.

“Hm,” you hummed. “Can we go to New York?” you asked. “I’ve been wanting to go to Manhattan this time of year.”

“Yeah?” he asked. The farther you were from Tommy, the better. “Then, I’ll have things arranged and I’ll let you know, okay?” he kisses your temple as he passes by.

“Of course,” you replied. Your face seems so unreadable these days, but it always was. Can Tommy Shelby decipher the emotions written on your face or does he have to guess too? He knows that you were still keeping things away from him…knows that you’re not being fully honest with how you feel and who Tommy Shelby was in your life. He was fine not knowing as long as you were his. 

Irrevocably and utterly his. 

BIRMINGHAM, 1910

“You know, Tommy,” you said. “When I was young, my mother told me that there were other lands outside England…outside Birmingham that isn’t London,” you said. Your savings could take you to London, but you could never seem to find the time. Simon has been visiting you more and the owner of the brothel ordered you to always be available for him because of how much he spends on you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I want to go to London at least once. Before I die, I want to go to London,” 

“I’ll take you to London,” he says, voice gruff from the cigarettes. “I’ll take you to London and I’ll take you to the whole world,” 

“You will?” you asked. You were always told by your customers that they’ll take you here and there…but with Tommy, you knew that what he was saying was true. He never liked to break his promises. “If you’ll take me there, I better save up money because there’s no way I’m letting you spend a fortune on me.”

“I’ll take you to New York, Paris, and all the major cities. We’ll see them for the first time together,” he promises.

“Together?”

“We’ll always be together, won’t we?”

“Of course, we will. Together,”

BIRMINGHAM, 1919

Grace has long been gone since Polly revealed the truth to her. Was it mad that Tommy didn’t feel any morsel of anything? He didn’t care if she betrayed him; didn’t care if she loved him…if anything, she was better off gone. It just…unsettled him. Was that the right word? He never liked Grace, but she was a good enough replacement for you in the meantime. She was good enough, but she wasn’t you, no matter how much Tommy forced himself to convince everyone that she was good enough. 

He didn’t even think of lighting a cigarette for her departure. These guns, Billy Kimber…his ambitions of wealth, power, and control were too consuming for him to think of anything else. Too consuming that he knew that all ambition all boiled down to you, that mansion, horses, and a garden. He looks at the toy horses you’ve given him as children. It’s been showing signs of wear; time has the power to tear the edges of something precious so easily. Tommy liked thumbing the wooden toy to keep him afloat sometimes. It reminded him of peace, of home, of you. 

“Tommy,” Polly called. Her conscience has been nagging her, steaming out of pores ever since Tommy showed her how much you meant to him. It was never easy remembering Tommy on the floor, so weak; so defeated. It was never easy to remember that she was the reason why Tommy was miserable. She took you away from him. She decided then, that she’d do everything in her power to help her grieving nephew. If your presence could show her any semblance of Tommy before the war, she’d take it. Maybe she should feel bad for burdening you with that weight on your shoulders, but she knew that you did it so naturally…so genuinely. She relieves herself of thinking that you and Tommy needed each other; so much so that the world she knows now will simply reintegrate. You were the glue that binds Tommy; the melted gold that holds the pieces back together. Without you, Tommy was broken—alone. She’d never want that for him. She’ll never want to see him like that again. 

NEW YORK, 1920

When you told Simon that you wanted to go to New York, you didn’t know that you’ll be staying there indefinitely. You just said that to appease him, really. He made sure that all of your belongings were kept and taken to America. What didn’t fit, you’d buy. He was more lenient here. He’d let you go, and he was back to the Simon you’ve always known. 

“You’ve been married for years,” his attorney’s wife recalls. “Where are the little Simons running around?”

“Oh-“ you looked at Simon to help you out, but he was too engrossed in his conversation with the lawyer to notice. “We’re still enjoying our marriage. Just the two of us,” you lied. “We like to travel and we’ll feel bad if we just…leave the child back home,”

“But you’re in New York,” she says, like it mattered. “Surely, you’ve been trying?”

“No, not really. Simon wants our child to be born in England.” you said.

“You’re not getting any younger, dear,” she says. “When I was around your age, I already had two children. I say, it’s better to start a family early,”

That night, when you were removing your jewellery, Simon laid his hand on your shoulder. He’s gentle in New York. Your shoulder used to feel heavy in London. He started kissing your neck and you allowed him.

“An heir wouldn’t be so bad,” he rasps, nibbling on your ear. “Maybe soon…I want to have you all to myself first. Don’t want you to love me any less because of a child,”

“I wouldn’t love you any less, Simon.” you smiled at him. You didn’t want to bear his heir but if he was convinced that you’ll love him less because of a child, you’ll string him along. 

“I know but then, you’d dote on him and be all…” he drones on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“It’s alright, I don’t need anyone else. It can just be the two of us forever.”

BIRMINGHAM, 1911

“Tommy!” you called, walking through the muddy soil of the stables that he worked in. He took care of horses sometimes, to earn some extra money. It paid well and he was surrounded with the calmness of the horses that he took care of. He vowed to have his own stables filled with his own horses in the future. Maybe it was pathetic but Tommy was envious seeing things that he wanted being taken advantage of. He knew how to take care of horses but he never owned them. His dreams were so close yet so far. He was brushing the coat of one of the horses when you came barrelling towards him.

“Tommy!” you called again. “I’m free now. Let’s go!”

“Wait, wait,” he laughs, making sure that the horse—he secretly named him Hayday because the horse had a coat in the color of hay. He only told you that though. “Alright, Hayday. Let’s get you back to your stable,” he tells the horse, petting its snout. You smiled at his softness, following them quietly. You let Tommy do his job maintaining Hayday for a while, smiling widely when you saw him coming towards you. He was rubbing his face with water to get rid of today. 

“I smell.” he frowned, looking through his ragged satchel for a towel or an extra shirt. “Let me just…” he says, taking the shirt from the bag and then giving the bag to you. He turns around to remove his dirty shirt, tucking it between his legs and then changing into the cleaner shirt. You watched the way his back muscles flexed—working as a mechanic and carrying whatever he does was paying off. The clean shirt clung onto his figure nicely…you looked away before he could catch you staring though. “Thanks for keeping my bag,” he says, taking his bag from you. He hangs it on his shoulder and then links his arm with yours. You couldn't see the smirk that played in his lips.  “Where are we going again?”

“Remember, I told you to come with me to the market to buy something?” you asked him. He nods, letting you lead the way to the market. “Well, I’m free now. Let’s go.”

Tommy tells you all about his day on the way to the market, not knowing anything of what you had planned. It was his birthday last month, but you weren’t able to save up enough money for his gift because of a repair in your home. You drag him all the way to where the more expensive shops were, Tommy’s brows furrowing. 

“Here,” you said, stopping at a jeweller. You take him inside and he lets you. 

“What are we doing here— “

“Look!” you said, pointing at the gold signet ring on display. You leave Tommy to go get the clerk. You’ve been paying for the ring for a year now; little by little until you were able to fully pay for it. It was a gift for Tommy’s 21st birthday. You were talking to the clerk for a pick up when Tommy walks to you. The clerk gives you the red velvet box and you turn to Tommy, a wide smile on your face. 

“Who is this for?” he asked, frowning. Was this for that Rich Bastard? “You know I can’t afford that,”

“But I can. It’s for you,” you told him softly. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry it was a month late,” You open the box for him. “Go on, wear it.”

“Y/N…love,”

“You have to accept it. I saved up for that, you know?” He takes the ring from the box and slides it on his ring finger. 

“Thank you…” he rasps, his throat closing up. “For this.”

“It’s okay, Tommy. I’d give you the world if I can but for now, a ring would suffice, don’t you think?”

-

You both settled at an empty grassland by the docks afterwards. Tommy couldn’t stop looking at his ring. 

“I still can’t believe you got me a ring,” he says, looking at you. “It must have cost you a fortune, eh?”

“It’s okay, Tommy. I want to give you something more for being a great friend to me.” you tell him. He nods at your words. Friends. Is that all he’ll ever be? 

“I got you this,” he says, showing you the simple, lone daisy that he picked on the way here. “I…” he says, tucking it behind your ear. I wish I could give you more. You stopped breathing, the proximity was too much to bear. You could see the blueness of his eyes, the freckles that kissed his nose and his cheeks. You could see every eyelash. It seemed like he didn’t mind it either. He was looking at you intently, trying to memorize every detail of your face. A face that could start a war, he was almost positive of it. You both unintentionally lean into each other, Tommy’s eyes flicking down to your lips, breath hitching. 

“Tommy!” you jump away from each other, looking away. Fuck. He sighs in annoyance, looking at one of the guys he knew from work. 

Maybe next time.

CAMDEN TOWN, 1921

“Put him down, Ollie!” he shouts. “Put him down, mate. He is only little.”

“You on your own?” He asked Tommy.

Tommy glances around. 

“Seems so,”

Alfie Solomons always liked to play the best games. He had wide shoulders that matched how dominant and domineering he seemed. He was unpredictable, abandoning all sorts of things just to make sure that in the end, he gets the best deal. Tommy wondered what kind of deal he could put up with the Jewish gangster to double cross Simon Coventry, his biggest payer.

“Well, you’re a brave lad, ain't you?” he asked. “Want to take a look around my bakery? We bake all sorts here, mate, yeah. Did you know we bake over 10,000 loaves a week? Can you believe it?” 

Tommy listens to him drone on about bread. He asked for brown bread and was served one. 

