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bucky-fricking-barnes · 9 months ago

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The Cards We're Dealt

Title: The Cards We’re Dealt

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: Arranged marriage, alcohol, cursing, objectification of women and mild sexism, bad parents, angst, fluff, mentions of drugs

Summary: Bucky and Y/N are the children of the two most prominent mob bosses in New York. When their parents use them as part of a deal, they’re left to figure out how their lives fit together.

A/N: Wow! Another long fic because I have no self-restraint. There’s a bit of Irish in this because I couldn’t resist it when I wrote Steve. Translations are at the end, and anything incorrect can be blamed on Google Translate. As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging, and supporting me in all the ways you do.

There is an unspoken rule amongst the mobs in New York that the more drug manufacturers a man controls, the nicer you treat his daughter. So, when Bucky’s father tells him that he’s once again been pimped out as part of a deal, Bucky knows to ask the question,

“How many does he control?”

If Bucky had his way, of course, he would treat all girls as well as he is able (which is very well). He likes girls, and he likes going out with girls. He just wishes he could choose which girls he got to take out.

“Seventy-five percent,” George Barnes says, and Bucky freezes with his glass against his lips. He has a club soda to his father’s whiskey—he’s in a good mood and was actually hoping to enjoy the day, though now he’s reconsidering it. His plan to lounge by the pool with Becca and soak up as much of the late spring sunshine as possible is quickly dissipating.

“That’s not possible,” Bucky replies. He quickly does the math in his head. His dad owns over half the manufacturers in Brooklyn. “We own—“

“Not anymore.”

The library falls silent as Bucky tries to wrap his head around the news. Just yesterday he’d overheard his father on the phone with one of his men, explaining in great detail what he’d do if they didn’t get him a sample of their newest product by the top of the hour.

“How?” he asks. He sets his glass aside and sits straighter in his chair. “Did something happen? You didn’t tell me about a takeover.”

George takes a sip of his whiskey. “That’s because there wasn’t one.” He sets the crystal tumbler on the small bronze tray nearby. Marta will come clean it up later. “I sold them.”

“You sold them? If you’ve already struck a deal, then why am I taking out his daughter? Isn’t that normally something you have me do to butter their fathers up before you make the deal?”

Bucky watches as his own father stands and goes to watch the landscapers through the library window, his hands clasped behind his back. He’s long since been out of the army, but some habits die hard. Very rarely did the man ever relax.

“You are the deal,” George answers, his voice much too casual for Bucky’s liking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” snaps Bucky.

“Watch your tone, boy,” his father replies. He doesn’t turn around to witness the way Bucky grinds his teeth together in response. “In exchange for the majority of Theo’s territory, you and Y/N will be married within a year and a half, though the exact date is up to the two of you. I believe that Theo mentioned his daughter likes spring, so perhaps a spring wedding. June is popular, from what I’m told, though that’s cutting it a little close to the deadline.”

Bucky’s up out of his seat now. He can feel his pulse thrumming and he can’t quite catch his breath.

“So what? You threw me in to sweeten the pot? Am I just another bargaining chip to you now?”

He’s shouting. He doesn’t care.

George turns and regards him in silence, and, like always, his expression betrays nothing of what he’s thinking or feeling. He doesn’t seem fazed at all by Bucky’s outburst.

“You’re my heir. I make my decisions based on what’s best for our family. Nothing about this decision is impulsive or frivolous, James,” he finally answers, his voice cool and even. There’s nothing familial in his tone—George Barnes is all business.

“You can’t just decide that I’m getting married. I won’t do it. I refuse,” Bucky tells him. He balls his fists at his sides and he sets his jaw, furious. How dare his father try to control his life like this? It’s one thing to occupy the majority of Bucky’s nights and weekends with dates, meetings, dinners, and weapons runs, but it’s another to throw him into a marriage he doesn’t want.

“I can and you will. If you don’t, there will be consequences. To start, you will be immediately cut off from our family. You will have no money, no home, no resources, and no contact or communication with anyone involved in the business, including your mother and your sister.”

Heart pounding, Bucky glares at him. He’s got a migraine coming on. He knows his father isn’t kidding, but he wants more than anything for Steve to pop out and say that this is all just a joke. He’s never even met Theo’s daughter. He’s barely even met Theo. According to the rumors, his only daughter is his most prized treasure. She isn’t someone who frequents any of the bars, clubs, and restaurants that he and the other “mob children” frequent. Maybe “mob children” isn’t exactly the right term, at least not anymore. After all, Bucky’s engaged now. He’s just part of the mob, another pawn to be moved around the chessboard.

“You have the rest of the day off. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow morning,” says George. He picks up his glass and downs the last of the liquor. “Theo and his family are coming for breakfast, and then Y/N will be moving in with us. I want you on your best behavior.”

He pauses and Bucky continues to glare at him, not validating his words with a response. George’s eyes grow dark with a thinly veiled threat. Bucky knows that look—if he pushes his father any harder, he’ll regret it.

“Do you understand, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky grinds out.

Turning on his heel, Bucky stalks out of the library and slams the door behind him. He immediately heads down the hall, then down the stairs and across the ground floor of the Barnes Estate to the garage. His keys are still in his pocket; he’d only just gotten back from a night out with Steve when his father had summoned him.

