#I am (politely) kissing you on the cheeks like a mob boss

[nanasalt]

i just wanted to drop in and say i’ve been thoroughly enjoying going through your blog :)

i recently rediscovered my love of frozen, and newly discovered hansanna, and your mini tag essays are everything. i could read them for hours. you have some brilliant analyses.

i also really enjoy anastasia (and glenya) and your insights were very interesting to read about. gave me a new perspective

I unironically love the diplomacy of "gave my a new perspective", hah. I know my manner of engaging with Anastasia is highly critical and not for everyone but I think it's a fun show to break down. The end product has a lot of metaphorical fingerprints from prior versions of the story, fairy tales, other musicals, the writers' own biases and process, American Culture on the whole ... all I ever hope for is to make people think about it, because it's genuinely fascinating!

So the fact you like my tag essays in general has me crying, blushing, etc, especially when I have been thoroughly enjoying your tags!! They're so sweet and wonderful and truly acting like a jolt of caffeine in terms of my going feral about hansanna stuff again, oml. I feel like a shop proprietor or museum curator eagerly trying to get you to come back again.

Honestly I'm genuinely deeply curious about you rediscovering Frozen but newly discovering Hansanna. Please do share your thoughts and experiences, because I got dragged aboard hansanna-first (by someone who knows what they did) and it's interesting to see how other people got onboarded!

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Looks like a group of guys from your college won’t leave you alone.

Oh would you look at that,

1940’s!MobBoss!Bucky Barnes

has got your back, and will continue to have your back forever.

(Also hi babes!!! 🤗🤗Thousand kisses from me to you! 💋💋)

Have Your Back Forever And Always » 40s Bucky Barnes

Pairings: Mob Boss!40s Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky steps in and saves you from the guys in your friend group who won’t leave you alone.

Warnings: Fluff, language, alcohol, smoking, unwanted touching, kissing, use of pet names

A/N: @amathslutsguidetofandom I love the thought of 1940s!Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes and decided to write it as a one shot🥰🩵

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

“No thank you.” You say, politely turning down a drink from one of the guys you go to college with.

“C’mon, sweetheart. It’s just one drink.” Gerald says, wrapping his arm around your waist.

Bucky watched from the other side of the bar as you continued to politely turn the guys down, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. He could tell how uncomfortable you were.

“It’s just a drink, Y/N.” Fred says, putting his hand on your thigh.

That made you even more uncomfortable than you already were. Bucky downed the rest of his drink and made his way towards you.

“She said no.” Bucky says, standing behind Gerald and Fred.

“No one asked you, man.” Fred says.

“Why don’t you run along?” Gerald says.

Bucky chuckled before grabbing the back of their necks and slamming their heads against the bar counter, making everyone in the bar go quiet and look at them. You quickly stood up and backed away with wide eyes.

“How about you two run along?” Bucky says.

They were too scared to say anything so they just nodded their heads. Bucky let go of them and they stood up. They were about to bolt out of the bar when Bucky grabbed the back of their shirts.

“If I ever and I mean ever see you two near her again, I won’t hesitate to kick your asses, got it?” He says.

“Got it.” They say in unison.

Bucky let go of them and they sprinted out of the bar. You stood there with a surprised look on your face. No one has never done that for you.

“Are you ok, ma’am?” Bucky asks softly.

“I am now. Thank you.” You say, giving him a smile.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks.

“I’d like to know your name first.” You say.

“James Barnes.” He held his hand out for you to shake. “Everyone I know calls me Bucky.” He says.

“Nice to meet you, James.” You shook his hand. “I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself. “Now that we know each other’s names, I’ll accept that drink now.” You say with a smile.

You and Bucky took a seat at the bar counter and he ordered you two drinks.

“So tell me, doll face…” Bucky took a sip of his bourbon before asking his question. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing at a bar like this?” He asks.

“I go to the local college and I wanted to come here for a couple drinks after all the studying I’ve been doing lately.” You tell him.

“What are you studying?” He asks curiously.

“I want to be a nurse.” You say.

“That’s amazing. I hope all that studying pays off.” He says.

“I hope so too. I graduate next month.” You say.

You learned that Bucky is one of the most powerful men in Brooklyn, New York. You and Bucky spent the whole night talking and getting to know each other till the bar was about to close. He even offered to walk you home from the bar. Bucky being the gentleman he is, wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you close to him and to protect you.

“Thank you for saving me and for walking me home, James.” You say with a smile.

“You don’t have to thank me, babydoll. I have your back forever and always.” Bucky smiles. “If you don’t mind, I would like to see you again.” He says.

“I would absolutely love that.” You smiled. “I’m free tomorrow afternoon after school.” You say.

“Great so it’s a date.” He says.

Bucky cupped your cheeks and kissed you passionately. Your hands grasped his suit jacket to steady yourself. Your lips moved in sync with his. It felt like everything around you guys was in slow motion. Bucky pulled away slowly, looking deep in your eyes.

“See you tomorrow afternoon, doll.” Bucky says softly.

“See you tomorrow, Bucky.” You say, smiling widely.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[anneimaginesundertale]

SO makes small meaningful gift for Asgore?

Like all Asgores, MF Asgore loved kids. In the monster city in Mafiafell, the monster kids needed extra love and care, so Asgore made not one but two appearances as Santa. The summer gifts were usually new shoes and clothes and maybe something else Asgore knew the family needed. This was also a great cover for him being a big scary mob boss.

---------------------------------------------------------------

You weren't the usual person who came to this event. It wasn't really for adults. Or for humans for that matter. The Gyftmas in July event was for monster children, who all came for a chance to see Santa and get a gift from him. You stood out like a sore thumb, even though you'd dressed up like an elf.

Monsters whispered and moved away from you as you joined the line. "It's all right," you assured them with a big smile. "I know Santa."

That didn't seem to reassure anybody. Santa's guards came over and gave you a thorough sniffing. You didn't mind. You even let them sniff the gift you'd brought for Santa. They shuffled away with their tails wagging, excited that something new was happening.

The monsters in line grew more comfortable with you as the line moved forward. You joked with the kids and got them laughing. By the time you reached the front of the line, everybody knew you were there and why.

Santa still looked surprised to see you, though. "What are you doing here?" he rumbled.

"Don't you mean ho ho ho?" you chirped, beaming at him. "Can I sit on your lap, Santa?"

His fluffy cheeks flushed. "I...you may be too big..."

"No!" a child behind you said. "Nobody's too big for you, Santa!"

Well, he couldn't argue with that. You hopped onto his knee.

With the eyes of the children on him, Santa had to say, "Ho ho ho. And what do you want for Gyftmas in July, little one?"

"Can I whisper it to you?" you asked. "It's kind of secret."

He nodded. You had to stretch to reach his ear, but you whispered, "I want you for Gyftmas, Asgore."

He let out a startled bleat and you nearly fell off his lap. He just barely managed to stay in character. "Ho ho, I think we could manage that!"

"Oh good!" You kissed his cheek and hugged him. "Now, I have a present for you, Santa! Because you've been so good this year and given presents to everybody else!" You pulled the small box out of your pocket and placed it in his hand.

"Thank you," he managed. "I will open it later. I have lots of other friends to see."

"Of course!" You kissed his cheek again and hopped off his lap. "I'll see you for dinner!" You waved at him and hurried off before he could say anything else.

Later that night, after dinner, Asgore said, "You did not have to make such a public display. It was dangerous. If my enemies knew what you mean to me, they might try to harm you."

You waved a hand. "None of your enemies came to that thing," you said. "They're all on the naughty list anyways."

"I am serious, Y/N."

"I thought you were Asgore."

"Y/N." His tone held a warning.

You shrugged, too excited for any real remorse. "Sorry," you said, "but I had to! I really really wanted to give you that gift, and I didn't want to wait all day for you to get home!"

Asgore sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Open my present?" you suggested.

"Very well." He pulled the box out of his pocket and carefully removed the bow, then the wrapping paper. He opened the small velvet box and stared at the contents.

Finally your excitement was tempered (a little bit) with nerves. "I know it's not exactly traditional," you said, "or at least it isn't for humans, but I saw it and I knew it was what I wanted to get for you for this."

"For what?" he asked, his eyes still fixed on the beautiful jeweled flower pin in the box.

You knelt down in front of him. "I love you," you said. "I absolutely adore you, and I want you to be mine forever. Please, Asgore, I know there's all kinds of politics and stupid stuff in the way, but...will you be my husband?"

Tears filled the monster don's eyes. He set the box on the table and reached down to pull you up into his arms. "Oh dear one," he said, holding you close. "I want to. I truly do. But you are right that there are politics at play and there is still the matter of my enemies. A wedding would definitely make you a target."

"I don't need a wedding," you said, leaning your head against his broad chest. "Not a big one. Just...can't we just bond our souls, without all the fuss and everything? I just want you to be mine."

"I will see what I can do," he said. "And in the meantime, I will wear your pin. It is beautiful."

"I knew you'd like it. And it's not an engagement ring, so it could just be a pin you got because you like flowers. Nobody has to know what it really means." You pressed a kiss to the fur on his neck. "I don't need everybody to know you're mine. Just me."

"I can assure you I am yours even without a soul bond," he said and leaned down to kiss you properly. "We can discuss more later."

[idy-ll-ique]

unlike any other

pairing: mob boss!bucky barnes x maid!f!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut (AH THE HOLY TRINITY)

warnings: mention of blood, mention of wounds,,,,,,,,, sex (but only a lil bit)

requested: nope

word count: 1.8k

summary: bucky barnes, among many things, owns a strip club. y/n works there as a maid, but she has only recently joined so she has no idea who he is. one day, she catches him napping in one of the private rooms after closing time and, not knowing that he owns the place, asks him to leave because it's a "staff only" room. mesmerized by her, he leaves without a word but a few days later, she finds out who he truly is. sparks fly? sparks fly.

author's note: hiya peeps! enjoy!

masterlist

---

James Barnes was tired.

All he wanted to do was go home and get a good night's sleep, but this moron in front of him was proving it to be very difficult. "What aren't you getting about my plan, Johnson?" he growled, a deep glare etched on his face as he disdainfully stared at one of the men who worked for him. "Why are we doing this at all?" Oh, Johnson has quite the mouth on him, can't wait to break all his fucking teeth.

"Are you the boss or am I?" Bucky countered, putting his arms up, exasperated. Johnson was about to reply when Bucky decided he was too tired to deal with him at all. "You know what, how about we talk tomorrow, hm? Leave, now." With an audacious huff, Johnson got up and left the room. As soon as he was gone Bucky groaned loudly.

"That man," he muttered to himself, "Is a fucking idiot. I'm gonna have to talk to Sam tomorrow, why did he even suggest—" Bucky then relaxed back onto the couch he was sitting on, leaning further and further back until he was simply lying down, head resting on the armrest.

James Barnes was tired.

And he needed a fucking nap.

James Buchanan Barnes. He commonly went by the name Bucky, and he ran the biggest, most affluent mob in the city. Currently, he was at a strip club that he owned, which also had private rooms for… basically hooking up, but he never used it for that, using it only to hold meetings with potential allies or his men.

He dozed off on the couch but was able to sleep for only about 30-45 minutes before someone was shaking him awake.

---

“Phew, last room! Why does this place have so many rooms?” Y/N grumbled to herself, opening the door to the private room. She was a maid recently hired by the club, and her job was to clean up all the private rooms after the closing time. They paid her well so she didn’t mind doing the job. When she opened the door, though, she noticed a man sleeping on the couch.

All his clothes were still intact and his hair was also done nicely… She scrutinized him for a while longer, taking note of his handsome, chiselled features and how he dripped of power even when he was asleep. Finally, a few minutes later, she decided to wake him up. However powerful he might seem, the rooms after closing were for staff only and he needed to leave.

“Excuse me, sir?” Y/N gently shook his shoulders, startling him awake. He blinked his eyes open and in his hazy state of mind, he thought there was an angel standing above him. “What?” he yawned and Y/N offered him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, you gotta go, the club is closed for the night and this is a staff-only room,” she told him and he blinked.

She didn’t know him? “I, uh, yeah, I’m sorry,” he complied, sitting up. He took in her appearance as well; she was wearing a cheesy maid’s costume that fit the aesthetic of the strip club perfectly, yet there was a sort of innocence to her, the kind that would make even the most cold-hearted and powerful of them all want to cater to her every whim without question.

“Uh… see ya around,” she raised her eyebrows and Bucky offered her a quick smile, getting out of the room. “Behaving like he owns the place,” Y/N scoffed to herself as she began cleaning up the mess in the room starting with the empty alcohol bottles. She couldn’t stay mad at him for long, though- his handsome face could make anyone’s heart melt. As the thought passed through her head, a small smile bloomed on her face.

Oh stranger, I really hope we meet again soon.

As Bucky drove home, he, too, thought of the maid. Who was she? Why had he never seen her before? And why didn’t she know him? That night, as he went to bed for the second time, all he saw in his dreams was a lovely maid’s costume and a pretty, pearly white smile.

---

“I’m firing that guy,” Bucky told Sam determinedly. A few days had passed since Bucky’s meeting with Johnson and he was more determined than ever to get rid of the guy. Something about Johnson seemed off. “Wh- You hired that guy like a week ago, what happened? He used to work with Pierce and Rumlow before, he can give us valuable intel-”

“What if he never stopped?” Sam quieted at the retort. “He told us how horribly they treated their own men,” Sam answered a little while later. “What if he’s lying?” Bucky asked impatiently. “Give him a chance-” Just then, there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Bucky sighed and Johnson poked his head in. “Got a minute, boss?”

“Oh sure, come in, we were just discussing you! Have a seat!” Sam raised an eyebrow at Bucky’s sudden cheerfulness as Johnson happily bounded into the room, plopping down on the couch. “What were you discussing?” he questioned. “How I was just about to fire you,” Bucky smirked and Johnson’s face fell.

He didn’t speak for a few minutes, causing Sam and Bucky to glance at each other. “Hello…?” All of a sudden Johnson stood up with a fit of rage. “Damn it, Barnes, you ruin everything!” Bucky shouted triumphantly as Sam gasped. “I knew you were a fucking two-timer, you son of a bitch!” Bucky yelled at him. “And you made it so easy!” Johnson laughed dryly.

“Why you-” Bucky swung a punch at Johnson’s face, breaking his nose. “What have you told Pierce?!” Johnson retaliated right back by kicking his knee into Bucky’s abdomen, making him fall back. A fight soon broke out between all three of them, so loud that the commotion could be heard from outside.

Approximately 20 minutes later Y/N, who was passing by the room at the time, heard the loud noise and stopped in her tracks. It sounded like… two people fighting. It wasn’t her cleaning time yet, but she still rushed to the door, opening it up with such force that the door loudly banged on the other side. At this, the fight instantly halted.

Bucky was holding an unconscious Johnson by the collar, his fist an inch away from Johnson’s jaw. Both of them looked pretty beaten up, with blood all over their faces and clothes. Sam, meanwhile, was half-lying on the couch, clutching the side of his abdomen with a pained look on his face. Y/N’s hands flew to her mouth at the sight of them.

That was when she recognized the man from a few days ago. Oh shit, he does own the place. Bucky immediately got up and dusted his suit, staring down at a passed-out Johnson with a sneer. “Sam, take him to Wanda, she’ll know what to do with him. And please, for the love of God, go to the hospital.” With the help of a few others, Sam and Johnson left.

It was only Bucky and Y/N in the room now. She continued staring at his face in horror and Bucky chuckled, wiping away a trail of blood near his lips. “That bad?” She snapped out of her trance. “You…” Bucky gave her a wry smile. “Bucky Barnes at your service. And you are?” Y/N blinked a few times before answering. “Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” Bucky looked around.

“Well, Y/N, if you’d be so kind as to fetch me a first aid kit.” She instantly walked out of the room and got the first aid kit for him. When she returned to the room, Bucky was sitting on the couch, his jacket and shirt removed. Even his torso was covered in black and blue bruises. "It looks bad," she blurted out.

"Will you help me clean up?" Y/N couldn't deny him. He was her boss, after all. She sat down next to him and wordlessly started cleaning the blood off his face. He didn't so much as flinch, which Y/N found to be extremely impressive. After all the blood was cleaned, Y/N grimaced when she saw his broken nose. "Your, um, your nose…" Bucky easily grabbed his nose in both hands and clicked it into place.

Y/N flinched badly at the action, making Bucky laugh. "Come on, princess, it's not that difficult," he teased her and she shook her head, a smile blooming on her face. "So, um, I'm sorry about that day," she mumbled as Bucky kept the first aid kit away. "Sorry? For doing your job? Don't do that."

She looked up at him. "No, I- I should've known it was you, and I just… maybe I could've been more polite-"

"Sorry, you gotta go, the club is closed for the night and this is a staff-only room," Bucky quoted verbatim, "You couldn't have been more polite." Y/N's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she shuffled her feet. "Please don't fire me," she whispered under her breath, yet Bucky managed to hear her. And when an opportunity presents itself…

"On one condition."