“Come look,” Alfie says, leading Tommy to his office. 

-

“Well, I’ve heard very bad, bad things about you Birmingham people. You’re gipsies, right? So what, do you live in a fucking tent or a caravan?”

“I came here to discuss business with you, Mr. Solomons.” Tommy coughs. 

“Well, rum is for fun and fucking. So, whiskey, now that is for business,” he says, putting his bottle of whiskey for Tommy Shelby.

“Let’s talk first, eh?” 

“Suit yourself,” Alfie shrugs. 

“Heard you were dealing with billionaires,” Tommy brought up, trying to gauge the situation. He was sitting right in front of Alfie’s desk, noticing the latter reach for the drawer in his right. 

“You heard correct. What about it?” he asked nonchalantly. 

“Simon Coventry.” Tommy said. “He pays well?”

“Very well, mate.” Alfie replied, sipping on his whiskey. “Seeked for our protection services, invested…paid to kill for him. Has a wife, you know? Have you heard about her?”

“No,” Tommy shrugged, his voice monotonous, eyes bored. Alfie licks his lips. 

“Never met her…lovely wife, they say, yeah. A very lovely wife…but this lovely wife of his needs to be guarded. Don’t believe in all that…I don’t do that to women, but this lovely wife of his is…huh, well, told me to kill anyone who comes near her, yeah? And guess what, mate? You’ve a big fucking bounty written on your fucking forehead,” Alfie revealed. “Now,” he pauses, leaning on the table. “What is this business you’re looking for?”

“We join forces,”

“Fuck off. No! Categorical. Fucking ridiculous,” he leans back, scoffing. Tommy leans forward, clasping his hand over the table. 

“Mr. Solomons. Your distillery provides one-tenth of your income. Protection is another ten percent and the rest; you make from the tracks.”

Alfie fumbles with the handle but Tommy speaks.

“I know you keep a gun in the drawer beside the whiskey. I know you offer a deal or death. I know what I’m saying makes you angry but I’m offering you a deal. People don’t trust your protection anymore. What makes you think that Simon Coventry will continue to trust you?” he asked. 

“Well, you shot Billy Kimber, right? You did, you fucking shot him. That’s you. You fucking betrayed him, mate. So, it’ll be appropriate to do what I’m thinking in my head to you right now.”

“I can offer you a hundred good men all with weapons and a new relationship with the police.” 

“Intelligence,” Alfie says. “Intelligence is a very valuable thing, ain’t it, my friend? And usually…it comes far too fucking late,” he reaches for the drawer on his left, pointing the gun at Tommy. He cocks the gun and Tommy sits there, unblinking. “Let’s say I shot you already, right? In the fucking face. And then the bullet goes bone, mush, bone, cabinet over there. Which is a shame.”

Tommy just sits there, his face devoid of any emotion. If he gets killed now, he doesn't care. He had no fear of death anymore.

“It’s fucking simple, mate,”

Blood trails down from Tommy’s nose and Alfie talks about some fucking cabinet behind him. He throws Tommy his handkerchief, but he doesn’t take it. Fucking cabinets and fucking asking him if Tommy wanted to go to Timbuktu. 

“I’m sorry, go on,” Alfie concedes after telling Tommy that he always thought he’d have a big gold ring on his finger. It was only a small signet ring that Tommy was unconsciously playing with under the table. “Tell us your plan.” 

NEW YORK, 1921

“I just got off the phone with the secretary. We’re invited to some Charity Gala in London that we have to go to,” Simon says. Simon says…seems like all you do is follow what Simon says. “You can stay here if you don’t want to go.”

“When is this?”

“In a week mostly,” he shrugged. “It would be great to have you there. It’s not grand or anything; it’s just a few of my partners having an event for some charity or foundation.”

“Oh,” you nodded. You wanted to be away from Simon, but you also wanted to go back to London. How were the Shelbys? How was Beth? “Yeah…yeah, I’ll go,”

“Perfect,” he says. “Your dress? You need a new one. I’ll arrange a trip for you with my assistant to help you look for what to wear. You have to be the most beautiful woman there. For reference, I prefer blue on you.”

“Okay, Simon. I’ll make sure to get a blue dress for you.” He smiles at you before turning the page on his newspaper. You were glad that things were back to how they were before Tommy arrived in Birmingham. You didn’t blame him—Tommy—Simon’s actions were your own fault. Who in the right mind would let their wife love another man? It’s not like Simon knew of your love but the fact that you hid who Tommy was from him still remains. Letting go of Tommy that night was…painful.

You couldn’t erase how crest-fallen he looked; that you were the cause for his anguish. He didn’t follow you; you told him not to. You didn’t want him to see you sit outside the Garrison with your head buried in your hands. You didn’t want him to see you howl in pain because you’ll never see him again. You didn’t want him to see how it hurt you to say goodbye to him.

You didn’t want him to see you but someone else did. 

BIRMINGHAM, 1919

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

You looked up from your cowering position, eyelashes clumped. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I just…I just left your brother,” you whispered, trying to even out the sob that threatens to get out of your body. Arthur frowns, crouching down in front of you.  He tries to remove your shaky hands only to be met with your bruising jaw. 

“Did Tommy— “

“No,” you shook your head. “He didn’t hit me.”

He nods. Arthur didn’t know who Tommy was these days. He’s closed off, aloof, cold, detached…he sometimes wonders if a time comes and he’ll just snap. Arthur’s coping mechanism was violence. He knows that he’s good…his hands or only bloody but Tommy…Tommy wasn’t good anymore. He felt conflicted; everyone seems to put all the burden on you to make Tommy come back…to make him good again. He heard Polly talk about it; how Tommy needed you…but if Tommy was the reason why you’re miserable, is he still worth coming back to?

“I told Tommy to never see me again,” you managed through your cries. “I feel…I feel so lost, Arthur. I didn’t want to do that—to say that to him when-when he’s here now but I have no other choice…he’ll get-he’ll—“

“What about you?” he asked, tracing big circles on your back.

“What do you mean?” you asked, hiccuping. 

“I mean…you talk about Tommy and-and making sure that we’re all doing great but what about you, eh?” There was a small frown on his face, it was so different from the ‘Mad Dog’ that people know him as. 

“I don’t need that,” you chuckled. “I’m married to-to—“

“Simon Coventry, I know. But who do you have other than him? I know you love Tommy—don’t even fucking deny it. It’s why you’re doing all these things, I know but Tommy has us; he has Birmingham, and you don’t,” he adds, tearing your heart into pieces. The realisation of isolation dawns on you and it is wicked; consuming your heart with grief because you had no one. Not Tommy. Not anymore. “You make sure that all of us are being taken care of…but no one’s taking care of you. This whole thing-this thing with Tommy, is it worth it if you can’t even come home to Simon because you’re fucking crying in front of The Garrison?”

“I don’t know what to do,” you shrugged. “I…I just can’t seem to stay away from you lot,”

“Oh, love,” he sighs. He’ll never tell anyone that he saw you crying in front of the Garrison. “Why did you marry him?”

“Because…I wasn’t sure if Tommy’s coming back,” you whispered softly. You wiped away the tears from your face, trying to regain composure. “I sent…sent letters but he never wrote back. When Simon proposed the idea of marriage and Tommy wasn’t-wasn’t writing to me, I just took the chance. It was a chance to get out of that fucking hellhole. Tommy hates me for it,” you whimpered. “I know he hates me for it because I always told him that I’ll wait but-but he didn’t write back. I didn’t wait for him.”

Arthur frowns, confused. 

“He wrote to you but you never wrote to him,” he said.

“What?” 

“He did, love. Wrote to you multiple times and-and he’d always be the first one to show up when there were letters from home. Always-always looking for your letter,” he reminisces. Deep in your heart, you knew that he was telling you the truth because there was some sort of empty longing that crossed his eyes. “He waited for your letters every day for four years.”

“Arthur…”

“I’m telling you the truth,” he says, looking at you more intently. “None of us knew you got married,” he added. 

“Arthur—“ You were heaving, this changes things. Your resentment towards Tommy was all in vain if he sent you letters but where were those letters? Where could they be? Seeing you in distress, Arthur flings his arm around your shoulder. “I hated him for it…I hated him for four years…” you weeped. “Arthur, how could I haveever hated him?” You felt like cold water was splashed on your face. Of course, Tommy would have never done that to you. But who did?

“It’s not your fault, love. It’s not your fault.”

-

LONDON, 1921

It’s been long since you last stepped foot in London. A year wasn’t a long time but a year teetering on the edge waiting for the next blow was a year too long. It’s not that you were expecting anything, but now that you’re in London…so close to Tommy, you know that everything will be different again. He’ll be forceful under the pretext of loving you, some bullshitt about it being for the better…you knew it was wrong. You knew that it wasn’t right. You hated your predicament, but you hated yourself more for never seeming to have the ability to hate him. 

You never questioned his love for you; you were sure about that but sometimes…you found yourself questioning if he loved you too much. You’ve never experienced love like that before. Too much love. Growing up, you always had just enough. What you couldn’t find from your mum, you found in Johnny. What you couldn’t find in your customers, you found in the Shelbys. What you couldn’t find from yourself, you found in Tommy. What you couldn’t find in Tommy, you tried to look for in Simon. 

Everything was just right. To have too much was too much. 

“You’ve been quiet since we got here, darling,” Simon says, his hand on your knee as you rode the Bentley back home. 