It doesn’t matter that he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Bucky climbs onto his bike and revs the engine, speeding off down the long driveway that winds around the house. The guards barely get the gate open in time and then he’s flying down the road, heading straight to Steve’s bar in the city. He knows his friend will be there, most likely nursing his hangover and going over the books in his back office. He won’t be hard to convince to go out again, though Bucky knows he won’t approve of the plan to drink as much as he possibly can in the next twelve hours. It doesn’t matter, though—it’s Bucky’s last night as a free man, and he’s determined to make the most of it.

You sit between your parents, staring at the empty seat across from you. They’d told you this morning that you were going to the Barnes Estate for breakfast, and while you’d expected the grandeur of the dining room and the meal, you didn’t expect the eldest Barnes child to be completely absent. You’ve never met him, but your mother has insisted that you speak to James—George Barnes’ only son and heir—as much as possible during the meal. Supposedly, he’s the same age as you.

Rebecca Barnes is a ray of sunshine and her cheery disposition is a stark contrast to the dark clouds that now hang over your fathers’ heads. Maybe it’s a deal gone wrong or maybe it’s something else, but you don’t like it. It leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Silently, you sneak a hand under the table to find your mother’s. You squeeze and your mom squeezes back, glancing over to give a reassuring smile.

“Y/N,” Mrs. Barnes starts, and you jump a little in your seat. You haven’t been verbally addressed since you’d been seated a half hour ago. The food has yet to be served. “Your parents tell us that you’re very interested in horticulture. Did you know we have a rose garden out back?”

You force a polite smile. “I don’t know about very interested. I have a few house plants that I’ve managed to keep alive, though I would love to see your garden sometime. I’m sure it’s beautiful,” you add.

“Maybe Bucky can take you,” Rebecca says, earning herself a sharp look from her mother. She simply shrugs.

Oh, to be as unbothered as Rebecca Barnes!

“Where is James?” your father asks. His voice is a low, threatening growl and you sink down in your chair, staring at the cloth napkin still folded atop your plates.

“He knows to be here,” Mr. Barnes growls back. “You’ll have to excuse his tardiness, he’s not normally like this.”

Mrs. Barnes gives Rebecca an even harsher look when she opens her mouth to speak, and this time the girl actually looks ashamed. She takes a sip of her orange juice to hide the guilty look on her face. She’s the first person to have actually touched something on the table, and it’s like whatever spell the room has been under is broken.

All at once, the dining room springs to life. A short, slightly heavy-set woman in a gray dress and white apron enters through one door. She’s holding a delicate silver coffeepot and the smell of coffee instantly fills the room. Two younger women in identical uniforms follow behind her, each of them pushing golden carts laden with food. Through the door across the room, a tall man with short, dark brown hair stumbles in. He’s wearing all black, from his rumpled button-up and jeans to his boots and sunglasses. His hair is sticking up in every direction and just like the coffee, you can smell the stench of alcohol coming from him even from your seat.

You grimace at the smell and pull your napkin into your lap as one of the women comes to place food in front of you. It’s a formal dining service and the strange new man who’s entered feels entirely out of place. From his attire to the way he shuffles across the antique rug, everything about him screams that he’d rather be anywhere else. If you acted like that, your father would be pulling you back out into the hallway to reprimand you, and you look anxiously at Mr. Barnes, who’s seated at the head of the table.

“James,” he greets, his voice unnervingly even. A chill runs down your spine. “It’s nice of you to join us. I trust that you slept well last night?”

James collapses into the only empty chair at the table, the one across from you, and pointedly ignores his father. You risk a glance up at him as he reaches for the cup of coffee that’s already been poured.

True to form, Rebecca leans over and claps a hand on her brother’s shoulder blade. “Good morning! Aren’t you excited to have breakfast with our guests?” she shouts, and her smirk makes it much too clear that she’s fully enjoying the way her brother’s scowl deepens. Rebecca also ignores her parents, including her mother, who leans forward to look past James and give her a look of warning.

James shrugs his sister off of him and starts buttering the toast on his plate. You watch for a moment, then start picking at your own food as your mother also begins to eat. Everyone’s acting so strangely that you’re already on edge, and you’ve only managed to get down a few grapes and two bites of dry toast by the time your father speaks up again.

“So when are we signing these papers?” he asks, sipping his coffee.

“As soon as the marriage license is signed,” answers Mr. Barnes.

You frown. Marriage license? Who’s getting married?

“And the terms are the same as when we last spoke?”

Mr. Barnes sips his own drink, something that looks suspiciously like whiskey, and sets down the glass. “Yes. I have that contract in my office. We’ll review and sign after we’re done here. Are all of your daughter’s things ready to be moved?”

Your stomach drops and you turn to stare at your father with wide eyes. He nods, not even paying attention to you as he continues his conversation with the other man. Your mother pointedly ignores you, choosing instead to stare at her plate as she eats. When you look around the room, it seems like almost everyone else is doing the same. Rebecca is the only person who actually meets your panicked gaze. She gives you a pitying look as your anxiety rises.

It feels like your mouth is filled with sandpaper, and you grab your glass of juice. You have to drink half of it before the feeling even mildly abates. As soon as you set it down, one of the women in gray appears to refill it.

“What’s going on? Why are you moving my stuff?” you finally choke out. You twist the napkin in your lap with both hands, wringing it as you look from one person’s face to the next.

Mr. Barnes stops mid-sentence and the whole room freezes. Even James, who’s pouring something into his coffee cup from a small silver flask, stops what he’s doing.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” your mother begins, taking your hand under the table.

You want to pull away. You don’t.

“After breakfast, your father and I are going home, but you’ll be staying here with the Barneses.”