She looked up at him, wide-eyed and nodded excitedly. "Anything you want." Bucky smirked and sat back down next to her, placing his hand on her bare thigh. "Go on a date with me," he breathed out, leaning close to her. Y/N's breath and heart rate hitched at his forwardness, but she didn't have the will to deny him.

He was good-looking, he was rich, he was polite, why not give it a try? Y/N offered him a small smile. "Um, okay, I'd like that a lot," she agreed truthfully and Bucky grinned, pressing his lips to hers without wasting a moment. Y/N kissed him back, cupping his face with her hands.

In the heat of the moment, Bucky bent forward until the back of Y/N's head touched the armrest; still, they didn't pull away from each other. Bucky sneakily got his hand under Y/N's blouse, the skin on skin contact making them both groan. "Ugh, you really are very pretty, you know?" Bucky whispered as he unbuttoned her blouse and threw it away.

He stared in awe at her bra-covered breasts, his shaft twitching impatiently. But, just as he was about to unbuckle her bra, the door swung open. Bucky immediately hid Y/N under him and looked up at a horror-struck Sam, who ran out of the room screaming, "At least lock the door next time, asshole!"

Y/N giggled when she saw Bucky's flustered face. "He's right, you know," she whispered cheekily and Bucky playfully narrowed his eyes at her, attacking her neck with kisses and love bites.

"Talk to me like that again and you'll be in for a long night, pretty face."

"Oh, I'd like to see you try, boss."

---

a/n: thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed it!

[leetotters]

Hey!!! I love your stories and if you’re taking requests can you do a mob Tom having a thing for grabbing your face and turning it to him when he doesn’t have your attention. Light kisses while he’s like “hey love did you hear me?” Or grabbing your face to make eye contact with you which means pay attention to me baby. Him squeezing your cheeks to give you a passionate kiss when he’s jealous someone’s got your full attention. Or smh like that 😁😁

i hope this is good enough anon, forgive me for any mistakes🙏

warnings: curse words

mob!tom holland x reader (y/f/s - your favorite show)

summary: something like the request^

Tom had you on his lap, his fingers drumming the side of your waist while he chatted with his brothers about upcoming business with the mob, you weren't much interested in the conversation preferably sipping your glass of wine studying the room of people from Tom's side of family, you would occasionally nod your head when one of the boy's mentioned something asking if you agreed.

You twisted on Tom's lap feeling the sudden urge to use the restroom, you attempted to move but was ceased with two large hands grasping your sides pulling you back down on his lap letting out a squeak at the pull. "Where do you think you're going doll" Tom nuzzled his nose in your hair inhaling the vanilla scent he was always so intoxicated with, you snickered to yourself kissing the tip of his nose getting up once again.

"To go pee Tom" You placed your glass in Tom's opening hand, smoothing the fabric of your silk dress, pulling the back down so it was covering your behind fully then turning around catching the sight of the restroom, but once again you were grasped with the same hands, Tom smushed your cheeks together plumping out your lips as he pressed his thin ones to yours making the mob boss grin when you tried slipping your tongue in his mouth.

"Didn't think you won't leave without giving me a kiss now" Tom smirked drawing back, patting your cheek and taking a gulp of his alcoholic drink not even caring that his brothers were wearing disgusted looks on their faces. "Doll don't you have to use the restroom" Tom spoke up awakening you from your love sick haze, you cleared your throat wiping your lips, "Yeah, be right back Tommy"

-

You laid on the leather couch in Tom's private office, your phone in your hand watching an episode of y/f/s while Tom was skimming through important mob detailed documents, silently cursing hearing the ringing of his phone not really in the mood to answer calls, "Oh for fucks sake" Tom muttered accepting the call seeing Harrison's name, "This better be good"

Tom listened attentively to his accomplice over the phone, his eyes locked on your pajama clothed figure. "Mhm okay just deal with him, shoot a bullet through his head for all I care" Tom ended the call, leaning back on his chair passing his tattooed hand over his face. "Doll" Tom uttered trying to gain your attention, but you didn't hear, to engrossed in your show, he called out again still no answer, he got up rolling his sleeves up plucking your phone out your hand throwing it on the edge of the sofa.

"What the hell Tom" You snapped but was cut off by Toms lips latching on yours, his needy hands moving you over, sitting down and pulling you on his clothed lap, his hands brushing down the spine of your back cupping the curve of your ass. "Didn't hear me huh love" Tom teased traveling his lips down to your collarbone peppering you with light kisses, "Love when you do that Tommy" You moaned out when he sucked brutally on your sweet spot.

-

Tom scowled at the sight of drunken man seated next to you, his arm too close to yours for Tom's liking as he tried to convince you to purchase a drink which you politely denied hoping that Tom would come back soon to whisk you away, your leg bounced nervously as you nursed the drink in front of you that Tom purchased earlier, you leaned to your side not being able to bare the reek of the strangers breath.

"Hey love" an all to familiar voice spoke from behind making you exhale in relief turning around so you were now in your boyfriend's arms, Tom gripped your jaw in his hands, smashing his lips together with yours, slipping his tongue inside your mouth tangling it with your own as his hands lowered down to your butt squeezing the rotund flesh.

You pulled back at the slurred voice of the man, "She didn't tell me she had a boyfriend mate" The man gulped coming to his senses when he recognized the woman who he was trying to get in bed with, was with the dangerous London mob boss who was feared by everyone even himself, "Well she does," Tom pecked your lips, "She belongs to me, you shouldn't be interfering with pretty little things that aren't yours"

Tom interlocked your hands together, walking you away from the man to his car, where the driver was already out waiting with an umbrella in his hand sheltering you both from the droplets of rain, "You're my hero Tommy" You sweetly mumbled leaving a kiss to Tom's jawline, "I am aren't I," Tom responded seductively, "Come thank your hero then doll" Tom didn't wait for a reply, grabbing your cheeks and clashing his lips to yours once again, passionately kissing you, pulling the strings of dress to reveal your lacy bra.

Tom drew back, eyes locked on your swollen red messed lips, "Love your lips doll most 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 ones I've ever seen"

[chiwhorei]

i was 𝖐𝖎𝖉𝖓𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖉 by the 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖆𝖎 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖌𝖘?!?!🥺

@undermattsun your server is a fever dream and i am terminal.

a/n (the first of many): this is the absolute worst thing i have ever seen and i will love and protect it for the rest of my life. check out the rest of this flaming piss fire here. i am completely, wholly sorry for anyone that reads this. no. one. perceive. me.

pairing: sendai frogs x the oc from a 5sos fanfic i wrote in 2013

word count: ~800 of the last words my brain cells will ever produce

tw? wattpad.

“Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend

Somewhere along in the bitterness

And I would have stayed up with you all night

Had I known how to save a life” - The Fray (a/n: sorry, i don’t listen to normal music like the other girls if you don’t like the fray gtfo-_-)

it’s funny how life works. one day, you’re just sitting on the bus, putting my long thick beautiful hair in to a messy bun (ugh i’m so ugly) and the next, i get thrown into a van.

“w-what are you doing?” i say, i bit my lip nervously because i’m quirky.

“were the sendai frogs. your ours now.”

Step one, you say, "We need to talk."

He walks, you say, "Sit down. It's just a talk."

He smiles politely back at you

You stare politely right on through

i guess i should introduce myself. my name is delilah ackerman but i prefer to go by my nickname esme dark-waters. yes i am from new york city but i HATE THE PLAIN WHITE T’s okay so don’t fucking say it.(a/n: i dont listin to normie bands like that ew) i have long curly hair and piercings green eyes and porcelain skin but i am so fucking ugly. all of the “pretty girls” at my college where north face jackets and leggings but i’m not like them. i wore band t-shirts from pierce the veil and twenty one pilots and beanies and leggings because i’m quirky.

i was sitting on the buss coming home from classes (i’m an english major and i love Shakespeare because i’m different and smart tehe ^.^) when i tall blonde man sits next to me. i tuck my long curly pink hair begind my ear, biting my lip i turn to him.

“hi” i say nervously, biting my lip.

“hi, delilah.” he chuckles darkly.

“wait,” i stuttered, “how do you know my name?” i ask worriedly.

“my name is kei tsukishima, your mob boss father hasn’t paid his debts so we’re going to kidnap you and keep you as are slave.” he darkly chuckled, grabbing my wrist. (a/n: hehe i love salty-shima sm he’s so fucking hawt)

Some sort of window to your right

As he goes left and you stay right

Between the lines of fear and blame

You begin to wonder why you came

After i was shoved into a car and driven to a bunker under a volleyball gym, i met the rest of the mob volleyball team that took me.

“poggers, my name is kanji koganegawa.” another large man stands up from where he was sitting down. he had long blonde hair spiked up and a black streak in the middle.

“hi esme, did you miss me?” you turn around abruptly at the sound of your ex boyfriend kyoutani kentarou. you gasp.

gasping, you turn to kyoutani. “w-what are y-you doing h-here?”

“what do you mean? i’m a volleyball player for this mob-slash-volleyball team. the sendai frogs.” he looks at me curiously, he runs his hand through his shaved hair in frustration.

“i don’t know anything about volleyball!” i say loudly, “i’m NOT like the OTHER GIRLS.”

the tallest man who you knew as tsukishima comes up and grabbed your arm, pulling you into his broad chest. you look up at him dreamily.

“i’ve been watching you for a while now delilah esme dark-waters ackerman. and i am in love with you. please forgive me.” you look up to kei with your giant emerald orbs, orbs filling with tears.

“you love me? but why? i’m so ugly?” i let tears roll down my freckled cheeks, biting my lip nervously.

“why do you think we kidnapped you? it’s because you’re beautiful.” kei pulls me into a passionate kiss and our tongues fight for dominance. fighting for dominance, our tongues dance is each other’s mouth and i moan loudly,

“hey asshole,” i hear kyoutani smirk behind me, “she’s in love with me. she’s mine.”

As he begins to raise his voice

You lower yours and grant him one last choice

Drive until you lose the road

Or break with the ones you've followed

a/n: omg thank u so much for reading! this is my first story i’ve written and i hope u luv it! note: NONE OF THE LYRICS ARE MINE THEY ALL BELONG TO THE FRAY. anyway, part two should be coming out soon! luv u all!!<3

last updated: 1/8/2012

do. not. perceive. me. dymphnasprose 2021©️

[mosswillow]

New Year. - Mob boss!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: 18+ adult content, Dark!!!, Noncon/dubcon, manipulation, smut.

Summary: A New Years themed dark Cinderella story.

A/N: this is another quickly written one shot that I threw together today to post. I may revisit this in the future and expand the story a bit but wanted it out today for obvious reasons.

Word count: 1.7k

“You have until midnight and not one second longer.”

You dart across the street recklessly, not caring if you’re hit by a car. Time is running out. You enter a dimly lit pawn shop and sprint to the counter, slamming down a ring. A shady looking man picks the ring up and examines it, grabbing a magnifying glass and holding it up to the light. He reminds you of a lizard, long and lean. He wears a green suit and his eyes are almost completely red, probably from drug use you decide.

“Where did you get this?” He asks.

“It doesn’t matter.”

The man thrums his fingers on the counter and makes a clicking noise with his tongue. “I’ll give you three hundred.”

“I need four.”

“Three fifty.”

You pick the ring up and turn your back, walking confidently away.

“Fine.” He calls out.

You stop and turn on your heel, holding the ring out for him.

“Make it quick, I have somewhere to be.”

One year ago - New years eve

You attend the annual new year's masquerade every year. The exclusive ball is filled to the brim with wealthy, well connected individuals, most of whom are alleged criminals. You always feel nervous going but go nonetheless. Your father took you several years ago shortly before he died and now you go in his memory, hoping to maybe feel just for the evening like he’s still with you. You put on your dress, a thrifted gown that you were lucky to find, and look at yourself in the mirror.

You look beautiful. It’s rare these days that you feel good about yourself but today nobody can bring your mood down. Today you’re Cinderella, dancing the night away before returning to your ordinary life after midnight comes.

You walk downstairs to find a note left for you. Your step mother and sisters have left without you which is to be expected. You’re thankful for the place to stay and never ask for anything more. They’re not your family and only tolerate you because of your father. Once you find a way out of New York you’ll leave and never look back. You make your way to the street, calling a cab. It’s a little splurge but you don’t want to risk ruining your dress on the subway and tonight is about living luxuriously.

The cab takes you to a decadent hotel and you walk in, marveling at the sheer size of it. Despite growing up in this world, it still feels overwhelming.  Someone hands you a glass of champagne and you take a sip, savoring the taste. You make your way across the room, taking it all in when you bump into him, or more accurately he bumps into you.

“I’m so sorry miss, I didn’t see you there.”

Your eyes meet and there’s a spark, a feeling of intense attraction that you can’t ignore, and you know he feels it too. The noise and movement throughout the room fades and it’s just you and him.

“I’m Bucky,” He says, holding out his hand.

The world comes crashing down as you realize who he is, Bucky Barnes, the most notorious man in the US. He’s young, probably only a few years older than yourself but he holds himself like someone who’s lived a long and difficult life.

“It’s not a problem sir, I’m unharmed.” You smile politely.

He puts his hand up to your face, gently brushing his thumb over your cheek before tearing off your mask.

“What’s your name?” He says, taking a step towards you.

“Beth.” you say the first name that pops into your head.

“Beth…”

“Smith, Beth Smith.”

Bucky smiles “Nice to meet you… Beth Smith.”

You nod and grab your mask away before escaping his company. You keep your distance the whole night despite Bucky’s multiple attempts to corner you and by midnight you’re ready to leave. You hear the countdown as you run from the building, looking over your shoulder nervously before getting in your cab.

Present.

You check your watch as you leave the pawn shop. You have twenty minutes, twenty minutes to make it to bucky’s penthouse or it’s all over. You barely got all the money you needed. You even asked your step mother to help. She refused, unsurprisingly. You were forced to sell everything you own, even the ring your mother once wore, your last keepsake of her.

Six months ago.

You write the order on a cup and hand it to your coworker before turning back to help the next customer. You’ve worked at the coffee shop for years now. You have a college degree but jobs are scarce in your field and you need the money. You’ve sent applications out across the entire country and hope to one day get hired somewhere and move off.

“What can I get for you?” you say before realizing who’s standing in front of you.

“I don’t like being lied to.” Bucky taps your nametag.

“I…”

“I’ve been watching for a few months, making sure you’re the one.”

He grabs the menu off the counter, looking through the different options.

“I want you,” He says nonchalauntly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Marry me.”

“I don’t know you.”

“If you come with me you’ll live a life of luxury. You won’t have to work places like this.” He sets the menu back down and smoothes his hand over it.

“And what does this marriage entail?” You ask.

“Complete obedience and devotion. You’ll do everything I say, have my children and keep my bed warm. In return you’ll have more money than you know what to do with, more luxury than you could fathom in your pretty little head and my loyalty. You will be my love and my obsession. I will never leave you and never let you go.”

You look at him like he’s crazy, which he most definitely is.

“Thank you for the offer but I’m going to pass.”

Bucky slams his fist on the counter suddenly, making you jump.

“I always get what I want.”

You take a small step back.

“Not this time.”

Bucky stares at you for several moments before taking a deep breath and ordering a drink. You serve it to him and watch him walk out of the coffee shop.

Present.

You jump on the subway and make your way towards Bucy’s penthouse, running like a madwoman trying to make it on time. You look at your watch again and have one minute. Time is running out. You run full speed towards his building, ignoring the ache in your lungs and cramp in your leg.

Three months ago.

“Bucky, stop buying me stuff, I said no already and nothing’s going to change my mind.”

You throw a box of chocolate in Bucky’s face and he scowls at you. He reaches forward, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you forward, whispering into your ear.

“I tried to show you what you could have, how much I could give you. I guess I have to try something different.”

He lets go of you.

“I won’t bring any more gifts.”

“Thank you.” you say quietly.

Present.

The seconds tick away and you finally reach his door. You bang your hand over and over while checking the time again on your watch.

12:02am

One week ago

“Bucky, I know you’re the one who set this up. I didn’t do it, I’m being framed.”

You yell at him, not caring who hears. The police showing up to your apartment with guns and pulling you into the station for hours and hours has left you without any fucks to give. You were about to leave town. You have a ticket ready to leave and start your life over somewhere new. Now you have to turn down a dream job and stay in town due to an ongoing murder investigation of someone you’ve met only once in passing.

“I can cover it up for you… for a price of course.”

You start to turn around and he grabs your arm, pulling you back.

“Here’s the deal. You bring me twenty thousand dollars before midnight new years eve. If you can bring me the money I’ll cover it up and leave you alone forever.”

You look down.

“And if I don’t get the money I go to prison?”

“No baby, you go to prison if you leave this room right now. If you bring me the money you’re free forever but if you don’t I own you. That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”

Your body slackens as you realize you don’t have any choice. Your only chance is to get twenty thousand by next week.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, I’m a fair man. I could just kidnap you but I want you to come willingly.”

You sigh.

“I’ll bring the money as long as you promise not to interfere.”

“It’s a deal,” Bucky smiles.

He lets you go and walks over to a small couch, taking a seat.

“You have until midnight and not one second longer,” he says as you close the door to his office.

Present.