“Sorry,” you smiled up at him. “I just miss London. It’s different to be back home,”

“I know,” he says. “But we’re here now. Where do you prefer?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, playing with his fingers. You thumbed the rings on his fingers, your wedding band the most important one. 

“I’m asking…where do you want to build our family?” he asked. “I know I said that I didn’t want to have children yet but we aren’t getting any younger. We’d make the most beautiful children. They’ll get your beauty and intelligence. They’ll inherit whatever they want to inherit from me,”

Your fingers stilled. 

“Hmm,” you pretended to think, trying to playt the cards right. “I’d want our children to grow up in London.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his head falling on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I want them to grow up here but also experience different things from travelling. Maybe we could find a summer house in Italy?” you asked. He kisses your neck and you sit there cold, unmoving. 

“Yes, let’s buy a house in Italy…” he murmurs, drunk on your scent. “How many houses do you want, hm? Let’s buy whatever my wife wants…whatever she needs, hm?” 

“You spoil me too much, Simon,” you force out a giggle. He doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Only for the best. You’re going to be the mother of my children,” 

-

You arrived home and you heaved a sigh. You went inside your bedroom, ready to unpack some of the items you bought from New York when your eyes landed on the frame of pressed flowers that Tommy gave you on your birthday. Simon has been telling you to get rid of it—it was tacky, he said but you told him that the flowers were from a day of picnicking with your mother when you were a child. You felt your lips twitch at the memory of Tommy giving it to you sheepishly. If only you could have him back now. If only he’s there with you. 

You breathed deeply, trying to purge yourself of the sadness that lingered. It’s been two years since you’ve last seen him. He’s staying true to his word, you knew. He’s protecting you and you’re protecting him. You hated the situation you were in. Why did you need protection in the first place? You were the wife of one of the wealthiest men in the whole world. You could have everything you’ve ever wanted handed to you on a silver platter. You could have everything but why do you feel so alone? Why do you feel like there’s still something missing? Why do you feel like, no matter what you did—no matter how you tried, Tommy’s still the one you love? You reached for the pendant but you remembered that it wasn’t there.

Was it selfish to wish for him to never marry someone else? To never love anyone? Was it selfish to wish for him to finally love you the way you do all these years? 

Or was he only protecting you because he’s bound by his words and not the feeling of unbridled love that he has for you? 

Polly told you that you could have everything…you felt like you had nothing. 

You had more when you were working as a prostitute. 

Now, you just have Simon. 

-

Simon has been feeling your detachment ever since you arrived in New York. He knew that it was his fault; laying his hand on you like that but could anyone really blame him? You were his love; the object of all of his desires. You needed protecting, you needed safety and you needed him to give you the world. 

He was in his office, sorting through the files that he left for a year. He picks up the telephone and dials a number. He wanted you all for himself. He was hungry for you; hunger for your affection, your flesh, your gaze. He’ll do everything to preserve the attention that you were giving him but now that he feels you slipping away, he’s becoming more desperate. It was all Tommy Shelby’s fault and he needed to be dealt with. 

“I sent you the money for the murder of Johnny Wilson,” he speaks into the telephone. “I need you to do gsomething for me again.”

“Hm?” 

Simon speaks into the phone authoritatively. Details of his plan were spoken. He was meticulous and specific with what he wanted.

“Even…even the children?”

“Even the children,” he confirms. He senses the hesitation of the speaker from the other side. “If you do it in less than a year, I’ll add another twenty thousand to the total. I’ll make sure you never have to work a day in your fucking life. Call me when it’s done,” he spits, ending the call and looking at a photo of you on the table; not knowing that on the other side, an intruder was hearing everything that just transpired. 

Who was Simon Coventry? 

-

Cameras flashed as you enter the venue for the charity ball. You were dressed in a blue gown like promised. Simon’s hand was on your waist, smiling tightly at the cameras. He always hated the attention of the media and in your own way, you wanted to calm him down. You touch the hand that was on your waist to remind him that you were there. You smile at him softly and he smiles back. If only he was as soft as he presents himself to be in the media. 

He leads you into the venue without so much a glance offered to the media and you follow. 

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” you smiled up at him. 

“You can go ahead and sit,” he says. “I’ll just be greeting some of my partners.” You nod and you allow him to kiss you on the cheek before you part ways. You didn’t know why—but you felt like something was wrong. Something was going to happen tonight. 

A waiter comes to your table and offers you a drink. He was young—probably way younger than you.

“Champagne, please,” you told him. “You’re too young to be working,”

“I-I’m nineteen, ma’am,” he tells you while pouring you a glass.

“Ah, maybe not that young then,” you replied. “Is this your first day?”

“Yes, ma’am. My first day on the job,” he says. “I’m quite nervous to be surrounded by the rich but I need the money…”

“I’m sure you’ll do well,” you replied, offering him a friendly smile. “Here,” you said, opening your clutch and handing him a few pounds. “Think of it as a tip for serving me champagne and for talking to me.”

“This is too much, ma’am,” he refuses but you shove the notes in his hand. You remembered how tips from the brothel helped you so much; it allowed you to buy necessities. It allowed you to get Tommy the signet ring that you got him for his 21st birthday. You were busy talking to the young man that you didn’t notice your husband walking towards you with a scowl on his face. 

“Hey, you,” he sarcastically greets the server, snapping his fingers rudely.. “Refill my glass,”

“Simon— “

“Thank you,” he says, disregarding you completely. The boy turns to leave but Simon stops him. “No, stay. I need you to refill my fucking drink every time.”

“Simon—“

“You think my wife is beautiful?” he asked. The boy looks at you and you attempt to shake your head; telling him to walk away before anything else happens. “I’d be offended if you told me that she wasn’t.”

“Simon— “

He takes a swig of his drink before extending the same empty glass.

“What’s your name?” Simon asked, watching the boy shakily refill the champagne flute. “Don’t spill anything on my wife,” he threatens darkly. The boy swallows. 

“William, sir,”

“William…do you think my wife is pretty?” he asked again. You look around the room to see that everyone was trying to discreetly watch the commotion. You tried standing up but Simon pushed you back down.

“Y-yes, sir,”

Simon nods, pleased with William’s answer.

“You may go, William,” you calmly told him.

“You may not,” Simon says. William’s feet were stuck planted on the ground. He was shaking and you tried to plead with Simon, but he wasn’t looking at you. “Actually, let’s take this outside, hm? Everyone seems to be enjoying this fucking commotion. Come with us, Y/N,”

“Simon, please,”

“Come on, darling,” he says, pulling you away forcefully from the table. You stumble after him, heart racing wildly inside your chest. Fuck. Your shoulders were shaking as you tried to catch your breath. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The three of you arrive in the wine cellar, an empty room where you were sure no one heard you. 

“Stand there,” Simon says. “Y/N, stay beside me.”

William stands in front of Simon, his steps hesitant.

“I’ll give you a deal, William. Do you want a thousand pounds? You’ll never find that anywhere else,” he taunts. You shake your head discreetly, but William wasn't looking at you. He was pale, his breathing shallow. “I’ll give it to you right now. Cash,”

“Y-yes, sir,” he replies. 

“Say please,”

“Simon—“

“Shut up! Shut up!”

“Please, sir,”

“Kneel and beg.”

“Simon, it’s not right! Please, let’s just go home,” 

William kneels in front of Simon, and you could see the sinister smile that played on his lips. He fishes for something in his pocket—a gun. 

“S-sir,”

“You want a thousand pounds, yeah?” he asked, waving his gun in the air. 

“Simon—“

“I don’t want another word from you, Y/N. Or else, I swear, I will fucking shoot you.” he threatens. You were trying your best to stop being so hysterical but you couldn’t. You were sobbing, hands shaking when Simon pointed the gun at the poor boy. You tried to hold back the sobs that threatened to come out; tried to wonder what a monster Simon becamez

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” you choked, crouching down on the floor to comfort yourself. “I’m sorry, William…”

BANG! BANG!

The sounds of a gun going off rings inside the cellar and you flinch. Simon has just shot William twice; one on his stomach, one on his shoulder. It was sloppy; you knew he was aiming for his heart. William lays on the floor with a pool of his own blood, crying in pain. Simon just walks towards him, throwing him a thousand pounds and then spitting on William’s face. 

“Don’t ever look at my fucking wife again. Fix yourself Y/N. We’re going back to the party,”

“Simon, he’s just a kid! Get him to a fucking hospital!”

“I said, fix yourself!” he roared, and you closed your mouth. You stepped away from him, afraid of what he might do.

“Now you know what happens if you ever try to leave me. It’s time for me to show you what I will do to protect you, okay darling?” he asked, crouching down to your level and pulling you in an embrace. He kisses your temples to comfort you for the damage that he has done. “Don’t ever leave me,”

The two of you left William’s body and went back to the party. You were shaken, aloof the whole night. You couldn’t believe what just transpired. Simon’s cruelty—his disregard for himan life for a thousand pounds… You were trying to catch the attention of other servers but were ignored. You just wanted someone to check on William, that poor boy. You and your husband continued to sit beside each other acting like the happy couple, never noticing the pair of blue eyes that seemed to pierce straight into you. 

-

Simon killed Johnny. 

Your hands shook as you read the handwriting on the crumpled piece of paper over and over again. You found it in the clutch that you left in your seat when Simon shot William in the cellar. Turning the paper over, you sobbed; unable to control the emotions that begged for your attention—anger, fear, disgust, sadness…everything seemed to crash into you. You run towards the bathroom to vomit on the toilet. Your whole body tembled, and you cradled yourself on the bathroom floor. You didn’t care if the dress was wet and crumpled…how…why…what did you do in your past life to be punished like this? 