“What?” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears. “No, I don’t— I don’t want to stay here. You never said anything about me—“

“We’re getting married,” James interrupts. He’s chewing and you look over at him, gaping at the casual way he’s sprawled out in his chair. You can feel his gaze on you even from behind his sunglasses and it makes you feel dirty.

“Excuse me?”

He chuckles and sits up, then leans forward in the chair. He drops the greasy strip of bacon he’d been eating onto his plate. “We’re getting married. They’re using us like bartering chips, sweetheart. You and me in exchange for all the drugs and all the territory in New York.” James gestures grandly with one hand, a too-wide grin on his face. There must be at least ten rings on each of his hands and you swallow thickly at the threatening display of black and silver metal.

You’re trembling now and you pull your hand away from your mom’s. She reaches for you again but you shake your head, shying away from her touch. Frantically, you look around the room to see if this is some kind of joke or a drunken rambling, but no one is laughing. Even Mrs. Barnes has the decency to look sympathetic on your behalf.

“No, no. You wouldn’t—“ You look back at your parents, imploring them to say that it isn’t true. You swallow thickly, trying to stave off tears, and your voice wavers as you prompt, “Mom? Dad?”

Their silence speaks volumes and a whimper escapes you as you wring your hands in your lap. The napkin slides onto the floor. It suddenly feels like you can’t breathe and when your mom reaches out for a second time and starts to tell you to calm down, you jerk away and stand. The chair falls backwards behind you, but you ignore it as you rush out of the dining room and into the hallway you’d entered from. Everything is unfamiliar. Frantically, you pick a door and yank on the handle. It doesn’t give way and you continue the process until one of them finally opens and you can rush inside. You lock it behind you and press your back against the door. The curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows are closed, shrouding the room in darkness. You can’t make out much of the furniture through the tears in your eyes.

Out in the hallway, you can hear your mother calling for you and your father arguing with Mr. Barnes. Mrs. Barnes is yelling at somebody too, but it’s hard enough to hear the others over your own gasps and sobs. You’re properly crying now and you sink to the floor, curling up on the carpet as you heave. It’s a good thing you weren’t able to stomach much breakfast.

A knock on the door makes you yelp and then cry harder, and you crawl into the darkness of the room to try and find a hiding spot. You’re lucky enough to find an old, heavy desk right away. It’s the perfect size for you to crawl under for shelter, and there’s no chair for you to move out of the way. The drawers on both sides create a cubby for you, so you crawl into it and curl up into a ball with your back towards the door, just in case someone manages to get in. If you’re quiet enough, it’s possible they’ll walk right past you.

The crowd in the hallway has definitely heard you by now. The doorknob is rattling as whoever’s on the other side tries to get in, but after a few minutes, they stop and the hallway goes quiet. You hold your breath after every couple of sobs, listening for any sign that they’ve found a key or that they’re picking the lock. Nothing happens, however, and after a while, you give up on listening.

You sit in the darkness and cry until you’re thoroughly exhausted. Once you’ve run out of tears, you sit and zone out with your head resting against the side of the desk drawers for a while longer, numb from the news. Your body feels light and a buzzing, tingling feeling makes moving your limbs seem impossible. You could’ve never imagined that your parents would be so capable of treating you so poorly. You’ve always felt so loved by them, and to hear that they’ve practically thrown you away at the first chance of a profit makes you want to puke. Upon that realization, you actually do throw up, and the stink of your vomit on the carpet of whatever room you’re in makes you want to cry all over again.

The door opens just as the stench is becoming too much to bear. Light floods in from the hallway and you squint, curling up in fear. After a moment, the shorter woman in the gray uniform that you’d seen at breakfast appears a few feet away from the desk, right in the path of light. You look up at her.

“Oh dear,” she sighs, and you instantly feel ashamed at the disappointment in her voice.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. Your bottom lip is trembling again as fresh tears somehow appear in your eyes. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your wrists. “I can clean it if you—“

“You’ll do no such thing,” the woman says. Her voice is gentle and kind, so much so that you don’t feel the need to argue with her. She waves her hand dismissively and approaches you, then holds out both hands. She’s careful not to step in the mess you’ve made. “Now come on, up you go.”

You let her help you to your feet and then you straighten out your clothes, sniffling and wiping at your nose again in a desperate attempt to look more put together than you feel. Still a bit unsteady, you whimper for a second time, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, dear.” She gives you a warm smile. “My name’s Marta. I’m the head housekeeper here. It’s very nice to meet you.”

You don’t feel the same way about meeting her, given the circumstances, but you hold that comment to yourself and simply nod in agreement. Marta leads you back out into the too-bright hallway. It’s empty except for a bald man mopping the floor on the far end.

The high ceilings and glossy marble floors make it look like you’re in a castle. Even the silence feels regal. Everything seems so cold compared to your home, and you feel too small in the massive space.

“What time is it?” you quietly ask, looking back at Marta.

“It’s almost noon, Miss.”

Your stomach sinks and you press your lips together, inhaling deeply as you look around again. Three hours have passed. “My parents…”

“They left about fifteen minutes after breakfast,” she tells you. Her words are matter-of-fact, even if she delivers the news in the softest possible way.

Somehow it hurts worse that they’ve left you than finding out they’d practically sold you to the Barneses in exchange for God knows what. Drugs or territory, whatever James had said. Not only did they treat you like nothing, but they’d deserted you after it was clear you didn’t agree with their plans. They hadn’t even tried to reassure you that they still loved you or that you’d still be able to see them. Maybe you wouldn’t be. Maybe they didn’t.

