#Bobby Mafia Au

[mintsuwu]

ALRIGHT IDEA TIME-

Smiling Critters AU in which Bubba Bubbaphant is a detective and with the help of his assistant Bobby Bearhug, they solve crimes and mysteries together as they try to stop the villain under the alias of "The Prototype" and his henchmen.

I am still working on the other critters, but for now all I can say is that Dogday is Poppy's Bodyguard/Guardian (as she is very well known but also hunted down by evil people) and LoolaLamb is a singer... That is, when she isn't doing "tasks" as a hitwoman working for Catnap.

I am still thinking of a name for this concept, but view it as a strange mix between the Smiling Critters & The Great Mouse Detective, Skullgirls, The Moonshine Mob (from the Cuphead DLC), Cats Don´t Dance and Who Framed Roger Rabbit-

The mafia and detective vibes have come to haunt me (?

[cosien]

Mama's little attack dog

[doodledoesthing3]

Are you interested in reading a Smiling Critters fanfic where CatNap has abandonment issues and thinks his friends are hallucinations? Well you’re in luck, The Smiling Voices is just what you need! This fanfic is set in an alternate universe with small different events before the Hour of Joy. It will have 25 chapters of laughter, gays, trauma, and crime. You can read it on AO3 and Wattpad, it also has a playlist in case you want to listen to music that’s associated with the fic!

In this au, the cartoon version of the smiling critters and other PlayTime Co. toys are AIs for the Big Bodies Initiative. They get fused in with the souls and have no memories of the soul’s past life, only small glimpses of those memories if something is wrong with their coding (which happened a lot after the ai was transferred over to the BBI and nothing could be done to stop it). Once they die, they go back to the cartoon world with the memories of the real world while the soul disappears forever.

However, this fanfic does include character death, gore, mental health issues, addictions, and abandonment issues. If you are not comfortable reading a fanfic that involves traumatic stuff like this, then don’t read it. (Or complain about it in the comments, tags exist for a reason you know!)

CatNap wasn’t able to go to the real world due to a problem within his programming. So they made a copy of his AI to fix the problem way too quickly and placed the copied version into the BBI CatNap which led to the events of the game. They sent the original CatNap AI program back to the cartoon world, but none of his friends are there. They were all transferred over to the BBI versions of themselves.

He looks for answers for his friends’ whereabouts, it always leads to nowhere but it does give him some clues (Rarely). CatNap gets wrapped into different shenanigans over the course of 13 years which leads to him unwilling changing his appearance and attitude towards things.

His eye bags got bigger. He lost a chunk of his ear in a fight. He ‘borrowed’ DogDay’s old messenger bag to carry items and tools on him at all times. He became a coffee addict because he wanted to stay awake during the day. His sleep schedule is an utter wreck. He got into trouble with the rat and mouse mafia, but their people still enjoy CatNap’s presence for some reason? So he’s still allowed to be in their territory despite what the Rat mafia boss says.

One day, he goes behind DogDay’s house to see the sunset, only to hear screams. He rushes into DogDay’s house only to find hallucinations of his missing friends. How great.

However, DogDay and friends have returned to the cartoon world after their deaths in the factory. They came back with scars on the bodies, specifically scars that caused their deaths. They’re quite confused as to why CatNap is acting like nothing happened in the factory. A common case of major miscommunication!

Will CatNap ever find out the truth about his friends?

Will the Smiling Critters return to some form of normalcy?

Find out as CatNap and The Voices (the other smiling critters) go on wacky adventures! Who knows what will happen? :)

I hope you enjoy it!

Character sheets - 1 -

Voice Claims - 1 -

[queen-of-boops]

Chapter 2: Under My Skin

Read here on ao3.

Tag list: @future-mrs-suresh @0shewrites0 @kunepie (let me know if you want to be added!)

PLEASE CHECK THE TAGS BEFORE READING!!!!

[savy160]

“What does he want?” Buck asked softly.

Jonah glanced in the rearview mirror before turning his gaze to the road. Buck exhaled before muttering insults under his breath like the overgrown man child he was. Shaking his head, Jonah pulled up to the docks.

Buck took a deep breath before opening the car door. He followed Jonah up the gangway towards his father’s yacht. The white boat practically glowed from the moonlight reflecting from the water.

All Buck knew was that someone was about to enter a watery grave. As always, he hoped it wasn’t himself.

Or

Phillip Buckley and Bobby Nash are on Athena’s most wanted list, Hen and Chim keep anything from being pinned on their boss, Buck is the only heir to the largest dealer in LA, and Eddie is Buck’s bodyguard. The mafia AU absolutely no one asked me for.

[vivwritesfics]

Mafia!Bob AU

Bob Floyd, arms dealer for The Daggers, and, most importantly, sweet loving boyfriend

Short mafia Bob blurb

As Bob sat at her vanity, he pulled his glasses from his face. It was his least favourite part of his morning, swapping his wire rimmed glasses for his glasses.

She watched from their bed, looking pretty in his clothes, as he struggled. "Bobby," she said as she climbed from beneath the comforter. She walked over and sat herself on his lap, completely blocking his view of the mirror as she helped him to put in his contact lenses.

As he did, Bob held onto her hips, squeezing slightly. "There," she said as soon as she had popped the second one in. "Now everybody can see your pretty eyes."

Robert Floyd hated wearing his contact lenses. He loved his glasses, but they made him look so nerdy. And you can't look nerdy when you work for Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell. Not when you're the arms dealer for The Daggers.

"I shouldn't be home too late tonight, Bun," he said and leaned forward to kiss her noise. "Are you doing anything nice today?"

She shrugged and laid her head on his shoulder. "Think Mickey wants to come to the store with me?" She asked as she blinked up at him.

"I think Mickey has no choice," he said and kissed the top of her head. He would have given anything to spend the day with her, would have given anything to swap places with Mickey. But he couldn't, not unless he wanted to face Mav's wrath (and he'd never expose her to that).

Bob pulled his wallet from his pocket and placed it in her hands. "No spending limit for you, my baby," he said and pulled her in her a kiss. "Get anything you'd like."

He hated leaving her, but worked called. Bob stood up, still holding her as he walked over to the bed and dropped her on it. "I'll miss you, bunny," he whispered and kissed her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled at his hair, desperate to keep him there with her. "Stay," she whispered against his lips.

Bob let out a groan "I'm sorry, bun," he said and pressed his forehead against her own.

Reluctantly, she let him go. She watched as Bob walked out of the bedroom, leaving her there wearing a pout.

It had become a daily ritual. Her, reluctant to let him go, and Bob, reluctant to leave her.

She went shopping, taking Mickey (Bob's best friend and the man who was charged with protecting her while Bob worked) from shop to shop.

Bob couldn't help but think about her as he worked. As he took inventory, as he sorted orders for Ice Man, he was thinking of nothing but her.

But then Jake and Bradley came knocking on his office door. They didn't wait for him to say anything before they walked in and threw their guns on his desk. "We want an upgrade," said Jake.

Bob picked up the gun. "Guys, how do you think this works?" He couldn't stop himself from asking. "Do you think you can upgrade your guns like this is Grand Theft Auto?"

"No," Bradley said immediately. "We just want something better."

Bob let out a sigh as he checked through his books. "Fine, I'll see what I can do."

The old Bob wouldn't have so easily given them what they wanted. The old Bob would have made them stick with their old guns until they damaged them beyond repair. But he'd gone soft, and it was all because of her.

At the end of the day, Bob couldn't wait to get back to her. He locked up the gun store, checked over his books one last time, and made his way back to her.

"Bunny!" Bob called the moment he walked into their lavish apartment. A fond smile crossed his face at the sight of the shopping bags by the door.

He pushed on, past the living room and straight into the bathroom. This part of his day had also become a ritual, but a comforting one at that.

After a day of dealing weapons and selling them in the cities, Bob's favourite part of his day was when he got to wash the grime away and take out his goddamn contacts.

And then it was a careful walk to their bedroom to put his wire framed glasses on.

When he walked into the bedroom, she was just a pretty blob on the bed. Bob placed his glasses on his face and looked down at her, dressed in pretty lingerie that Bob had never seen before.

Pretty lingerie that she'd with his money. "Holy shit, Bunny," he said as he looked down at her. But there with little else he had to say before he was shedding off his suit and climbing on top of her.

@nurse-sainz this is for youuuuuu

[thedamselzelda]

Two Hearts Torn

Featuring: Fyodor Dostoevsky & Dazai Osamu

Summary: Broken, beaten, battered, and bruised. What keeps a heart from beating as one? For two, it's torn between losses and consequences of years past. However, in this twisted game, only calculated moves will stitch these hearts back together.

word count: 7.7k+, fem!reader, HOTD!reader, nsfw (oral sex m! receiving, unprotected sex, quick moment of domestic abuse [possessive Fyodor, very unhealthy relationship]), reader referred to with other names (no use of y/n), Russian words used (general meanings at the end), reader dissociates.

Author Chat: After an overwhelming poll, I have written another part of this story (tbh, I was a little too happy for it to win)! This part isn't as dark as I originally wrote it, as I couldn't bring myself to slander Fyodor too much. What can I say, the man is my #3 (behind my b-day buddy Chuya and my #1 Dazai ofc).

I also feel the need to mention before this part that this is an installment apart of the Beast AU. Yes, reader is married to Fyodor, however, the story is primarily a Dazai x reader story.

Hope you guys enjoy!

previous part ~ next part | LBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

You stared at your reflection in the ornate vanity mirror, the face looking back at you feeling strangely unfamiliar. With delicate movements, you began to remove the bobby pins from your hair, allowing each strand to cascade onto your shoulders. Your eyes, a striking violet, searched your own gaze in the mirror, desperately grasping for clarity amidst the whirlwind of memories from the night. A weary sigh escaped your lips as you closed your eyes and rested your head in your hands, succumbing to the flood of memories about him. The lingering effect he had on you was both frustrating and thrilling, a contradiction that left you feeling dizzy.

There was no doubt in your mind about the reason for his visit - he came solely to see you. The realization sent a shiver down your spine. Yet, his unexpected question about what it would take for you to leave the House of the Dead, to abandon your husband, had caught you completely off guard, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

You extended your arm forward, observing the glistening ring on your finger. The alexandrite stone caught the dim light of your boudoir, its colors shifting mesmerizingly from a deep emerald to a rich purple as you turned your hand. Regret washed over you like a cold wave, seeping into your bones as you contemplated your choice of gem. The stone, his birthstone, now felt like a silent betrayal, a constant reminder of the man you couldn't forget, couldn't refrain from loving despite everything. Disgust rose in your throat, bitter and biting, as you berated yourself for not choosing a simple, neutral diamond instead. The realization that your heart had once again acted without your conscious consent left you feeling raw and exposed.

Your mind drifted to the circumstances of your marriage to Fyodor. The decision felt rushed, almost impulsive in hindsight. It served no real purpose for either of you beyond Fyodor's antiquated notion of propriety. His timid words echoed in your memory, tinged with an air of pious restraint:

"I could not lay with you unless we were wed..."

You rolled your eyes at the thought, irritation prickling beneath your skin like tiny needles. Initially, aligning yourself with Fyodor had been a calculated move, a way to strike back at Dazai and the unfair hand of cards you had been dealt in life. But over time, it had evolved into something more complex, a relationship built on stolen moments - chaste kisses on hands and lips, always restrained by his devout adherence to religious principles. His unwavering commitment to God frustrated you; for what cruel deity would curse you with such an ability?

The irony of your situation wasn't lost on you. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined yourself married, not even to Dazai. Life within the Mafia, and now in the House of the Dead, seemed incompatible with such conventional milestones. You had been content in your life with Dazai, before his gradual descent into whatever labyrinthine plans now consumed him.

Now, you found yourself in a precarious position. Isolated, you focused your efforts on seizing The Book from Dazai, the key to Fyodor's grand plan of overwriting this hellish reality. The weight of this mission hung heavy on your shoulders, a constant reminder of the complex web of loyalties, desires, and regrets that now defined your existence.

A soft click of your bedroom door stole you from your thoughts, your eyes shifting in the mirror to the figure entering your room. Fyodor's reflection appeared behind you, his rich purple eyes tired, as if he had paused his work to come and deal with you.

"Oh, moya lyubov', I wasn't expecting you." The lie slipped easily from your lips, even as you knew he would see through it. You had expected him, especially after how easily Nikolai had caught on to the change in your demeanor. Damn Nikolai...

"Moya zhena, I hear you've had quite the exciting day." His voice was smooth, yet laced with an undercurrent of something you couldn't quite place.

You made no indication of moving from your position as you looked up at Fyodor in the mirror. His weary smile was laced with fondness, yet you could detect icy undertones beneath the surface. He drifted over to you, his movements graceful despite his apparent exhaustion. His hands, cool and slender, came to rest upon your shoulders as he leaned down to place a kiss upon your undone hair.

His warm breath caressed your scalp, his lips parting as if on the verge of speech. Before he could utter a word, you smoothly began recounting your evening, carefully omitting any mention of Dazai's appearance.

"It was so tedious," you sighed, reaching for your makeup remover. "And now I'll have to get the carpet replaced." You dabbed at your face, the cool liquid erasing the traces of the night. Fyodor merely hummed in response, his intense gaze following your every movement.

"I suppose I'll have to search for a new group to take on the Port Mafia," you continued, your tone deliberately casual. "Maybe I should seek help from that Detective Agency. Perhaps they would work for the right price."

"No," Fyodor interjected sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. You turned; shock evident on your features. He had never disagreed with your suggestions before, always supporting your efforts to obtain The Book.

His knuckles grazed your cheek, sending an involuntary chill down your spine. His lips curled into a malicious smile, violet eyes glittering dangerously in the dim light.