You fall to the floor and start crying. Bucky crouches in front of you and puts his finger under your chin, pulling it up so that you’re looking him in the eyes.

“You were so close.”

“Please Buck, it was two minutes.”

Bucky grabs your arm and pulls it up, dragging you into his home.

“A deal is a deal baby, I wouldn’t be where I am now without honoring deals.”

He takes a box from the coffee table and opens it up, showing you a huge diamond ring.

He fixes the ring on your hand, a perfect fit. You stare at the stone, a reminder that it’s all about Bucky. You don’t even like diamonds and you’re sure he knows that. He knows everything about you. From this point on you’re his. He takes your hand and kisses it before grabbing the back of your head and bringing you forward for a kiss. He slides his other hand down between your legs, pulling your skirt up and grabbing your pussy.

“I’ve waited so long for this.”

He pushes you down onto the couch and you take a deep breath before opening your legs, giving him access. He fucks you relentlessly, pushing you toward your own orgasm. Fireworks go off outside the window and you hear the celebrations as people welcome the new year.

“That’s my girl,” Bucky whispers as he pulls you into his embrace.

You listen to the fireworks until they fade and you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

Sweet but psycho...

For the lovely @ronaldrx​

Hope it will cheer you up!

TW: Mentions of violence, strong language, sexual undertones, murder.

At the Black Mask Club, Roman Beauvais Sionis was sitting in his favorite place, drinking his Martini.

While doing so, he observed the patrons of his nightclub dancing or getting drunk on the dancefloor. 

"Pathetic!" he snarled as he sipped his glass.

"Sure, boss. But let's say it's a necessary devil as they make you rich!" suggested Victor.

"You mean necessary evil? You got the point, Vic: at least, they contributed to my lifestyle!"

"Besides, boss: are you sure that they are all pathetic?" grinned his henchman as he glanced at the dancefloor where a specific young man was dancing.

"Oh, Victor: you know he is the exception!" cooed Roman as he glimpsed at his lover (Y/N), who swayed his hips on the rhythm of the music.

(Y/N) (L/N), the only man Roman Sionis was devoted to. They were dating for 6 months, and the mob boss treated his boyfriend like a prince. It was an understatement to say that Black Mask adored his lover.

"It was nice of your boyfriend to invite us here!" said Mindy, a little brunette.

"Yeah, sure! And he was not obliged to!" added Sam, an Afro-American.

"Don't worry about that: it was his pleasure! Moreover, he never refused something that I asked nicely!" smiled (Y/N).

"Of course, but your boyfriend is one of the most powerful men of Gotham! I don't think he would care about some commoners like us!" pointed Shanna, a blonde girl.

"Nah, don't worry! Roman knows how much you mean to me. And he will do anything to please me!"

"Speaking of the devil, did you notice that he is checking you out since you start dancing with us?" grinned Sam.

Slightly eyeing, (Y/N) noticed his lover's intense gaze at him.

Smirking, the young man had an idea.

"Well, I see he likes it. What if I put up a show?"

"What do you have in mind?" giggled Shanna.

"Wait and see, Shanni. You won't get disappointed!" sneered (Y/N) as he climbed on a table.

"I think I'm gonna like your idea, dude!" squealed Mindy as she climbed on the next table and started dancing again.

Soon, Sam and Shanna climbed on another table and swang on the rhythm with delight.

The other patrons cheered loudly as (Y/N) danced with all his passion.

"I think he caught you!" smiled Victor as he drank his glass of vodka.

"Indeed. And I thought I was discreet!"

"Not enough for him!"

"I guess so..." trailed Roman as he was amazed by his lover dancing on the table.

He could not take his eyes off of the athletic body swaying on the beat. And to spicy up things, the song hypnotized Sionis:

Oh, she's sweet but a psycho!

A little bit psycho

At night she's screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind."

Oh, she's hot but a psycho!

So left, but she's right though

At night she's screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind."

Grab a cop gun. Kinda crazy

She's poison but tasty,

Yeah, people say, "Run, don't walk away."

'Cause she's sweet but a psycho

A little bit psycho

At night she's screamin', "I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind."

Sweet but psycho... An accurate depiction of (Y/N), indeed. For those who knew well his lover, Roman can say that he had two distinctive personalities: the first one, sweet and loving, was kept for his loved ones, whereas the other was more wicked and twisted. A part of (Y/N) that scared his enemies...

Meanwhile, (Y/N) continued to dance along with his friends.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"What, Mindy?"

"I think Roman loves the show if you see what I mean..."

"I see it, yes... Perhaps should I take the next step?"

"What does it mean?"

"Admire the artist, baby!" the young man smirked as he took off his shirt under the excited cheers of the habitues.

Once topless, he continued dancing as he provocatively moved his hips and his upper body, glancing at Roman with a mischievous smile.

Watching this desirable view, Sionis get turn on. He swore to God that (Y/N) drove him crazy every time. 

Victor noticed the lustful glance of his boss: looks like the two lovers will have fun tonight...

Nevertheless, Zsasz admitted that the presence of (Y/N) in his boss life was a blessing. Indeed, the young man was able to calm down Roman when the latter had his terrifying fits of anger. He was his most valued ally when his boss was enraged...

He would not say that they were friends, but, at least, they respected each other, which was enough for the scarred man.

Suddenly, the song ended, and the clients loudly applauded (Y/N)'s performance. The young man bowed, saluting his audience before he puts his shirt on, gets down from the table, and walked towards the place where Roman and Victor were.

"I hope you fancy the performance, baby!" smiled (Y/N) as he sat close to his boyfriend.

"I did not miss a part of it, my little prince! Gosh, you're an amazing dancer!" laughed Roman as he kissed his lover's forehead.

"Thank you, handsome!"

"I confirm: he was not able to take his eyes off of you!" snickered Zsasz.

"I did not ask your opinion, Vic!" growled the mobster.

"Don't grumpy, Roman: I thought you had fun!" cutely pouted (Y/N).

He felt Roman's grip tighten around his waist as he heard him mutter at his ear:

"I am eager for another type of fun if you know what I mean!"

"So am I!" 

"I suppose you two lovebirds want to be alone at the penthouse tonight?" grinned Victor.

"Unfortunately. Sorry, Vic!"

"That's the rule!" shrugged the henchman.

(Y/N)'s friends arrived near the table, glasses in their hands.

"May we sit with us?" politely asked Mindy.

"Please, be my guests. My sweet boy's friends are always welcomed!"

The three young people sat near (Y/N) and started a charming conversation with Roman. When he was not terrifying people, Sionis could be an elegant and cultivated man with excellent manners.

They talked until the young adults decided to come back home, as the club was about to close. 

"Alright, let's go! We have to find a cab!" declared Sam as he put his coat on.

"Leaving already? Well, I guess good things come to an end!"

"Don't worry, sweetie: we'll do it again next Friday! Besides, I want to be in a clean state of mind for my job!" laughed Shanna as she pecked (Y/N) on the cheek.

"Okay, I understand! Be careful!"

"Don't worry! See you later, pretty boy! Goodbye, Mr. Sionis!" waved Mindy.

"Have a good night! You are always welcome here!" smiled Roman.

As the three left the room, the criminal sighed:

"You have nice friends, (Y/N)."

"I know: they are like my second family. They are so kind to me..."

"Speaking of that..." grinned Sionis as he tightened his grip on the young man's hip.

"You've been a very naughty boy, you know? Getting me horny like that... That behavior deserves a punishment!"

"I am sure what awaits me once we come back to the penthouse..." laughed (Y/N) as he sat on Roman's lap, dominating him with a triumphant grin.

"Provocative, cheeky, arrogant... Boy, you're my type!" chuckled the latter while letting his fingers running along the legs of his lover.

"SIONIS!" boomed a masculine voice.

"Oh, fuck! What again?" growled Roman.

Suddenly, around ten armed thugs appeared in the club, scaring habitues who fled.

"Step aside, baby. Looks like I have some business!" muttered Roman, gently pushing (Y/N) on the couch.

Once the night club was empty, Roman asked:

"What's the problem, gentlemen?"

"You're the problem, Sionis. You stole territories from Boss Maroni, and he did not like it!" snarled the leader of the thugs.

"Who cares about what this old jackass would say? If he is not capable of handling his districts, I take his place!"

"Shut up!" barked one of the gunmen, aiming his rifle at Roman.

"Who the fuck you think you are? Nobody talks to Roman Sionis wit that tone!"

"You're not in the position to tell us what to do! If you want to see the sunlight, tell your scarred lapdog to step back!"

Victor stayed silent, but his gaze was murderous. He was in the mood to peel off some faces tonight...

As for (Y/N), he tried to escape without being caught, but unfortunately, one of the mugs noticed him and pointed his gun at him.

"Not so fast, sugar baby. Where do you think you're going, huh? If you don't want to see your boss ending up like a colander, you sit down!"

The nickname made the young man twitch: nobody called him like that! 

"You're so pathetic..." he grumbled.

"What did you say?"

"Are you deaf, you twat? I said that you and all your little jerks are pathetic! Don't you want to know why?"

"My patience is growing thin!" roared the mug as he put the barrel of his gun between (Y/N)'s eyes.

However, he felt unease when he saw the growing smile on (Y/N)'s face. A deranged, twisted smile that promised nothing good...

"Why do you smile?"

"You made several mistakes when you arrived here, you know? First of all, you believed that you can walk in there and threatening us without suffering the consequences: how wrong you are!"

"You think so? While you prattle, all Roman's guys are busy dealing with Boss Maroni's henchmen! You won't get away this time!"

"Secondly, I am not Roman's sugar baby, you moron: I am his boyfriend! And thirdly, I am not a defenseless sweet boy... I am worse!"

And, without warning, he drew a blade out of his jacket and slit his opponent's throat, killing him. 

It allowed Roman and Victor to fight back and eliminate the other gunmen. A few minutes later, only three thugs were severely wounded but alive. Probably not for long...

"Well, it was easier than I expected!" stated Sionis.

"Sure, Boss!" answered Zsasz as he started to peel off the face of a corpse.

"Ew, Victor! Seriously, can't you just wait to be in the warehouse?" frowned Roman.

Soon after, Roman's henchmen appeared in the club.

"Sorry, Boss: we've been ambushed by the rest of the group! They planned this for a long time!"

"You're fucking lucky that we're alive! Are there survivors?"

"A few plus those three. In total, we have a dozen of Maroni's men!"

"Perfect! Now, clean this mess up: I want to open the club tomorrow night!"

"Yes, sir!"

"And bring those fuckers out of there! The warehouse would be fine!"

"Does it mean I'll have fun?" asked Victor with a sadistic smile.

"Of course, Vic! They're all yours! Consider it as your reward for tonight!"

"Thanks, boss."

Soon after, (Y/N) and Roman were alone in the club. The mob boss turned and glanced at his boyfriend.

"Oh, baby boy: you always made me proud!" he exclaimed as he wiped out the bloodstains on his lover's face.

"I could not let them threatening you without intervene!"

"And you were right, my beloved."

He kissed his boyfriend.

"My perfect little psycho!"

"My handsome sadistic gangster!"

"Oh, I like that. So, what if we're going back to the penthouse and having all the fun I promised earlier?"

"I can't wait, darling! Shall we go?"

"Your wish is my command, my prince!"

Later, as the two terrible beloveds were making love with all the passion they had, Roman thought that nothing could replace his sweet but murderous boyfriend.

After all, (Y/N) was lovely but deadly as hell. And he would never get tired of it.

Provocative, cheeky, arrogant, sexy, smart, deadly, and in love. The embodiment of perfection for the bad-tempered and cruel boss of Gotham.

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you enjoy the story!

See you later and I’m looking for your requests!

[fallingstarnovel]

Chapter Three

That Monday, when he got to the lecture hall, he glared at Aliya for the entire time. She was visibly avoiding his gaze, tugging down her hair so she wouldn't make eye contact with him.

After it ended, he quickly walked over to her, coughing loudly from behind his fist.

"So. Judas comes to face his crimes."

Aliya turned and gave him a pitying look. "I'm really sorry! I completely forgot I had a revision session in the morning and I had to prepare for it. I felt so guilty."

Evan glared at her for another second – before rolling his eyes with a smile. He was a benevolent kind of person when he wanted to be. "It's fine."

"You sounded like you had a good time," Aliya teased him. “Your texts were indecipherable.”

"Uh. I think I did." He pulled a face as he failed to remember literally anything about how he got home. "It’s all kind of a blur. There was this girl..."

Aliya's eyes went wide. "There was?"

"Ah, shut up, she just said a bunch of stuff at me and then... Hm. I don't remember much after that, but clearly nothing weird happened since I got home safe and fully dressed."

Aliya tutted. "This is why I don't drink. Sounds kind of scary."

Evan opened his mouth to say something like "you get used to it", but then he remembered that he was trying to be normal and closed his mouth again. "Yeah. Haha, a little. I'm not sure you would have enjoyed the party. It was loud and everyone was off their faces."

"Maybe. I'm glad you were okay, though. And you got home safe."

Evan smiled. By now, they were long outside the lecture hall and were walking through campus. Students were rushing from building to building, or walking in groups and chattering away together. So many people who were meant to be here. They all looked like they were right at home.

There was a flash of black in the corner of his vision. Evan turned his head automatically, only to see the black cat from a few days ago sprawled across a wall. It was staring at him with green eyes, unblinking and imperious.

"Oh, it's the university cat," he said to Aliya. "Look."

"Aww. I'm more of a dog person," she said bluntly.

The cat's eyes narrowed in disgust.

Evan was about to go over and pet it when he heard someone say his name over his shoulder. He looked behind him, only to see a boy with curly blond hair and an angelic smile. He was looking at the cat with a strangely intense gaz, before snapping back to smile at Evan.

"Ruth!" he said. "Hey!"

Ruth waved. "Hello again. You look like you've recovered from Friday night."

Wait. Wait a minute... Evan squinted at him, before feeling his face flush red. Was Ruth there as well?! He didn’t remember seeing him at all!! He laughed awkwardly. "I am. So sorry. I don't remember a lot. I was... very drunk."

Ruth nodded. "I was. I thought you might have difficulty remembering."

Aliya's eyebrows inched up her forehead, right into her hijab. Evan realised that he had been quite rude, and quickly introduced her. "This is my terrible friend from Astro. She invited me to the party and then left me to die."

"I'm Aliya," she said, elbowing him in the stomach subtly.

Ruth gave her a polite nod, before turning his attention back to Evan. "I hope you don't mind that I let myself into your house. You seemed very worried that I was going to harvest your organs."

"You were the one who took me home?!” Evan yelped, feeling the blood rush all the way to the tips of his ears. “Oh, haha, what? Haha, so weird," Evan said, feeling himself dying of mortification again. "Thank you so much. I don't mind at all. That was really nice of you. Usually I just stumble home by myself, you know? God, sorry, I must have been so annoying to handle."

Ruth shook his head, his hair tumbling around his ears. "You weren't annoying at all. You were very sweet, like a well behaved child."

Evan wanted the ground to swallow him whole. "Haha, that's good. Still, I'm so sorry. Thank you. Augh."

How was he so bad at this?

An idea occurred to him. He quickly started rummaging in his pockets. "Wait, wait, I think I owe you a coffee for saving my life twice now. I don't have a lecture for a while, so..."

Ruth looked at him in surprise. There was a yawning moment of silence in which Evan questioned everything that made him ask that question and wondered if it was too late to change his name and move to Mexico.

But then Ruth smiled. "I think I owe you one instead. You spilled yours last time."

"In that case, I'll pay for yours and you pay for mine, and we can call that even," Evan laughed, feeling relief flood through him.

There was a polite cough from behind him. "Well, I have a study group to get to, so," Aliya said, shooting Evan a knowing smile. "I'll let you two go have fun. See you, Evan."

Evan felt a little bit guilty at accidentally muscling Aliya out of the conversation. He waved her goodbye and turned back to Ruth, and all his guilt was forgotten. Ruth's smile was blinding. There were two little dimples in his cheeks. Wow, he didn’t know anyone in real life with dimples.

"Let's go," he said, inclining his head in the direction of the coffee shop, and off they went.

Evan watched Ruth over his coffee while trying to look like he was doing no such thing.

Ruth was fascinating. He had a very handsome face, with eyes that could have been carved into one of those old statues they kept in the museums of Rome. His movements were all graceful and deliberate, from the way he stirred his coffee to the way he unwrapped his blue scarf from around his neck.

He was also tall. Evan wasn't short – okay, he was kind of short – but Ruth made him feel like a god damn manlet.

"So," he said, because he felt the need to fill the silence with something, "what course are you on?"

"Actually, I'm a part time student."

"Eh, no way. I didn't know you could do an undergrad part time!"

Ruth smiled and shrugged. "I have a job on the side. It takes up a lot of my time. I suppose the university understood I had other commitments."

Evan blinked. "Wow. Must be an intense job."

"You have no idea," Ruth said, something steely glinting in his grey eyes. "But it's rewarding."

"Is it why you skip so many lectures?"

Ruth nodded. Evan couldn't hold back his curiosity.

"Then what is it?"