You nod numbly. There’s been nothing to prepare you for this, no precursor or warning, so you keep looking around the hall, though in reality you’re not really seeing anything.

“Your room is ready upstairs, Miss Y/N. Would you like me to take you?” asks Marta.

You nod again. You feel like you’re underwater as you follow her up a grand staircase and then down a long, narrow hallway. It’s decorated similarly to the ground floor, though with a plush Persian rug running its length. Marta talks as she walks ahead of you, no doubt explaining what the many doors lead to, but her words simply go in one ear and out the other. It’s all so surreal that when you finally get to your own room, you don’t even open the door. Marta has to reach around you to open it, and then she gently ushers you inside when you still don't move.

Just as they had said at breakfast, your belongings have all been moved into the Barnes Estate. The furniture here is different, grander than what you’re used to, but your blankets and pillows are on the bed, and the two bookshelves are packed full of the books you’ve collected over the years. Even the strip from the photo booth at an old friend’s wedding is pinned to the bulletin board above the desk. Someone’s even thought to put your plants on their own table by the window.

“There’s a bathroom on the left and your closet is on the right,” Marta explains, pointing to each. “If you’re hungry, dinner is at five.”

“Do I have to eat with them?” you ask.

If Marta is surprised by your question, she doesn’t show it. She simply shakes her head with a gentle smile. “No. We can bring food here if you’d like.”

You nod and stand in silence until she leaves and closes the door behind her. Then, after another minute passes, you drag yourself over to the bed, climb under the covers, and close your eyes.

If there’s any mercy left in this life, you think, I’ll fall asleep and never wake up again.

Weeks pass and you still haven’t adjusted to life at the Barnes Estate. The staff is only slightly less friendly than those you grew up with, but they’re more attentive. It helps that there are more of them. For every member of the Barnes family, yourself included, there are at least four staff members to attend to their every need. It makes you feel like royalty, but it also makes you feel guilty. You don’t need this much. You certainly didn’t ask for it.

You haven’t seen James since the ill-fated breakfast, nor have you seen your parents. They’ve gone so far as to block your number. After that discovery, you’d locked yourself in the massive ensuite bathroom and cried for an hour. Marta had been the one to coax you out. The poor maid who’d found you when coming to get you for dinner hadn’t known how to help. You’d spent that entire evening curled up on your bed while reruns of The Nanny played on the TV embedded in the wall across from the massive mattress. Marta had spent every second with you that she could, but eventually Mrs. Barnes—Winnifred, as you referred to her in your mind—had scolded her for neglecting her nighttime duties across the estate. That made you feel even worse.

“Are you okay?” Rebecca asks, and you turn to look at her from where you’re staring out the hallway windows at the gardeners. The backyard is massive, complete with a rose garden in full bloom, an outdoor swimming pool, a forested walking trail, a large green expanse for games and parties, a gazebo, a fountain, and what seems to be stables far in the distance, though you haven’t ventured far enough to be sure. A visit to the rose garden hasn’t been brought up again either, and nothing seems interesting enough to explore on your own.

Nodding, you don’t say anything before turning back to watch the men work. They talk and laugh with each other as they prune, pick, and water. You wish that you could trade places with them.

“You don’t look okay,” she says. Rebecca props herself up on the window ledge to your right, facing you with a suspicious look on her face. “We haven’t seen you at any meals, and Valerie told me that you were crying in the bathtub three nights ago.”

You should feel ashamed, but you’re too numb to care. It feels like you’re floating through each day, detached from most things. You’ve spent your entire life thinking that you would marry for love and live happily ever after. Now, your parents have sold you to the highest bidder and your husband-to-be is a cruel, disgusting man-child that wants nothing to do with you.

Rebecca’s fingers lacing with yours jerk you back to reality and you look down at your joined hands in confusion. Her nails are bitten short and she wears a single ring with the Barnes family crest. It’s dainty and gold, a stark contrast to the many rings on her brother’s fingers.

“You’re safe here, Y/N,” she tells you, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to be alone. I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened to you. If I had any say in it, you could be home right now with your parents, but I’m far from the top of the totem pole.”

“I hate them.” You spit the words out and jerk your hand away from hers. “I hate my parents.”

That’s the first time you’ve ever said that in your entire life and your heart skips a beat as the anger makes your lip curl. You’re baring your teeth at her but Rebecca doesn’t even flinch. She’s a mafia princess, through and through.

“They made me believe that I could have anything I wanted, that I could marry whoever I wanted whenever I was ready, and then they threw that all away and treated me like shit the first time it was convenient for them.”

She nods. “That’s true.”

“I was so foolish to have believed them,” you growl, but the fight in you is fading just as quickly as it came. You burn bright, but you burn quickly, too.

“No,” Rebecca says, shaking her head. “You’re just human.”

You look away, embarrassed by your display of emotion as your eyes begin to water with more tears. You were raised to be reserved. You knew very little about the inner workings of your parents’ business, but you’d learned as a young girl that you’d fare better if you always clung to the edges of the room, avoiding the dirt and grime and blood that surrounded your whole life. Over the years, you’ve grown very good at hiding yourself and your emotions from the people around you. From the spark in her eye, you have the feeling that Rebecca is the exact opposite. She could hold her own if it came down to it. You couldn’t.

“It’s okay to be upset,” she insists.

Shaking your head, you take a deep breath and look back out the window. You lift your chin slightly and when Rebecca tries to rope you into another conversation with her, you ignore her and focus on the men outside. They’re finished tending to the roses on the edges of the garden. Now they’re working their way inwards.