"Moy dorogoy, you've never been a terrible liar," he purred, his voice silky smooth yet laced with venom. "However, the secrets you keep have always been so apparent."

Your eyes narrowed as you searched the storm brewing before you. Suddenly, his hand wrapped around your throat, swift and firm, forcing you to your feet. The pressure increased, making each breath a struggle.

His face hovered mere millimeters from yours, his breath fanning over your lips. "You forget yourself, moya zhena. You belong to me. I know every move you make here, malen'kaya mysh'."

A desperate squeak escaped you as you gasped for air, your fingers clawing at his hand. "I know, please," you managed to choke out.

"He was here tonight," Fyodor hissed, his eyes blazing. "And I hear you two did more than just talk."

He released you abruptly, causing you to stumble back. You massaged your throat, gulping in fresh air. After regaining your composure, a smirk played on your lips. "All this because I danced with him?"

In a fluid motion, the back of his hand struck across your face, swinging back up to grasp the back of your head firmly. His voice dropped to a menacing whisper, "He is still in love with you. From how you feign the mere mention of him, I would suspect that you, moya lyubyashchaya zhena, also still love him."

A pain sparked upon your lips as you smirked, a breathy laugh escaping as you slipped into Russian, "Budto. It's as you suggested; I have initiated another plan by indulging him in a dance is all."

His eyes softened slightly, his grip on your scalp loosening. "Speak."

"He wants me to come back, to rejoin the Mafia," you explained, the words flowing effortlessly. "We can use that. Let me slip back into his good graces. He's bound to eventually have me up in his office. There, I can do what none of those assassins could, and take The Book for ourselves."

His anger was quickly replaced at your obedience, a soft smile reappearing. "Chudesnyy, moya lyubov'. I believe that is a great plan."

His eyes darted to your lips, urging you to quickly grasp the collar of his white buttoned shirt and pulled him into a kiss. His eyes fluttered closed as he kissed you lightly. You could feel him reveling in your compliance. His hand drifted from the nape of your neck, down to your waist, pulling you flush to him. His lips danced among yours, fervently melting.

Your fingers deftly toyed with the hem of his pants, coaxing a chuckle from your lover’s lips. He hummed as your body pressed against his, your hands slipping past the cloth to grasp his hardened cock. You smile at his breathy moan by your mere touch, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"What you do to me, ty lisitsa." His eyes trailed you as you dipped down to your knees. His fingers combed into your hair, pulling every last strand from your face. Your eyes panned to his as you pulled his pants down slightly to free his hardened, leaky member. One hand rested upon his hip, the other supporting him as your tongue slips out, barely brushing against his tip, tasting the salty cream from his slit. He hissed, rocking himself forward slightly to you. You hum, releasing his gaze, closing your eyes as you opened your mouth to fully take him in.

"Ugn, so beautiful, moya lyubov'." His praises reach your ears; his lips uttering your name, like a thankful prayer to his God above.

His tip reaches the back of your throat, and your eyes squeeze together to feign from gagging. You draw back slightly, barely parting your lips to allow your tongue to trail behind. Your hand pumping in your lips wake, applying gentle pressure. 

He gathered your hair into one hand, using the freedom to brush a dripping tear from your cheek. "Takaya khoroshaya devochka."

Your lips close around his cock once more, dipping yourself to push your nose flush with his hips. You suppress a gag once more as your throat spasms against his length. 

"I must have you, moya lyubov'," his voice shaky, nearly causing you to laugh at his submissive behavior. You don’t release him just yet, however, gently sucking as you bob upon him. His knees slightly buckle at your defiance, earning a tug of your hair, pulling you from him.

He pulls you to stand by your hair, a slight burn forming from the aggressive pull. He releases you, grasping at the vanity seat to shove it out of the way. You were next on his brief redecorating of your room. Grasping you firmly by your hips, eagerly pulling at the skirt of your formfitting dress and forcing it up to your waist. His hands roughly grip onto you before pushing you into the vanity. 

You’re lifted by Fyodor to sit upon the cold surface, legs slotting open as he aggressively grasps your face to kiss you once more, as if it was his last dying breath. His member plays at your clothed cunt, slightly dripping from your arousal. His hand leaves your face, his fingers tugging at the cloth to pull it aside, aligning himself. He pulls at your waist once more, fixing the angle to allow himself to slide between your plush walls.

“Fuck!” You sharply exhale, your eyes slotting closed. Instinctively, you lurched forward to grasp onto him, and to rest your chin upon his shoulder. Your hands rested upon his nape and back, holding onto him as his hands gripped yours in a way that would leave bruises behind. His lips grazed your neck, leaving behind a trail of kisses and soft bites. 

Your eyes slowly opened as his thrusts grew sloppier, evident of his impending release within you. Across from you, you saw your reflection in the closet mirror, allowing you to observe the explicit moment before you. However, your mind saw and heard different; the black hair entangled within your hands was brown and curly, the muffled, breathy moans against your neck were replaced with lowly grunts and words of praise, and the suit of the man before you became stained black. 

You wanted to utter his name as you felt your release, like a call out to him to stay far away from the danger you would inflict upon him. Yet, you stifled the moan by biting your lip as you felt a warmth fill you to your core.

Fyodor sighed contently, releasing you from his harsh grip. He pulled his softening cock from your cunt, his seed dripping from you. He stepped to the side, observing his appearance within the mirror as he begins to fix himself before leaving you.    

“I will get started on that plan tomorrow, moy dorogoy.” You utter as you slide from the vanity.

“Ochen' khorosho,” were his parting words to you as he began to leave for the door. You slip your dress back down, not worrying about the state of it. You notice as you look up that he is awaiting your attention before amending his last words. “See you in my next life, moy angel smerti.”

You give out a plain breathy laugh, “Till true death do us part, moya lyubov'.”

The pulsing energy of weekend nights had faded, replaced by the more subdued atmosphere of a weekday evening at The Midnight's Caress. Yet, even on these quieter nights, the club maintained a steady flow of patrons - a mix of devoted regulars and wide-eyed tourists drawn to its allure. Tonight, however, held special significance. A special visitor had arrived, someone who held a place in your heart from the days before Dazai's induction into the Port Mafia.

You made your entrance with practiced grace, descending from the second-floor terrace. Your presence commanded attention, drawing admiring glances from across the dimly lit space. Ignoring the adoration, your gaze remained fixed on your destination - the sleek bar opposite the sunken dance floor and stage.

A solitary figure occupied one of the barstools. Even from a distance, you recognized the familiar shock of unkempt auburn hair and the well-worn light brown overcoat. As you approached, you watched him raise an ornate crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid to his lips.

"And here I thought," you began, your voice carrying a hint of amusement as rich chocolate eyes met yours, “that you avoided lurking around Mafia territory at all costs, mister detective”

A warm smile spread across the man's face as he spoke your name, his tone tinged with fondness. “Well, if it's to see an old friend, I'm willing to take my chances.”

You feigned offense, placing your hands on your hips in mock indignation. “Sakunosuke Oda, did you just call me old?”

His head fell into a gentle shake, accompanied by a soft laugh that seemed to momentarily erase the tension from his features. You joined in his laughter, sliding onto the barstool next to him. While maintaining a careful distance, you positioned yourself to face outward, keeping a vigilant eye on the space between you and the stage.

Glancing sideways, you studied Oda's familiar profile, your gaze lingering on the amber liquid swirling in his glass. A mischievous glint sparked in your eye as you asked, your voice a playful whisper, "Did you pay for that?"

Oda's eyes met yours briefly, a flicker of amusement passing through them before he looked back down at the tumbler. His voice was steady, tinged with a hint of pride. "Of course."

You sighed, rolling your eyes in exaggerated exasperation. Leaning across the polished mahogany surface of the bar, you beckoned the blonde bartender with a subtle, elegant gesture. "Reimburse him," you commanded, your tone leaving no room for argument, the words crisp and authoritative in the dimly lit space.

"No, you don't have to do that," Oda protested, a faint blush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

Your response was swift and sharp, cutting through the ambient noise of the club. "He does if he would like to keep his job." The words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play in this world you both inhabited, albeit from different sides. You softened your tone slightly, adding, "My friends do not need to worry about such things here."

A teasing glint returned to Oda's eyes as he accepted his reimbursement. "Oh, you have friends now?" he quipped, his voice warm with familiarity."Oda!" You laughed, the sound genuine and unguarded. "I almost do want to make you pay now."

"That was the goal," he replied, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. He stuffed the money into his pants pocket before grasping his glass once more.

The bartender materialized behind you, placing an identical tumbler filled with amber liquid onto the bar. You gave the glass a cursory glance before turning your attention back to the club.

Oda's voice drew you back from your reverie, curiosity evident in his warm tone. "So, how is it, being a club owner?"

"Boring," you replied dryly, a hint of amusement in your eyes. "How is it, being a detective?"

"Anything but boring. I'm always doing something, it feels like," Oda responded, his voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction.

You nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing your face. Memories of your shared past flickered through your mind, a reminder of the complex relationship that bound you both.

Oda's voice softened as he continued, "We just recently recruited this boy."A breathy chuckle escaped your lips. "So, you've taken in another orphan. I swear, are you raising an army over there?"

Oda's rich laughter echoed within the glass at his lips, the sound warm and comforting. "It does seem like that, doesn't it?" He paused, his expression growing more serious. "I worry about this boy. I picked him up on the riverbank, and he attempted to attack me."

You listened intently, grateful for the chance to lend an ear to your friend's concerns. The ambient noise of the club faded into the background as you focused on Oda's words.

"I don't know what it is about this boy," Oda continued, his brow furrowing slightly. "He's in search of his sister... harbors the unruliest plans for this man that he describes as 'the man in black.'"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you turned to meet Oda's intrigued gaze. "This boy," you began cautiously, "does he have black hair? Two little tufts of white on the ends?"

Oda gave a hesitant nod, his hand now outstretched to offer you your glass. You accepted it carefully, the cool crystal a stark contrast to the warmth of realization spreading through you.

"Be careful of that boy. I remember his name clearly. Akutagawa Ryūnosuke." Your voice lowered, heavy with the weight of memory. You looked down at your glass, tapping your fingers along its surface rhythmically. "I was there when the Port Mafia found him, shortly before I left for Italy. There were plans to recruit him. However, it was determined... that he was unfit to join us."

Your eyes rose to meet Oda's, his face a careful mask hiding his thoughts. "There is a beast inside of that boy, Oda. I pray that you teach and guide him, to learn to tame it."

You paused, bringing the crystal glass to your lips for a sip. As the whiskey touched your tongue, your eyes widened in surprise. You pulled the glass back, glancing towards the shelves behind the bar. Your gaze settled on a familiar bottle, its amber contents glowing softly in the low light. You eyed it with a mixture of suspicion and resigned amusement. That snake, you thought, recognizing Dazai's handiwork in the choice of spirits.

Shaking your head slightly, you made a mental note to address that matter later. Your voice grew heavy with warning as you continued, "Or that beast will one day consume him. I've seen it near happen to the boy they did take in."

Oda's brow furrowed in concern. "I can agree; I share those thoughts exactly. Do you, by chance, know what happened to his sister?"

You gave a curt shake of your head, the movement causing the dim lights to dance across your features. "I know that the Port Mafia took her, however, I don't know what became of her."

Oda finished off the rest of the whiskey in his glass, the ice clinking softly as he set it before the bartender for a refill. "I see," he murmured, his voice tinged with disappointment.

A moment of contemplative silence fell between you, the ambient noise of the club fading into the background. You could feel Oda's gaze studying your face as you surveyed the array of guests for the evening, your eyes scanning the crowd with practiced ease.

"So, what happened with that?" Oda's question broke the silence, his hand gesturing towards his own lip and the side of his face.

"Oh," you replied, feigning ignorance about your appearance. You had attempted to cover the cut on your lip and the small bruise that had formed across your cheekbone from the night before. "Just an unruly guest. Unfortunate, and obviously for him, he didn't make it."

Oda hummed, a note of skepticism in his tone. It was clear he didn't fully believe the story you had fabricated. You huffed as you finished the rest of your glass, the warm liquid burning a path down your throat. Turning to him, you shifted the conversation once more. "What about your book? When will I be able to read the first draft?"

A soft smile graced Oda's features as he looked back down into his glass, swirling the amber liquid absently. "I've been having horrible writer's block. I know what I want to say, it's just getting it to paper that's the problem."

"Well," you gave a breathy chuckle, rising from your seat with fluid grace. His eyes met yours, a shared understanding passing between you. You both knew these encounters were rare and precious, a stark contrast to your shared youth. "You know where I'll be, ready to receive and critique. But to love it all the same."

"For the long wait, how about I dedicate it to you?" Oda offered, a hint of warmth in his voice.

You gave a warm smile, placing your hands upon your chest in dramatic adoration. The gesture was playful, but the emotion behind it was genuine. "Awe, Oda. You do care!"

Oda's head dipped down once more, his shoulders shaking with muffled laughter. You took a deep breath, the familiar ache of longing settling in your chest. More than anything, you wished you could embrace him, to feel the comfort of his brotherly affection that had been so freely given in your childhood. You knew deep down that he wished the same; on several occasions, he had forgotten the limitations of your ability, only to be reminded by Flawless.

"I have business I have to attend to, but you may stay as long as you like," you said, your voice softening with regret at having to cut the reunion short. You tapped the polished bar top twice, a silent signal to your bartender. He understood immediately, preparing your glass as well as a secondary pour of the whiskey you had been drinking.

Grasping the two crystal tumblers, the amber liquid catching the low light, you gave a final look to your dear friend. Your eyes lingered on his face, committing every detail to memory. "See you around, Odasaku," you said, the nickname slipping out unexpectedly.