Supermodel? Secret agent? Government official? What was important enough that the university would let him mess around with the schedule like this?

Ruth just winked at him, and Evan immediately upgraded all his guesses. Eldest son of a mob boss. Heir to the CEO of a huge corporation. A superhero in disguise as a student.

"That's fine. I didn't want to know anyway," Evan lied. "I bet it's something boring like business management."

Ruth ran his finger along his cup, his eyes flickering down to the table. "In a way, I suppose you're not far off."

"So... why astrophysics?"

"No reason, really. I just felt something pulling me here. That's all."

Wow! Such a free spirit! This guy was definitely some kind of billionaire. Only a rich person could afford to come to university on a whim and then spend half his time doing something else instead. Evan, who thought coffee was a fancy treat, tried to contain his jealousy and failed.

They drank their drinks in companionable silence. Evan was full of questions, but he didn’t want it to seem like he was interrogating his new friend. He was just curious!

“Do you... go to a lot of student parties?”

Ruth shrugged. “Not generally.”

“Oh. Aside from last night, I guess. Um... actually, about last night... I was wondering about what exactly happened.”

Ruth went still. “Yes?”

“Was I... alright? When did I go home?”

“I found you upstairs in someone’s bedroom with a few people. It looked like you were playing some kind of game that involved kissing,” Ruth replied. “You seemed very uncomfortable with the situation. Did I misread that?”

A kissing game. What the hell. Evan hadn’t played one of those for years. He wondered who he was smooching when Ruth discovered him. So deeply, horrifically embarrassing.

“I have no idea,” Evan replied with a shrug. “I don’t really remember if I was comfortable or not.”

There was a faint frown colouring Ruth’s pleasant smile. “Then I’m glad I was there regardless. There should be no room for doubt with things like this.”

“Hah, in an ideal world. In my experience, there’s always doubt. You just kind of have to move on afterwards.”

Ruth’s throat bobbed, but he didn’t say anything else. His coffee was steaming so much that it fogged up Evan’s glasses, and he took them off with a chuckle to clean them. “Wow, look at that,” he said, desperate to change the subject. “It’s that time of the year where I go blind every time I enter a warm room. You don’t wear contacts, right?”

Ruth, still speechless, shook his head. Oh, this was awkward. Evan got the horrible feeling that he had messed up somewhere.

“So lucky. Well, hah, look at the time. I should start heading to my next lecture.”

He didn’t have a next lecture. That was a lie. But he really didn’t want to hurt the poor guy’s feelings. He started gathering his stuff slowly, trying not to look like he was rushing out of there. Ruth let out a deep breath, before reaching across to lightly touch Evan’s wrist. His skin was very hot from where it had been holding his coffee cup.

“The next time you go to a party,” he said quietly, “take me with you.”

“Sorry?” Evan said, certain that he misheard.

“Take me too. I, ah.. I’m actually quite nervous around people. And I find it difficult to go alone. It would be... nice to have a friend to go with.”

“Oh, dude, me too,” Evan said, giving him a reassuring smile. “I have mad social anxiety. I actually don’t get invited to a lot of things like that anymore, but if I do, I guess I’ll text you and see if you’re free?”

Ruth nodded, his hand slipping off Evan’s wrist.

“Thanks.”

“It’s no worries. We can be anxious buds together.”

With a slow incline of his head, Ruth signalled that he would like that, and Evan felt some of his nervousness settle somehow. It was a surprisingly soothing gesture.

“Well. See you at the next one.”

“See you then.”

And then Evan rushed off to hide in the library for a couple of hours so Ruth wouldn’t see him walking around campus when he was supposed to be in a fake lecture instead.

Evan was getting out of the shower when he noticed something black flash in the corner of his vision. He whirled around, rubbing shampoo out of his eyes, visions of getting murdered by some opportunistic shower murderer running through his brain.

However, when he looked around, there was nothing there. He swore he saw something, though. Something in the reflection of the bathroom tiles near his back.

When he was done, he stopped by the mirror in the hallway and checked his body just in case the black thing had been a huge house spider or something. It wouldn’t be the first time that he had a spider fall on him in the shower. Usually they washed down the sinkhole, leaving Evan shivering and feeling strangely violated, but what if this one managed to cling onto his naked skin?

There was no spider. Instead, sprawling across Evan’s lower back like a trampstamp was a sprawling, intricate black tattoo, formed from archaic lettering and symbolism that he couldn’t read.

“Hey, what the fuck,” he said into the empty house.

Having no housemates meant that he couldn’t run into anybody’s room and ask them to read whatever the hell it now said on his back. He tried rubbing at it, but nothing happened. It didn’t even feel weird or raised. It just felt like skin, and it didn’t budge.

Not even soap or nail polish remover got it off his back. It was like ink had sunk into his skin and stuck there overnight.

Evan was, understandably, more than a little freaked out.

> HEY UHHH SO > sent: image_5473843.jpg > ???

wow, that’s a really interesting tattoo!! when did you get it? <

> well you see that’s the thing aliya. i didn’t. > i do not know where this tattoo came from. ummm > i am freaking out a little!!

wh??! < you mean it just....??? appeared?? <

> yeah?? i literally do not remember getting any tattoo there??! ever?

you do have a lot of tattoos... are you sure you didn’t forget about one of them? <

> you don’t just forget about a tattoo!! > okay actually. sometimes you do. BUT NOT THIS BIG. THIS IS A TRAMP STAMP > I WOULD NEVER GET A TRAMP STAMP > oh god what if this happened while i was drunk at that party

ok calm down do you want me to come over and look at it? <

> no, it’s fine. i’ll just. ???? hhhhhhhhh > wait, there is something you can do! can you get me the numbers of uhh. fuck what was their name uhhh Tree. Branch > ROCK > and there was this girl who dressed like a goth, they were both at the party, can you ask your netball friends if they have their numbers? they might know what happened?? i guess? help?

i’ll ask around babe x sorry about this maybe go to the police? <

> they’ll just say i was drunk and there was nothing they could do. but thank you anyway i really appreciate this. sorry for bothering you

no need to apologise at all xx hoping you’re okay xx message me whenever you like <

Evan examined the tattoo in the mirror again. Now that the shock had worn off... well. Aliya was right. He already had so many tattoos. Most of them were already stupid ones he got on a whim. So even if he didn’t ask for this one... it was okay, right? It wasn’t so bad.

It was even kind of cool, in an old-school, mall goth kind of way. Spidery webbing and dots of red ink in what he thought might have been flowers of some kind. He tried to take a photo with his phone, but his hands kept shaking, so he just kept getting blurry pictures of his ass. Not ideal, honestly.

With a sigh, he stretched out on his bed and examined his older tattoos. His favourite one was still the navy outline of a falling star stretching down his inner arm towards his hand. It was his first proper one that he got done at a real tattoo parlour. A lot of the earlier ones were... well, the less said about how close he got to a skin infection, the better.

With a sigh, he tugged on a long sleeved shirt from his closet. Until he could work out why he suddenly had that black monstrosity on the back of his hips, he wasn’t sure he wanted to accidentally keep catching glimpses of it in every reflective surface.

Wait a minute. There was someone else there at the party. Someone who might have seen something that could help.

He opened up the messages from the unknown number and prayed that it was who he hoped it was.

> heyyy ruth i hope this is you!! haha hi

The reply came back about half an hour later, which was just long enough for Evan to overthink everything that had ever happened to him.

It’s me. Rest assured. :) <

Oh god. How to word this?

> well i’m doing good actually i’m you know. chilling! > actually there was something i wanted to ask you > please excuse the ass in this photo!!!!!

The what. <

> sent: image_5473843.jpg

Who did this. <

> funny question! i don’t know > i was hoping you could help???

I’m coming over. <

> no, i meant like do you remember seeing anyone at the party with a tattoo gun or a stick and poke or something?? you don’t have to come over sorry i don’t want to be a bother

You’re not a bother. I’m coming over. <

Well. Fuck. Evan panicked and threw on a pair of sweats and a hoodie, and then felt stupid, because presumably Ruth was going to come and look at the tattoo. Maybe he should wear nicer clothes? Did he have time to tidy his room?

> are you sure haha i don’t want to inconvenience you!!!

I was in the area anyway. It’s okay if you don’t want me to come over. But I have an idea about what happened. < Sorry. I know this must be alarming. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. <

Evan thought about it. Well. It was the only lead he had.

> sure why not come on over

I’m outside. <

The doorbell rang.

***

As always, you can support this poor starving author and read the next chapter early on the official patreon!

You are also cordially invited to the scottiemadethis discord where we talk about online novels, danmei, bad recipes, the milf agenda, and so much more!

Previous Chapter | Contents | Next Chapter

[mysterioh]

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 5

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

SYNOPSIS: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge in art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

Masterlist

What’s In A Name

I am boo-boo the fool.

Peter stalked down the crumbling sidewalk, cursing himself for actually agreeing to this.

Sure he was a weird guy and had a girlfriend who took it upon herself to make sure he knew that, but he wasn't this weird.

If this was what the mob was all about he was ready to bounce out. But once you're in, you're in and there's no way out.

Alright, Petey, you're fine. You got this in the bag, bro. You're gonna bump into her, make her drop her books, and casually start a conversation. Be smooth. Be cool.

"Who am I kidding I'm not cool," he whined to himself. He turns back to see the two goons looking at him with very stern looks. How unfitting for a pair of clowns, he thought.

His heart skips a beat when he sees the two friends turn and walk towards him.

Oh my God. Ok, it's happening. Everybody stay calm. EVERYBODY STAY FUCKING CALM.

His breathing is short and rapid with every step closer getting heavier. The two of you were right in his path and all he had to do was keep on chugging forward until you swerved to his left just a bit.

No, no, come back.  

"So I was checking the pH of my solution of aluminum dichromate until-" Quentin spoke as they walked.

Peter starts to panic as the two were about to walk by him. Before he could even think about what to do, his body turns automatically and slams into you.

"Yikes," Bucky grimaced at Peter from afar. "He's bad at this."

You fall back onto Quentin making him drop the folder in his hand along with your textbook.

"Watch it!" Quentin hissed. "Can't you see where you're going?"

"S-sorry," Peter's lip quivered. "I didn't see you guys, haha," he laughs nervously.

"Hey, it's no problem," you waved it off. "Ignore my friend he's a bit of a jerk at times." Quentin clicks his tongue but doesn't say anything.

"Still I'm really sorry," Peter replies, as you crouch down to gather the papers that spilled out of your book. "Here let me help," he follows suit.

"Don't you think you've helped enough?" Quentin asked, picking up some papers. You turned towards him with a harmful glare and he huffs.

"Sorry, I'm a total klutz," Peter apologizes, collecting as many papers as possible. He caught a name written in the left-hand corner of the paper and smiled wickedly.

"Like taking candy from a baby," he whispers with a chuckle.

"Sorry, did you say something?" You asked, already standing with Quentin.

"Oh no! I was just - uh sorry," he gets up and hands you the papers. "I just realized I've got to go," he turns on his heel towards the two clowns.

"Not this way, moron," Sam hissed while shaking his head while Bucky made a cutting motion across his throat with his hand.

"Haha, wrong way," Peter chuckles. "Silly me," he walks past them in the opposite direction. "See ya!"

You wave out of courtesy while Quentin raises a brow. "What's he talking about? When is he ever going to see us again?"

"He was just being polite," you sighed, walking by him. "Maybe you should take a page out of his book."

"I'm nice," he defended.

"Only when you want to be," you said, a chuckle coloring your words.

"But I'm always nice to you," he pokes the side of your arm.

"You're an idiot, Beck," you shake your head, fighting the light blush that was rising.

"Crap, she's coming this way," Bucky panicked.

"Just act natural," Sam advised. The two of them whistled against the car while the two walked by, catching a quick glance.

A few minutes later, Peter came back around the block, out of breath from running.

"Sheesh, kid, that was horrible," Bucky nagged.

"Can it, geezer, it's my first time," Peter sassed between breaths. "Did I pass, though?"

"What?" Sam asked.

"Did I pass the initiation?"

"Oh uh yeah," he replied. "So?"

"So what?" Peter stands straight.

"What's her name, you dingus?" Bucky questioned. "Don't tell us you did all that and got nothing out of it."

"Oh I've got a name," Peter smirked.

"Well, spit it out!"

He tells them your name and both of them raise a brow.

"You sure?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Hundred percent I saw it on her paper."

Bucky shrugs. "I mean if it's on paper."

"Still it seems wrong."

"Her name's Quentin?" Steve asked, a bit of doubt in his voice.

"Am I speaking French?" Bucky retorted. "Yes, it is."

"Isn't that a guy's name?" He questioned with furrowed brows. "Like an old butler name?"

"Maybe her parents wanted to be different?" Sam suggested.

"I don't know," Steve shakes his head. "You sure you got the right girl?"

"We're absolutely positive," Bucky states. "Right, kid?" He asks Peter who was standing in the corner.

"Uh-huh!" Peter nodded. "It's definitely her, Sir! You can't forget a face like that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve questioned firmly.

"N-nothing!" Peter replied. This was probably the most he ever talked to the man and he didn't want to get on his bad side. "She's just pretty, is all."

A vein in Steve's head snaps at his statement.

Bucky rubs his face with a sigh while Sam whispered to the boy. "Bad move, kid."

"Yeah?" Steve's voice goes dangerously low as he shoots an icy glare in Peter's direction causing a shiver to run down the boy's spine. "Keep your eyes to yourself, Parker, or I'll yank 'em out myself."

"I have a girlfriend," Peter retorted and another one of Steve's veins snapped.

"You tryna say she's not good enough for you?" He barks, ready to flip over his desk as he stands. "She's not pretty enough?"

"No! That's not what I meant at all!" he tried to explain while hiding behind Sam. "I was just-"

"Take it back or I'm kicking your ass back to preschool!" Steve yells, ready to swing.

"Steve, calm down," Bucky said coming in between them. "He's just saying she's pretty and that she's all yours, okay?" He explains like a mother to a child.

Steve huffs, lips curled in a pout. He peers over Bucky's shoulder to look at the curly-haired brunette hiding behind Sam.

Peter quickly whips his head behind Sam to hide. Steve groans.

"I already know that," Steve affirmed. "I don't need some kid to tell me that."

"Mr. Sam, I'm scared," Peter whispered from behind.

"Just shut up, kid, you're just making it worse," Sam sighed.

"So her name's Quentin," Steve sighed, leaning against his desk. It doesn't settle well with him. But you were already a mystery to him so why not add that to the mix? He shakes his head in amusement.

"Don't like it?" Bucky asked.

"It's kinda weird, but then again so is she," he chuckles. "Ah my fair Quentin, there is no being as beautiful as thee."

Sam gags at him. "Stop this is gross. I'm out of here," he said in disgust before turning on his heel and leaving.

"Wait for me!" Peter shouts behind, quickly escaping his boss's murderous aura.

Steve remains indifferent towards Sam's reaction and even lets the kid go punishment free. And it's all because he's on a ship to La La Land where you're waiting for him with a kiss.

"Steve?" Bucky calls him. "Steve?" He waves a hand in front of him. No response. "Stevie!" He shouts.

"Yeah?" The blonde replied with a dazed expression and a dreamy look in his eye.

Bucky was observing him. He had been for a few days now. The daydreaming. The hushed giggles. The way he was acting right now. They were all symptoms of a little thing called falling in love and Bucky wasn't sure if it was good for him.

He agreed that Steve deserved love, but was this the right way to do it? It was all too dangerously fast.

He opens his mouth to speak, trying to find the right way to word it.

"You're not...you're not falling in love are you?" Bucky asked, warily.

A light blush creeps onto the blonde's cheeks and he's left gaping at his question. He chuckles awkwardly.

"No, Buck, I-I," he tries to say it but it doesn't come out the right way. A picture of you flashes through his mind. That damn girl.

"I'm not sure," he shakes his head then looks over to him with a small smile. "She just won't leave my head."

A/N: Well, they’re stupid...

TAGLIST

@ashwarren32​ @rootcrop​ @siriusement​ @savedbystark​ @little-dark-empress​ @great-goddess-of-sin​ @boxofteenageideas​ @kingbouji3 @imsonick​ @scuzmunkie​ @achishisha​ @calwitch​ @chuckennuggets1213​ 

[forpeopleidontknow]

falling into you - h.o.

chapter two - married in vegas

mob!haz au

warnings: swearing (i think that’s it)

word count: 2k

author note: i’m trying to think of a good posting schedule but I feel like posting once a week is too little and posting twice a week is too much so i’m in a bit of a pickle but I’ll figure it out!

chapter one ✕ masterlist ✕ chapter three

You wake up, closing your eyes shortly after opening them to avoid the blinding light. After giving yourself some time, you could finally open your eyes. Looking over at your desk clock you read the time

1:28 PM

Fuck. You reach over to grab your phone while being greeted with new messages from Harry

Weird Guy From The Bar (harry)

3:34 AM: hey, I’m just making sure you got home safe. I can’t have my poker date dying lol

6:05 AM: good morning. A car will be there to pick you up at 6. Don’t make him wait

6:06 AM: I just realized I don’t have your address so send that to me

You

1:30 PM: hey, yeah sorry. I just woke up lol. I will send you my location.