-

You haven’t been the same since you received that note. Simon found you in bed; unmoving and unresponsive. The shock must have been too much to bear but he had to show you—he had to put on a display of what he would do to keep you safe and away from the Shelbys. He didn’t regret anything except for the way your eyes glistened when he threatened to shoot you. That was a sin he’d pay for but for now, maybe silence is enough to soothe you. 

He lays in bed, an inch too far away from you and he couldn’t bear it. He could hear the way your sobs shook the bed; how hard you tried to keep yourself from being too loud. 

“Darling…” he coos but you only cried harder. 

“Not tonight, Simon. Please,” you whispered, desperation kicking in. “I’m…I’m— “

He nods to himself, a wounded puppy. 

“I have…I have to leave you tomorrow to meet with Alfie Solomons,” he tells you. “Use that time to go out or, or get out of this place. I wouldn’t mind if you went alone as long as you have at least one of Alfie’s men to guard you,” 

You wanted to laugh. He was holding your liberty as hostage; taunting you with it whenever he did something wrong but in reality, no matter how much freedom he grants you, his hand will always be on your neck to keep you from leaving. 

“I’m sorry for threatening you,”

“Not tonight, Simon,”

He nods but it actually angers him for you to refuse him so easily. He has given you anything and everything. Hell, he bought you that summer house in Italy already, but you still couldn’t give him the satisfaction of holding you for the night. Did Tommy Shelby hold you while you slept? Would you have let him?

-

You felt Simon kiss your head before he left. You couldn’t sleep last night, thinking of all the ways to tell Tommy or at least anyone about Simon’s plan. You weren’t sure if he was sincere when he told you that you can go out today but you were taking that chance. You knew that Arthur wanted you to protect yourself but maybe this could be the last time. Just this once and then, never again. 

You dressed up, the brown coat covering your figure and giving you shelter from the cruelty of the world that Simon built for the two of you. You ordered one of the servants to fetch you one of Solomons’ men that could drive. You needed to talk to Polly or anyone from Birmingham and the only way to do it was through the telephone. It was too dangerous at home; Simon had eyes and ears everywhere. 

“Mrs. Coventry,” the driver greets you, opening the door to let you in. You settle yourself inside, opening your clutch for a deal he couldn’t resist. 

“Other than driving me around, what else do you do?” you asked him. 

“I’m told to obey all of your orders as long as it complies with what Mr. Coventry asks us,” he replied. “Where are we going today, ma’am?” 

“Just…go to the city,” you replied. “Do you think…do you think you could do something for me? I’ll make sure you’re paid and that you won’t be blamed for anything that comes out of it,”

“Ma’am, I am under strict orders of Mr. Solomons to— “

“Five hundred pounds,” you interrupted, you needed him to understand the urgency of the situation. Your nail beds have bled through the night and were red and swollen. “I can give it to you in cash right now. Just tell me if you know where I could reach the Shelbys the fastest,” You sounded like Simon like now, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care anymore. 

“There…there are Blinders right outside a flat in London. Ada Shelby is rumoured to live there,” he says lowly. 

“Take me there. Make sure you’re discreet and make sure we’re not being followed. I’ll make sure that you’re safe,” you promised him. “Just…just go there as fast as you can,” 

It’s hard to be discreet when you’re driving one of the most expensive cars in the world, but he drove you to Ada Shelby’s house anyway. Five hundred pounds was more than what he could ever make working under Alfie Solomons. 

A storm was brewing, and you were at the centre of all of it. 

-

Ada lives in a building in the centre of London. On the way, your driver told you about how Tommy bought the whole building for her. You smiled softly; Tommy was finally realising his dreams, but he was realising them without you. 

You exited the car, covered from head to toe. You made sure no one recognized you; the lush, brown coat and your hat covered your face entirely. You told him to leave you alone and come back in three hours. He zoomed off, afraid to be seen by one of Simon’s men.

Your breathing was uneven and the steps that you took were shaky. You blamed it on the uneven ground. Knocking on the door, you prayed silently for Ada to hear you. The more time you spend outside, the higher the risk of being recognized. You waited with bated breath, but the door soon opened, revealing none other than the man who occupied every corner of your brain. You rushed inside before he could even speak and he let you, locking the door behind him as he followed you into the drawing room. He stands in front of you, removing the coat from your shoulders gently. You were shivering but not from the cold. How were you more beautiful than the last time he saw you?

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy,” you said over and over again, like you were making sure that he was there. Your resolve was dissolving, and you were near hysterical. He crouches down in front of you to take a good look for your face. He missed it; he missed your touch…he missed you. His fingers on your waist seem to snap you back to reality and you take a deep breath. “Simon killed Johnny. He’s going to—he’s going to kill all of you,”

-

A/N: Thank you very much for making this far! We’re getting closer to the end of this series but please don’t forget to reblog and comment if you liked it / loved it / hated this chapter, etc! I love discussing and replying to your comments and reblogs.

ALSO: A quick character study on Simon is that he is filty rich. The value of money is immaterial to him. In his eyes, money is a way for him to get anything and everything he wants. It’s what makes people kill and die for each other. If it benefits him, then he’d gladly throw money at whatever it is about.

TAGLIST:  @shelbydelrey @runnning-outof-time @duckybird101 @thenattitude @swordofawriter @litteltourtius​ @trixie23​ @everythingelseisextra​ @majesticcmey @liveat1am @dumb-wh @denabp16 @yvonna-chan @goldensunflowe-r @therosabel @hunnibearrr @dazecrea @daddyslittleattentionwhore @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @dang-shawty-okay @dasia21 @tsenthusiast1920 @aces-tattooartist @panda-luminary @ttaechi @spencerrxids @i-heart-food @fudge13 @affabletimelady @heartcereql @ce1iat @notalxx @1800-queen-trash @sweetwanderlust05 @globetrotter28 @thebestandworstdayofjune @reggxe-a @verreuckteli @vampireluck @zoexme

(I’ll be removing people from my taglist on the next chapter if conditions aren’t met! I’m sorry but that’s the rule….)

[f1girliefics]

Hearts in Conflict

Lance Stroll x Mob!Reader

Warnings: Arranged marriage, Mob stuff (violence, murder, blood and guns) angst with a happy end

Summary: Your arranged marriage was something you never wanted, but much like with anything in life, you will deal with it one way or another.

A/N: People like to say how Lance's father is like a Mobster/Gangster, well I turned the tables.

You were supposed to take over your father's empire, not marry a rich boy.

You were supposed to become the next boss, not the wife of a spoiled brat.

And yet, your father decided to marry you to a Stroll.

Lance Stroll, is a Canadian and Belgian racing driver competing under the Canadian flag in Formula One. He has driven for Aston Martin since 2021.

According to Wikipedia at least.

But in your eyes, your father's latest attempt to have you marry someone.

You made 3 boys run already, you don't know why he insisted on this stupid idea.

"You will marry Stroll and it is final."

But you also didn't want to play the part of the spoiled princess who refused to get married.

You let out a long sigh as you entered the restaurant.

You tried your best to put a smile on as you sat down at the table, Lance wasn't here just yet.

But he arrived only two minutes later.

"Hi," he said and you smiled.

"Hello, I'm Y/N Y/L/N."

"Lance Stroll, please call me Lance."

He was respectful, a gentleman. But even so, you didn't want a husband, you didn't need one.

"How do you feel about what our fathers arranged?" you asked him after long conversations. You wanted to get to the point.

"I'm not going to lie, I didn't like it. I thought you would be a brat who just wanted my family's money. But now that we spoke, I realize that is not the case, and I assume from your question that you didn't want to marry me either."

"I wanted my father's company, not yours. But he is relentless about me needing a husband."

"I heard you drove away 3 potential candidates."

"Christopher Crooke, a playboy wannabe with a cocaine addiction. Stephen Fringo, a Spanish asshole who thinks women belong in the kitchen and just last month, Alfred Smith, an American asshole with three baby mamas and millions in credit card debt. I wouldn't really say they had potential."

"And what about me? What do you think about me? Be honest and I shall do the same."

"You go first," you said hoping he would do it so you would know how hard to go in on him.

"Alright, if the Lady wishes. I think you are stunning, that is the first thing I noticed, you are beautiful and smart. Very smart. I'm trying to figure out what the problem is with you, you are strong, independent and clever. There has to be a but. I'm looking for that. So, you go then, what do you think of me?"

"My first impression was almost the same as yours. Handsome, but the moustache does nothing for you. I thought you would be a spoiled brat and to a certain degree, I was correct. But I'm the same, I'm riding on my father's name just as much. I know you don't do drugs, you wouldn't be able to be an F1 driver. No baby mamas or recent girlfriends. Your lisp is annoying and cute and the same time. For me, your but is that you are way too normal. Rich, yes, but way too normal. For you, my but will be when you realize what my family business is because it is not cars and corporations." you smiled as you stood up. "I'm looking forward to our next meeting. I have to leave now as I have another meeting to attend. Good day." and with that, you left.

Leaving Lance sitting at the table, stunned.

He liked you.

And he had to call his father.

---

"Mobsters?! Are you kidding me, Dad? You want me to marry someone that kills people?"

"They don't kill people. They just blackmail them."

"That's even worse!"

"Her family is rich and influential. Just the mention of their name brings fear and respect in people. Word about your marriage with her will spread like fire and then our name will become one with theirs. This is a chance you won't turn down, Lance." Lance looked at his father in disbelief.