Oda's eyebrows raised slightly, a quizzical look crossing his features at the unfamiliar moniker. You found yourself equally surprised, giving him a small shrug in response. The corner of his mouth tugged upward into a warm smile, and he raised his glass in a silent toast as you began to walk away.

Your heels clicked softly on the polished floor as you made your way back toward the staircase leading to your office. The weight of the glasses in your hands was a tangible reminder of the responsibilities waiting for you, pulling you away from this brief moment of connection. As you ascended the stairs, you could feel Oda's gaze following you, a bittersweet mixture of fondness and longing that mirrored your own emotions.

Dazai's keen eyes followed your figure as you made your way back up to your office. His gaze then darted to Oda, who was nodding to the bartender, offering thanks and sliding money across the polished bar top. A wry smile found its way onto Dazai's face as he admired Oda's persistence in compensating the man. He felt a familiar twinge of jealousy watching you two interact from afar, reminded of the bond you and Oda shared which transcended any version of yourselves.

Turning away from the window, Dazai met your gaze as you entered the office. The soft click of the door closing behind you seemed to punctuate the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"Thank you, Dimitri," you called out, your eyes never leaving Dazai's. He could tell by the set of your jaw that he was in trouble, especially noting the two crystal tumblers in your hands. You raised an eyebrow questioningly, holding up the glasses. "We've only reconnected for one night, and you decided to take it upon yourself to amend my liquor choices?"

Dazai suppressed a small laugh, gratefully accepting the offered glass. The crystal was cool against his fingers. "I only had Chūya go up to the bar and request a drink. When the bartender replied that you don't supply this brand, I had it ordered and shipped to you immediately."

He watched you roll your eyes, unamused but continuing to listen before objecting. The light from the desk lamp cast dramatic shadows across your face, emphasizing the slight furrow of your brow.

"What can I say? Something just told me I'd be back here sooner than expected, so I made a few liberties—"

"Liberties?" You scoffed, though there was a hint of amusement in your tone. You glided past him, the subtle scent of your perfume lingering in the air. Settling back into your chair, you continued, "You quite literally had my bartender stock something without my knowledge, most likely due to knowing it was the Port Mafia Boss's favorite."

Dazai savored the rich, smoky flavor of the whiskey as he took a long sip, a contented sigh escaping his lips. He gracefully lowered himself into one of the chairs facing your desk, his keen eyes noting how they seemed slightly out of place in the otherwise meticulously arranged office. During your absence, he had seized the opportunity to explore the room, his observant gaze catching details that others might overlook.

A rug, he deduced, had once adorned the space before your desk. Now, a faint square of fresh wood flooring, spanning no more than six feet, stood in stark contrast to the worn, darker planks surrounding it. At the center of this cleaned area, Dazai's sharp eyes detected a slightly darker outline. His mind, ever quick to analyze, immediately recognized the telltale signs of a bloodstain that had been hastily, if not entirely successfully, concealed. The discovery sent a small thrill through him.

"You enjoy the drink, too, don't lie. I saw you down there drinking it with Odasaku," Dazai said, his voice carrying a hint of familiarity he hadn't intended.

You gave Dazai a puzzled look, your brow furrowing slightly as you processed his words. He realized his slip immediately, watching as a flicker of confusion passed across your features. The usually composed demeanor he wore like armor had cracked, revealing an experience he hadn't been granted in this life.

"My apologies," he quickly corrected himself, his voice regaining its usual smooth rhythm. The words flowed like silk, masking his momentary lapse. "I had only heard you call him that a few times before you left. You always spoke fondly of the man who defected."

He observed intently as you silently began to question yourself, your hand reaching back to scratch your head in recollection of more than four years ago. The gesture was subtle, but to Dazai's keen eye, it spoke volumes about your inner turmoil. However, much to his relief, you quickly moved past the topic without dwelling on it further.

You set your drink down upon the polished surface of your desk, the crystal making a soft 'clink' against the wood. Clearing your throat, a confident smirk coated your peach-stained lips, the color a striking contrast against your skin in the warm light of the office.

"Besides the topic of my apparently new inventory," you said, emphasizing the word with a hint of playful accusation, "did you want to continue your losing game?"

Dazai chuckled, the sound low and rich. He leaned forward, the leather of the chair creaking slightly under his shifting weight. "I think you've forgotten, but I was winning."

A light laugh escaped you, the sound filling the room with a momentary lightness. "I had your queen for the taking. Without it, what even is the game?"

Dazai hummed thoughtfully, his mind racing through possibilities far beyond the chessboard. In his mind's eye, he saw not just chess pieces, but the intricate dance of allegiances and betrayals that defined their world. Indeed, his queen was cornered - both in the game and in life - but Dazai was nothing if not a master strategist. Just as you had been hasty to claim victory, he knew exactly how to turn the tides. His plan wasn't just to save a piece on a board, but to reclaim the Queen before him that he had lost to Fyodor's trickery.

His lips curled into a subtle, knowing smile. This game was far from over, and Dazai intended to win back what was rightfully his, piece by carefully manipulated piece. The anticipation built within him, not just for his next move in chess, but for the grand strategy that would bring you back to his side, away from Fyodor's influence.

Dazai's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Ah, but you've overlooked something crucial," he said, his voice smooth and confident. “It's my turn, remember? And with just one move, I'll not only save my queen but put you in a rather precarious position."

He set his glass down and leaned forward, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on the desk as if recreating the chessboard. "My knight to F6. It simultaneously blocks your attack on my queen and threatens your bishop. Now, you're faced with a dilemma – do you capture my knight and leave your bishop vulnerable, or do you retreat and lose your advantage?"

A sly smile played on his lips as he continued, "In chess, as in life, it's not just about the pieces you have, but how you use them. Sometimes, a seeming disadvantage can be turned into a powerful opportunity with the right strategy."

His eyes met yours, the intensity in them suggesting he might be talking about more than just the game. "So, shall we continue? I'm quite curious to see how you'll respond to this... unexpected development."

You leaned back in your chair, a mixture of amusement and respect flickering across your features. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you shook your head slightly, your eyes meeting Dazai's intense gaze.

"Well played, Dazai," you conceded, your voice carrying a note of admiration. "I should have known better than to underestimate you. Your knight to F6 is indeed a clever move."

You paused, your fingers drumming thoughtfully on the armrest as you visualized the board in your mind. After a moment, a sly smile crept onto your face. "However, you're not the only one with tricks up their sleeve. I'll move my rook to E4. It puts pressure on your knight and maintains the threat to your queen. Plus, it opens up a potential attack on your king's flank."

Leaning forward, you picked up your glass, and place it against your plump bottom lip. "In chess, as in our line of work, it's all about adapting to the unexpected, isn't it? One must always be prepared to shift strategies at a moment's notice."

You took a sip of the whiskey, savoring its rich flavor before continuing, "So, Dazai, what’s your move?"

Dazai's eyes narrowed slightly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he considered your move. "Interesting," he murmured, taking a thoughtful sip. “In that case, I'll move my bishop to D3, threatening your rook while maintaining defense of my queen.”

The game continued, each of you calling out moves, the imaginary board shifting in your minds with every declaration. The office fell into a rhythm of quiet contemplation broken by decisive statements, the clink of ice in glasses punctuating each turn.

"Knight to C6," you said, your voice steady.

"Pawn to A4," Dazai responded smoothly.

As the imaginary pieces dwindled, the tension in the room grew. Finally, after what felt like hours compressed into minutes, you both fell silent, a mutual realization dawning.

"Well," you said, a mix of frustration and admiration in your voice, "it seems we've reached an impasse."

Dazai nodded, his expression mirroring yours. "Indeed. By my count, we each have a king, a rook, and two pawns left. Neither of us can make a legal move without putting our king in check."

"Stalemate," you both said in unison, then shared a quiet laugh at the synchronicity. As your laughter died down, Dazai couldn’t help but admire you. While it seemed much had changed about you within the last four or so years, you were still sharp, quick on your feet, and though your encounter before last with one another within the confines of his penthouse was heated, it was as though it never happened.

Dazai raised his glass in a toast. "To a game well played. It's not often I encounter an opponent who can match me move for move. I’ve missed doing this with you."

You clinked your glass against his. "Likewise, Dazai. This was fun."

Dazai's intense gaze bore into your violet eyes, searching once again for a shred of the girl that once loved him. He knew you had to still harbor something, given your willingness to allow him into your office just one night after reconnecting, although you had resisted at first. A heavy sigh escaped your lips amid the charged silence, your eyes darting down to his lips. He mirrored the action, his tongue unconsciously brushing across his top lip.

In the days of your shared youth, the victor of these mental chess matches would be granted one request, no limits ever set. Trust and honesty were once pivotal, sacred even. But after touching The Book, everything changed.

Dazai watched intently as you shifted in your plush leather chair, leaning forward to examine the documents he had laid before you earlier. Your slender fingers opened the tan folder, eyes scanning its contents. Nervous anticipation built within him as he awaited your reaction.

A scoff broke the silence. It was somewhat expected.

"You want to buy The Midnight's Caress?" You looked up, an exaggerated eye roll accompanying your words.

"You're already paying us to leave you and your business be. I thought it would make more sense to annex your club since you already serve many mafiosos," Dazai explained, his voice smooth and persuasive.

Your eyes returned to the proposition. Dazai had been uncharacteristically considerate; you would remain owner, permitted to run the club as you saw fit, retaining eighty percent ownership.

"Ninety," you countered, your gaze drifting up from the paper. With practiced ease, you opened a drawer within your ornate desk, fingers grasping for a sleek box of cigarettes. The soft scrape of the box opening filled the quiet room as you extracted a single cigarette. The flick of your lighter cast a brief, warm glow across your features as you lit it. You inhaled deeply, the ember glowing bright orange in the dim office. Exhaling a plume of smoke, you placed the cigarette delicately between your index and middle fingers before uttering your next argument. "Giving you twenty percent would be grossly over what I already give you, which I've already been quite generous with."

Dazai raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. Given the club's popularity and the financial records he'd meticulously reviewed, he'd calculated that twenty percent ownership would be a small sacrifice. Yet, he'd anticipated some resistance from you.

You held the box out to him, one cigarette poking out invitingly. He leaned forward, long fingers grasping the rolled tobacco. Rising smoothly, he placed the cigarette between his lips. Leaning over your desk, he pressed his unlit cigarette to yours. His eyes, intense and searching, locked with yours as he contemplated his counter.

"Giving twenty percent would include more than just protection, Bella," Dazai remarked, his voice low and smooth as he relaxed back into the chair.

You laced your fingers together, resting your elbows on the polished desk. Your eyes fluttered, the lit cigarette dangling slightly between your lips. "How much are you assuming I'm already giving for this protection?"

“I calculated that it was around twenty percent now.”

A laugh escaped your occupied lips, followed by a click of your tongue. "Twenty? Oh, moye temnoye zhelaniye, I give you way less than that."

Dazai jerked his head back in surprise, questions flooding his mind. How much did you actually give of your earnings? The only logical explanation was the records he had did not contain unreported earnings. Additionally, when did you learn to speak Russian? He had no idea what the phrase meant, but curiosity burned within him.

He watched, transfixed, as you rose from your seat with fluid grace. The soft rustle of your clothing seemed amplified in the hushed office; his senses hyper-aware of your every movement. He tracked your progress as you rounded the desk, his heart rate quickening with each step you took towards him.

When you perched upon the edge of the desk directly in front of him, Dazai felt a rush of heat betray him, crawling up his cheeks in a flush he couldn't quite control. He found himself looking up at you through his eyelashes, acutely aware of the power dynamic shift. The dim light of the office played across your features, casting shadows that accentuated the curves and angles of your face. Dazai's breath caught in his throat as he drank in the sight of you, commanding and alluring in equal measure.

He watched, mesmerized, as you took another leisurely puff from your cigarette. The ember glowed bright for a moment, illuminating your face in a warm, fleeting light that seared itself into his memory. With practiced ease, you blew the smoke out above you, creating a swirling haze that danced in the air between you. The sharp scent of tobacco mingled with your personal fragrance, an intoxicating mixture that seemed to cloud his senses.

As Dazai gazed up at you, he found himself making a silent vow. He would let you have anything you wanted - any percentage, any terms. All that mattered was that you allowed him to remain in your presence, to bask in the captivating aura you exuded.

"I give ten percent of my yearly earnings to you now, Dazai. You're basically asking I near triple that in my eyes, as it's not only money; it's ownership." Your voice carried a hint of steel beneath its smoothness, a reminder of the strength that had always drawn Dazai to you.

Dazai stood to meet your gaze, his movement fluid and deliberate. Your eyes darted from his visible eye down to his lips again as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Seventeen then.” The words hung in the air between you, charged with unspoken tension.

"You're good at a lot of things, Osamu, negotiating is apparently not one of them." You leaned further in, your breath warm against his skin.

He took a moment, relishing the closeness that you'd allowed once again. However, his keen eye caught sight of a cut upon your bottom lip and faint evidence of a bruise upon your cheekbone, which you had evidently tried to cover, which wasn't there the night before. He saw your eyes widen slightly, likely realizing he'd noticed the wounds marring your features. Before he could question you, you spoke again.

"I own the entire property as of right now. I even live upstairs." You took the cigarette from your mouth, gesturing with your fingers toward the area outside the office. Osamu recalled the elevator he'd noticed across from your office doors. That explained its presence. "You might as well buy the whole building, since it seems you're trying to buy me back into the mafia."

Osamu passively heard you, however, he couldn’t bring himself to reply to you just yet. His mind wouldn’t move past the subtle signs of abuse on your face. The cut on your lip, the faint bruise on your cheekbone - they weren't there last night. His heart clenched painfully in his chest, a mixture of worry and rage threatening to overwhelm him.