1:31 PM: and did you say you would send a car for me?

Weird Guy From The Bar (harry)

1:32 PM: I did. Also, the dress code is black tie. Something like you wore last night will work.

Well, that’s great. You have nothing like that in my closet which means you have to borrow clothes from Y/F/N. You get up from your bed walking towards the door when you see the heels you wore last night, instantly reminding you of the guy who caught you. You quickly shake him out of your head and head to your roommate’s room. You knock on her door lightly knowing that after last night her head is probably pounding.

“Go awayyyyy” she groaned, making you laugh lightly

“I need a dress, black tie.” you say while opening the door and walking in

“Since when do you want to wear a dress like that?” she lifted her head to look at you

“Some guy asked me to be his date for poker night and I agreed now please get me a dress, I need to be ready by 6.” you plopped down on her bed laying in the space next to her.

“Okay fine.” she got up making her way to her closet. She digs in for a few seconds before pulling out a black dress, similar to the one you wore last night and some silver heels.

“Here, now get out!” she hands you the articles and then plops back down on her bed, covering her head with the covers.

~

It was 5:48. You had showered, styled your hair, and successfully did a smokey eye. You were walking downstairs to wait in front of your building. 6 on the dot a Mercedes-Benz pulls up and the door opens.

“Hey darling, you look stunning.” Harry greeted you

“I don’t know why I agreed to do this.” you stated while getting into the car. You looked at Harry, he was wearing the exact outfit as last night, just missing the sunglasses.

“Would you care to explain to me why someone is driving us?”

“Bossman insists, I just follow orders.” he shrugs

“You play poker with your boss and he sends you cars? Where do you work!?” you asked being flabbergasted about the information you just received.

“The less you know the better.” You thought he was joking but his face was serious. You let out a nervous chuckle in hopes to clear this newfound tension in the air, but it seemed to make it worse. After being in the car for what felt like hours but more like 20 minutes the car started to slow down. You brought your gaze to the window to be greeted by a gate.

“It’s Pruitt. Arriving with Harry Holland and company. Buzz me in.” The chauffeur spoke into the call box. The gates started opening as he was buzzed in. Driving for a little while until you were shocked at the sight was in front of you.

A mansion. You counted the 33 windows that laid on the front of the house as the car pulled into the round motor court, housing a few other cars similar to the one you were in. The driver got out of the car and went around to Harry’s side, opening the door. Harry stepped out.

“Thanks, Jaxx. I’ll take it from here.” He patted the man on the shoulders and held his hand out for you to grab. You took it and stepped out of the car. You put your arm around Harry’s and walked up the stair. At the front door, were two men. Security you were guessing. You walked into the front door, hearing your heels click on the limestone floor. Your eyes went straight to the double staircase the met that the top and a crystal chandelier hanging over your head. You were torn from your thought when a voice spoke.

“You weren’t lying when you said you had a date.” A man who looked comparable to Harry spoke to us. Harry unraveled his arm from yours to take a step closer to the man.

“Don’t be such a wanker” Harry opened his arms and engulfed the man in a hug. Stepping away Harry rejoined you, next to your side

“Tom, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my brother, Tom.” Harry introduces you to the man. You hold out your hand.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Tom winked and then kissed your hand. You felt a blush creep onto your cheeks. “Well we are about to get started, the boys are in the game room.”

They led you down some stair and a hallway until you reached an archway. Your nose was greeted with the smell of cigar smoke. Walking in a bit more the sound of your heels was silenced by the rug under you. You put your hand on the pool table in front of you and turned your head towards the bar on the left side of the room.

“And the boy made it with his date” You snapped your head. Another man, he had is arm around Harry’s shoulders. You were guessing another brother. He moved towards you putting his hand out.

“Sam.”

“Y/N.” you shook his hand.

“Well I’m glad you could join us y/n” he smiled. You smiled politely back at him

“Where’s Harrison?” Harry asked looking around the room

“Behind you, you div.” A guy walked in thumping the back of Harry’s head. He then looked at you and then it hit you.

The Mystery Guy. The mystery guy is standing in front of you. What?!? Your internal panic was interrupted

“Uh y/n, you alright?” Tom asked you

“What? Oh yeah uh, just uh... a little parched. Could I get some water? You nervously stuttered out while quickly trying to look anywhere but in his eyes.

“Could we get the girl some water?” Harrison spoke out loud, not directing the question to anyone in general. “I believe we didn’t get the chance to meet last night, I’m Harrison and you are?”

“Y/n and yeah sorry about that. My friend was waiting in a cab and I just couldn’t... keep her… waiting so...” You couldn’t form a normal sentence to save your life making you even more nervous. A man hands you your water and you thank him. You took a fairly long sip to get rid of the uncomfortable dryness in your mouth.

“So y/n, are you playing?”

“I don’t know how to play.”

“I’ll have to teach you one day.” Harrison smiles then walks away dragging Harry with him. “So what's the deal between you two?’

“Huh?”

“Are you two serious?”

“Mate, if I tell you this you have to swear on your life you don’t tell anyone else?”

“Code one of the Omertà oath.” Harrison holds up his hand to show his ring.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Harry laughs and punches Harrison in the arm for his dramatics. ”We aren’t even dating, I met her last night at the nightclub opening. You have my blessing, now go make her an offer she can’t refuse.” Harry said in a godfather-Esque Italian accent.

“And you are calling me dramatic.” Harrison chuckles then walks back over to you “Now let get this pretty lady into a chair.” He grabs your hand and leads you to the table where two other men were sitting. He pulls out a chair for you, pushes it in and then sits next to you. After a few minutes you learned the names of the other men at the table, Tuwaine and Jacob. Harrison cheered again after he won another game.

“Boss man, you should put your house on the bet.” Tuwaine jokingly suggested.

Wait Harrison is the boss?

“You can get my house when you do what I do.” Harrison smiled at him checking his cards

“You live here?” You had forgotten where you were after being in this room for the whole night.

“Yep, all 126 room belong to me.” He smirked while putting some chips in the middle

“What could you possibly do that gives you enough money for a house like this?”

“I don’t think you want to know that sweetheart.” He winked at you and then directed his attention back to the game. After a few more minutes you wanted to stretch your legs. You pushed your chair out getting ready to get up

“Hey love, where are you going?” Harrison speaks putting in a few more chips in the middle.

“Just going to stretch my legs, I’ll be over there.” You pointed towards the bar. You got up and walked over to it. Leaning on the counter instead of sitting on the bar stool. You ordered a cherry coke. You were about to make your way to the couch in the back of the room when you got drenched with a cold liquid. A crash following soon after caught everyone’s attention. Harrison swiftly moved from his chair and across the room to you.

“What’s all this about?” His voice was aggressive, nothing like he had been tonight.

“I’m sorry sir, I tripped. I’ll get it cleaned up.” The bartender was practically shaking leaving you with the question of why. Why was he so scared?

“Like hell you will!” Harrison spoke just a bit too loudly making you flinch. That caught his attention. His eyes softened when he looked at you.

“Follow me.” His voice was gentle now. He held out his hand. You were hesitant to take and he noticed. He looked at your eyes for some sort of reassurance but all he saw was fear. He scared you and now you were frozen in place.

“Can someone call Amy and tell her to bring one of my shirts?” Harrison spoke again not to anyone in general but just out loud. A few minutes later an older woman walks in with a shirt.

“Thanks Amy, you are an angel.” He gives you a warm and kind smile. A complete 180 from the bartender. “Here love, let's get you out of these clothes.” He put his hand on the small of your back and guided you to the bathroom and handed you the shirt.

You took a second to breathe in your surroundings. It wasn’t big, only housing a toilet and a sink but somehow it was still stunning. You quickly stripped yourself of the alcoholic smelling dress and put your arms through the silk sleeves. While you were in the bathroom Harrison walked back into the game room.

“Alright, games over.” Harrison’s eyebrows knitted together in frustration. As much as the boys wanted to stay they know not to make him ask twice. They all filed out of the room.

“Do you want me to take her home?” Harry approached the blonde.

“No, I got it. Thanks though mate.” He patted his shoulder. You peaked your head out of the bathroom looking at the back of his head. You walked towards him.

“Where did everyone go?” You asked while approaching.

“Felt bad for taking all their money.” You laughed at his comment making him smile.

“I’m sorry for scaring you. I can get you a car if you want to go home.” He has sincerity in his eyes.

“Actually if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay here a bit longer.”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

I was looking up different types of house while writing this chapter so the layout made sense in my head and I stumbled across this GIANT HOUSE and when I say giant I mean it. So I based some parts of Harrison’s mansion on it. If you guys want to see it you can click here! 

[yandere-daydreams]

Might it be possible for us to see what you had thought up for that yan mob boss/undercover cop darling scenario? Like what happens after the yan finds out about their fixation's actual job?

I am SELFISH and I like SUITS and if you have an office you do CRIME STUFF in you better put a FISH TANK in that office or you’re not a real CRIME PERSON. Either way, here’s more Angelo.

TW: Gun Violence, Non-Consensual Touching.

You never realized how little one person could make you feel.

No part of Angelo was subtle, you’d known that since you’d first been assigned to babysit his little ‘organization’. Minimalistic, sure, but if the wall of glass and exotics fish built into the furthest wall of his office was anything to go off of, he wasn’t the type to stray very far from dramatics. Normally, you wouldn’t dwell on it, but now that he was sitting across from you, a hand propping up his chin and a wide, curling grin stretched over his features, it was hard not to acknowledge just how suffocating his presence was.

He didn’t move to speak, his posture nothing short of tortuously relaxed. Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to break the silence. “Is there a reason you called me-”

“It’s (Y/n), yes?” His grin didn’t waver as he spoke, light but oppressing, at the same time. He knew your name, and more importantly, you knew he knew your name, but any complaints were swallowed down as you nodded, keeping your expression as neutral as you could. He might not know about your side job, yet, and you sure as hell weren’t going to be the one to tell him. “You’re new around here, aren’t you? One of my men introduced us, but…” He trailed off, letting his head loll to the side, a couple angelfish circling his head for a moment before swimming off. “We don’t know each other very well.”

“No, sir,” You replied, dryly, burrowing your nails into your palms beneath his line of sight. “I wouldn’t say we do.”

He chuckled, straightening his back and reaching into his jacket’s pocket, the color draining from your face as a small, black box was placed on the desk between you. “I’d be willing to believe that you don’t know all the rules yet, lovely. But, this, however-” He paused, pressing one of the buttons on the side without sparing the device a second glace, a deep, masculine voice you had to recognize echoing through the room. You fought not to close your eyes as your distributor’s demands sounded out, listing possible names you should get close to and high-profile spots, all the things he’d briefed you on during one of your weekly ‘check-ins’. But, you couldn’t stop yourself from cringing when you heard your voice, loud and clear and unmistakable, even if you were only giving a location and a codeword. Angelo’s smile was dropped unceremoniously, the device immediately shut off and pushed to the side, dark eyes burning into with such focus, you doubted you would ever stop feeling his gaze. “-is unacceptable.”

You shook your head, shifting, squirming, fidgeting, attempting to look like you weren’t planning to run, even when your eyes moved to the walls, searching for any exit besides the heavily guarded door you’d come through. “You don’t understand, Mr. Blanco,” You mumbled, the words faster, more panicked than they should’ve been. “I swear, it’s not what you think it is, I wasn’t-”

Before you could finish, there was a sharp click from the other side of the room, the sound of a hammer cocking into place drawing your gaze back to Angelo, just as he drew his side-arm. His grip on the revolver, silver and borderline antique, was as loose as you’d expect, a single finger haphazardly tapping against the trigger, the gun’s muzzle pointed at your chest. You could’ve grabbed for it, attempted to wrestle it from his grip, but at this range, the bullet would reach your heart before you could do so much as raise your arms.

“Tell me, does it look like I care about your excuses?” He asked, the playful softness gone, replaced with something cold, something harsh. All jagged edge, lacking the polished purr you’d grown accustomed to. He leaned back in his chair, any polite respect he held for you melting away as he scanned over your rigid form. “I don’t enjoy these kinds of things, but I don’t like being lied to, either, not from one of my prettier possessions. And I don’t think there’s been a second in our relationship where you haven’t been lying, (Y/n).” You shifted, biting your lip, and his finger came to rest on the trigger a little less delicately than you cared for. “Such a shame, too. I had such sweet plans for you.”

You dared to meet his gaze, only to regret it when you saw his narrowed eyes, the glare that burnt holes into your skin. You looked away as quickly as you could, but concentrating on the harsh greys and blacks of his suit wasn’t much better, only straining your vision, dread now tying knots in every part of your body it could possibly reach. “…plans, sir?” You flinched as his chair scraped against the wooden floor, something cold and metallic soon pressing against your forehead. You kept your eyes closed, only trying to steel yourself as you spoke. Whether or not your voice still shook, though, was a question you didn’t want to answer. “What do you mean by ‘plans’?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. The moment his frown wavered, that same grin returning for a split second, your own chair was on the floor, pushed back as your scrambled towards the door. Fuck worrying about the guards, fuck this, you’d rather take their semi-automatics then whatever this psychopath had ‘planned’ for you. You tried to run, tried to sprint, but your rebellion was over the moment that deafening gunshot sounded through the room, pain burning through your cheek seconds later, warm blood dripping onto your shoulder as your kneed buckled underneath you.

The bullet had only grazed you, luckily.

But, Angelo had never been a very good shot.

You were a detective, not an officer, a spy who was supposed to be gone by the time anything really happened. You weren’t supposed to be held at gun-point, or threatened, or shot. That was the only thing that ran through your mind as Angelo sighed, walking out from behind his desk, stepping in front of you when you failed to do anything but stare and shake. He kneeled down, but only enough to shove the barrel under your chin, forcing your attention onto him.

He was smiling, again, grinning. Just as brightly as he’d been when you first sat down. Just as maliciously.

“We don’t know each other very well, do we, (Y/n)?” You didn’t respond, not at first, sputtering something incoherent and refusing to meet his eyes. The revolver’s muzzle dug into your neck, the metal still hot from the shot he’d already taken, threatening to burn. “Bad puppy. Answer me, or I won’t be as nice this time.”

You blinked, almost surprised when you realized you were crying. “We… we don’t, sir.”

Your heart stopped as he chuckled, crouching in front of you. The pressure on your neck never lessened, but the air in his office seemed so much heavier as Angelo combed his fingers through your hair, pushing it out of your face before cupping your cheek. “But, that’ll change, soon.” He hummed as he wiped a stray tear from his cheek, leaning forward, if only to press the softest kiss into your forehead. His lips were still on your skin when he continued, his voice muffled, but so, so loud.

“And you’re not going to lie to me, this time.”

[marvelsswansong]

Soooo I was thinking maybe 3 & 35 with Bucky maybe??

3: “I can’t go to sleep without you next to me.”

35: “It’s not your fault.”

a/n: ASDFKLJASDF SO MUCH FLUFF IT MIGHT KILL YOU. 

——————————-

‘This is nothing more than a mission.’ 

That was the mantra that Bucky kept replaying over and over on his head, as you leaned into his touch and kissed him softly in the lips. The sound of the neighborhood children playing and the array of cars honking faded into the background as he focused on your touch, your very essence enveloping him in a warm embrace.

“Good morning, Jeremy! Linda, how are you?” 

Right.

None of this was real. In this neighborhood, in this world, he was not Bucky Barnes. He was Jeremy Haze- a software engineer from Iowa who worked for Microsoft for five years. And you were Linda Haze- his doting wife and stay at home author. 

“We’re doing well, Harvey, how are you?” you responded softly to your neighbour, a bright smile on your face. 

“Pretty good myself, say, the wife’s throwing a little barbecue this Sunday. Would you happen to be free?”

“Of course we are. Who else is coming?” you asked casually, prying the subject for more information.

“The usual. The Harrington’s, the Brown’s, a couple of new families from down the street. Oh, and I think the William’s are free this weekend too.”

At the mention of your target Bucky’s eyes gleamed in interest, and he straightened his back and gave his neighbour a polite smile.

“Sounds great. We’ll be there, for sure. Thank you for the invite, Harvey. See you around.” 

“Yep, see you around!”

The two of you stayed hugging each other until the door to your house closed, after which Bucky slowly separated himself from you. He would’ve wanted nothing more than to hug you, to kiss you and hold you like he did outside of this house, but it was all for a mission.

Just a facade.

“God, can you believe that this is how these people lived?” you asked jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. 

Bucky followed you into the living room as you continued to talk, your legs dangling off the side of the sofa as you laid back and spoke to the ceiling.

“So free, so… dull. The whole suburban lifestyle where your biggest worry is whether or not your newspaper gets delivered on time?”

Bucky poured you a glass of water before drinking his own, a small smile on his face.

“I don’t know, doll-”

Your heart skipped at the use of the nickname you adored so much- you secretly loved that it was only reserved for when the two of you were alone, and not used outside of the household. It almost made it feel like there was something real, something tangible between the two of you.

But you knew there wasn’t.