---

"So, how was your meeting with Lance?" your father asked as your order arrived. You waited until the waiters were gone.

"He is my type, Dad, you know that. He has a certain boyish charm."

"So? Will you marry him? I mean you did check his background already. He is clean. No baby mamas, drug addictions or prior arrests.”

“He is a brat. Rich. And handsome.”

“You must like him. You called him handsome twice already.” Unfortunately, your father did have a point.

You hated it when he had a point.

—-

Your next meeting with Lance was set for Saturday. You told your assistant to set a date, but you were informed that Lance will have a qualifying race. So, you decided to fly to Australia and meet him, well truly, it would be a surprise for him.

His father knew about and encouraged you to meet with Lance, so he gave you an all-access VIP badge.

You even got yourself a guide who showed you around.

It was all very interesting, you got to see the Ferrari paddock closer and even caught a glimpse of Max Verstappen himself.

And you got to ask many many many questions.

But soon, you found yourself in an air-conditioned room with a cold drink in your hand as the qualifying began.

You were lucky enough to be in a good spot where you could see the start line.

You wouldn’t say you were a fan, but you did enjoy it.

Even if Lance didn’t qualify high on the board.

You enjoyed the vibes. It was all so fast, everyone in there.

But you also noticed the smug behaviour of many people.

Influencers were invited to advertise the event and F1 as a whole.

You did not like that part.

Pretending to be interested only to receive free tickets? You paid for your own even if you got it as a present.

You smiled when you saw Lance enter the room you were in.

"Why are you here?"

"Harsh. Your father invited me." technically you weren't lying per say.

But it was also not the truth. "And I did want to see you."

"I know about your family business."

"Why did you say it like that?"

"Because you are a murderer."

"Harsh, again but also false. I have never killed anyone."

"Then you ordered someone to kill them, don't play with me. I can't believe my father set me up for this!"

"Well, believe it or not, we will be married by the end of the summer break."

"Over my dead body." his voice was cold, it excited you. You liked it possibly way too much.

There was a fire in him.

"You can either continue to deny the facts or accept them. Believe me Lance, I will not leave just because you wish it. The decision is out of our hands."

"My father will hear about this."

"Alright Malfoy, do as you please." You put your sunglasses back on and continued to sip your drink.

---

You went wherever Lance went, following him almost like a shadow, all part of his father's plan.

He told you to just keep trying and be stubborn because his son is a very stubborn man as well.

No matter what Lance threw at you, you simply smiled and continued.

You didn't give up but you did start to notice changes in your future husband.

Lance slowly but surely warmed up to you.

You even had dinner one time. And it was very nice.

It started to feel like Lance was slowly accepting the fact that you two were to marry. And so every effort you made didn't meet with a brick wall.

You asked him on dates and he did the same. He showed you his hobbies.

One time, he asked you to go biking with him.

It wasn't really your thing, but you did end up going.

He fell. And he fell hard.

And it was all your fault.

You were being playful and it caused him to lose balance. You didn't push him or run into him.

But it was your fault still.

You sat in the corridor of the hospital waiting for his doctor to get you when your phone rang.

It was his father.

"Sir?" you tried to hide it, but it was obvious from your voice that you have been crying.

"Y/N, what happened how is he?"

"It was my fault. He fell during a bike ride, he hurt his hands... The doctor is in there with him, I don't know what's going on." you took a deep breath. "I'm so scared."

"Darling, it will be fine, I'm going there right now, please call me as soon as you hear something."

"I will." you ended the call just as the doctor came to get you.

"How is he?" you asked, desperate for any answers.

"The scans showed I had a fracture and displacement in my right wrist, a fracture in my left wrist, a partial fracture in my left hand and another fracture in the big toe on my right foot. He will have to undergo surgery."

"Fuck." you said and took a deep breath. "Can I see him?" the doctor only nodded and left you alone.

"Lance?" it was terrible seeing him in hospital. Your heart broke into a million tiny pieces.

"Why are you crying?"

"This is all my fault. I was so stupid." you admitted as more tears fell. "I ruined your life, your career. I will speak with my father, arranged marriage or not."

"Slow down. This wasn't your fault. I ran into that curb and fell. I should have been looking where I was going. You didn't ruin anything, Y/N. And secondly, why would you talk to your father?"

"I feel so bad. I made you fall." he rolled his eyes as you continued to cry.

"Please, don't cry. You were laughing so beautifully only a couple of hours ago."

"How can I laugh at this, Lance?"

"Come on now, I will be fine! The doctor said it will all be good, I will have the surgery tomorrow. Please calm down, everything will be fine."

"Your father is on his way, he will be soon. I'll... I'll get myself something to drink." you said and he nodded.

Hoping you would be back soon, but your pain and guilt took you over. Instead, you wrote a small letter and asked a nurse to give it to him in about three hours.

And you left.

You walked out of that hospital with the guilt of ruining a life.

---

What's better than a pity party?

Being alone, with an ice cream and Bridgett Jones playing on the TV.

Running away was not your style. But what more could you do?

You left for Greece, got on one of your father's many yacht and cried yourself to sleep every night.

They tried to call you, look for you but couldn't find you.

You only picked up the phone for your father.

"Lance was here today. His surgery went well but he is looking for you. He says he won't give up."

"How he used to hate me. He should be happy the wedding is off."

"I really don't think the boy will give up, Darling."

"Okay, can you set up a date for me?"

"What's your plan?"

"Show him the real me."

"Poor boy." your father said before he hung up the phone.

---

Throughout your entire life, you looked up to your father.

You never knew your mother but it was okay. Your father was enough.

Even as a young girl, he taught you stuff no one should know let alone a 5 year old. He always had a plan and he loved you.

But no 5 year old should have a panic room attached to their bedroom in case her father's enemies found him.

But it was your life.

When the idea of marriage came to play your father had a lot of options for you.

He allowed you to choose.

Lance Stroll caught your eye. He was so different, yet similar to you.

Many people didn't like him, thinking he was only an F1 driver because of his father. Something you could relate to. People often said how you are leaning on your father too much.

Not exactly the words they choose.

He was handsome and the world of professional drivers excited you.

And so, you went on a date with him.

That stupid date now turned your life upside down.

Falling in love was the goal. But after you ruined his life, you knew better than to keep going.

So, you set him free. No arranged marriage.

And yet, he kept looking for you.

Much like now, as he entered the restaurant, looking everywhere for you and he finally found you.

He wanted to run to you but one of your bodyguards stopped him and made him sit before they left you alone.

"Why are we here? I was hoping you would come home." he said as a waiter placed your drinks in front of you.

"Lance, I know you didn't want this marriage. So, I made it... dissapear."I know this is all because you feel guilty about my injury but it wasn't your fault and I'm fully healed now. You didn't ruin my career."

"But I could have. I could have and it was just such a simple moment, Lance. Such a tiny mistake on my part and-"

"I'm not a child! I'm sick of you, my father and the entire world pretending that I am one! I fell because of my own stupidity. I was watching you when I should have been watching where I was going. All because I fell in love with you and your smile just... It just made me so happy. Because in that moment, on that small country road, I wasn't a rich kid who drives in F1 and you weren't the daughter of a powerful Mobster. We were simply a man and a woman in love." you felt a tear run down your cheek as he let out a long sigh. "How dare you spend all those months smiling at me and then during the first problem you run away?"

His words hurt, but only because you knew he was right.

"One night when I was only fourteen, I thought it would be fun to sneak out with my friends. There was a boy I liked, Jake, he was older as well. He was nothing like you, Lance. He was... aggressive. I didn't see it then, but during that night, he tried to drug me and kill me. Apparently, my father was the reason his father died, so he decided to kill me to hurt my father. Everyone I ever knew only cared about me for my money. I know you understand that. I never knew love and it fucking scares me. Of course, I ran Lance. The first time I have ever felt love and I ruin it? Scares me so much. I rather lose you than have you hate me like others do."

"We are in the same boat, you just didn't notice me yet. We do have a lot to talk about but please, do not push me away. I'm only here to beg you to not leave me, we don't need marriage in the mix. Just please... give us a chance. I love you."

"I love you too. Fuck I do..."

You looked into his eyes and all of the plans you had for the night went out the window.

Your pity party was long over.

You wanted this man.

And you always got what you wanted.

[rowretro]

𝐋𝐄𝐎

✧Warnings: kissing, mafia hoon, blood, suggestive, dead body, detailed murder

✧Synopsis: Sunghoon is a very innocent man, a beautiful, sexy wife, 3 kids, a 12 year old girl and a 4 year old boy. He's a perfect family man who owned a homely café. He's just an ordinary person.... until one of the most feared mafia men paid a visit after a dreadful incident.

✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧

"Honey, I'm sorry I have to overwork a few late hours at the office... I missed work so many times so I have a lot to do, I'll come home tomorrow..." Y/n said, from the airport as Sunghoon sighed. He had a small pout on his face as he looked at Ryuu "Sweetheart, must you work so late?" he asked as y/n smiled at him "I missed a lot of time, so many clothes to design for the new set, im sorry, I'll see you, I love you" she said as she hung up. Sunghoon stared at his home as he stared back at Ryuu, lying on his front on the soft blanket laid out on the floor "You aren't suspicious of me too are you?" Sunghoon asked as Ryuu squished his cheeks. "Of couwse not daddy!" he said as Sunghoon tilted his head "Why son?" "because youw my daddy!" he exclaimed as Sunghoon lifted him in the air, turned over and palced him on his chest.