He reached out instinctively, his hand hovering near your face but not quite touching. He remembered how you used to flinch in worry of touching others, but you remained still, even slightly leaning toward his touch.

Finally, his voice whispered your name out, softer than he intended, "This isn't about buying you back into anything. Do you really think I'd try to manipulate you into a life you chose to leave?"

He watched your eyes, those stormy violet orbs that had once looked at him with such trust and affection. Now they seemed guarded, wary. It pained him more than he cared to admit.

"I respect your decisions," he continued, "even if I don't always agree with them. But those marks on your face, cara mia… they weren't there last night."

Osamu felt his hand clench at his side, anger surging through him at the thought of Fyodor laying a hand on you. He fought to keep his voice steady. "This isn't about ownership or percentages. It's about keeping you safe from a man who clearly doesn't value you the way he should. The way you deserve."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within him. He needed you to understand, to see beyond the business proposition to the genuine concern that drove his actions. Fyodor, in this life and every other, was not a man to be trusted, let alone be married to.

"I won’t ask you again to come back to the mafia. All I'm asking, is for you to let me protect you. Because right now, your independence is coming at a cost that's far too high."

Osamu’s unbandaged eye searched yours, silently pleading. He saw a flicker of something - vulnerability, perhaps - behind your carefully constructed walls. It gave him hope.

"Let me help you," he said softly. "Please."

In that moment, looking into your eyes, Osamu realized just how much he still cared for you; it was overwhelming. The thought of you in pain, of Fyodor hurting you, was unbearable. He knew he'd do whatever it took to keep you safe, even if it meant putting himself, his plans, in danger. Because despite everything that had happened, you were still one of the most important people in his world.

Osamu watched as your eyes widened slightly at his words, a mix of emotions flickering across your face. For a moment, your carefully constructed facade seemed to waver, revealing a glimpse of the vulnerability he once knew so well.

His breath caught as you reached up, your fingers gently brushing against his hand that hovered near your face. The touch was electric, sending a shiver through him. Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper when you spoke.

"Osamu... it's not that simple."

He held his breath, hoping for more, but you seemed to steel yourself before continuing. "I appreciate your concern, truly. But my life, my choices... they're complicated. More than you know."

Osamu felt a pang in his chest as you slid off the desk, putting a small distance between you. The internal struggle playing out in your eyes was painfully clear to him.

"Ten percent, if you buy the entire building," you said suddenly, your voice regaining its businesslike tone. "That's my final offer. And I maintain full operational control."

The abrupt shift back to business threw him for a moment, but he quickly recovered. He recognized your deflection for what it was - a shield, a way to avoid the deeper conversation you both knew you needed to have.

"Agreed," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "But this conversation isn't over. I won't stand by and watch you get hurt, no matter how complicated things are."

You nodded, a small, sad smile playing on your lips. "I know you won't. That's what makes you... you."

As you moved to return to your seat, Osamu caught the briefest flash of something in your eyes. Was it longing? Regret? Or perhaps something more calculating? He couldn't be sure, and it frustrated him. There was a time when he could read you like an open book, but now... now parts of you were a mystery to him.

Watching you settle back into your chair, Osamu began to feel a sharp pang of guilt. He knew he was being selfish, pursuing you when his time in this world was limited. The weight of his secrets - the truth about the Book and his inevitable fate - pressed heavily upon him. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to tell you, it would cost too much. Instead, he made a silent vow to protect you from Fyodor and his plans, and, if possible, win back your trust and affection, even if it was only for a brief moment in time. 

As he gazed at you across the desk, Osamu felt a familiar warmth in his chest, accompanied by a sharp ache. Despite everything, despite the years and the pain and the complications, you were still one of the most important people in his world. And he would do whatever it took to keep you safe, even if it meant putting himself, his plans, in danger.

"With that matter settled," you said, a smile reappearing on your face as you extinguished your cigarette. "Would you like to try another game of chess? I'd understand if you say no, as assuredly going to win this time."

A rich laugh escaped through Osamu’s lips. "I'd like to see you try," he responded, his eyes gleaming with challenge and amusement.

The game was on, and Osamu intended to win.

previous part ~ next part | LBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

Author Chat: This part took a lot out of me. Again, I had intended it to be much darker, as I see so many write Fyodor as this sweet, quiet man who's tenderly loving his s/o, but I was like "but what if...?" So, that's partly where the inspiration came from, because let's be honest, that man is dark and twisted (you know the looks like a cinnamon roll, will actually kill you).

If you liked, feel free to like and reblog <3 ~DamzelZelda

Song Inspos: Rule #34- Fish in a Birdcage Watch- billie eilish

Russian Word "Dictionary" (Curtesy of [unreliable] Google translate):

moya lyubov': "my love"

moya zhena: "my wife"

moy dorogoy: "my dear"

malen'kaya mysh': "little mouse"

lyubyashchaya: "loving"

budto: "as if"

chudesnyy: "marvelous"

ty lisitsa: "you vixen"

Takaya khoroshaya devochka: "such a good girl"

Ochen' khorosho: "very well"

moy angel smerti: "my angel of death"

moye temnoye zhelaniye: "my dark desire"

[tomselleck-ian]

linda genarro mafia princess x bobby belcher unassuming line cook at her favorite diner au. this is….all i can think about

[protective-mama-bear]

: ̗̀The Smiling Psychopaths ༉‧₊

I have finally did it, i have draw all of the Smiling Psychopaths :'D very proud of myself! Also redesign the psychopaths logo, anyway, enjoy!

What is Smiling Psychopaths? It is a Smiling Critters AU that was created by @smiling-psychopaths but this AU is different, each Smiling Critters are living in different AU but their AUs are where this critter are evil and dark, think of this as Bad Sanses Au, if you know what i mean.

Warning: Blood and eye-contact

Twisted!Bubba Bubbaphant

Meet the leader of the Smiling Psychopaths, Twisted!Bubba Bubbaphant or what the others call him, Twisted! The intelligent but sadistic elephant critter in the group, torturing his own friends for his own satisfaction and the one who bring the evil version of his friends to join his evil group. He's also a scientist in the crew.

Mob!CatNap

Who would have thought that the once used to be our lovable and sleepy cat would be joining a mafia? Meet, Mob!CatNap or what the others call him, Mob! The boss of his own mafia and have done many illegal stuff but with all those crimes, he still being fashionable and polite! He have joined Twisted evil group and become a loyal member. He's the one who does the patrol or guarding the mansion.

Lovesick!Bobby BearHug

(Ignore the white lines–)

A sweet and motherly bear that looks like she won't hurt a fly, but don't be fool by her motherly aura because this bear have locked her own dear friends inside her house, punishing them if they dare disobey her rules! Introducing, Lovesick!Bobby BearHug or what the others call her, Lovesick! The loyal and the protective bear in the Psychopaths, she won't hesitated to kill you, quick or slow, if you dare harm her 'precious friends'. She's the therapist and the 'parent' figure in the crew, also a protector.

Slasher!DogDay

The once caring and the leader of the Smiling Critters have turned into a serial killer! Or what it call, Slasher! He have lost the caring and leadership inside him, only caring to satisfied his thirst for blood. Introducing, Slasher!DogDay or what the others call him, Slasher! The last member that join the Psychopaths. He owned many kind of blades or weapons to tortured his victim but his favorite one is a Bowie knife! Also a masochist. He also an expert on creating traps, like Lovesick.

Emotionless!CraftyCorn

No one know what exactly happened to her or why her emotions have vanished, walking like an empty shell with the lack of emotions. Truly a mystery but an intriguing one aswell! Meet Emotionless!CraftyCorn or what the others call her, Emotionless! A very mystery member, rarely appear whenever there's a meeting or any events, prefer to hidden in the shadow and it's no surprised she used her 'hiding in the dark' to her advantage to attack tresspassers. She still love to draw but for some reason, her paint seem to be from her victims blood... very interesting indeed.

Violent!KickinChicken

A friend that used to be so cool and out-going have become a ruthless and a very violent person, thanks to that shot in the head, really make him very easily to anger! Introducing, Violent!KickinChicken or what the others call him, Violent! A very loyal member in the Psychopaths but can be quite blunt without even thinking, causing some members to dislike him but this chicken doesn't really care. The leader of The Brutal Trio.

Poison!Hoppy Hopscotch

She's still an energetic and lively green rabbit but wait! Her energy have turn ten time higher and not only that, after being pushed into a dangerous chemicals, she have an electricity power and inside her body is fill with green poison that could kill you slow and very painful way and did i mention that her favorite weapon is her hammer? She calls it her 'Lucky Charm'. Meet Poison!Hoppy Hopscotch or what the others call her, Poison! A very energetic, fast-speaking and lastly an annoying member in the crew, she never stop moving, always causing troubles or chaos in her way. Her playing is very rough, no one can ever keep up except for her Psychopaths friends! A part of The Brutal Trio.

Corrupted!PickyPiggy

The first critter that Twisted ask to join his evil team. The once sweet and 'love to eat' friend have turn into something that is corrupted! She still love to eat but the food that she eat is meat, it can be any kind of meat especially if the meat is still bloody and fresh! Mhm, yum! Anyway, Introducing Corrupted!PickyPiggy or what the others call her, CP or Corrupted but mostly CP. A neutral chaotic member but very loyal to the crew, she does her job very well but would leave a mess when she finish with her mission, she's also the cook in the Psychopaths Mansion and a part of The Brutal Trio.

Ooh boy, that was a lot but i enjoy drawing and making headcanons of these evil silly! Anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this AU that was created a friend of mine! Now, goodbye *jumps out of the window*

Smiling Psychopaths AU idea by @smiling-psychopaths

Twisted!Bubba Bubbaphant, Violent!KickinChicken, Mob!CatNap and Slasher!DogDay by @smiling-psychopaths

Lovesick!Bobby BearHug by me :D

Emotionless!CraftyCorn by @emotionless-craftycorn

Poison!Hoppy Hopscotch by @jumptothemoon

Corrupted!PickyPiggy by @picky-and-corrupted-picky

[thekristen999]

Cutting The Ties That Bind (1/6)

Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Howie "Chimney" Han, Bobby Nash, Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Athena Grant Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Mafia AU, Romance, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Action/Adventure, Drama, Angst, Humor, Everyone gets to be a badass Summary:

Evan Buckley was a businessman, he had meetings and deadlines like everyone else. Sometimes he used intimation. While using the very same tactics he was trying to end while converting his family business into legitimate operations was a little hypocritical, it was the results that mattered.

Occasionally, he got threatened, but it was usually all hot air and ego. That all changed the day his breaks were tampered with. Enter Eddie Diaz, security specialist, who was not easily impressed by Buck’s expensive suits or financial conquests. That was okay. Buck enjoyed a challenge.

(The Mafia AU)

Chapter 1

[thewolvesof1998]

Temptation Tuesday

Okay so it’s only been Tuesday for 40ish minutes but I’m working tomorrow so I’m posting early. I’m back again with the Buddie Mafia Au fic, it’s tempting me more and more each day but I have to finish my Cowboy/Rodeo AU before I can start on it. Even so, I’ve been collecting ideas, little moments and photo inspirations so here it is:

Star-crossed lovers, Eddie and Buck come from two warring crime families. The Diaz family is run by Eddie's Tio and the Nash family is run by Bobby Nash. Both men are destined to inherit the family business and must prove their worth. A chance encounter and a night spent together have them questioning everything and now they must figure out if love is worth dying for.

"To love you is to choose death," Eddie says

He can see Buck's face crumble, heart-shattering against the ground from where Eddie has dropped it. He aches to pick up all the pieces and glue them back together. In choosing Buck he would not only bring death to himself but Chris and Buck too and he wouldn't, couldn't do that. A broken heart is better than being six feet deep in the ground. 

...

"So what do you choose?" Buck asks

"For you mi amor, I choose death" Eddie says and they both know what that means, I choose you, in spite of our families, war and death. I choose death because loving you is worth dying for. 

...

At first glance, you wouldn't know that the tattoos matched for one Buck's is two solid bands around his right forearm and Eddie’s is writing that wraps around his left. But when they stand next to each other, Buck on the left, Eddie always on his right, the bands line up. Buck's are for Eddie and Chris, his boys. Eddie is a quote por ti mi amor, elijo la muerte (For you my love, I choose death) for those are the word Eddie said when he choose Buck, choose him in spite of family, war and death. They wear no other mark of their devotion to one another, no rings, it is too dangerous in their line of work to so clearly mark one's heart when it is outside of one's body but they had indulged in these tattoos that no one knows what they mean outside of their innermost trusted circle. 

If you want to check out some of my other works my current WIPs are a ‘Buddie MMA Rivals AU’ and ‘Buddie Rodeo/Bull Riding AU’ and here’s a master list of some of my works and this is my AO3

tagging: (no pressure) @wikiangela​​​ @wildlife4life​​ ​ @alyxmastershipper​​ @prince-buck-diaz​ @spotsandsocks​ @try-set-me-on-fire​ @jesuisici33​

[yoongihan]

Catalyst - HHJ - 3/3

Banner by the sweet @hannahbee12719

pairing: hyunjin x reader (female, last name is park), minho x somi; the rest of skz makes appearances, as does sunmi, woodz, & yena. bobby.

genre: mafia au, childhood friends->lovers->exes->lovers

rating: M 🔞

word count: 9k

warnings: smut (vanilla sex here people), two whole scenes of smut, there be kissing, touching; cursing; a fair amount violence (mostly off-screen) and death (no one that the audience would care about) and not very detailed in description, guns. I think that’s it. My brain is fried, so let me know if I haven’t covered something.

a/n: i’m not sure if this is actually finished or if i’m just over working on it. 🤷🏼‍♀️ I hope the conclusion to this is satisfactory. i’m grateful to @jl-micasea-fics​ for being so encouraging. this is probably the most violent story i’ve ever written, which isn’t relevant at all, but kind of feels like some sort of accomplishment for little ole me. all that rambling to say, thank you for reading. feel free to let me know what you think. i’m not too proud to say that i most definitely need to validation. :D

part one  part two  masterlist

Catalyst: Three of Three

“I wanna sell Circus.”