“I think this kinda life would be nice. Very different from the lives we lead, at least. A steady job, big family, nice house, the whole nine yards… I don’t know, haven’t you ever wished you had that?” he questioned, eyeing you carefully.

You sighed sadly.

“I guess… if it was with the right person.” 

Your gaze remained fixated on the ceiling as Bucky stared at you quietly, adoration ever so evident in his gaze.

“I know what you mean.”

The rest of the week went by in a blur- at every day at 8am, Bucky would wear his suit and tie and get in a taxi to “go to work” before returning for dinner at 6pm. In those mornings you’d open the door and kiss him goodbye out in the open, before returning to the house and cleaning the entire space from top to bottom. On some days, you went outside to go grocery shopping or got invited by some ladies who wanted to have brunch at the country club. You always accepted, a fake bright smile on your lips and a gentle grace in every action you took. 

It was your job, after all. To blend in with these people. To pretend like you were just an ordinary housewife, shy and sweet Mrs.Haze. Wife of Jeremy Haze, the software engineer. But you could’ve never prepared yourself for how difficult it was going to be to have to pretend to be in love with Bucky- when in reality, you actually were. 

‘I’m going insane.’

Sunday came quite quickly and it all went smoothly. You cornered the target- a Russian mob boss who had a summer home in this neighborhood under a fake alias- while the rest of the attendees were busy making small talk by the pool, in order to gain information. In the mean time, Bucky slipped away and broke into the target’s house to gather the evidence Shield needed to incriminate him. And in less than three hours, the man was taken away in cuffs by the police as you and Bucky watched from your house.

“Fury just called. A taxi’s coming to pick us up in a few minutes.” announced Bucky, closing the door.

Your heart fell at the thought that you would no longer be near Bucky 24/7 but quickly put on a fake smile, not wanting Bucky to see how you really felt.

“That’s great… And uh, great job as always. The mission was a success and… you know, you were a great fake husband for the past three months.” you said jokingly, shoving him playfully.

Bucky’s cheeks flushed at your touch but he quickly coughed to cover it up, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah… You were a great wife, too.”

You grinned back.

“I’m glad.”

The ride back home was quiet, with Bucky immersing himself in a book and you putting on headphones in order to ignore the obvious tension between the two of you. It felt odd to be next to Bucky without resting your head on his shoulder or sitting on his lap- all those little things you did when you were his “wife”- but you had to remind yourself again that it was never real.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky wanted nothing more than to reach over and hug you and kiss you, already missing having you by his side.

‘It was just a mission, you idiot.’

But every time he was close to leaning over and touching you, he found himself pulling backwards and ignoring you. He didn’t want to cross a line, after all, Bucky was just a friend to you, at best. It hurt to admit, but it was true. So he just stayed silent and admired you from the shadows, wishing he could reach over and touch you.

———————-

It had been an entire week since you had returned to your regular life at the tower, but you still felt empty and lonely. You missed having someone to hold onto when you were tired. You missed having a warm body to have next to you in bed. But mostly, you just really missed Bucky.

You tossed and turned in your bed, the clock nearing 2am, as you wished that you could just fall asleep as easily as you did when Bucky was next to you. But you just couldn’t. It all felt wrong. The bed was too soft, the covers were too warm and you were too-

“(Y/n)?” 

You sat up in bed and rubbed your eyes awake, only to see a disheveled Bucky in the doorway.

“Bucky?” you said quietly, surprised.

He looked like he hadn’t sleep in so long. Dark eyes colored his hollowed complexion and his hair was a tangled mess as he stepped forward, his hand anxiously grasping his pillow.

“I… I can’t go to sleep without you next to me. Is it okay if I-” 

"Yeah, yeah… Uh, come on in.”

You remained silent as Bucky closed your door and climbed into bed next to you. 

“Sorry for waking you, doll.” drawled Bucky in that adorably sleepy voice you missed.

“No… It’s not your fault, I was already awake. Besides, I’m glad you came. I just, I got so used to sleeping next to you that I couldn’t fall asleep either.”

Bucky nodded.

“I just… I missed you so much, darling.”

You smiled.

“You’ve seen me everyday for the past week, Buck.”

He shook his head sideways.

“That’s not what I mean. I miss holding you in my arms. I miss waking up with you next to me. I miss being able to kiss you and touch you without worrying about what other people I think. I miss… I miss getting to call you mine.” 

Bucky whispered the last part of his sentence, his voice shaking from how nervous he was. 

“But Bucky-”

You shuffled closer towards him, your face a few inches away from his. You smiled.

“I am yours.”

A cheeky grin spread across his lips before he placed his hand on your cheek, drawing you in closer and kissing you as gently as you could. You smiled into the kiss, your hands getting tangled in his hair as you pulled him in deeper.

“I don’t wanna fake anymore. I want to be able to wake up next to you- the real you. Every morning.”

You let yourself be embraced by Bucky’s arms and leaned into his touch, a sleepy smile on your face.

“So let’s do that then. Everything we just did- but for real.”

Bucky nodded and hugged you softly, watching you drift off to sleep. He watched with soft admiration as you fell asleep before pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering.

“And one day, I’ll marry you for real.”

————————————–

a/n: asdfjsalfjalsdf i hope this wasn’t trash ok i tried

–> read my other blurbs here

–> prompt list // REQUESTS ARE OPEN

regular taglist: @wantyoubackpeter ​ @platonic-plots ​ @superwholockwannabe ​ @xxmizzlexx ​ @xdsockmonkey ​ @princess-unicorn124 ​  @not-jay-c ​ @therealmrshale ​ @caswinchester2000 ​ @heartbeats-wildly ​ @mostlylyricedits ​ @musiclover1263

[notbang]

that cat’s something i can’t explain

read on ao3

1.

“Rebecca,” Nathaniel says in surprise when he spots his girlfriend weaving through the Mountaintop lobby, flour-dusted apron and all, making a very determined beeline in his general direction. “What’s going on?”

As soon as he says the words, he expects her haughtiness—an affronted why can’t a humble pretzel maker visit her lawyer lover on the top floor, perhaps, or something equally colourful. The closer she gets, though, he can see she’s vibrating with something other than deliberately cloying indignation.

“What’s going on,” she says emphatically, dropping her phone on the front desk with enough force that its momentum slides it towards him, “is that if I had to be subjected to this monstrosity, then so you do you.”

He stops the phone before it can ricochet off the edge of the counter, eyebrows raised as he unlocks the screen.

“Now that we know a love of the theatrical arts is something which we both share—”

“Wouldn’t say ‘love’,” Nathaniel interjects.

“—we can have these very important cultural discussions together.”

He makes it approximately twenty seconds into the video before he turns it off.

This isn’t the first time he’s found himself completely miffed by one of Rebecca’s outbursts, but even in his bemusement it’d be disingenuous of him to paint it as one of her qualities he considers skewed towards the negative. There’s always been something so captivating in the way her feelings tend to command the entirety of her tiny frame, expressing endlessly outwards, always making her seem so much more than what she is.

Still, he’s at a loss for what to offer her in return for her obvious discontent, and he settles for stating the obvious, well aware she’ll hand him precisely the response she was looking for soon enough.

“Don’t see it?” he offers, tone tentative and polite.

Predictably, she scoffs at him, jabbing two accusing pointer fingers in his direction. “Ha. Don’t see it. I wasn’t planning on it, was I? But then they had to go and make it terrible, which is how they reel you in! And not just plain old terrible, either—it’s, like, the uncanny valley, haunt-your-dreams kind of terrible that cancels out how terrible the source material already is, because that’s how negative integers work, for some reason, and now it’s like this… furry train wreck I can’t look away from,” she finishes, gesticulating wildly and scrunching up her hands into frustrated little cat claws.

“Did Nathaniel finally admit he’s a furry?” Maya whispers with conspiratorial glee, popping up unannounced on Rebecca’s immediate left.

“Ugh, Maya, go away,” she groans.

“You don’t work here anymore—you can’t just boss people around,” Nathaniel says, before straightening his shoulders and adding pointedly, “Maya, go away. Please.”

Rebecca raises her eyebrows as the office assistant pushes her glasses up her nose, pouts and scampers away. She leans across the desk to give him a blatant up-and-down. “Wow, look at you—dolling out pleases like you’re Oprah or something. So cordial, yet commanding. It’s kind of sexy, in a Miss Manners kind of way.”

“Don’t you have a storefront you should be manning?”

“I’d be able to hear the fire alarm from here,” she defends, then pushes up on her tip-toes to plant a kiss on his right cheek. Nathaniel pauses in his photocopying, ears pinking, then reciprocates with a brief press of his open palm to the small of her back.

He clears his throat. “I’ll see you at lunch,” he calls after her, but he’s certain she doesn’t hear him, already having summoned Maya back, strangely intent on correcting her opinions on something involving, if he’s heard correctly, Taylor Swift.

2.

When he makes his way down the hall back to her bedroom, still towelling his hair, there’s a message notification waiting on his phone from Rebecca.

“What is this?” he asks, waving his screen at her.

She doesn’t even glance up from the novel she’s reading, a stray lock of her hair looping around her finger in an absent spiral. He watches the movement for a moment, transfixed, until she disengages the curl to flick the page over and finally responds. “It’s Hermione after she messes up her Polyjuice potion in Chamber of Secrets. Obviously.”

“Okay.” Then, after a beat, “Why am I looking at it?”

“Because Paula doesn’t understand musicals or Harry Potter or memes, so it had to go to you by default.”

“Do you understand memes?”

“Plus,” she says, ignoring him, “you’re, like, romantically obligated to find every message I send you entertaining.”

He plugs his phone into charge before joining her on the bed, shuffling as high up on the pillows as he can manage to keep his toes from skimming the end of the mattress when he stretches out. It’s not entirely successful, but if he bends at the knees a little and curls on his side, he knows from past experience he can make it work.

“Am I, just. Even the ones composed entirely of emojis?”

She grins. “Especially the ones composed entirely of emojis.”

Rebecca ditches her paperback in favour of wriggling into his warmth, murmuring her contentment when he slips an arm around her waist to draw her close and drop a chaste kiss onto the crown of her head. Her hair’s still damp and smells vaguely floral, like her shampoo, and he lets his lips linger there, breathing her in.

His phone vibrates twice on the nightstand.

When pulls back to peer down his nose at her, she’s not-so-subtle in her attempt to conceal what she’s cradling innocently between their chests. He sighs, feigning exasperation. “You just sent me a cat emoji, didn’t you?”

“I absolutely did not,” she says solemnly, then, dissolving into laughter under his scrutiny, confesses, “It was more like five. And I think maybe a llama by mistake?”

3.

“It’s like they didn’t even try,” Rebecca announces loudly in the vicinity of Nathaniel’s ear, rudely jerking him back from the precipice of sleep.

“Oh good,” he sighs, blinking his eyebrows higher up his forehead in the darkness. “This again.”

He grunts out his disapproval as the bedside lamp clicks back on, casting half the apartment in dramatic shadow as it burns his retinas with its unexpected blinding light.

“And I’m just saying,” Rebecca continues, oblivious or in the very least unconcerned with his state of obvious discomfort, apparently immune to any such adjustment period of her own, “did anyone consult TS Eliot before reinventing his heartfelt poetry as a vaginal yeast infection in musical form?”

Nathaniel’s nose wrinkles to match the pre-existing scrunch of his face. “What?”

“Never mind, it was a whole a thing. My point is, no film is an island unto itself. People signed off on this. Multiple people looked at those designs and said, you know what’s gonna add a layer of appeal to a musical that already has no plot? Stripping it of its one redeeming feature—AKA the crazy 80s hair—and replacing it with horrifying, humanoid heads that somehow manage to look furry and bald at the same time.”

Even if Nathaniel felt remotely qualified to comment on the topic—which, for the record, oddly flattered though he is at Rebecca’s pervasive belief that he might be, he decidedly is not—it’s late, it’s a weeknight, and he really just wants to sleep.

“If you hate it so much, rewrite it,” he says before pointedly rolling away from her with a yawn and yanking the covers up over his shoulders.

She follows him, flicking him hard in the back of the neck where his nape’s still exposed above the blanket. “Not cute, dude. You don’t get points for that one anymore. And you can’t ‘rewrite’ CGI. Even if you could, a thousand rewrites isn’t gonna change the eyesore that I—nay, humankind—have been subjected to.”

Nathaniel buries his face in the pillow and groans something that resembles her name before it gets jumbled in its muffled pass through the cotton.

“Rebecca,” he says once he’s resurfaced, trying again, tone still undeniably clipped as he scrubs a palm across his face. “I have a deposition first thing tomorrow. Do we really need to have this conversation now?”

She wilts visibly, chagrined, eyes flicking to the clock at his bedside that may as well have ABSURDLY LATE splashed across its interface in red LEDs. “Sorry,” she says meekly, officially rebuked, sinking back into the sheets and switching off the lamp.

The room is blissfully silent save for the collective electronic hum of his appliances, but despite the stillness, Nathaniel finds himself unable to drift back off. Without opening his eyes he pats around beside him until his fingers connect with the phone he’d known with every fibre of his being she was still holding, confiscating and discarding on his nightstand, out of reach.

“Go to sleep,” he admonishes.

“I was just—”

“Sleep,” he repeats, voice gruff with exhaustion, enfolding her firmly in his arms as a preventative measure, practically able to hear her calculating the device’s retrieval in the dark.

4.

“What are we dealing with, here? Minor song lyric alteration? Beloved song exclusion? Reinforced misogyny? Racially insensitive miscast?”

Nathaniel startles at the sound of the door opening, Paula spilling into Rebecca’s house like she lives there and depositing her bags in the entryway with a dramatic thud.

Rebecca, by comparison, is unperturbed by the intrusion, swivelling on a breakfast stool to look at her friend and shake her head. “We’re not talking misdemeanours here, Paula. We’re talking big league. Like, DEFCON-5.”

“Oh,” Paula says. She clucks in feigned sympathy and shoots a knowing glance in Nathaniel’s direction. “This is about the singing cats, huh.”

Even focused as he is on rinsing out her blender, he doesn’t miss the way Rebecca shrinks guiltily away from him in his periphery.

“Did you call an early morning emergency meeting of your girl mob to discuss a movie trailer you didn’t like?” he asks, careful to keep his tone light.

“It’s gurl group, but you know that, and no—Valencia is in town for her sister’s birthday and Heather’s working at this Home Base today and Paula’s new job means she has to like, actually do work now, so breakfast is the only time all of us were free.”

As if on cue, Heather and Valencia sidle through the open doorway.

“Oh, he’s here?” Heather drawls with an exaggerated grimace when she spots Nathaniel. “Looks like you’ve already found someone to rant about your dumb movie to, so I’m gonna just—”

Her attempt to pivot on the spot and leave is thwarted by the arm Valencia loops through her own, catching her before she can re-cross the threshold.

Nathaniel wastes no time in whipping his head around to aim an aha look in Rebecca’s direction, and she’s just as quick to defend, “Yeah, okay, so it’s on the agenda. Amongst other things.”

“Is that so. Like what?”

“Like… topics I don’t know about yet because nobody ever responds to my requests to send me their items for the agenda.”

“God, no more agendas,” Paula grouches, reaching for a mug from the overhead cabinet. “Or meetings. My entire life is meetings and agendas and scheduling conflicts. Can’t we just have a good old fashioned rendezvous? I feel like nobody ever rendezvouses anymore.”

“Ooh, or how about a tryst,” Rebecca suggests, waggling her eyebrows.

“Girl, you know I love you,” Valencia says, “but I’m not trysting with you. I have a fiancée.”

Heather hums, drumming her fingers against the countertop as she hoists herself up onto a stool. “So full disclosure, Hector and I saw the Cats revival with his mom last year, and I liked it. I think the lack of plot worked in Hector’s favour.”

“There’s no accounting for taste,” Rebecca says, wistful.

“You liked The Lion King,” Nathaniel feels obligated to point out. “That’s technically about digitally rendered singing cats.”

“I tolerated The Lion King because of my deep fondness of the original and because I knew I could bully you into seeing it with me because of its zoological themes,” she corrects. “Anyway, that remake’s issue was that it had no soul. This remake’s issue is that it’s, like, demonically possessed, or something. Which, to be fair, cats, as a species, generally are.”

“Rebecca,” Valencia begins, voice all saccharine and scathing, “need I remind you of one of the many occasions you broke up with this one—” She jabs a thumb in Nathaniel’s face, making him frown. “—with the intention of adopting an entire shelter’s worth of felines?”

“That was a different time,” Rebecca dismisses. “I was punishing a version of myself I wasn’t proud of by resigning her to the fate I believed she deserved.”

Nathaniel tilts his head, bemused. “Huh?”

“Oh, she wanted to be a crazy cat lady,” Heather translates, enunciating loudly, “because she couldn’t bone you in the stationery closet without feeling bummed about it anymore. Just, like. While we’re on the subject of trysts.”

“Heath-er,” Rebecca hisses, kicking her ex-housemate in the shin.

Parsing their less than stellar communal romantic track record with a group of women all too happy to gang up on him afforded the slightest opportunity isn’t high on Nathaniel’s to-do list for the morning, and a flick of his wrist to check his smart watch is all the excuse he needs to make a timely escape.