Y/n didn't want to have her suspicions about him, she loves him, she always has, that sweet little nerd who hesitated to ask her out, Sunghoon. She trusts him, the man she trusted enough to have a baby with, to marry, trust with her deepest darkest secrets. She's just doing this as a formality is all... Just so everyone else knows, Well specifically the law. She made her way to board the flight back to Busan, where the orphanage he grew up in was. All the while, Officer Lee was sitting before a prisoner, who was caught in the big drug deal that was brought out by the Park Mafia. Hence he will know what happened to Leo.

"Listen Choi Yeonjun is it?...I hear you have your death sentence in about 3 weeks, I can bring up a petition, I have the power to cancel that out... You just need to do one thing.... Tell me the truth of what happened to Park Daeheon's son... LEO Park..." Heeseung tempted in a serious manner as the male before him started drumming on the table, glancing up at him "I've raised Leo for Daehoon, and I'm bound to die either way.... I'll tell you only because Im going to die anyway.... Park Daehoon treasured his only son.... but he treasured his mafia more, a mafia he'd do sacrifices for, in order to make sure his business runs successfully, the sacrifices started with animals, then eventually humans...." He started.

.FLASHBACK.

"Where the fucks' Leo? is he out messing about?! our drugs have been stopped by the police Goddamit what's going on?!" Daeheon complained over the call to his brother Park Jeonghan. "He's on it now, just trust him, ill be there in a minute." He replied simply hanging up. The man got in his car nodding at the driver. All the while, the police were yelling at the gang, having seized their vehicle. "Who's that smoking?! move out the way you fuckers, officer go drag the smoker here." the head officer said.

However, the armed gangsters moved out the way, and there, lying on his back, leg crossed over the other, a very fine man, smoking, his silver hair recognizable anywhere. "L-Leo? this is your truck?! fuck- let the vehicles go bro! sorry sir... we were told to seize them, so we assumed some other gang was using your route!" The officer excused, bowing nonstop as Leo smoked, sitting up. He was about to go for his usual violent mannerisms, and beat the shit out of those fuckers, but something caught his eye. A pink bow, a very long one... no two long ones, braided into the girl's black hair.

"Don't let it happen again." He coldly spat as he got up walking away. Leo hid by a tree as he stared at the girl, she looked as if she was in here teenage years, just about his age specifically, like 18? He never really paid attention to girls, or anything really, his whole childhood he just did what his father told him... as a child him and his uncle Yeonjun would visit the orphanage every now and then. Leo thought high school was useless for him, he was already smart, he studied so much in his free time, but when he saw his angel enter a high school, he regretted his decision of not going.

Since that day Leo had kept his eye on her, he secretly found out everything about her, he wanted to change for her, he even started wearing glasses, and suits, he found out her name's y/n.... y/n such a beautiful name, especially to put Park next to that name. She's everything he could ask for, he sworn to himself he'll always take care of her.... but he'll have to change for that. "Dad. I want out." he said as the man frowned "out on what" "this gang- mafia- drug business.... what we're doing is wrong, and I don't want to be a part of this." He said as the man glared at him.

He took note of his son's sudden random changes, every time he smiles, whenever he leaves the house at a specific time. Daeheon has been tailing his son. who led him straight to his next sacrifice. Y/n. In order for his mafia business to go without any issues, he needs his rock. Leo. Therefore the distraction needs to go... "WHAT THE FUCK?!" Leo yelled, as he knelt before the unconscious y/n. "Sorry son.... sacrifices must be made." Daehoon said as he tried to drag y/n's unconscious body away.

Yet Leo didn't let him. He beat the fuck out of him no matter what, then a suddenly he had a big blow to his head... he turned around to see his uncle Jeonghan. "if we don't have you you think this whole thing will crumble?!" he asked darkly as he glanced up at his injured brother, Daeheon. "You'd kill your own flesh and blood for this?!.... well fuck. you." Leo coughed up some blood as he threw a lit matchstick at the warehouse filled with drugs, With a gunshot, he laid unconsious in Yeonjun's arms...

.END FLASHBACK.

"So.... is Leo dead?" he asked as Yeonjun looked at him silently "I saw with my two eyes officer, my lil boy, he tried save the one thing that made him human, and he died..... he died in my very arms, and his so called farther was the man who fucking.... sorry...." Yeonjun apologized after lashing out. "It's ok.... and this woman... any chance she's still alive?... if so what's her name?" Lee Heeseung asked "We never knew who she was... she died in the fire, she must've been an orphan too".

Y/n had no memory of anything that happened that night, she had lost her memory of that night and the 3 months before that, hence she never cared for the random nightmares she had. She came home, happy that she knows her dear Sunghoon is not Leo. She came home to find Sunghoon sitting on the floor by the window, Ryuu asleep on their shared bed. "He slept in our room? sorry I took so long babe, how have the kids been?" She asked as Sunghoon glared up at her slapping the letter, that proved his documents are true, on the floor "This came in the post for you..." he simply said as Y/n 's blood ran cold.

"I didn't care when Officer Lee asked, it faintly hurt when Cherry argued with me but you?! my own wife?!.... how could you peacefully sleep with me thinking I was another man huh?!!!" he yelled, crying as Y/n kneeled before him. "Goddamit why would you have that suspicion?! I fucking love you like crazy is that not enough?! we have to kids together we're fucking married!" he added as she sniffled. "Dad?.... are you crying?" Ryuu asked as Hoon wiped his tears away. "Don't worry sweetheart, daddy had a nightmare... I'll take care of him hmm?..." Y/n said as Ryuu snuggled his stuffed toy falling asleep.

"Sunghoon... I believe you, I'd never suspect you, I just had to gather evidence for officer Lee without hurting you... but me even doing so is hurting you... I know words can't fix what I did so..." She leant in, kissing him passionately, as he held onto her waist. His love, his y/n his vulnerable little sweetheart, oh how she falls for his tricks. Of course Park Sunghoon is Leo, but to believe Leo is dead, Sunghoon should exist in the same timeline as Leo... He had made many mistakes in his past, but was willing to change for his sweet girl... his darling y/n.

✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧

[gojo-enthusiast]

Jealous Ass Bitch ~ Toji Fushiguro One Shot

Master List <3

Word count: 800

Slight smut, 18+, MDI, Fluff, vulgar Toji bc when is he not, strong language.

“Fuccckkk I am in the worst fucking mood EVER!” You huff out, slamming the front door, kicking your shoes off. “Wow doll, what’s up with the language?” The big broad, vulgar speaking boyfriend of yours asks, with a lifted brow. “Says the one with the most foul language known to man.” You roll your eyes, plopping on the couch. Usually when you come home, even after a long day, you give your boyfriend Toji a kiss, and instantly lay with him on the couch, before you both go and take a shower to wash off the day.

Your boyfriend was a gangster, of course he would never tell you that. But the wounds on his knuckles and the way he came home with stitches on his arm told you otherwise.

“Hey, whatcha sittin’ so far away for?” He says, standing up, to walk over to you. “I’m not in the mood today.” You sigh. “What’s wrong big baby?” He teases, sitting down on the ground, grabbing your feet. You instantly try to pull them away saying— “No Toji, I’m sure they smell. I’ve been working all day.” You pout. “I have fucked ya on ya period, I’m not worried about stinky feet.” He chuckles, grabbing your feet, and starts massaging them. “So what happened pretty princess.” He looks up with those forest green eyes. You finally begin to tell him. You told him how the girl who works under you was calling you a liar, saying that Toji wasn’t really your boyfriend, you had never brought him by the office, so everyone thought he was someone you just said was your boyfriend so people would be off your back about marriage and stuff. You go on, telling him how you showed a picture to the girl, and she said he was to good looking for you, that she doubts that’s even your boyfriend. It ended up with you calling her a bitch, and telling her to quit being a “jealous ass bitch.” Which ended up getting you written up. Of course your boss understood your POV, but he said, “you just can’t call people a jealous ass bitch. It simply is unprofessional and disrespectful.”

“Sounds like a bitch.” Toji says, agreeing with you. “Yeah! That’s what I’m saying! Ugh! I mean I know I’m not the hottest, but I do deserve you.” You sigh, “hey Doll, of course you do. it’s me who doesn’t deserve you. You’re the hottest girl I’ve seen, and with the tightest pussy I’ve had.” He winks— “Ahhh Toji you’re so gross!” You laugh, he starts tickling your feet, moving up your legs, to your face, kissing you. “My pretty little girl.” He smiles. “Should I come by your job and fuck you right in front of her?” He smirks, “Toji! You’re so vulgar!” You laugh.

Well 3 days later, your gorgeous raven haired boyfriend does show up to your job, your favorite flowers in his hand, a bouquet, and a paper bag in his other. “Hey doll.” He says, leaning in kissing you. “To- what are you doing here?” You say chuckling to yourself. “I can’t bring my princess flowers and a gift?” He questions, “of course you can.” You smile.

“Hello! I’m Marie, you must be Toji! I didn’t know y/n had such a lovely looking friend.” The jealous ass bitch says. “Friend? I wouldn’t say the woman I fuck daily is my friend. I’d probably say my wife though.” He says with a smirk. “Oh— I didn’t know you were married Miss. Y/N!” She chuckles. “I’m not yet-“ you start to say, “Will be soon, ready to put a baby in this fine ass woman.” He smirks, kissing your lips and gripping your ass. “Just came by to show you that I’m very much real.” He whispers to the young girl.