His hands freeze and already you miss the comfort. “What?”

You swallow and meet his shocked eyes head-on. “I want to sell the club.”

He lets go of you and stands, walking away.

“I have an interested buyer, but I thought you might want to buy me out before I spoke with him.” You feel like you’re rambling.

He doesn’t say anything.

“I promise this isn’t an impulsive thing…I’ve thought–”

“The club is yours.” He keeps his back to you. “More than mine.”

You sigh, wishing you could see his face so you’d have a clue as to what he’s thinking. “It’s the Syndicate’s, more than either of us.”

It goes quiet again. You notice that your leg is shaking, a sure sign of your nerves. You know this is the right decision, but telling him…you don’t know what you expect.

Perhaps you want him to fight for the club…for you.

He turns slightly. “Are you going to…” He clears his throat. “What are you going to do?”

“Move. Start somewhere new.” That you haven’t said aloud yet. It sounds so strange. Almost not real.

“Shit.”

What does that mean?

“I haven’t spoken to Minho about this yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”

You watch his back, stiff and unmoving; the tension radiates from him.

“Where would you go?”

“Someplace less…city. Maybe a bit warmer. I’m not sure. I’m looking at properties in a variety of locations. Or I might go back to school.”

“Fuck.” He turns completely, anger etching his face. “I can’t…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I have to check the front.” And he stalks out.

You sit there a few more seconds before getting up and leaving.

—

It’s two days later and you’re in the office finishing up a few things, going over and over the accounts to make sure that everything is without error. You stretch your arms toward the ceiling, hearing a few pops that are so satisfying.

Yes, some of it still hurts, but you don’t feel quite so broken anymore.

“Are you heading out?”

You hadn’t heard him at the door. You haven’t seen Hyunjin since your announcement to sell. There’s evidence that he has been at the club (a jacket left, mail sifted through, half a bottle of water that isn’t yours), but as for actual interaction, this is the first since.

And you’re nervous.

His voice is lower, but not in a sexy way (yes, it’s sexy, but this is Hyunjin. He breathes and you’ve found that sexy). It’s just kind of dismal. A voice without any strong emotion in it at all.

“Yes. In a few.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Your head shoots up at the non-question. “Excuse me?”

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck. Not like that. I mean, I’ll make sure you get home okay.” One hand runs through his hair as he takes a few more steps into the office.

“Am I incapable of doing so on my own?”

There is another heavy sigh. “I don’t know if Bobby knows where you live, gongjunim. I don’t know if he might decide to seek you out too. I don’t know, but I’d rather have you snarky and annoyed at me and safe from him than–” He doesn’t finish the thought. He doesn’t really need to.

He plops down on the couch. You try to go back to your paperwork review, but you can’t help but look at him.

Stunning as always, but his features are marred with traces of fatigue.

“You sleeping okay?’

He lifts his eyes from the floor to you. “Lee’s a bit fixated right now.”

You hear a lot in that one sentence. Minho is pushing his men to finish out this thing with Bobby, that the threat on Somi and now you have made the situation far more urgent.

“Sorry.”

He scoffs. “None of that is your fault, gongjunim. Nor is it Somi’s.” He runs his hands through his hair. “I hope he burns in hell.”

Hyunjin isn’t aggressive. Not in the entire lifetime you’ve known him. Even when he hates someone, he jokes about it. He rarely shows how deep his distaste goes.

Wishing Bobby a fiery afterlife shows how incredibly angry he is.

“We can go.”

When he stands at the passenger door of your car, you ask. “How are you getting back here to sleep?”

He raises one eyebrow. “I’m sleeping on your couch.”

With a huff, you unlock the doors and slide into the driver's seat. He gets in beside you.

“Glad you asked.”

“Would you rather me stand outside your door all night like Yang did last night? Or Han the night before?”

You knew they'd been there. You had hoped that you were just overthinking the presence, especially since you’d been stuck inside.

“Maybe.” You pulled onto the road that ran in front of the club. You glanced at the sign, wondering if Circus would retain its name or if a new owner would completely redo everything you’d done for the last five years.

“I wouldn’t stand,” he says. “That’s too much. I’d sit all night.”

You try not to smile at his melodramatic words before glancing over. He’s got his eyes closed, arms crossed and his head is dipping as though he’ll fall asleep any second.

“Some bodyguard.”

“Fuck off.” The words themselves are harsh, but his sleepy tone and humor soften them.

Since his eyes are closed, you let yourself smile.

You realize when you set a pillow and a second blanket on the couch that Hyunjin has never been in your apartment alone with you. He’d been once when you’d attempted a housewarming/birthday party for yourself that mostly had Chan drinking Jisung under the table, Minho perusing and judging your vinyl collection, and Hyunjin being flirted with by every Park girl there.

Hyunjin is currently staring at a small painting you bought at a city festival years ago. A local artist, who specialized in capturing scenes of everyday Busan life.

“I met her once,” Hyunjin says, shocking you out of your memories.

“Who?”

He points to the signature on the print (you couldn’t and still can’t afford an original art piece). “Her.”

“You met her?”

“She was giving a class I decided to take.” He shrugs. “I like how she focuses on one detail and the rest is kind of fuzzy and hazy.”

“Yeah.”

He turns back to you and it’s that stupid quiet that sometimes falls between him and you. You shake yourself as though that will help.

“Do you think you need anything else?” You gesture at the couch. “I’ll pull out an extra toothbrush and you can use my facewash or whatever–”

“I’m good.”

He approaches you and takes the third blanket out of your hands.

“Thanks.”

“I suppose I should thank you for attempting bodyguard duty. Not that it’s needed.”

He half-smiles. “Sure thing, gongjunim,” he says before reaching out to chuck you under the chin. You slap his hand away, not hard. He shakes his hand out but is grinning.

“Go to sleep.”

“Night beautiful.”

You flip him off on your way to your bedroom, smiling at nothing when he laughs.

You hear him moving around hours later. You’re not used to extra noise in your apartment. Living alone was a luxury you did not take for granted after college roommates.

You shuffle out into your living area to see Hyunjin leaning against the kitchen counter, typing something out on his phone.

“Hwang?”

He jolts at your voice, flipping his phone so its screen is down.

His face is blank, but the blankness is what worries you.

“What is it?”

“Just a routine check-in.”

Bullshit.

“Don’t lie to me.” You walk quickly over to him, about to steal his phone, but he raises it above his head which is undoubtedly out of your arm's reach. “I’m not one of your stupid civilians, pabo.”

His eyes narrow at the insult.

“It’s my–”

His hand is over your mouth before you can finish your tirade. You are about to bite his palm because what an ass, when he moves close so he can speak into your ear.

“We’ve got visitors.”

All thoughts of how annoying he is go out the window. You nod as he removes his hand and gestures for you to head back toward your bedroom. You walk carefully, trying not to make any noise, feeling the heat of him right behind you. He quickly shuts your bedroom door after you both enter before dropping his head down to whisper:

“Gun?”

“Under the bed.” You answer immediately then pause as he goes to find it. “You don’t have yours?” You’re pretty sure every member of the Syndicate went about life armed.

He shakes his head when he pulls out the lockbox. He raises an eyebrow at you for the code.

It’s weird, right? That you don’t hesitate in giving him secrets.

“I left mine at the loft,” he explains quietly. “Just thought I was being paranoid about you, not that they’d actually…” he trails off when you both hear the front doorknob creak and rattle. He gets out your gun and loads it with the ease of someone who has done so many many times. He points with it to your bed.

You shake your head; you are not hiding under the bed like a child afraid of monsters. He then points to your closet.

You glare at him.

He stalks over to you as you both hear the door bust open. He shoves his phone in your hand and then pushes you into the closet.

“Brace the door,” he mutters. “Call Seo.”

When the first gunshot rings out, you find yourself curled up in the back corner of the tiny space, his phone to your ear. When Changbin answers with a typical ‘what’s up, asshole’ you realize that you won’t be able to speak without your voice shaking.

You’re crying.

You count the gunshots, knowing that your gun has only fifteen to keep Hyunjin safe. It’s loud, so loud but dead silent in between ear-splitting cracks if there is a lull. You lose count and though Changbin is telling you that he’s on his way in the calmest, most comforting voice, you don’t think you’re breathing.

You can’t breathe.

More people have entered your apartment; there are voices, distorted and angry. Taunting and threatening and you don’t recognize any of them.

Is he okay? How would you ever know if you’re stuck in here?

Shot after shot after shot.

Then, it goes silent.

You hold your breath, listening for voices, footsteps, anything to tell you what is going on outside of your closet.

The doorknob jiggles.

“It’s okay,” comes the voice. “It’s me.” Chan’s voice is rough like he’s lost it after spending all night screaming at a concert. He says your name. “It’s safe.”

You swallow hard. “Is Hyunjin–”

“He’s fine, little Park. Come out of there. Cops’ll be here soon and we need a good story.”

It’s hard for you to stand. Your legs are horribly weak and like jello. You remove the small chair you’d braced under the knob and carefully open the door. Chan smiles at you, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. And Chan always smiles with his eyes.

“Where is he?” you demand, before moving past the bodyguard, your legs less wobbly.

“Wait!”

You’ve never listened well.

But then you can’t move.

Oh god, the bodies.

There are four dead men in your living area and kitchen. You can count them and yet it feels like a dozen. You see several syndicate members moving around, checking the bodies. Yang is covering up the one in your kitchen…you can only see feet and legs.

“Hyunjin?”

There’s movement in the corner of your eye and you see Hyunjin turn toward you. He’s seated on one of your barstools, body facing Han who is blotting his arm.

“Were you hit?” You nearly trip over something in your effort to get to him. You look down to see the obstacle.

The obstacle is a dead body, and it takes all of your focus. Lifeless eyes, clotting blood.

“Gongjunim.” You barely hear it. There’s a dead man on the floor of your apartment. Several dead men who will no longer breathe, eat, fuck, or laugh again.

“Hey,” the soft voice again. You look up to see Hyunjin standing a few feet away. The sleeve of his shirt is gone and his upper arm is wrapped with the same fabric.

“You got hit.”

He waves you to come closer and you do, trying not to look down closely, only aware enough to avoid tripping again. Your hand grasps his, and he pulls you close.

“I’m okay.” He nudges your forehead gently with his chin. “I’m fine.”

“You’re shot,” you say stubbornly, hyper-aware that you are hugging him in front of the rest of the Syndicate which has never happened.

You don’t know if you care or not.

“It’s a clean shot. Just some muscle, no bones. I’ll be fine.” His hurt arm rests against your side.

“Seo will be here soon. This is just a case of breaking and entering. Hwang protecting you.” Minho sidesteps the bodies. “Or maybe Chan and Hwang?”

“Seems more likely to have two against four with these results.”

You can hear their voices, but you just keep your face hidden in his chest.

“Makes sense,” Chan says. He’s somewhere behind you.

Minho says your name, so you peek out to meet his sharp eyes.

“You’re not staying here, obviously. Do you want to stay with Somi at mine?”

Hyunjin’s uninjured arm tightens around you, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I, I guess.”

“Or do you want to stay elsewhere?”

Minho is the master of the vacant expression, which is why when he looks outright amused and a bit smug at the question he poses to you, you really want to slap him.

You can hear the police sirens outside and you look up at Hyunjin, still attached to him.

“You’ll go to hospital after this, right?”

He nods. “I’ll make Jisung drive.” There’s an annoyed curse from the kitchen, but you can tell it’s just joking.

Joking whilst surrounded by bodies. You close your eyes again. The smell of spent guns and blood makes you want to leave now.

You feel a hand on your back. “I’ll pack a bag for you,” Chan offers. You don’t care if he sees your underwear or anything else unmentionable right now. You don’t want to walk through the living area massacre again.

You nod as Hyunjin rubs his hand up and down your back. It feels like that touch is the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

“Fucking shit.”

Officer Seo has arrived.

—

Your phone pings and you roll over, careful not to jostle the bed too much. Somi fell asleep only a few minutes ago and after assuring her that you were okay, you didn’t want to take away her rest as well.

Not that you are any better as far as nerves are concerned.

It’s a photo message and you open it to see a clean, professionally-done bandage.

Is this your way of sending me photos of your recent workout routine?

You know it.

It makes you smile. The cockiness you can hear in the text.

You okay?

All good, 공주님

Good.

You should be asleep.

You too.

Waiting for the pain meds to kick in. What’s your excuse?

You don’t answer.

자기야

Your thumbs hover over the screen, but you can’t think of what to write. Of how to write anything that’s true.

You didn’t see your father until after the undertaker took care of him, did you?

He gets it. At the core of everything, Hyunjin always got you.

No.

First dead body.

Yes.

Your phone starts buzzing with an incoming call. You quickly slide out of the guest bed and out into the hallway of Minho’s home. Chan looks up at you from the living room couch. He points down the hallway.

“Empty office.”

You mouth ‘thanks’ and follow that path.

You slide open your phone. “Hey.”

“Hey.” His voice is lower than normal and a bit slurred. Perhaps the meds are starting to take effect.

“You didn’t have to call.” You shut the door behind you and glance around. It’s sparse; a couch that looks more like it’s from last century and a desk with drawers and papers strewn about. Maybe Minho isn’t always so organized.

“Shut up,” but it holds no malice. “You’re freaked out and I’d be lying if I wasn’t a bit freaked out myself right now.”

“Really?”

There’s a sigh and then a groan as though in pain.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just tried to roll to my side and well, wrong side.”