“On that note,” Nathaniel says, snatching his car keys off the counter, “I’m going to leave you ladies be.”

The conversation barely dips as he sees himself out.

5.

“So in between your being typecast as our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, you didn’t happen to don, say, a unitard and leg warmers, did you?”

“What?”

He knows he should be used to this by now—this tendency towards unexpected tack-changing that he’d liken to a dog with a bone, if the cliche didn’t feel somewhat inapt, considering. It’s not like he’s unaccustomed, after all this this time, to Rebecca’s one track mind. It’s just that up until this point, most of the tracks she’s been fixated on treading have usually, admittedly, served his own interests as easily as her own.

“Just checking, because for the record, it’s kind of a massive deal breaker for me.”

She flops into his side, not entirely-unpleasantly sticky, or in the very least, skin virtually indistinguishable from the slick of his own. Rebecca’s ability to pick up intelligible conversation immediately post-coitus is a talent he does not share, and as the golden fog of afterglow suffuses through his bloodstream he takes his time meandering back towards the realm where articulation is possible, content in the knowledge his bedmate will happily barrel on without him until he catches up.

“Just kidding,” she seems to feel the need to clarify, even in the absence of any protest on his behalf. “The knowledge that you were a theatre kid is such an aphrodisiac to me that it well and truly trumps any potential feline faux pas.”

“Wasn’t a theatre kid,” he corrects, the response so automatic he’s not sure it counts as cognitive function.

“Agree to disagree,” Rebecca says, earning herself an exasperated sigh.

Once the drumbeat of his pulse has slowed in his ears, he cracks an eyelid, suspicious of the lack of movement and sudden cease in chatter from the woman sprawled out across his upper torso. Rebecca’s gazing up at him as if she’s been patiently awaiting his full attention, chin resting on her stacked hands, a lazy, satisfied smile stretched across her features.

“You know, for someone who claims to hate Cats,” Nathaniel tells her with amusement after stretching to peck her on the mouth, “you kind of talk about Cats a lot. Some might even describe you as off-puttingly passionate on the subject. Not me,” he backtracks at her incredulous glare, tucking her hair behind her ear with affection. “I find your aggressive diatribe charming.”

Suitably placated, she drops her head back down against his shoulder. “They do say there’s a fine line between love and hate.”

He skates his hand down the bare expanse of her back, letting it settle in the dip between her hips. She undulates with the caress, thighs parting and sliding to bracket one of his. If she’s gunning for a second round he’s still got his refractory period to contend with, but there’s always other ways to keep her occupied, his loose-limbed lack of focus notwithstanding.

She doesn’t push it any further, though, apparently content for now in her own come-down, and he’s just about to give in to the pull towards sleep when it occurs to him what he’s neglected to ask.

“Did you?”

Rebecca’s even breaths, which up until now have been fanning rhythmically across the damp of his throat, catch and falter enough that he takes note of their telling absence.

“Hmm? Did I what?” she deflects, and his eyes narrow at the way she doubles down on the suggestive patterns she seems intent on tracing across his pectorals.

Determined not to be swayed, he shifts beneath her, laughter rumbling through him and muscle mass quaking like tectonic plates beneath the surface of his skin. “Oh, you so did,” he grins, pleased to have been on the money with his flicker of suspicion, eager to bask, as always, in any correct insight he’s managed to garner into his girlfriend’s endlessly multi-faceted brain. “This whole time there’s been incriminating photos of you somewhere wearing tacky fake-fur and an unseemly wig. There’s no hiding your shameful history, now—the cat is out of the bag.”

Rebecca smacks him on the chest, unimpressed, and he can see every telltale corner of her mouth at which the scowl fails to conceal the twitches of her laughter. “So what if my vendetta is somewhat rooted in past trauma? It doesn’t change basic fact, which is that the mere existence of Cats—animal, musical or movie—is a plague against mankind. And for what it’s worth, I didn’t need the wig—my early adolescent frizz was unseemly enough all on its own.”

Where late-night exhaustion-fuelled irritation existed only a few evenings prior, Nathaniel finds himself suddenly capable of only overwhelming fondness. “I think you would have made a very fearsome cat,” he tells her seriously. “All feisty, and nimble.”

He takes two locks of her hair, twisting them up into faux-ears on the top of her head until she bats his hands away, failing miserably at stifling her giggles.

“Stop that. You’re one adjective away from me adding myself back into the Mountaintop text chain just so I can make Maya’s week.”

“Uh-huh. Because I’m the one between us whose levels of preoccupation are concerning.”

He rolls her beneath him, nuzzling his nose against hers in an exaggerated way he can tell irritates her to no end given the context, but muscle memory wins out and she melts into it, the frown lines easing from her forehead as she moulds her mouth against his.

It’s only a matter of time before she’s pressing insistently against him, appetite predictably reawakened, and every sordid pun he could torture her with right now tingles at the ready on the tip of his tongue. But then she sighs into him with a kind of giddiness that sends his mind shattering into static, and as he nips and noses his way down past her belly every teasing thought disintegrates into the ether as he touches her until she’s arching, unraveling, drawing out his name in what can only be described as a delighted purr.

[peraltasames]

don’t go sharing your devotion

requested by anonymous - 26. A jealous kiss

read on ao3

Amy wakes to the incessant beeping of the alarm clock on the nightstand, programmed to go off a few minutes before the backup ones on her phone.

While leaning over to hit snooze, feeling oddly sleep-deprived, she realizes a few things.

Despite it being Monday, she’s tangled up in blue sheets instead of white ones, meaning she’s violated her rule of always staying at her own apartment on Sunday nights to ensure that she’s well-rested for the beginning of the new week. She recalls being coerced into staying one more night after an incredible weekend (she hasn’t actually gone home at all in three days). She also recalls staying up way too late last night, reinforcing her reason for the Sunday night rule - a rule that Jake despises and attempts to break every week with about a fifty percent success rate.

She does not understand why she’s alone in the blue sheets when the sole reason that she sleeps in a less comfortable bed in a less clean apartment and gets dressed for work out of a duffel bag half the time is so that she doesn’t wake up alone now that she knows there’s something so much better. In a matter of weeks, waking up to messy brown hair, a warm chest pressed against her back and soft snoring in her ear has become a crucial part of her nearly everyday routine, and her days never seem to go quite as well without it.

Amy doesn’t have much time to lay there pouting about the absence of her boyfriend in bed; before she can call out his name and figure out why on earth he’s awake before her, he’s strolling in, wide awake - already dressed, even - with a mug in each hand and a broad grin on his face.

“Happy Tactical Village day!”

Of course, this would be the only logical explanation for Jake being up before seven. Frankly, she’s surprised she didn’t remember sooner. Amy smiles, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Who’s the character this year?”

“Vladimir Smirnov,” Jake says confidently in a terrible Russian accent, “a former spy seeking revenge from the mob boss that killed the woman that turned him over to the light and taught him how to love.”

Amy laughs at the familiarity of it all, leaving the warmth of the bed to stride over to him and wrap her arms loosely around his neck.

“Definitely better than Rex Buckingham. I think Vic Kovac was the sexiest, though.”

Jake’s eyes widen comically, his hands stilling on her waist. “You were into that?”

She kisses his cheek and strolls off to the bathroom before he can ask any more questions about her formerly bottled-up feelings.

-

“So, we’re paired the Seven-Six this year,” Terry says to the squad as they enter the village, reading from a piece of paper.

“Nice, their arrest numbers were crazy last year,” Rosa says approvingly.

Amy looks around the room, which has no discernible differences from last year’s layout. The hostages and perps are getting ready in the corner while most of the other squads begin to prepare for the course.

“Oh my god, Jake Peralta!”

Amy whips her head around at the voice, higher-pitched than her own and unfamiliar. Standing in front of a group of people that she recognizes to be the Seven-Six is an absolutely stunning woman with shiny light brown hair falling just past her shoulders and piercing blue eyes.

“Katherine, it’s been forever,” Jake says with a small laugh, stepping towards her as she pulls him into a tight hug. “I didn’t know you were with the Seven-Six now.”

The woman - Katherine - releases Jake, still holding him at an arm’s length.

“Yeah, it’s awesome other than the cost of living in Manhattan,” Katherine quips. “You’re still with the Nine-Nine?”

Jake finally turns back to the squad for a moment, which has gradually dispersed to the point that only Amy is still looking at him (and Rosa looking at her with what’s she’s sure is a knowing smirk).

“Yeah! These are my coworkers, Detective Diaz and Detective Santiago.”

Amy forces a polite grin, trying not to care that he referred to her as a colleague - it’s a terribly petty thing to care about, something that she never would care about if it weren’t for the beautiful woman still smiling at him.

“Nice to meet you…sorry, what was it?”

“Detective Katherine Porter,” she states confidently, extending a hand to shake Amy’s firmly. “Peralta and I go way back. We were friends in the academy and dated for a few months right after we started as beat cops.”

The haven’t had the exes talk yet, so Amy shouldn’t be surprised. It isn’t like she thought Jake never had girlfriends - she’s met a few since she’s known him, Sophia being the longest relationship she can recall - but never has she felt the ugly emotion rising in her chest right now. There were many times she felt a tinge of jealousy towards Sophia (like, every time he kissed her or held her hand or, to be honest, even mentioned her name) but now she feels a possessive instinct that is both new and entirely unwelcome.

The gears in her brain must be whirring a mile a minute, her face easily giving away her inner thoughts, because Rosa pulls her away under the guise of “looking at some guns” while Jake continues to chat with Katherine.

“Santiago, you are so jealous.”

Amy wants to object immediately, but even if the gun is just a paintball gun, Rosa holding one is a menacing enough sight that she doesn’t dare lie to her.

“I’m - maybe a little - she’s gorgeous-“

“Amy,” Rosa says sternly. “Jake is obsessed with you. You know it, I know it, anyone who steps within ten feet of him knows it. Who cares about some dumb ex he dated ten years ago?”

“I don’t care.” Amy grabs the nearest gun and fires it at one of the targets, landing a perfect bullseye. “Let’s just get ready for the course, alright?”

Much of the next few minutes consist of Amy busying herself with firearms and trying to avoid watching Katherine follow Jake around the village and laugh at everything Jake says and - god, why is she touching his arm so much?

She’s pretty sure Jake is oblivious of any jealousy she may be harbouring, because when Katherine slips away for a moment he turns to grin at Amy. He’s holding up a huge gun and pretending to shoot at nothing in particular and smiling like a little kid at her, not at Katherine. Still, the feeling lingers.

It lingers when they start the drill and she watches him bust into a room and take down three perps in one swift movement, when he pumps his fist victoriously and turns to high-five her, when Katherine re-emerges out of nowhere immediately afterwards to congratulate him on beating the course record again and hug him again.

Amy would be appreciating his fitted navy t-shirt and the confident aura he’s radiating even if it weren’t for the jealous streak she’s experiencing, but the culmination of everything is enough for her to abandon her attempts to be a “chill” girlfriend who isn’t intimidated by gorgeous women her boyfriend has slept with.

“I’m just gonna borrow Jake for a second, if you don’t mind-“ She grabs his hand and tugs him away from a very confused Katherine, ignoring Jake’s raised eyebrows as she pulls him into the nearest empty room and shuts the door.

“Ames, what’s going-“

She grabs him by the material of his t-shirt and kisses him, feeling him stumble backwards in shock until his back hits the wall and his hands find her waist. When she feels his attempts to pull away, she presses herself closer against him and slides her tongue into his mouth, knowing this will incapacitate him for at least another minute or two.

“Amy,” he finally manages to pull away long enough to say, panting slightly. “Are you okay? Someone could walk in.”

She drops her hands from his hair, taking a small step back and shifting her weight awkwardly.

“Is it a crime to kiss my boyfriend after he just set the course record?”

“It is if you’re Amy Santiago and you have a very definite set of rules for workplace PDA.”

She has been enforcing said rules quite regularly when he tries to hold her hand in the break room during their lunch or steal a kiss in the evidence lockup, despite her constant urge to reciprocate.

“Well, maybe I missed you since you’ve been so busy all day-“

The look on his face quickly informs her that she’s given herself away, somewhere between shock and smugness.

“Hold on. Are you...jealous?”

Amy crosses her arms defensively and opens her mouth to bark out a defense, but she can’t find the words to get her out of this one.

“Maybe a little.” Jake starts laughing, and she hits his arm and furrows her brow. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m only human, Jake, obviously I noticed your beautiful ex-girlfriend flirting with you all day.”

He shakes his head apologetically, stepping forward to grab her hands in his. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I just - there’s no threat there, Ames. I dated her over ten years ago.”

She softens a little, squeezing his hands.

“She just seemed so into you, and I didn’t wanna be the crazy jealous girlfriend, but-“

“She asked me to go to dinner before the drill started.”

Amy raises an eyebrow. “Is there a ‘but’ coming?”

“Is there a ‘but’ coming, title of your-”

“Jake,” she cuts him off with a stern look.

He laughs at his own joke as he tangles their fingers together.

“But I told her I’m not interested, that I’m very happily dating someone else, and she backed off. She’s just an old friend, I have no interest in her or anyone else that’s not you, okay?”

He stares at her for a few moments with the same soft, loving look that has made her melt more than once before, until she finally nods and lets out a sigh, running her hand up his bicep.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats, ducking down to kiss her again. “Also, even though it’s crazy to think I would ever wanna date her when I have you, it doesn’t make you crazy. Remember Tactical Village ‘14, when I followed you and Teddy around all day? I was straight-up obsessed.”

Amy lets out a soft laugh, remembering the days of their blossoming feelings with quiet reverence and a small pang of regret that she didn’t grow to understand her feelings earlier.

“I would’ve gone out with you if you had asked first, dummy.”

“Ugh, that’s what Charles said!” He exclaims, pulling his hand away to slap his forehead. “We suck at timing.”

“Speaking of bad timing…I probably shouldn’t have tried to make out with you at a work event,” Amy says, red creeping onto her cheeks.

“You’re right, we should get out of here.”

Her eyes widen incredulously. “Jake! We have to go back to work after this!”

“We also have a lunch break and my car-”

“Absolutely not.”

She tries to walk out, her stride interrupted by a hand gently tugging her arm and spinning her back around, followed by lips pressing against hers.

When she sighs happily, he pulls away to survey her expression.

“Can I take that as a yes?”

“It’s a maybe,” she murmurs teasingly against his lips.

“Does the fact that I cleaned all the candy wrappers out of the backseat sway your vote?”

(It does.)

[umathurman2]

MAFIA DOGS - 1

Synopsis:  Ishii Ishikawa is an infamous yakuza boss of the 1940′s, whose goal is to succeed where her mother failed - in business, in life, in love. She is willing to go through anyone to come out the better, even if that person is her soulmate, American mobster, Bucky Barnes. MAFIA AU, SOULMATE AU, BUCKY X OC

First time posting a fic on Tumblr. Bear with me while my formatting and links stay messy for a couple of weeks lol. All fics posted on FF.net under colouredred. Will link later.

Please read and enjoy.

mafia dogs masterlist

----------------

MAFIA DOGS. ONE.

The woman buying out Sergeant’s extensive hotel empire was a bitch in a Dior dress and Mary Jane shoes. She owned any room she walked into, and it wasn’t all because of her diamond-tier inheritance. Black hair hung straight and sleek to her waist. Her hands lay across the arms of her velvet chair, where she sat tall and elegantly draped. Her ankles were slender and exposed, and her neck arched back as she shot champagne like sake. The other hand, by her side, kept a firm grip on the black sheath of a Kinamon-original sword. She who had power of death, commanded the living more than money and beauty ever did.

Her reputation did not precede her. In her homeland of Japan, the casino would have nearly emptied itself at her presence. The hotel managers would have been rushed downstairs from their office, throwing themselves into deep bows, until she grew annoyed enough to tell them to stop. Her entourage would have been seven body guards, a chauffeur, and a personal assistant.

In America, the gamblers gambled on. Music played not to the tune of whatever she preferred, but to the jazz beats of the 1940s. She was afforded only one attendant, who was of course handpicked and her most trusted confident. In some ways, Kishi Kiyamoto was more fearsome than even her boss was. She dressed in a completely forward-fashion suit, with high-rise pants and a fitted jacket long enough to hide the weapons she used in her position as bodyguard. Being muscular and scowling and scarred down her right cheek, she was masculine in the ways of social rejects.

The two of them attracted their share of side-eyes and odd looks. It bothered Kishi more, who ground her teeth and found her fingers twitching. She only stilled when a glass of champagne was pressed into her hand, and downed in one, swift go.

“Arigatō, bosu.” Kishi shifted on the spot, and then placed the glass back on the polished dining table before them. Her worn spot against the wall was taken up again, where Kishi could watch the casino-goers all around. “Anata wa kinchō shite imasu ka?” she asked.

“It is polite to speak the foreign tongue in their country,” the other woman replied, “…And I am not nervous. I have already decided to tear out the bar, open up the floor so performers can play, though they cannot have music like we do.”

“Ippantekina inu.”

She smiled, and touched a hand to her cheek. “Call him a dog to his face.”