“Princess I put some of your favorite snacks in the bag, and a little something to change into before you walk in the door tonight. You better be ready.” He says low enough for you to hear, but loud enough for Marie to hear. “Oh—“ your breathe hitches,

“I’ll see ya later sweet cheeks.” He smooches your cheek, “I’ll see ya later jealous ass bitch.” He smirks at Marie. She had her mouth wide open, covering her mouth and face in embarrassment. She sits at her desk, and for the rest of her time there she doesn’t mutter a word to you.

“Y/n HR wants to speak with you.” Your boss says at the end of the day. “no they don’t, because I fucking quit.” You say, slipping out the chair, grabbing your stuff, and going home to the man who’s about to help you celebrate your departure from the dead end job he’s been telling you to quit for months.

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

The gang + Tim & Curly dealing with a dark feminine lady who is oblivious to the fact she’s so seductive

<3

Ofccccc pookie

Ponyboy Curtis

-he gets so flustered by you

-with your low, sultry voice

-seriously you could ask him what time it is and he’d be like 🥵🥵🥵🥵

-and your dark but not quite gothic, feminine outfits

-he doesn’t know many other people like you

-he feels so immature next to you

-but you have a crazy ability to make him feel things he’s never felt before

-memorized different things about you

-he asked you out with your favorite kind of chocolate and you said yes

-super cute together

Johnny Cade

-whoa

-you’re like… his dream

-he’s really attracted to you

-he thinks about you a lot, especially late at night in the lot

-he never has enough courage to go up to you and do anything about it tho

-if you ever talk to him in school he’d be so quiet while internally screaming

-one day you see him with a black eye

-you put a delicate hand on his cheek, making sure he’s ok

-he never really got fully over that

-definitely touched his own cheek after you let go like wow

-until one day dally mentions you and Johnnycake

-well

-he gets a bit defensive

-which is when dallys like you like her don’t you

-and Johnny doesn’t answer, only the tips of his ears turning red

-so dally literally pushes him towards you

-and he finally asks you out, and you say yes

-you guys are so in love with eachother

Sodapop Curtis

-he sees you walk into the DX one day

-he’s immediately interested

-I mean,it’s not every day he sees a girl like you

-you have this certain confidence

-a suggestive smirk and perfect eyeliner

-it’s attractive to say the least

-before long he asks you out

-yall are cute though

-red rose x sunflower vibes from you both

Darry Curtis

-he sees you walking by the house

-fully pops his head out the window to get a better look

-hot damn

-you’re on his level

-I mean, he’s very attracted to you

-he started asking around about you and no one seemed quite to know much

-so he went up to you and found out for himself

-and even talking to you made his knees weak, you so effortlessly came off as seductive

-after a while you two become close friends and before long

-he asks you out and you ofc say yes

-very cute couple 10/10 you’re both very mature and supportive of eachother

-ponyboy would have a crush on you tho lowkey 💀

Dallas Winston

-holy shit

-it’s not often he sees someone like you around

-you two definitely met whenever he harassed you on the street

-you simply cross your arms, and turn to him with a coolly neutral stare

-“Talk like that again to me and I’ll cut off your most valuable asset.” You’d snarl, walking away

-and leaving him with a smirk on his face, but he stops making the remarks

-over time he asks you out and you eventually say yes after several rejections

-but you two are a good couple

-pretty scary to run into though

Two Bit Mathews

-he sees you and

-you honestly seem so… grounded it’s hard to make jokes about you

-but he somehow manages

-but whenever you let out that low chuckle in response to his stupid jokes

-oh girl you don’t even know what you’re doing to him 💀😭💅

-that’s when he realizes like oh my lord he has some feelings for you

-when you two end up dating

-you make an amazing couple

-you keep him grounded, and calm and he keeps you laughing and having fun

Steve Randle

-he didn’t even think you realized

-what you were doing

-leaning against that car in that low cut, short dress

- you raised your eyebrows

-and he realized he’d been staring for a solid five minutes

-he’s dumbstruck by you

-your car had broken down and he was helping you fix it

-when it was done you simply said “Thanks, handsome.”

-and tipped him quite well

-after a while of friendly banter you two get pretty flirty

-end up making out in your car

-then dating

-super cute together 🫶

Tim Shepard

-it’s giving mobster/gangster wife tbh

-he was in love with you as soon as he saw you

-seducing eyes, a charming nature, cunning… never hot headed but always aware

-you were absolutely gorgeous

-and you make his knees weak in a way that most people aren’t able to

-with the most everyday things

-you’d also make an amazing trophy wife

-but you were so much more

-clever, you knew how to get anyone down on their knees in less than a minute

-he knew you’d be a valuable ass…. Asset to him

-you guys are a power couple fr

-he catcalled you when he met you like Dally 💀💀

Curly Shepard

-you both clash

-you were seductive, dark, mature, with deep eyes and a sharp look that could kill

-him…. Well he was a reckless punk

-you two ran in the same circles though

-and became quite good friends

-you kept him out of a lot of situations

-and looked good doing it too

-he doesn’t think you realize how crazy you drive him

-even just looking at him, biting your lip whenever you patch him up in concentration

-he checks you out when he thinks you aren’t looking

-you’ve known this entire time

-and whenever you confronted him about it you two end up making out

-the rest is history

[tommyshelby87]

SNIPPET PEAKY BLINDERS FIC

Hi everyone,

I am writing a Peaky Blinders fic and its not done by a long shot, but I wanted to hear what you guys think. I'd be very honored if you could take the time to read and let me know what you think <3

Evelyn is very heavily based on Rachel Weisz's character from The Mummy, but with my own twist to it. Warning: dark Tommy at times, he may be a little darker than on the show, but I do think that it makes sense as a whole.

I'm tagging some people at the end, do let me know if you want to be added or removed from my taglist <3

Premise:

Thomas Shelby and Evelyn Carnahan are set for an arranged marriage. Evelyn's father is in financial trouble and Thomas is looking for a mother for Charlie, after Grace's passing. Is this a disaster in the making? Or can the bookish Evelyn find a way to the ruthless gangsters heart? Lets find out.

“So. Evelyn. Are you any good with children?” Thomas Shelby asked in a gruff manner, his low voice rumbling as he eyed the woman across from him up and down. His blue eyes took in every little detail, as if she were prey in his grasp. “I have a son, Charlie. You'll need to take care of him.” Evelyn stared back at him wide-eyed, her hands neatly folded on her long beige skirt. Her simple white striped blouse formed a strong contrast to the wealth around her, especially emphasized by the plain black scarf that decorated her neck. Her small black glasses were high up on her nose, but occasionally slid down, revealing her light-brown eyes. Her brown curls were done up in a practical bun, a few loose curls framing her face. All in all she looked far too sweet and conservative to even be in this well-off mansion, with the leader of the Peaky Blinders. He took out a cigarette, raising a bored brow at this mousy little creature. “I was hoping that a nanny would be an option for your boy.” she hesitantly stated. “And you may call me Evie for short, all my friends do,” she added, warmly. He raises a brow and chuckles some, sending her a rather arrogant gaze. “A nanny? Well then, do enlighten me..Evelyn” he asked, his tone laced with venom. As he did, he lit his cigarette and inhaled. Evie was taken aback by his cold demeanour, even while she did her best to be pleasant. But she swallowed hard and tried to explain her predicament, in a shaky voice. “Yes, well, I work, you see. And while I'm at work, I wont be able to look after little Charlie, so...” she tried to explain. Thomas blew a puff of smoke in her direction, staring her down intently. “You don't work as my wife.” “Well, you see, I've had this job for so long, I love it so, I do not wish to give it up.”  “You don't work. As my wife,” he repeated, gesturing at her with the cigarette bud between his fingers. When she opened her mouth to protest again, he blew another cloud of smoke her way, smirking lightly. Evelyn gasped at the rude gesture and got up from her seat. “What did you do that for? It's disgusting. And yes, I will keep my job, thank you.” “Sit down.” Evelyn stared at him, no idea what this rude man was ordering her around for.

Taglist:

@cillianscupid @duckietie @novashelby @furious-mangomango @beastofburdenxo @maeplaysbass @forgottenpeakywriter @nojustnobro @xxiamtiebrousxx @wonderlanddreamer @anukulee

[marimayscarlett]

Small list of unrealistic wishes for the 2024 tour

Cautiously brainstormed and finely curated by @gothtoast @wizzardclown and me, this list is filled with delusions, longing and thirst - a girl can dream, right?

1. Stage outfits or lack thereof:

Schneider's Völkerball outfit (I can imagine that this is a rather collective wish) - or at least Schneider in his mail shirt again

as well as a comeback for Richard's Völkerball aesthetic (my dying wish)

a ban for Olli to use the color black. We actually want to see the beloved cryptid (especially with some jewelry made by his wife) 🤍

how about just a Mann gegen Mann aesthetic? or at least öberkörperfrei, mandatory for everyone

2. Anything concerning (body) hair & accessories

Petition for every member who already had long hair in the past to let it grow again 👌 (especially Flake and Schneider)

Earrings should definitively make a comeback (looks in the general direction of 90's Richard)

Richard's mohawk. Please. I would pay money to see it again on him

a legal veto, banning moustaches across the whole band and basically for everyone who ISN'T boxer!Richard

maybe throw in some onesided contact lenses in remembrance of cyborg!Richard and gangster!Schneider?