“Poor baby.”

“Hell yeah.” There’s a moment of quiet. You can hear soft music in the background. He must be at home, already in bed.

You can picture it all too well.

“I am freaked out,” he begins quietly. “Lee rarely has me on the front lines like that. I’m not used to using a gun for anything but intimidation. Except for initiation before Lee took over, I’ve never shot anyone before.”

“You had to shoot someone for initiation?”

He curses softly. “You’re not supposed to know that, gongjunim.”

“Did you think I didn’t know what was going on with my dad? With you guys when I saw you go up to your loft with Han and Yang, blood on your clothes? I’m not stupid.”

He sighs. “You’re not stupid. But you haven’t…been there…. I don’t think your dad would have ever let you see any of it. I’m sorry you have now.”

You close your eyes, the images from hours ago still very fresh and bright, garish.

“Thank you, you know. For protecting me.” You realize you haven’t said anything.

Another curse. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“Well, I did.”

He chuckles. “You comfy there are Lee’s?”

“Well enough. Sharing a bed with Somi, even though we both know they’d rather be sharing a bed with each other.”

“Yeah, I’d rather you here anyway.”

It’s like someone has your heart in their hand and just squeezes it. How can he say shit like that?

“Don’t like your bed cold?”

He snorts. “Figure you can nurse me back to health since it was you I was protecting.”

“Should I bat my eyelashes and call you my hero too?”

“If you want to show you’re truly grateful.”

Another pause.

“Or you know, service me.”

“Your dick is working fine then?”

He sputters on the other end, laughing before hissing in pain.

“You should really be careful with that arm, Hwang.”

“I hate you sometimes.”

“I know.”

He yawns. “Shit, this stuff is strong.”

“Go to sleep, my knight in shining armor.”

There’s a warmth in his voice when he answers. “I could get used to that.”

“Don’t.”

“Sleep well, gongjunim. I’m glad you’re safe.”

Why do you want to cry?

“Night.”

When you hang up, you lay down on the old sofa of Minho’s and close your eyes. It’s too exhausting to go back to the guest room.

And maybe you wish you were somewhere else too.

—

“When did you sleep last?”

Minho looks up from recent security footage outside the club. Bobby’s goons were still after his predecessor’s daughter. His friend, his little sister for all purposes.

Somi stands in the doorway of his office, clad in his sweatpants and his t-shirt (it had been easier to grab something of his than send Chan or anyone else back to her home to get more clothes).

“Where’s our houseguest?”

“At work.” Somi rolls her eyes at the thought of you still working despite everything you’ve gone through. She walks in and as she gets closer, Minho closes out his phone so she can’t see the video evidence that no one is safe these days. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He bristles but relaxes when she leans against his desk, one hand smoothing his hair out of his eyes. It’s so simple, the quietest of touches, but he relishes it, knowing full well that it will end sooner rather than later.

“Last night.”

“For how long?”

He shoots an annoyed look at her, but she’s unaffected. There’s an ease between them. He knows it’s exactly the wrong thing for her to be that comfortable with him, but even he can be weak. Especially about a pretty set of eyes, kind heart, and resolute spine.

“Long enough.”

“Minho.”

“Somi,” he replies in the same tone. She’s still playing with his hair and he works hard to not lean into her, press his face against her stomach and just breathe her in. “Somi,” he says again, voice more serious.

Her fingers pause in his hair before dropping away.

He meets her gaze as he stands up. “You might want to think about packing up your stuff.”

Her lips part in surprise and he wonders if he sounded too harsh. He never worries about that with anyone other than her. Normally he doesn’t care.

She forces a smile. “You kicking me out?”

His answering smile is amused and soft. “I think you’ll be able to go home very soon, yeobo.” He carefully moves a wayward strand of hair out of her face, his finger lingering on her ear.

He notices the movement in her throat as she swallows. He draws his finger down the delicate skin of her neck.

“That’s good.”

He nods. “I’m hopeful. Even Seo is hopeful.”

“You’ll be safe, though, right?”

He purses his lips for a second. “To the best of Chan’s ability.” He kisses her before she can call him on his evasion. It’s meant to be just a quick one, one more indulgence on his part. But it isn’t quick.

She whimpers into his mouth and all he can do is pull her into his arms, her warmth continuing to thaw his heart.

“You’ll be safe,” he murmurs. Her hands slip under his shirt and pause.

He doesn’t stop her.

“Minho?” she whispers, asking, her fingers dancing up his ribs.

He groans in answer, pulling off his shirt before getting his hands on her again. She shudders as his hands follow the path of her back, all the way down. When he squeezes oh so gently, she jolts, her body completely flush against him.

“You sure?”

She nods, fusing their lips back together. Her impatience makes him want to say something arrogant, but that would require pulling away and he’s loathe to do that. He walks her carefully back toward his couch one hand on her back to ease her down. He goes to remove her (his) t-shirt, but she’s divested herself of it already.

“Eager?”

Her answering expression would be intimidating if she wasn’t flushed and if he wasn’t the head of the Syndicate.

“Cute.”

She reaches out to pull him close. He laughs, a high-pitched giggle, as he maneuvers, placing one knee on either side of her legs. He slides a finger under the waistband of her (his) sweatpants before easing them down and off of her.

His eyebrows rose at the reveal.

“Looks sweet, but is a little dirty,” he observes, noting her lack of underwear.

Her face is a pretty pink. “If I’m not at work or in public, why would I?”

He leans down, hoping the roughness of his jeans doesn’t antagonize her skin, and slips two fingers into her.

“I like this rule of yours. Feel free to go without as much as you want with me.”

She doesn’t answer, her hand gripping his forearm as he explores her, observing every tremble and gasp. Learning her tells with the same focus he gives anything he cares about.

The safety of his men. The ease of transactions.

Jeon Somi.

Unable to think much more about it, he covers her mouth with his, intent on making them both forget how far apart they should be.

How grey his life will be when she goes back to her much safer world.

When she comes apart in his arms, he half-wishes he’d never agreed to Seo’s proposition of protecting a civilian.

—

It says a lot about your recent mental state that you don’t start to question things until Yang mentions something about picking up a package. Your brain is full of other concerns: the safety of yourself, Somi, and the Syndicate; your recent talks with a commercial realtor, Hyunjin (which entails so much), and the fact that you’d rather sleep on the sofa in your office than at your own apartment.

In fact, you don’t think anything is off until you and Somi are halfway down a side street, away from the lively street vendors and you realize how much quieter it’s gotten.

You were just enjoying Somi’s vague but heated brief retelling of the night prior.

You don’t need many details. Lee Minho is more of an annoying older brother than a male lead.

But it’s quiet.

Somi stops walking when you stop walking.

“Yang.”

The younger syndicate member stops and turns back to look at you.

“What’s this package you’re picking up?”

“Something I can’t tell you,” he smiles, but it’s not light or pleasant. He’s a decent liar. One has to be when involved with the underbelly of Busan, but he’s still Jeongin. The baby you remember holding in your arms when only a few days old; his mom couldn’t care for him, and his dad lost in an altercation. He’d grown up in the Syndicate world much like you had. He might be all grown up, but there’s too much in his eyes to make you think anything but…

Trap.

“I’m going to murder you. Then Lee. Then you again.”

Yang grabs you and Somi by the wrists, not too hard, but firmly. He leads you both farther down the side street.

“All of them then,” he says. “They all know.”

Hwang was a dead man.

“What is–?” Somi begins, but you see the movement before she can finish. You try to pull her behind you, but Yang already places himself as the barrier between you two and–

“Ms. Jeon.”

Bobby.

Surely he’s not stupid enough to realize that this is a trap. A trap with two women (you really might punch Lee for this) as bait.

“With the maknae as protection. Goodness, Lee really is stretched too thin.”

“Not everything is about you,” you shoot back, annoyed at the entire situation. Annoyed and worried. No matter how much this was planned, things can and do go wrong.

Bobby is flanked by six men. Their appearance flashes you back to the dead men in your apartment. What were their names? Did they have families that cared? Were their children abandoned as Jeongin had been?

“Oh yes, the club owner,” Bobby says after you speak. He’s wearing sunglasses which, as it’s an overcast day, makes you want to roll your eyes because not only is he a murderer, he’s a pretentious one. “You don’t really matter.”

“That’s why four of your men bled out in my apartment? Cause I don’t really matter?”

Yang squeezes your wrist, making you wince, but you shut up. You do know better, but you're also angry.

Somi is pressed to your side and you can feel her shaking.

To echo Hwang, Bobby can totally burn in hell.

“Just hand her over,” Bobby speaks slowly. “You two can go on with your sad lives if you just hand her over.”

Where on earth is the cavalry?

“No.”

Jeongin hasn’t spoken till this moment and he sounds firm but small. He’s still a kid. Just turned twenty.

“Pity. She can’t live. Seeing what she’s seen.”

The guns come out, all pointed at the three of you.

“Which is what? Bobby? What has she seen?”

You don’t know why you ask, but you do at the same time. In the corner of your eye, you see him. Your business partner, tucked as best he can be with that long body of his behind a part of a building that juts out.

They’re here, but staying silent.

It dawns on you why.

They need a confession.

So the words come out before you think them through. It’s unlikely someone who treats women like Bobby does would think that you have a clue about why Somi is under the syndicate’s protection. You could be as well informed as a Park girl for all he knows.

Bobby smiles. The sort of patronizing ‘oh you little idiot’ kind of smile that makes you want to scream.

“Ms. Jeon here saw an unfortunate incident between myself and her colleague. Not that anyone misses him.”

It has to be enough and you hear the sound of arrival before you see it. You drop to the ground, dragging Somi with you. Yang covers you both as best he can, close enough that you can smell the orange blossom of his cologne.

There are sirens and a few gunshots (less than in your apartment just days ago), but it all sounds distant to you. You’re holding Somi so tightly to you that her staccato breathing seems like the loudest noise.

Eventually, you sense Yang is no longer on top of you.

“Let her go,” a soft voice commands.

You see Changbin, in uniform, carefully drawing Somi away from you. Your moment of appreciation for him in uniform (hat and bulletproof vest) is interrupted by a hand wrapping around your arm to help you up.

You turn away from the police car driving away with Bobby.

Hyunjin is looking down at you, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“You didn’t tell me.”

He closes his eyes before nodding. “I didn’t tell you.”

You swing around, looking for Minho to fully berate (though you recognize that you’re exhausted all of a sudden) when you find him, staring toward where Somi and Changbin are.

Berating doesn’t seem like the best idea right now.

Then it hits you.

It’s over.

The whole thing is over.

You turn back to Hyunjin. “I’m pissed at all of you.”

“Fair.” He pulls you into his arms, hissing in pain once because his arm isn’t fully healed (why on earth is he out here when he’s not 100%?). “Wanna go home?”

“If by home you mean Circus, sure.”

—

You sleep in the next day, having to stretch out your back after sleeping on the office couch again. Hyunjin offers you his bed but you can’t and he doesn’t argue with you.

Sometimes he understands.

You have a meeting with a potential buyer the next day and despite that, everything at the club feels normal. Felix and Seungmin run things as per usual. People come for drinks, for dancing, for music like normal.

It’s like nothing ever happened.

It’s late when you wipe down the bar and tables. The rest of the employees have gone home, and customers gone an hour before that. It’s just you and the very non-club-like music you put on.

You smile as “Unchained Melody” comes through the speakers. Dipping the cloth into the bucket, you hum and squeeze out the excess water. Halfway through wiping the table, you leave the cloth and drift into the dance floor, swaying to the haunting music. You’re nearly healed up and to move without pain is still a blessed marvel.

It takes you several seconds to hear beyond the song to the creaking of stairs and footsteps. You freeze in your dancing and turn to see Hyunjin at the bottom of the steps, in just a pair of jeans.

“Was the music too loud? Did I wake you?” You stutter, annoyed at your nerves. You just saw him yesterday.

Amid a gunfight, yes, but still.

You haven’t seen him all day. You didn’t text him. He didn’t text you.

Hyunjin makes you feel like you’re at the edge of a cliff. You don’t know if falling would be thrilling or fatal.

He scratches the back of his head, his hair a pleasant mess. “No. Woke up on my own. Needed a drink and I’m out.” He steps onto the floor and walks past you to the bar. “Don’t worry, I’ll put it on my tab.”

You grin despite your embarrassment at being caught dancing. “I know you’re good for it.”

He mixes several ingredients before pouring them into a glass. His eyes don’t leave you.

“What?” Might be a good time to go back to cleaning.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you dance since high school.”

You laugh and start back toward the half-finished table. “Yeah, well, it’s generally a solitary thing for me. Hence why you haven’t seen it.”

He’s moved and catches you by the hand before you can return to cleaning. “Dance with me?”

Your heart jumps. “I, uh…”

He tugs you close as the song changes to “Save the Last Dance for Me.” His smile is as soft as his voice. “See, it’s kismet.” He guides your hands to his shoulders and rests his own on your waist. “Like high school.”

You attempt to relax. “You never danced with me in high school.”

“You never asked.”

You scoff. “I wasn’t that liberated then apparently.”

He tightens his hold to bring you closer. “I wasn’t too much for dancing then.”

“Hyunjin…”

His hand settles in the curve of your waist. “You’re so small here. It always surprises me.”

Your face heats and you try to pull away, but he’s stronger than you are, especially when he’s stubborn.

“And your ears. Tiny,” One finger traces along the shell. “Tall as you are, as curvy…you’re still fragile in some ways.” His eyes focus back on yours.

“I’m not sure if you’re complimenting me or not. I’ve never asked for an evaluation of my body.” It strikes you then that he knows your body better than most and you’ve unintentionally brought up that one night. The night neither of you ever talk about.