You’re finally left alone a few minutes later and as soon as she’s around the corner, you let out a heavy sigh and relax your posture. Slumping forward, you lean forward into the window ledge, curling up just a little as you continue to watch the gardeners. The silly song from Alice in Wonderland pops into your head and you hum along, eventually mumbling to yourself about painting the roses red.

You feel a little bit like Alice, you realize. You’re out of your element in a strange land where everything you’ve learned about life seems to be turned on its head. In this world, nobody marries for love and the girls are just as entrenched in the business as the men. Does Rebecca conduct business with her father and older brother? You could certainly picture it. Will the same be expected of you?

That afternoon, Marta knocks on your door with a written invitation from Winnifred. Your presence is being formally requested at their dinner table, though from the look the housekeeper is giving you, it’s more of a demand than a request. With her help, you pick out something to wear. By the time five o’clock rolls around, you’re crossing the enormous hallway in a dress and heels that you’ve never seen before. It’s far too showy for your taste, but it’s clearly something someone wanted you to wear. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have put it in your closet.

George Barnes and James stand when you enter the dining room, as do several other men you don’t recognize. Your father is standing near the head of the table with George, though your mother and Rebecca are nowhere in sight. Besides Winnifred, you don’t recognize any of the other women. The only empty seat is beside James and your immediate instinct is to flee, but then he’s stepping aside to pull out the chair and all eyes are on you.

Slowly, you close the distance between the two of you and sit. He helps you scoot in, then takes his own seat on your right. The other men sit as well and then dinner resumes. You sit in silence, staring at the top edge of your plate with your hands in your lap. You’re not really listening to the conversations around you, either, but you can feel someone’s eyes on you as you try to stay as quiet and motionless as possible.

“Are you sick or something?”

You startle and look up with wide eyes. James is watching you. He’s got one hand on the table with his fingers brushing the stem of his wineglass and the other resting on his thigh. Unlike your fateful breakfast weeks ago, James is dressed in a neat, all-black suit. He has no tie, and his rings are all gone except one. It’s identical to Rebecca’s family crest, except his is silver and has a thicker band.

His eyes are full of something you can’t place and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. As quickly as you turned to him, you turn away and look back at your plate. The napkin is folded in some elaborate way on top of the plate. You’re not sure if it’s supposed to resemble anything at all, but maybe if you stare at it long enough, it will look like something.

“Y/N?” he prompts. You nod once, tightly, and then pull the heavy cloth napkin into your lap when a server appears to present the first course.

Between the second and third course, you can feel James’ eyes on you. After the third, he gets roped into conversation with a man sitting across the table, but you know that he’s glancing at you all the while. After the fourth, he bumps his arm against yours. You shirk away and feel him tense beside you.

“Excuse me,” you mumble, and you push your chair away from the table. Immediately, the conversations stop and all the men stand again. It’s too much attention on you and you hurry out of the dining room as fast as your heels and dress will allow. You’re stumbling over yourself by the time you get back to your suite on the third floor. The door slams behind you and you collapse onto the floor beside the bed, too overwhelmed to even climb atop the oversized mattress. You’re on the verge of tears when there’s a soft knock from the door, and that rips a sob from your chest that you hadn’t expected.

Immediately, the door opens and James is standing in the open space, a dark look on his face. You sob again and scramble backwards until the edge of the bed frame is digging painfully into your spine.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

You swallow hard and take several gasping breaths, trying to control yourself. Your mind is spinning with insults, calling you weak and pathetic, and you believe every one.

“It’s just too much,” you answer through your tears. “I don’t want this!”

James huffs. His angry expression has faded, now replaced with something more akin to irritation. “And you think I do?”

You shake your head. “Of course not.”

“These are the cards we’ve been dealt, doll. You’re gonna have to get over it. Let’s just get married and then we can live happily ever after in a big house where we never have to see each other. I’ll do what I want and you can do what you want. Sound like a plan?”

You look down at your hands. A big part of you wants to say that no, it doesn’t sound like a plan. You don’t want that life. You don’t want a house so big that you practically need a golf cart to get from one side to the other. You don’t want a husband who ignores you in favor of his blood money or his side chick or the next shiny toy off the black market. You don’t want James.

Though every part of you is screaming the opposite, you nod. He crosses the room and you inhale sharply to steady yourself as he approaches you with no care. His black dress shoes are tracking dirt across the rug. James holds out a hand to help you up and you take it. The heirloom ring on his right hand digs into yours until you’re standing, and then he drops your hand like it’s on fire.

“We need to go back,” he tells you, and you nod again. “Our parents are pissed.”

“Of course they are,” you mumble.

James pauses, staring at you critically. You’ve been staring at the baseboards since he helped you up, but when he doesn’t move or speak, you glance upwards at him. He’s got one eyebrow raised. His expression is thoroughly unreadable otherwise and an unsettling feeling blooms in your stomach.

“What?” you ask. You step back a little, but there’s no place to go except up against the bed again.

He shakes his head at you. “Nothing. Come on, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” You scrunch your nose. “Anything but that.”

“Sugar?” he offers, and when you shake your head, he sighs. “Well, what do you want me to call you, since you’re suddenly the one calling the shots?”