3. Shenanigans on stage

NO ❗❌ mic access for Till on Paul's side of the stage or anywhere else

more or at least just as much Paulchard interaction on stage as during the last few tour legs

Feuer frei with the fire-eater masks 🔥

and finally: bring back Bück dich with the whole skit: Frau Schneider going ballistic on the puppies, Richard living out his DJ Daddy Kruspe fantasy right on stage, and Till and Flake get the chance for some intimate togetherness 🙏

[legallybrunettedotcom]

hi! can I ask you for crime movie recommendations, or just a list of your personal favorites? I've been getting super into crime fiction recently (books and movies), and I'm making a watchlist of movies I want to check out next. heist movies, gangster films, thrillers, anything involving criminals is interesting to me, and I'd really love to hear about your faves! have a nice day <3

hiii, Estelle! oh I love a good crime movie! I grew up on gangster and mob movies tbh so there's some obvious choices like the godfather and goodfellas. continuing with Scorsese, I love casino. I think it's somewhat underrated Scorsese, idk i just don't see it mentioned that often, but it's super fun. the departed as well, people talked shit about it, but it's great. then mean streets, serpico, taxi driver, dog day afternoon, heat, collateral, thief, chinatown. pretty much every Tarantino ever, obviously reservoir dogs and pulp fiction, jackie brown is my favourite and the sort of song of the movie is across 110th street from the movie of the same name, so I'd def recommend that one, it's an underrated flick. heist movie-wise, ocean's eleven kind of the king here. then set it off, bound, inside man, widows, the italian job (the original), topkapi and rififi are underrated ones, the asphalt jungle, the friends of eddie coyle, the taking of pelham 123, the thomas crown affair (the remake), dead presidents, out of sight, point break, the driver, hustlers, a fish called wanda is sooo funny. sexy beast is such a great and intense movie.

if you'd enjoy something criminal and psychosexual, I'd recommend two 60s movies the housemaid and who killed teddy bear? the cook, the thief, the wife and her lover is an insane sexy one. blue velvet fits here as well. Guy Ritchie made the same movie like 4 times tbh, but I love snatch and lock, stock and two smoking barrels, I think the man from uncle is also a fun one. Brian De Palma is good at corny and sleazy and I kinda love his scarface. body double is silly but I love a good voyeuristic movie. along those lines you obviously have rear window and peeping tom, and then to continue with Hitchcock, I love rope, psycho, and think dial m for murder is quite overlooked. natural born killers, true romance and the doom generation for something stupid and bloody. mandatory Fincher recs like se7en and zodiac. I love the usual suspects, it has that twist at the end that for me personally works even upon rewatches. another underrated movie is joy house with beautiful Jane Fonda and Alain Delon in his prime. faster pussycat kill kill is just pure fun and sleaze and gorgeous ladies. I love lady snowblood and scorpion with Meiko Kaji but I know you've seen those. tokyo drifter is a stylish one as well. some obvi french new wave recs like breathless and pierrot le fou. I'd say there's nothing quite like the atmospheric the night of the hunter. I love drive too, it's all style and the only substance is blood. uncut gems and good time are quite good too. out of something extra new, I enjoyed love lies bleeding more than I expected. seven psychopaths and in bruges for something cynical and silly. then fargo, no country for old men, the big lebowski. filth and trainspotting for something utterly dirty and disgusting. not to forget Hannibal Lecter, we can't not mention the silence of the lambs and manhunter. also badlands, dirty harry, carlito's way, eastern promises, the third man, the big sleep, double indemnity, gun crazy, bonnie and clyde, foxy brown, american psycho, the talented mr ripley, prisoners. something more along crime drama strange days, fallen angels, the city of the rising sun and made in hong kong.

[genericpuff]

Do you have any recommendations for comics on tapas? I'm rather new to the app so I wondered if you had any. Sorry if someone already asked!

Oh, so many! Tapas was one of my OG homes waaay back in the day, when I was still getting into drawing comics (back then it was gag-a-days). I spent a lot of time reading comics on there and it was one of my first introductions to comic platforms in general (next to SmackJeeves, RIP).

Rock and Riot - 1950's LGBTQ+ gangster teenagers getting into shenanigans and turf wars. Very cute and fun and adorable <3

Monster Pop! - Monster girls who are besties! This one has some real gorgeous art especially if you like the original vibes of S1 LO, lots of bright beautiful colors and lineless shapes. The creator of this comic, mayakern, now develops comfortable and eco-friendly skirts with her wife and pals for plus-sized folks! (they have pockets!)

A BETTER PLACE - Young girl Hannah and her little brother Theo find something cool in the woods. Children becoming gods. This was one of those comics that had some REALLY cool "you had to be there" time travel elements that aren't quite as immersive in hindsight (I was one of those people who were there and DAMN it was awesome), but it's still absolutely worth the read and it operates as a sort of prequel to another one of Harry Bogosian's comics on the platform.

Fail by Error - This comic is long since done with, its creator having moved on to bigger things, but at one point in time, this was the titan series on Tapas, before the platform became predominantly BL's and isekais. Fail by Error was truly one of the best of the best of Tapas-hosted comics from its golden era of comedy comics. Also the creator made art for me once and I still have it! <3

(my babieees <3)

RandoWis - funny gag strip is funny ! He also draws an MMO-themed comic that - coincidentally - when I double checked, looks like it stopped updating in 2021 until two days ago. So yeah, good time to check that one out too!

Undying Happiness - Naomi takes a chance on love and decides to meet up with a guy she met online. He turns out to not look like the guy in the photos in the most hilariously absurd way.

Deep Fried Pudge - Okay, this is a really weird inclusion because like... this comic isn't good. This comic is painfully bad. Like, "roll your eyes into the back of your skull at your dad's stupid jokes" bad. This comic has not stopped updating daily since 2012. It literally just had its 11 year anniversary. Every update is just a single panel either making some pun or just stating very innocent, inoffensive opinions. There are four thousand of these things. And every single one is done with the same art style and joke structure as before, the comics from today look and feel like a 7 year old made them the exact same way they did 10 years ago, as if trapped in a hellish time capsule of its own design, and I love it, I freaking love it. Its existence quite literally defies human nature. Reading it and attempting to comprehend why it exists is like staring into the eyes of some Eldritch god that chose peace over chaos. Pudge will outlive all of us. Pudge will outlive the universe. All hail Pudge.

[dangermousie]

Thoughts on all the dramas I don’t feel like making separate posts on:

1. FL of My Wife’s Double Life continues to be brain dead. She must have fallen off a roof one time too many during one of her missions. But the drama is still cute and ML got tortured in a dungeon so it’s not all glum. This said what I really want is for this to turn into BL and for ML to hook up with his former enemy from ministry of justice who now likes him and developed respect and now they must work together. Oh well.

2. Finished ep 7 of My Stand In and my patience for either of the main characters is nonexistent by now. Ming is a spoiled rich sociopath who would fit right into one of my costume cdramas as a spoiled royal having live targets for parties like someone from Princess Agents and Joe clearly doesn’t speak Russian and thus is unfamiliar with the saying of stepping twice on the same rake. He seems determined to repeat all his past bad choices and cause himself pain and I have limited sympathy for someone like that. Also they totally botched the whole “Ming was obsessed with Tong because seeing his back in a movie was Ming’s gay awakening. Only it wasn’t Tong’s back” reveal from the novel.

3. I have dropped Fox Spirit Matchmaker by now so have no comments on the substance of that drama but I continue to be beyond boggled at iQIYI seeing a drama whose ratings fall every day and who by now struggles to stay at 8k heat index…and giving it a four day hiatus. That could be fraught even for a drama with a steady or rising popularity but for a failing drama it’s like a coup de grace. I do not get that.

4. That High School Gangster drama continues to be popcorn fun (and despite what they are saying, they are not hiding the gay in any way well) but the true entertainment is in its MDL comment section which continues to be the most insane comment section I’ve seen over there which is saying a lot.

[coolgirl32]

Being the wife of Kim Dan would include (hc)

So this is my first time writing this fanfic so please do not go harsh on me also do not repost or copyright my work or anybody else's work don't forget to follow and like and do not forget to request what you want me to write next anyway let's get on with the post also this is an au so there are a few things that are different but the story is still the same also I do not own jinx nor the characters this is all just a fanfiction so enjoy. A small mentions of sexual harassment

(I could just love him forever also why are there no fanfics about Kim dan anyway there should be fanfics about Kim Dan)

1. Being loyal to him

2. Supporting him no matter what either financially or mentally or physically support is always wonderful in a marriage and very important next to loyalty

3. Comforting him when he had a rough day at work and when he got fired from the hospital he worked at, but you took care of the Doctor who hurt your husband, you ended up suing the hospital and the Doctor who sexually harassed your husband, the doctor eventually got fired and arrested.

4. Making sure the apartment you both live in, it is nice and clean and it's safe to live in.

5. Being his lawyer you went to law school for a few years and graduated with honors and got paid very well because of what you do as a lawyer, you eventually made sure that the gangsters who kept pestering you and your husband got arrested and never came back.

6. Cuddles lots and lots of cuddles you and him always have cuddle sessions and usually you end up falling asleep and taking naps, because of how much hard work you too have been doing.

7. Paying all of his grandmother's hospital bills and all the other bills and knowing how to be financially stapled.

8. Making dinner together and having fun .

9. Getting a back massage every time your back hurts and repaying the favor with something better.

10. Sleeping in on day offs and actually relaxing together and not having to worry about work and other bad stuff.

I hope everybody liked it and I'm serious there should be more fanfics about this man I feel sorry for him and he deserves so much love and somebody that loves him for him and that will support him he needs somebody like that anyway have a good summer.