“Don’t,” he says as you try to pull away again. “Just dance with me.” He succeeds in bringing you close until there is no space and your cheek rests on his bare shoulder. It’s easier if you don’t have to look at him, so you don’t argue.

The song changes again, but neither of you stops swaying.

Your hand, of its own accord, moves to play with his hair at the nape of his neck while the other reminds you that he is still without a shirt as it slides along his shoulder blade and down his spine to the top of his jeans. You force your hand not to go any farther.

“How often,” he breathes in your ear and you shiver, “do you think about that night?”

“More than I’d prefer.” You lift your head to see him. His eyes are so dark. “You?”

“Most every time I see you.” He brushes the hair out of your eyes. His fingers linger, tracing your eyebrows, along your jaw, and to your lips. “It can be inconvenient sometimes.”

“Sucks for you.”

He leans in close, making your cocky expression falter. “How’s Somi?”

“Home. Going back to work. Says she saw one of the Syndicate when she ran errands today.”

“Precautionary.” He lets his nose touch yours for just a second. “Lee probably will keep tabs on her until after sentencing.”

You nod, having a difficult time looking away from him. “Hyunjin…”

“Are you still mad at me?”

“Always.” You don’t sound mad despite your words. “What for this time?”

“Not telling you about the plan.”

You sigh, letting your head drop. His lips press against your forehead. “It’s Syndicate business, right? I’m not Syndicate.”

“You’re still mad.”

You lift your head, freezing when you realize how close his lips are.

“I’m tired of being mad.”

“Me too.” He leans close enough to let his lips brush yours. It’s a hint, something that offers but doesn’t demand.  “Come upstairs?” He draws back to level you with a look you recognize. One that makes your skin tingle. “Please?”

You’re older, and wiser this time. Your heart won’t be affected if you take what he’s offering.

You nod and his smile sweetens. He takes you by the hand and leads you to the stairs. Before you’re halfway up, he turns and with gentle pressure, braces you against the railing and kisses you.

Your mouth opens to let him in, your body tightening in anticipation, but he’s unhurried this time. He ends the kiss with a soft peck on your lips and takes your hand again and continues up to his apartment.

“Hyunjin.”

He shuts the door behind you and locks it before turning to you.

“What is it, jagiya?” He takes both your hands in his and kisses you again. “Having second thoughts?”

“No,” you breathe back though in truth you’re having a million thoughts. “Just wanted to ask you to remind me to wipe the security camera tomorrow.”

He laughs against your lips. “We were just dancing.”

“You know if any of them found that footage, we’d never hear the end of it.”

He tugs on the hem of your shirt before slipping it over your head. When he starts on your jeans, a sly grin graces his lips. “Lee’d beat the shit out of me, then Chan would make sure I never got up again. Deleting the footage is self-preservation.” His fingers brush against the skin of your stomach and you shiver.

“Coward.”

He glances at you through those thick eyelashes of his. “Absolutely.” He goes to push down your pants, but you’ve got to kiss him again. He lets you, pulling you into his arms, hands sliding up your back.

When you draw back, his eyes fall to your exposed skin. “Still healing?”

“What?”

“You have marks,” he gestures at the bruising along your side. “Fragile, like I said.”

“Who got shot?” you retort, gesturing back to his arm. He pouts.

“For you. I got shot for you.”

You know he’s teasing, but the reminder feels like a punch to your gut. He did get shot for you.

“I know.”

His joking fades at your words, and you hear him inhale sharply when you kiss his arm, right above the bandage. He murmurs your name, his hand carding through your hair before gripping so he can get you to look at him.

He leans down to kiss you, less gentle and less sweet; all tongue. You pull at his jeans, impatient.

He laughs before breaking away to rid himself of his jeans and boxers. He looks up at you, noticing how much you’re staring.

“Stop.”

You meet his eyes, and see the tinge of color spreading on his cheeks and ears. How can he blush, knowing he looks like this all day, every day?

“No.”

He rolls his eyes at your petulance before offering his hand. “Bedroom?”

As he leads you the short distance to his bedroom, you think about how easy it is. When you don’t think too much, when you don’t consider all outcomes. How easy it is to have your hand in his; his beautiful fingers slotted between yours. The artist hands holding yours like he doesn’t have both life and death in them.

He can paint sunsets and kill an intruder.

What would Hyunjin be today if he’d never fallen into the Syndicate?

A struggling artist?

A charming bartender?

Something not even he could consider because the Syndicate sucks everyone in.

He’s staring at you, while your brain creates scenarios that can never be.

He doesn’t ask but bends down to brush his lips to yours. He’s so gentle and smells like a sweet cocktail, mixed with the fabric softener he uses.

You slide your hands into his hair, intent on savoring every detail about this. The silk of his hair, the sharpness of his breaths, the way he tastes of vodka and passionfruit.

Those artist hands, long-fingered and nimble, remove your bra and underwear. He’s on his knees after tossing the last of your clothing away. You don’t think you’ll ever find another person as beautiful as him.

You maneuver him to his bed, propped up by his pillows, looking like naked royalty. His skin is flushed, the movement of his chest revealing how very not calm and collected he is. You crawl onto the bed, strategically so both your knees are pressed into the mattress outside his hips. He sits up once you’re close to kiss you again.

“I had no idea how much you liked kissing,” you murmur, one hand on his chest and the other skimming along his shoulder and down his arm. His hand links with yours.

He hums against your mouth. “You. I like kissing you.” He lays back down, making sure you stay close. His hand lazily trails up and down your back. He nips your bottom lip and you jolt at the mild aggression. He smirks at you before cupping your cheek in his hand and leaving over to his nightstand to grab a condom.

When he hands it to you and you get to work opening it, you feel his hand leave your face to card through your hair.

There’s a slight whine when you roll the latex on, your fingers reacquainting with his cock. His fingers tangle in your hair, tugging so you look up at his face.

“What?” you smirk, squeezing him a little. The sound he makes is so gratifying that you do it again and his hand tightens even more in your hair. “Don’t get sappy and say you want to look at my face or something.”

“But I do.”

You can feel his words, the weight of them, the gravity. He’s not teasing, he’s not bantering with you.

He pulls so your head tilts back slightly. You feel his mouth, wet and hot, against the sensitive skin of your neck. You're distracted, rightly, so when he slides in, the moan you let out is horribly embarrassing. He loosens his grip on you, your head falling forward so your eyes can look nowhere but into his.

—

You wake before him, the light of dawn peeking through the curtains. It’s unbelievably similar to the last time you woke up beside him except you aren’t in pain, and he’s under the covers with you.

Three times you’ve woken up in his bed and twice he was still there. That’s much better odds than you’d originally thought possible.

But the sight of him asleep twists something inside you and as quietly as you can, you slide out of bed. Your clothes are in the living room, and it doesn’t take too long to find and put them back on. The rest of your things are downstairs in the office and you just force yourself not to look back into the bedroom before you leave.

—

You’re in the office an hour before opening when he walks in. You don’t look away from the computer.

“Did you fix the security feed?” he asks, his voice a little hoarse.

“Yep.” You peer over the top of the monitor to look at him. He doesn’t look any worse for wear, but he seems tense. “So, I met with the buyer…”

“Sell it.” He interrupts you. “Sell the damn thing. Lee has other places to meet.” He walks back to the door. “You left this morning. Was that turnabout?”

It was, but that doesn’t make you feel better. You look back at your screen.

“I was awake and needed to get home. Unless you prefer another round in the morning?” Your voice is sharp with flippancy.

“Fuck you.” His voice catches.

Your eyes can’t look anywhere but him. There’s a sheen glimmering in his eyes.

“Don’t make it less than it was.” He sneers.

You stand up, not sure how to handle the normally chill Hwang Hyunjin when he’s burdened like this. “It was goodbye. I know.”

He rests his head on the door with a harsh laugh. “You don’t know shit. Call your buyer and sell it.” He opens the door to leave.

“I’ll split the buying price evenly—“

“I trust you in this, gongjunim.” He meets your gaze, his own eyes red-rimmed. “I’ll look for a new place to live too.”

“He doesn’t have immediate plans for the loft…”

“I don’t want to stay if it’s not ours anymore.” And he walks out.

—

“Somi?”

You’re staring at your filled-to-the-brim trunk, hoping that you got everything from the Circus office and hadn’t forgotten anything. It’s mid-morning and the club looks like any closed business right now.

It’s off-putting,

You hear your name and turn to see a familiar silhouette come down the street. Somi hurries up to you and hugs you tightly. “I’m not too late.”

“Your timing is really good.” You hug back, grateful for the warmth that is Jeon Somi. “Also, you look really good,” You tell her, shutting the door to your trunk.

“Thanks. You look…”

“Awful, it’s okay. Moving is stressful.”

“You look like you’ve been crying.” Never one to mince words.

You lean back on your car. “Yeah, well. I said goodbyes yesterday but held off feeling much of it until today. I’ll miss my boys.”

“Minho said you found a place?”

“Yeah, on Jeju. Different style. Different clientele.” You take a deep breath and let it out. “You and Minho still talk?”

The lawyer blushes prettily. “Sometimes.”

“That’s nice.” You didn’t bring up Somi to Lee for a number of reasons. Mostly your conversations of late had been about your upcoming move and also, you didn’t want to make him sad.

Even if he’d never admit it.

She nods. “It is. It’s…something.” She tugs on her work blazer. “What about Hyunjin?”

You straighten. “What about him? He’s Syndicate.”

She gives you a long look. “Last time I saw both of you, you were in his arms.”

You snort, crossing your arms. “Life or death experiences make me a little affectionate. Sue me.”

She says your name in a very no-nonsense tone and you feel like a scolded student. You huff but relent.

“Our thing was a long time ago. And it was only one night.” Two, you correct yourself mentally. “Even if it was more than that, he can’t leave.” You stare back at Circus. “And I can’t stay.”

“I’m sorry.” She must be incredibly good at her job; having empathy like that.

You shake your head. “I’ve needed to get out for a while. The stuff with you was just the push, you know? The catalyst. I’m grateful to know you. And you know, if you’re ever in the area…”

“I’ll look you up. I haven’t been to Jeju since I was a kid.”

You hug her again before you get into your car.

“Take care of Lee for me, okay?”

It means a lot that she doesn’t deny that he needs it. “Will do.”

—

A Year Later

“A customer wants to see you, boss,” Yena tells you, opening the office door just a bit. “How long have you been looking at those numbers?”

You chuckle and look up at your tiny manager. “Until they tell me what I actually want to hear. That we are in the black.”

“No one is in the black ten months in business.”

“I’m just a dreamer,” You reply and get up to stretch. “You said there was a customer?”

“Yeah, wants to ask about some of the beers. And to make a couple of suggestions.”

You roll your eyes. “Everyone’s expert.” You head to the front of your much smaller and cozier pub.

Muddy Water had none of the class and hip appeal that Circus had, but you preferred it like that. Trying to redo what you’d already done seemed like an effort in pointlessness. Forgetting your previous life and all that it encompassed seemed like a most intelligent choice.

Never mind that he still often shows up in your dreams.

“He’s at the end of the bar,” Yena calls after you. You see that Woodz is still manning the bar, but looks overwhelmed by the customer at the end of the bar.

“You asked to…” you begin as you get behind the bar and head in that direction. Then you see the long black hair, cut shorter; the soft brown eyes, the unfairly perfect lips. “Hwang.”

Maybe your dreams are feeling more like reality?

“Hey Park.” He smiles winsomely at you. “I was just testing your staff.”

“Woodz is barely two weeks old.” You glance at your new bartender. “Sorry about him. He enjoys ruffling all kinds of feathers. You can continue.”

Woodz nods and goes back to cleaning up empty glasses and plates.

“What on earth are you doing here?”

“You didn’t say goodbye, jagiya.” He finishes his bright pink cocktail.

You point at his drink. “Only you would order something like that at a pub.”

He rests his chin on his hand, still smiling at you.

“And you avoided me.”

“You avoided me,” he answers back but doesn’t sound upset. “I was still pissed at you.”

“I assumed. You got your half, right? All fair, yes?” You jam your hands into your jeans’ pockets, feeling the trembling. He can’t know how floored you are right now.

He rolls his eyes. “You think I came here to talk business with you?”

“I’m not buying the sentimental.”

He shrugs. “But that’s why I’m here.”

You look to see that the few people around are watching you both avidly. “Come on.” You wave at him to follow you. He tails you past the office door to another at the end of the hallway. You open it and indicate he should go in.

“Your place?”

“For now.” It’s one room with a shower and toilet, but you have a full kitchen just down the hall, so you make do. “It requires no rent and I’ll find a nicer place when Muddy Water is a little more profitable.”

“It’s nice.” He plops down on the sole couch. “Comfy.”

You shut the door and lean against it. “Hyunjin.”

“You know why you woke up and I wasn’t there?”

No small talk anymore then. You tense at the mention of your first night together, and he sees it but continues without commenting.

“I’d woken up really early and there you were, just lying next to me. Your hair a total mess, and face smushed on my pillow.” He smiles in remembrance. “And I thought how beautiful you were. How much I loved you.”

You make some sort of noise, but he doesn’t stop.

“And that scared me. Scared the shit out of me, so I got up and dressed and went out for a bit. I probably walked an hour, thinking about you, me…us. I bought breakfast too. And I came to the conclusion that I had no idea what to do, but whatever it was, I wanted to do it with you.” He sits up and sets his hands on his knees. “But when I got back you were gone. When I saw you later that day…”

He didn’t really need to continue. You remember what happened that day.

“You wouldn’t look at me. I wish we’d just fought about it, but neither of us spoke. And I guess, I wimped out. I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t think you’d believe me, honestly. Not after me abandoning you. It was easier not to tell you.”

You still don’t say anything. What can you say?