His words cut deep and you look back down, hating the way shame immediately pools in your belly. How could he seem angry and irritated with you, then borderline kind, and then completely disinterested in your feelings the next? It’s disorienting, and you don’t need that on top of everything else.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”

Grabbing your arm in a grip just bordering on painful, James pulls you out of your bedroom and back down the hall. He holds on as you stumble behind him in your heels. When you reach the ground floor hallway again, he drops his hand and offers you his arm. You’re hesitant to take it, but he sighs a little and you decide that it’s easier to give in than to put up a fight.

The two of you walk back into the dining room and the conversations immediately hush. James leads you to your waiting seats, pulls out the chair for you, and then helps you scoot towards the table again once you’re seated. As he takes his spot beside you, your father speaks up.

“Have you and James discussed when you’ll be getting married?” he asks.

You pick up your fork and stare at the strange food on your plate, ignoring him. Though your stomach is churning, you force yourself to take a bite. He can’t expect you to answer while you’re chewing—it would be bad manners.

“Next spring,” James answers. “In the rose garden.”

You want to spit on the roses. You swallow your food instead.

“Good choice,” Mr. Barnes agrees. He turns his attention back to your father. “Your daughter is quite the well-behaved woman. She’ll do well with our James.”

Beside you, James tenses again, his grip tightening slightly on his fork. You glance at him, holding your breath, and wait until he relaxes again to take another bite of your food.

The rest of the dinner passes with mundane, meaningless conversations. Nobody addresses you for the remainder of the meal, not even your parents, and finally the men begin to make their way out of the dining room to an adjoining room. You hadn’t even realized there was a room connected; the door is hidden amongst the paneling and crown molding on the walls.

“You can’t go in there.” James grabs your wrist as you stand to follow the group of men into the new room. His voice isn’t malicious and his grip isn’t tight, but you flinch away from him anyway. It’s only then that you realize the few women that had been in the room are leaving through the door to the hall with their wineglasses in hand.

“Because I’m a woman?” you counter.

“Because you don’t want to hear the things that they’re going to discuss,” he answers. He tosses his napkin on the table and stands, towering over you. After a long second of eye contact, he steps away from you and heads towards the men.

You watch him go and silently weigh your options. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have even thought about following the men into the second room. You would have simply taken the same path as the other woman, though your wine would have continued to remain untouched. Now, however, with your wine in hand, you stood at a crossroads. You could go into the room and potentially face the wrath of your father, James, and George Barnes, or you could live forever curious as to what was actually being discussed.

With your mind made up, you down your wine, step around James, and head through the open door into the room. It’s a study with dark wood paneling on the walls, leather couches, and stale cigar smoke in the air. As soon as you enter, the laughter and conversation stop and all eyes land on you.

“Y/N, you should be with Winnie and your mother,” Mr. Barnes says, stepping towards you. James is behind you now and though you’re hedged in, you simply lift your chin at the older man.

“Why? Am I not allowed to know what family I’m marrying into?”

His face darkens. “Girl, I’m warning you—”

“Don’t speak to my wife like that.” James’ voice from over your shoulder startles you and you quickly turn your head, looking back at him with shock.

Why is he suddenly standing up for me?

“Hold your tongue, James,” his father snaps. “You aren’t married yet, and Y/N needs to learn her place. One would think her father would have taught her better, considering the problems his wife caused.”

Though you hate your parents for what they’ve done to you, your blood boils at the insult. Your anger rears its ugly head even more when you realize that your father doesn’t look intent on standing up for you or your mom, either.

“That’s enough!”

You swear the room rattles around you when James shouts and you grit your teeth, furious at Mr. Barnes. How dare he insult your father? How dare he talk to you and his son that way?

James grabbing your hand shocks you back into reality. Once again, his grip is almost painfully tight, but you force your face to reveal nothing.

“Y/N and I are going out. If I so much as hear that you’ve said a single thing about her in my absence, you will regret ever giving me any kind of power in this business,” he growls. “The next time you see her, I expect that you’ll treat her with the respect she deserves.”

The men stare at you and James in disbelief, and then you find yourself being practically dragged out of the room. You’re too stunned to fight back, so you let him pull you across the ground floor of the estate to a door only two down from the dark room where you’d hit the morning your parents had left you behind.

“We’ll have to take the car, unless you’re okay riding the bike in that dress,” James says, pushing open the door. He doesn’t look back at you as he speaks, and it takes you a second to realize he wants a response.

“Car,” you answer after a few seconds. “Please.”

The room James has led you to is a massive garage, stretching farther than you ever realized a similar room could. Three of the walls are made of light gray cement, as are the floor and ceiling, and the fourth wall is made up of windowed garage doors, each one big enough for several cars to drive through simultaneously. Running down the center of the rectangular garage, there is a row of seven parked cars, with enough space to fit at least another car between each one, and beyond that, you can see a row of several motorcycles parked in a similar manner. The cars are in varying shades of gray and black, with the exception of one red sports car at the far end of the group. You can’t see the bikes well enough from the door, but you catch glimpses of blue, silver, gray, and black.

Four enormous, black and silver tool chests are lined up against the wall facing the hoods of the cars, but there isn’t a spot of oil or dirt in sight. You don’t even see any loose tools or equipment. Looking around, you wonder if the tool chests are just there for decoration, or if someone on the estate actually works on the cars and motorcycles.

Maybe James works on them?

“Are all of these yours?” you ask, unable to help yourself. He seems like the kind of guy who would enjoy driving around for fun, and he’s just mentioned something about a bike. You stare at the side of James’ face as he plucks a set of keys off a black pegboard on the wall. There’s a button embedded in the wall beside the board. James pushes it with one thumb and the keys in his hand bump against the wall.