“I will, boss,” Kishi said, and nodded across the crowd, “Sergeant is here, now.”

The two women looked from their seat through the casino. Glittering, glass chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling. Games of poker and luck were dotted across the tiles, and attended to by patrons in glittering dresses and expensive suits, with gold jewellery to complement their reckless tastes. Though the people were thick, they parted ways for a group of men in black suits. Through the jazz and the air thick with smoke, they moved with an ominous air. Dark, brooding, all tall and threatening, though she was the one with the sword at her side.

She stood to great them, and was rigid as their boss stepped forward from the pack. He was tall and well-built, with a handsome face and grey eyes. She met him nearly level in height, and did not look down nor bow. His lips teased a smile, and without invitation, he took her free hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles – “A pleasure to be meeting you, Miss Ishikawa.”

“Yakuza inu,” Kishi spat, offending the suits without them knowing what she had said.

“-A traditional greeting in Japan,” Ishii Ishikawa excused her bodyguard, “Among our kind, at least – please, sit.”

“In my own hotel?” replied the man, “Don’t mind if I do.”

They took their seats and he took his glass of whiskey. Kishi squared off with his four bodyguards, whom she was more than capable of taking on if she wanted to. Ishii’s approach was subtler, and involved a sip of champagne, a firm grip on the sheath of her sword still. She leaned back in the chair, and waited for New York’s top dog to take a bite of her. In their world, on this soil, Sergeant James Barnes was the force to be reckoned with.

“You don’t dispute that it’s my hotel,” he said next.

Ishii let the alcohol settle. “I do not need to dispute it.”

“Ya mean to stake your claim regardless of our back-and-forth?” He laughed, “Endearing, doll. Should we start on a bottle of red?”

Kishi stepped forward to stop one of his men from pouring another glass. “Boss does not drink that crap.”

James Barnes leaned back in his seat, waving the wine away. “Sorry to hear it. Can I get ya anything else to make ya more comfortable?”

“No, thank you. I feel right at home already,” Ishii declared, with an impersonal smile, “And I would like to get down to business quickly. Tell me your price for the hotel.”

“Tell me what you’re offering.”

“…Given the work I would have to do, I can offer you ten million.”

“Ten million?” Barnes arched his brows, leaned forward, and then leaned back with the same incredulity, “What work are ya talking about?”

“Without offending you, I am of course meaning the outdated lighting, the repainting of the walls, taking down the ceiling roses, though the most important change is moving the bar so you can have dancing, the right way,” Ishii replied, “A stage for some kabuki, or some Hattori-style bands.”

“We have dancing in America, Miss Ishikawa. That’s more offensive than any of the other defects you’ve listed about this hotel, which,” Barnes added firmly, “Is worth five times your offer.”

“Theft,” Kishi could not hold her tongue any longer, “If you have done research to know what boss can offer up, you would know your income from this building has been dropping, and so has the property in the area been valued less. You do not have heritage in this building, no history, no tradition, only fake gold chandeliers.”

Barnes fixed her with a chilling gaze, which she didn’t turn away from. Those men behind him seemed to lean forward, waiting for a command. He had a reputation for killing people for less, among all the other rumours of illegality chasing him. Ishii Ishikawa, with her sword, could not have stopped them from pulling a gun. He turned to study her, relaxed as ever in her chair, but with such a wicked glint in her eyes that he wondered if he was mistaken. Her father, the famous swordsmith Kinamon, was supposed to have stopped a bullet with his naked blade. Perhaps she had inherited that superhumanity. The effect of her freckled cheeks was inhuman, undoubtedly.

After a moment of consideration, he leant forward and made for the hand Ishii had placed on the table. Her other hand moved quicker, bringing the sheath of her sword to his chin swiftly. Sleek black forced him to look along the length of it, the gold embossing, the white hilt, the ribbon wrapped around it. It would have been remarkable to see it unsheathed, though not as it was now, tip to his neck. Ishii forced his head up, even though her eyes remained lower.

Barnes’ shirt hung open, loosely unbuttoned and low around his chest. On the inside of his right shoulder, a long slash of a birthmark ran the width of a rib. A soulmate marking. Pity the person who ended up with he, mob boss of New York, as their one-and-only.

“-A lover’s mark, don’t you think?” James Barnes remarked, an edge of flirtation in his voice. There was a sly look in his eyes that brought Ishii back to herself.

Of all possibilities for her soulmate to be, a lover was not one of them. “My own belongs to my rival.”

Barnes leant back in his seat again, and tugged up the collar of his shirt over a gold necklace. The bodyguards behind him relaxed again, and their hands left their suit pockets empty. Though a strange look passed between Ishii and himself, she was unshakeable. “…I was gonna ask ya dancing,” the mob boss explained, nearly laughing, “Ya seemed keen enough on the idea, though I suppose it’s informal by your standards. How about a tour instead, and I’ll show ya just why you can consider this a hundred-million-dollar investment, if ya can swing that?”

Ishii’s empire was more than just the hotels in her name, but two hospitals and a restaurant chain in her homeland. If Barnes hadn’t discovered those in his research, she was willing to let him play with the idea that a hundred-million was too much for her. She would love to see him offer a contract, and to snatch up his business out from under him. She had come to the States expecting underhanded tricks from American mobsters, and had prepared her own accordingly.

She agreed to the tour, and the two of them stood. Barnes offered his arm to her, which she refused. She preferred both hands free and on her sword. If he took offense, it didn’t show on his face, though scathing looks from the one blond, bodyguard that accompanied him let her know anyhow. Kishi gave him in equally fierce look, which cowed the man visibly. Even Barnes was amused by the dynamic, and made a teasing comment about it to them all. Ishii ignored it and redirected the conversation to the hotel amenities.

Barnes led her from the dining towards the bar, first, so he might order another drink. The bartender just about wet his pants upon serving him, to which Barnes told Ishii, “Happens every time.” He then led her to the poker tables, where he explained a little of the rules and leaned close to her to do so. She let the sword trade hands so it remained a barrier between their bodies, though it wasn’t able to ward off the heat. Kishi did her best to keep the cool, with a lot of icy stares thrown around.

Whenever he explained some detail of the casino to her, Ishii made sure to counter with a negative. They argued over aesthetics, on which he had surprisingly strong opinions, and all of which involved gaudy ideas. Ishii believed firmly in not taking shortcuts, and pointed out several of them around the hotel. No doubt, there were shadier going-ons backstage, a siphoning of money headed towards his pockets. Each remark of hers somehow became a flirtation on his tongue, a string of pet names and a way of standing around her that betrayed his personal intentions.

Ishii watched the way his neck moved as he shot back whiskey. When he lit a cigarette, his lips curved around it and shaped circles of smoke when he exhaled. When the tour came to the staff offices, he threw his suit jacket over his chair and rolled the sleeves of a crisp button up to the elbows. Barnes truly was the devil in New York.

Ishii remained constant over the course of the evening. Her Dior dress kept its shape, and her legs remained long in her evening heels. The ankle straps drew attention to the slenderness of her shape, her fair skin under stockings, perfect for kissing. Though Barnes’ casinos were known for ending rough with their customers, not one hair on her head was ever out of place. She walked untouched through American glamour, and only brushed her freckled cheeks twice with her hand. Kishi knew the gesture was meant to hide amusement, and hoped Barnes was too distracted by her constant beauty, constant rebuttal, constant affability, to notice. If Ishii stared to much at his chest and that preoccupied him too, it was good enough for Kishi.

“Well, if my business is as bad as ya say, what’s driving ya to come all the way out to America to buy it off me?” Barnes put the question to her, settling in behind his desk.

“…I like a challenge.”

“That’s it?”

Ishii nodded, and moved to the window to peer down the alley outside. She wondered about the murders that had happened in those gutters. “This business is my mother’s legacy, and she worked hard for it,” Ishii explained, “I am going to surpass her.”

“Ah, family are like our greatest enemies, as much as we love each other.” Barnes tapped the ash away from his cigarette, and continued lightly, “Just like soulmates, right? Two people absolutely made for one another, unless ya don’t happen to find each other – and then, they’re killing ya, sucking the feelings right from ya. I wouldn’t know whether to bow down to that kinda power over me, or kill ‘em for it. Though I’ll tell ya, when I do meet my soulmate, before there’s any kind of killing going on, first thing’s first – I’d fuck them with all the love I’ve been saving up.”

Ishii looked him in the eye as he made that declaration, and the words crawled up her cunt and into her bones. There was a sinful glint in his eyes, a knowing look. He was a man used to being on top, and who acted as though he had it all figured out. Those dark curls falling in front of his eyes were too innocent to be real.

“-So,” he added, right back to sweet-talking, “Maybe I can change your evaluation of my hotel if ya see the rooms themselves. Should we start with the penthouse?”

He had stood and offered his hand to her again. Though Ishii again hesitated to take it, he was insistent this time, and more patient than she realised.

“Boss,” Kishi began in warning.

Ishii accepted his hand knowing there would be other conditions with it. His pleased grin told her so. “I’m honoured,” he led her towards the door, where he turned back to Kishi and one of his own bodyguards, “Miss Ishikawa and I still have quite a bit of business to discuss. Set Miss Kiyamoto up with a room on the thirty-sixth floor so she might relax for a few hours.”

Ishii made a show of her sword so Kishi would not object any more in public. ‘Bodyguard’ did tend to creep into friendship where the two of them were concerned, and their familiarity had to be leashed when it came to business matters. There were no more arguments on either side to stop them, so Barnes was quick to lead her to the embellished doors on an elevator, where he assured her the contraption had been tested with the newly-invented automatic-braking system. Ishii didn’t care either way.

He showed her inside the room, which had mirrored walls around, above and below. The floor numbers were on gold buttons just inside of the doors. Barnes closed those metal doors before pressing the penthouse level. They stood a foot apart, looking ahead steadfastly. There was no music to fill the silence there, only the beating of her heart.

“-Show me your mark.”

Ishii was expecting the demand without pre-empt. She turned to face him with cool eyes, her tongue coming out to touch her lip.

Barnes took one step closer, his face twisting. “Show me your soulmate mark. Ya have too. You’ve been staring at mine since ya saw it, and I know ya recognised it. Show me – end my agony.”

Ishii’s fingers lay at the top of her dress. Black velvet was soft against her fingers, and rolled easily down her neck. Freckles ran across her collar bones, were spattered over her shoulder. The swell of her breasts teased him as she folded her dress lower, and lower, where a sliver of a birthmark sat just above her heart. Barnes took in her soulmate mark, as familiar to him as his own, because it was his own. His exact match stood before him in Ishii Ishikawa, his most enchanting business rival yet.

The elevator had reached the fifteenth floor now. Barnes covered the distance before they made it another level, and his hand curled around the back of her neck, crushing her up into a kiss. He did not hold back. He poured his every possessive instinct, his passion, his hatred, his adoration, into that kiss. Those feelings which had once faded from his memory returned in full force, completing him, as his soulmate kissed him back with fervour and force of equal measure. She wanted those emotions back too.

The elevator shuddered as it stopped at the penthouse floor. When those doors opened, the two of them were standing forward as they had been, and she was wiping smudged lipstick from her lips. Barnes was cool as he walked her to the penthouse door, taking the key from his pocket, letting her inside first.

He locked the door after them, and grabbed Ishii by the arm before she made it further than the hall. She hit a wall, he bearing down against her now, all composure gone as he stole another kiss from her. The sword in her hand fell to the floor. Her desire matched his, surpassed him, and Barnes fell to his knees.

“I have been waiting so long for ya,” he whispered, and clutched at her dress, ran his hands up her waist, “I’ve been looking so long for ya – soulmate.”

Her fingers twisted through his hair. Barnes was kissing her leg now, rolling her dress up as he went higher. Ishii could think of nothing to say under the onslaught of so much emotion. Really, he was already saying it best.

“You’re so beautiful, soulmate – how can it be you? I want to ravish ya, fuck ya until you can’t stand, give ya everything,” Barnes murmured, and had her dress above her panties so that he kissed her through the satin, “-I wanna make ya feel.”

Ishii managed to unzip her dress, pulling it over her head. His fingers twisted around her garter belt, the clips that held her stockings up, slipping her panties to the side so his tongue could tease her better. She grabbed his cheeks, pulling him up, kissing him until he understood he was meant to carry her to the bedroom. She took no notice of the apartment she intended to buy, other than what she saw of the white walls of the roof, the silk sheets beneath her in the dark. What she felt was his hands on her legs, breath on her stomach, lips kissing above and below her soulmate mark. There was a pressure in her chest she hadn’t felt for years, in a sense more than physical.

A cool blade pressed against her skin, erotic against her heatedness. “…Where was that hiding, Sergeant?”

He used the switchblade to cut through the satin on her underwear, laughing at her question. “Call me by my name,” he whispered, between her legs again, “Tell how much you want me.”

“I want you,” she breathed out, “I want you to kiss me, and fuck me, and make me feel, James.”

He knelt and stripped immediately, and rained down kisses over her. When she had him cradled to her breast, Ishii rolled across the bed, ending up on top and in charge. Her legs caged his hips, a hand spread across his chest, the other reaching below and positioning him teasingly below. She ground against his length, and drew a deep groan from him. His fingers tightened painfully on her thighs.

“How can ya be real?”

She thought about those words each time he entered her that night. She thought about the way he spoke them, with so much husk and longing that it curled around the ‘r’s of the words. In the desperation of his hard, long, sensual fucking, there was frustration too. How could she be real, freckles all the way from her cheeks to the lips of her pussy? Hair so impossibly long and soft as true silk, so different from the imitations he outfitted hotel beds with. Legs that tightened around his hips, that turned white where he held them, that shook when he took her from behind. The stockings and garter belt were cute, and the heels were fun, but his world only rocked when she came by his hand, her own fingers twisted in his bed sheets.

And how could the tightness in his stomach be real? His head was light and filled with laughter, and he never laughed. He made fun, and he charmed, and he teased, but he never felt joy the way he had as a child. His boyhood returned to him that night, too, in memories of toys and bikes downhill in city streets, and the streetlight shining was the same he had once slept under out on the street. He was young and happy and had no blood on his hands, that night – and that could not be real. Sergeant James Barnes was an American-made killer.

Ishii fell sated and full of feeling into bed beside him. Like a mantra, she whispered, “How can you be real?”

Barnes rolled over and pulled her close, kissing her roughly and stroking her hair until her eyes were heavy and closing on their own. She fell asleep there, and he didn’t want to wake her, see her leave. Before joining her in dreaming, Barnes slipped off her heels and pulled the covers over them.

Likes always, his sleep was fitful and he woke early, as soon as those early morning rays were coming in through the open curtains. He turned one way, and then the other, so that he was looking at Ishii directly. His heart stopped again – thinking of when he’d said, “I’ve been looking so long for ya, soulmate,” ­– as he realised it was one thing to face a person in the dark and another in the morning afterwards.

She was still as enchanting to him as she had been when he had spotted her across the casino, but it was in a different way. She wasn’t defensive like before. There was no sword in sight. Her hair was mussed up, and her lipstick rubbed away. The nakedness of her shoulders and back was unguarded. He had to face her not as a business rival, and not as a faceless soulmate, but as a woman named Ishii.

She woke slower than he, and he enjoyed watching her. She stretched like a cat, and yawned like one too. Her morning ritual was to stare up at the roof and its ornate ceiling rose.

“…Ishi.”

She did not blink. “You are saying it wrong.”

Barnes propped himself up to look down at her. “Can’t I call ya by a nickname?”

“No,” she replied, and slid quickly out of bed. She found her underwear torn in two on the floor, and so skipped that and went straight for her shoes. “We are strangers,” she said.

“We’re soulmates, doll.”

She rounded on the bed and knelt over him as she had last night, pushing him down with one hand. Her garter belt and stockings were all she had on, and Barnes found his face hot once again. “I have said to you my soulmate will be my rival,” Ishii explained, “You have said – you said you would fuck them first, and we have done that – so you must move on to killing me, and we can be comfortable with that arrangement, because I will be in Japan in two weeks, after we close this deal – and there, a whole mob of yakuza will be waiting to take your head if our rivalry should end with a single scratch on me.”

Her brown eyes were not warm nor cold, but impersonal in a way he resented. Barnes retaliated by remaining naked as he followed her out of the bedroom and into the penthouse. The rooms beyond were open plan and flowed circularly. It was by far, more lavish than the casino downstairs. Ishii took this in, and then found her dress in the hall.

“These rooms add value to the property – I will think about raising my offer,” Ishii remarked, and then turned away from Barnes, “Zip me.”

He did so, then wrapped a hand around her waist so she was pressed against him. “I had ya speaking in tongues, doll,” he whispered into her ear, lips against her skin, “And I want my soulmate, so don’t go thinking this is the end of it.”

He released her a moment later. Ishii went straight for her sword, and then to the door. She turned and faced him one last time, to say, “We will be in contact to discuss the price of the hotel in a few days.” She walked out of there with her Dior dress and Kinamon-brand sword, a reclamation of the title; bitch.

--------------

no taglists, sorry! 

Thanks for reading and drop a comment :)