You see him swallow, the first indication of how nervous he is.

“You’ve always called me a coward, and at that moment, I was one. Besides, I convinced myself I was caught up in the moment. It probably wasn’t really love. I mean, how could it be? You don’t fall in love when you’re in the Syndicate.”

The silence is deafening.

“Anyway,” He stands up and tucks his hands in his pockets. “I don’t think I let myself believe it until you got hurt. Then you chose to leave us…me and…” He pulls up one of his sleeves then the other as though he’s too warm. “I figured maybe you never felt the same. Then we…” he trails off when he sees your expression.

You’re looking right at the inside of his exposed forearm, where the tattoo that marks all the Parks should have been. You walk to him, grabbing his arm and looking closer. Skin is a little redder, but the tattoo’s been removed.

“It took a while. I had no idea that removing it would be so damn expensive.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I asked to step down. To leave.”

“You did what?”

“I’m out. Minho knew. I’d told him after you said you wanted to sell. I couldn’t stay.” He tugs your hair like a boy wanting a girl’s attention back in elementary school. “It took some time to take care of everything, and I wanted to let you get settled with whatever you were going to do.”

“You’re out.” Your brain is struggling to understand words.

He nods. “I mean, I don’t know if I’ll ever not be a suspicious character to the cops, but I was never arrested. Besides, I like being a bartender. I’m good at it. Best tips.” His smile is weak. “I really hope you love me too cause I can’t come back from this.”

Your eyes have been filling for several minutes and decide then to overflow.

“Jagiya…” He draws you into his arms and kisses your hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about that morning. I know I fucked it up.”

“I’m sorry I left you too.” You say brokenly. “It was too hard to stay. I can’t do casual with you. I never could.”

He hugs you tighter. “Thank god.”

You laugh before drawing back and wiping your eyes. “You’re really here for a job?”

“Yeah, and if you’re too full, I’d say fire Woodz because he barely knows the difference between an IPA and a stout.” He kisses your forehead. “You just hired him because he’s hot.”

“Partially.”

“I’m here for you. I can always work elsewhere if that’s better. I just want to be with you.”

“God, you’re sappy.”

“Yeah, well, I’m an artist in love.” He kisses your nose. “A romantic.”

“I love you anyway.”

His smile right then will stay in your memory forever.

“So, do I get the job?”

“I’ll think about it.” You kiss him before he can protest.

---

(c) yoongihan 2022. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans. 

[tommy-kinard-buckley]

I am once again bored in class so send me asks about any of my WIPs and I'll give you a teaser for it

Y'all, I am sitting in my class right now bored so I'm starting an ask game.

The Best Christmas Present a man can ask for (Tommy asks Buck to join him for a work event that ends in Buck having a cute picture of Tommy on his phone)

One of many things that we share (protective Tommy and Bobby when Buck is injured by Gerrard)

Giving a friendly nudge (TK guides Buck back into Tommy's arms)

There's a first time for everything (a version of the first kiss where Tommy stays)

Drinks and a little bit more (Tommy gets that beer with Buck instead of leaving with Eddie)

You're my brother and I love you, that's the truth (ex-marine lieutenant Tommy)

Love at first sight is more common than you think (Chicago PD/9-1-1)

Don't say yes (billionaire Tommy is arranged to marry a woman by his father)

My favorite kind of morning (Buck finds Tommy shirtless on his balcony and has some thoughts)

A man who can do it all (9-1-1/S.W.A.T. where Deacon helps Tommy build a deck and pool while Buck watches)

Melting a cold heart with ease (Mafia boss Tommy au)

[the-only-trans-sopranos-fan]

THE SOPRANOS SPEECH AND DEBATE AU HEADCANONS

-tony: i feel like he would be one of those kids who did a WW2 expos and he would also try to do LD but he would just end up getting super pissed and calling his opponent an idiot so his coach forbid him from doing LD

-meadow: i just KNOW she's a DI kid OBVIOUSLY, she tries to do basically every event and like super good at everything it's insane. only thing she can't do is HI, but i think shes also an oratory kid and she also does debate while doing a moral argument for like everything

-carmela: i feel like she would also wanna do DI but she just can't communicate her emotions very well at all so it just comes across as apathetic and meadow places above her every time and she's gets so pissed. also tony forced her to be pufo partners with him and she regrets it so much, it is literal hell trying to build a case with him

-paulie: definitely expos except he changes his topic like every week and every tournament he ends up going in his rounds with a completely unmemorized script and just kinda bullshits the whole thing, just going on an endless rant abt something he likes, and gets ranked last every time, so he finds his judges' houses and wacks their kneecaps. bc he sucks at actually sticking to a script, his coach keeps telling him to do impromptu but he thinks it's stupid (even tho its basically the same thing as what he's doing with expos) . he's also doing a duo with christopher and it's the bane of his existence

-christopher: obviously an interp kid. i feel like he puts together the worst poi's known to man, and him and paulie are doing like the fuckikg worst goodfellas duo that gets ranked last every round

-silvio: he's actually pretty decent at LD, he's rly good at keeping his composure and hiding how nervous he is. also he tries to do extempt in hopes that he'll get a mafia topic but he never does and it makes him sad

-bobby: interp kid at heart, he has a darjeeling limited script he's cooking up because it's set on a train. his coach is trying to get him to branch out and do a speech or LD, ofc he's doing an expos abt trains, but he sucks at LD bc he's too nice

-junior: i feel like his favorite event is congress honestly, he's that much of a loser, he's kinda bad at everything else honestly. he tries to do debate but just thinks he knows enough abt the topic and doesn't have to research and then goes in and gets fucked on every round

-janice: is pufo partners with whoever she's dating and just completely overshadows them bc she's so good at intimidating the opponent. i feel like she does a little bit of every event honestly, she's rly good at doing emotional speeches in OO, OA, and impromptu and the judges eat it up every time and everyone else is so pissed abt it. she also occasionally does a DI that wins first in every round. everyone is so scared of her bc of how good she is at emotionally manipulating the judges, it's scary. she's also so stuck up abt it and i feel like she low key bases her self-worth on how she does in speech and debate cuz honestly don't we all

-aj: he does a sonic HI every year because he thinks it's funny

[fluffyprettykitty]

hello and welcome to another celebration! ❣️❣️❣️

Thank you so much for everything, forever grateful for every single interaction and every one I've met here, smooches and love to everyone &lt;3

This time around I will write blurbs and drabbles and focus solely on the women!!! 🍒

Running from october 17 to october 21!

masterlist here!

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───

What will you do is mix and match a character or several with one or several of the following categories.

🌷Polyamorous ships are always encouraged. Dark topics, platonic relationships & aus are welcome. No daughter! reader though.

🌷 Please only use a character from the ones already provided.

🌷I will either turn them to make blurbs or hds or drabbles depending on my inspiration but you can suggest to me what it should be.

🌷As always feel encouraged to send as many asks as you desire. I will be receiving the asks and releasing them of my own volition.

🌷 You have to be strictly 18+ to participate.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

characters: Selina Kyle, Natasha Romanoff, Kate Bishop, Yelena Belova, Valkyrie, Layla El Faouly, Monica Rambeau, Jane Foster, Jessica Jones, Gamora, Elektra Natchios, Wanda Maximoff || Bix Caleen, Galadriel, Sharon Carter, Nakia, Jennifer Walters, Dinah Madani, Karen Page, Bobbi Morse, Maya Lopez.

aus: apocalypse, ballet, bakery, bar, bodyguard, book store, brothel, celebrity, coffee shop, cult, detective, fake dating, gardening, ghost, mafia, maid, mechanic, mermaid, musician/rock star, neighbor, stripper, tattoo shop, yandere.

kinks: whips, corruption, latex, breath play, cockwarming, phone sex, gloves, choking, mutual or guided masturbation, mirror sex, love bites, strip tease, uniform/suit, deep throating, knife play, gunplay, titty fucking, hunter/prey, squirting, praise, worship, dirty talk, sex toys, overstimulation, accidental stimulation, collaring, shower, sensory deprivation, somnophilia, gagging, lingerie, object insertion, rimming, lap dance, period sex, lactation, balcony, thigh riding, breast worship, temperature play, edging, sex tape, hate sex, spanking, exhibitionism, handcuffs, clothes on, moresomes, degradation, humiliation.

date ideas: day trip, road trip, rock climbing, library, museum, botanical gardens, restaurant, camping, beach, drinks, concert, walking, sightseeing, volunteering, boat ride, dancing, spa, errands, mattress shopping, shopping spree, cinema, coffee, ice skating, cooking classes, abandoned places, photoshoot.

domestic situations: building furniture, trying new recipes, competitive games, painting nails, reading, cuddling, clothes shopping, packing, laundry, goodbye at the door, repairing, changing bedsheets, exercising, deep cleaning, takeout, bath, falling asleep, dancing, holidays, brushing teeth, waking them up, eating, listening to music, complaining about family, movie nights, nagging, doing dishes.

Just combine as many as you want however you seem fit! And of course when it comes to domestic situations and date ideas you can think of other things or be more specific on one situation! ☆

☆ In the near hopefully future, I will keep the same exact format and have all the characters available ☆

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

No pressure tagging: @alohastyles-x, @silver-pieces, @stargirlfics, @maladaptivexxdaydreaming,@musingsinmoonlight, @chelleztjs18, @asgardwinter, @inklore, @bvckysmoon, @that-sarcastic-writer, @wint3r-h3art, @galatially, @writing-for-marvel, @stranger-nightmare, @psychedelic-ink,

[lectercunt]

working on any new fics?? i’m obsessed with both of your hannibal fics kajdhsjsj also if you have fic recommendations i’d love to read them!!!

hey! thank you so much for this ask :3

i'm sorry its taken me so long to reply, but i got carried away with the second portion of your ask asjsdlkdgjlk

as far as what i'm working on — too many WIPs, actually! i have a few things im working on actively right now, though. ranging from my post-fall eatingdisordered!hannibal fic, a trans!hannibal penetration issues fic, a professor will / student hannibal au fic, a twink nigel / married bobby on vacation au, a period sex fic post-catacombs, omega hannibal / alpha will regency au and so so so much more LOL

i'm hoping to try and get one more thing posted before the end of 2022, so cross your fingers for me so that ADHD doesn't win!

as for the fic recommendations, under the read below i've compiled my most reached for and most read. there is no numbered order, except for the first one, which has my heart forever. please be cautious with the tags and warnings in each fic, as i have not listed everything in my summaries. i've tagged a few of the below as dead dove where it is warned explicitly in the author's notes.

stink in the nostrils - murdertrout

this is the only fic that has a numbered place. it is my favorite fic of all time and has completely rearranged my brain chemistry and enthralled me time and time again.

secret omega hannibal / alpha will; hannibal avenges himself on his identity by putting will behind bars. will retaliates, and both get more than they bargained for

to beg - jonnimir

dom will / sub hannibal; blow job / cock worship; begging

put your aching teeth to good use my dear - wormsin

alpha will / omega hannibal; alternate ending to fromage; upon seeing hannibal alive in the office post-tobias, will goes into a feral rut. hannibal attempts to pacify him

to the victor go the spoils - zipegs

trans hannibal / cis will; after dinner with hannibal, alana leaves, but will stays

incubus - stratswrites, whiskeyandspite

dream demon nigel / will; will is dying, and nobody knows why; fear kink; dead dove

satisfied - h0neybeebear

trans will / trans hannibal; pillow prince will; sex toys; scent kink

prime - youaremydesign

alpha will / omega hannibal; feral & dark; weaponplay; piss; hunting

beautiful hell - bleakmidwinter

first time bottoming hannibal / will

a world of hurt - h0neybeebear

cis will / trans hannibal; bdsm; pussy paddling; subspace

feral - stratswrites

secret omega hannibal / alpha will; feral heat; nontraditional a/b/o

like it was religion - sourweather

hannibal is fucked by an angel; somnophilia; tentacles

torture - minorobsessions (draculard)

dom will / sub hannibal; coming untouched; bondage; dead dove

petals - sourweather

trans nigel / cis adam; childhood friends; reunited; angst+fluff+smut

just one more - highermagic

indulgent trans hannibal / insatiable cis will; oral sex; multiple orgasms

asserting dominance - jonnimir

omega hannibal / married alpha will; hannibal and will have a mating bond, but will is married to molly now so hannibal sends the dragon after will's family and provokes will to cruelty; breeding+pregnancy implications; dead dove

so shed your skin and lets get started - godfearing

will / hannibal; burnplay; power dynamics

the man you only meet once - highermagic

mafia boss hannibal / dark will; bdsm; uncivilized possessiveness

the distance is quite simply much too far for me to row - softhan

post-fall; complications from injuries; vulnerable hannibal

we could be discreet - angelic_disaster

professor dom will / student sub hannibal

break open your chest (just to count your heartbeats) - everybreathagift

will has a suspicion, hannibal confirms it drunk; dom will /sub hannibal

certain dark things - multifandom_fanfic_writer

biological bdsm; dom will / secret sub hannibal; for forty years hannibal has defied his dynamic - enter will graham

whenever, however, wherever - thesilverqueen

dark vampire will / sub selkie hannibal; angst and smut with happy ending

well upon our way - fatal_drum

will fists hannibal for the first time

in clumsiness and in perfection - thesilverqueen

dark dom will / young sub hannibal; bdsm au

suspended in disbelief - agarina_amigara

dark dom will / sub hannibal; shibari bondage suspension; exercise+strength kink

grace - youaremydesign

god+statue will / nonbinary devotee hannibal; size difference; implied pregnancy; bottom hannibal; a king needs his queen, and hannibal knows it is destiny to be that for their god of fertility

softly sweetly - thecountessolivia

will experiences erectile dysfunction; hannibal doesn't mind, worshipful even