One of the garage doors near the last few cars starts to roll upwards onto the ceiling, revealing the outside of the estate. The sun has completely disappeared from the sky, and the moonlight is blocked by the clouds you’d seen rolling in earlier in the afternoon. The leaves of the large shade trees that surround the estate and form a protective shield from the outside world rustle in the wind. Crickets and cicadas chirp, reminding you of the cool spring nights you’d spent on your family estate as a little girl. You’d run around in the grass near the garden while your mom or your nanny watched you. Sometimes your father’s men would watch from the perimeter of the property, and when you’d wave, they’d wave back, asking what you’d done that day. You always answered them, even if you knew it would get you in trouble. They never stopped asking either, even if it got them in trouble, too.

You stop walking and close your eyes, then breathe in deeply as the night air rushes into the garage. It’s the first time you’ve been even close to the outdoors since arriving at the Barnes Estate. Your skin is still warm from the stifling dining room and the anger you’d felt in the men’s study. The breeze is a blessed relief, even if you do shiver after only a moment. Goosebumps form on your exposed skin—the dress Marta had picked out for you did little to keep you safe from the elements.

James keeps walking down the aisle formed by the wall and the front of the cars, though you hear his footsteps pause a few moments after you stop following him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You’re a little surprised that he’s not demanding that you catch up. When you open your eyes, you immediately meet his gaze, and a weird feeling bubbles up in your stomach. The expression on his face betrays little, but his stare reminds you of the way your father’s men looked at you all those years ago—interested and almost fond, but ready to push you away at a moment’s notice. You nod and hurry to catch up with him.

Once you get closer, James presses a button on the key fob in his hand. One of the cars in front of the open garage door rumbles to life. The sound it makes is a low purr, almost seductive, and you raise an eyebrow as James approaches, then runs his fingers over the hood. Even if the others aren’t, this car has to be his. It’s a sleek black, with dark tinted windows and a gleaming silver grill in the front. The BMW logo shines proudly in the center. It looks like a car your own father would own. Though you know he’s never owned a BMW, if this car is anything like the ones in your father’s fleet, you know that the inside will be as much a picture of luxury as the outside.

You slide into the passenger seat when James opens the door for you, and in the time it takes him to cross around the front of the car to the driver’s side, you take inventory of the interior. It’s a manual transmission—something your father once said was obsolete, except for car collectors and enthusiasts—which means that you wouldn’t be able to drive it, even if you tried. The car is pristine, so much so that you’re afraid to move. Two water bottles are in the cupholders, and it still smells brand new inside. There isn’t a speck of dirt or dust on the dashboard, nor on the floor mats. The leather seat is soft and there’s a control for seat warming and cooling on the control panel.

James climbs into the driver’s seat and shuts the door. He buckles up and you follow his lead, and then you sit back as he reverses the car out of the garage and onto a winding driveway that leads you around the front of the estate, then along the other side to a large gate with a guard house. You’d forgotten about the extensive security since the last time you’d been outside the Barnes Estate. Your father had handed over your driver’s license, along with his and your mother’s, before breakfast all those weeks ago, and there’d been a strange code word of some kind. It dawns on you as the guard opens the gate for you and James that you’d never gotten your license back.

“Where are we going?” you ask as James pulls onto the main road. It leads away from the estate and into the city.

“To get some real food,” he replies. His tone is gruff, and it feels like he’s on the verge of an angry outburst, so you slump back in your seat as he shifts gears and the car accelerates. The tension in the car is thick. You don’t want to be the one to deal with it, especially since he’s the one creating it.

After several minutes of watching the enormous mansions and the forests surrounding them pass by, you look over at James again. His expression, just like in the garage, reveals nothing, but you can tell that he’s more put-together than the last time you’d interacted, and it’s not just the tailored suit. His hair has been trimmed and styled, and he has an even dusting of stubble that frames his jawline nicely.

In the time since you’d learned you were engaged, James hasn’t said anything to you. You’ve heard him talking in the hallways as you wandered, but you haven’t wanted to be near him. This is the closest you’ve ever been. Your brief conversations so far tonight make up the majority of the words you’ve spoken to each other. His words from the bedroom echo in your head, until finally, you can’t help but blurt out your thoughts.

“Do you really not want to marry me?” you ask. Your voice sounds small and pathetic, and you hate it, but it’s too late now.

He glances over at you with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gear shift. “What do you mean?”

You sit up a little in the seat, though you keep your hands in your lap and you try not to move your feet, just in case there’s dirt on your shoes.

“I mean,” you say, watching him carefully for his reaction, “that when you came to get me upstairs, you said you didn’t want to marry me. Is that really true?”

“I never said that.” He shifts gears again as you near a stoplight, and the car slows.

“Yes, you did.”

“No,” he shifts again, his teeth now clenched, “I didn’t. I asked if it looked like I wanted to marry you, and you said it didn’t. But I never said I didn’t want to.”

Now you’re confused, and you frown at him, ignoring the obvious irritation in his voice. The car rolls to a stop behind a Ferrari blasting music out the open windows.

“So you do want to marry me?” you ask.

He sighs and drops his hand from the gear shift, then looks over at you. “Y/N, I’m not going to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do, so if this is you testing to see how I’ll treat you, then you have nothing to worry about. I’m not a monster.”

“It’s not. I just…” You stop, unsure of how to phrase what you’re feeling. It’s strange to be upset over a marriage you don’t even want, but for some reason, you are.

“What?”

“If you don’t want to marry me and I don’t want to marry you, then why are we going along with this?” you finally ask, settling for the bigger question than the one that’s truly nagging at you.

“Because we know that if we don’t, life will be hell,” he answers.

It’s the truth. You know it is, and you know it deep down. If the two of you refuse this marriage, your life will be worse than you could possibly imagine, and you’re fairly certain that your fathers will find a way to make it happen anyhow. They’re well-connected in every sphere of life, not just when it comes to drugs and weapons. Your father probably has a priest on his payroll.

The light turns green and James moves the car forward again, merging into the right lane almost immediately. He slows as you approach a valet stand outside an upscale bar you’ve never heard of. It’s not one of your father’s, which means it probably belongs to George Barnes.

Then again, you think as a uniformed man opens your door, maybe it belongs to James.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Barnes,” a valet on the other side of the car greets.

James hands him the keys. “You too, Tommy. Listen, don’t park it too far off. We’re not staying too long.”

The man nods and climbs into the driver’s seat as your own valet leads you away from the curb. James meets you next to the valet stand and offers you his arm, then heads towards the doors.

“What is this place?” you ask as he holds open the door for you.

“My friend’s bar,” James says.

Your stomach twists itself in knots as heavy club music starts to get louder. The bass rumbles in your chest and you dig your nails into his arm as you near a set of glossy black double doors. You haven’t been to a club in a long time. The last time you’d gone, you’d been dragged by a childhood acquaintance, but you’d spent most of the night alone after she’d ditched you for someone she met on the dance floor. You’re not particularly eager to relive that experience tonight, especially with the man you’re being forced to marry. Who’s to say he won’t ditch you for someone else right in front of you, just to rub it in your face? After all, he’d said it himself in the bedroom—you’ll do what you want and he’ll do what he wants. It’s the cards you’ve been dealt.

If these are the cards, then I’ve got a sucky hand.

“James—”

“Bucky.”

You stop and squint at him in the low light of the entrance hallway. The two bouncers in all-black suits stop with their hands on the door handles, ready to open them for you once you start walking again. The music pounds in your ears, so much so that you can feel your eardrums vibrating.

“What?” you ask, not sure you’d heard him correctly.

“Bucky,” repeats James, a little louder this time. “You should call me Bucky, if we’re going to be married.”

“Is that… a nickname?”

Even in the darkness, you can see him laugh, and a bashful, boyish smile spreads across his face. “My middle name is Buchanan. Steve used to tease me about it when we were kids, and he started calling me Bucky as a joke. It caught on.” He shrugs it off, but there’s a fondness in his voice when he speaks of his childhood friend, and it makes you smile just a little.

You loosen your grip on his arm. “Okay then. Bucky,” you add.

When Bucky steps forward again, the doors are pulled open, revealing a much more casual bar than you could’ve anticipated. Though it’s clean, it looks a little run down, and the heavy music fades into jazz piano as you step through the open doorway and into the large, open space. With almost cathedral-height ceilings, walnut floors and support pillars, and well-worn wooden booths and tables, the bar feels more homier than you’d expected. It’s clearly been well-hidden from the busy crowds of New York. Only a few patrons are scattered around the room, sitting in the booths or at two-top tables, but Bucky leads you to the wood, u-shaped bar that juts out into the room from the back wall. A single man stands behind it, drying glasses with a white bar towel. He smiles when he looks up and sees you approaching.

“Bucky,” he greets, and he reaches over the bar to pull Bucky in for a hug. It’s the first time you see Bucky smile—a real, full, genuine smile—and you watch in silence as he hugs his friend.

“Steve,” Bucky replies. Instantly, your brain starts connecting the dots. This is his childhood friend, the one who gave him his nickname.

“Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil.” Steve turns his attention to you, and you quickly look away from Bucky and at him. Your brain whirs as you try to place the language he’s just spoken. It’s not one you’ve heard before, which means none of your father’s men speak it, and neither do any of the Barneses.

“You must be Y/N.”

You nod and offer Steve a small, polite smile. You’re not sure how to act around Bucky’s friends. If they’re also part of the mob, it’s possible they’ll treat you even worse than George Barnes had after dinner, but a new, surprising voice in your head argues that Bucky would never be friends with someone like that.

“It’s okay,” reassures Bucky. He reaches out and touches your arm, gentler than he has all evening. “Steve’s a nice guy, and he knows about our family businesses. You can trust him.”

Steve looks between the two of you before picking up a glass and setting it right-side-up in front of you. “What’ll it be, Y/N?”

You glance at him, then at the wall of liquor behind him. After a moment, you list off a drink that’s not your favorite, but that you know you’ll be able to stomach no matter the circumstances. Steve nods in response before starting to make it.

Silently, Bucky takes one of the chairs at the bar, and you do the same. He sits with his arms folded on the counter. He’s still wearing his suit from dinner. You feel a little out of place in your fancy clothes, and you wonder if he feels the same.

Your drink is placed in front of you a moment later, and after Steve’s silent prompting, you take a sip. It’s delicious, and you can’t help but smile at him.

“Aha, I’ve still got it!” Steve cheers, and you laugh. He grins at you, a charming type of smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest. You feel a little sheepish at the intensity of his joy, and you fidget in your seat, then with your hair.

Beside you, Bucky rolls his eyes and tosses a round paper coaster at his friend. “Knock it off, Rogers,” he huffs. “Stop flirting with my girl. You’ve already got one of your own.”

You glance over when he calls you that, but you don’t say anything. There’s another weird feeling in your gut now. This one, unlike the one you’d had in the car or the fluttering feeling Steve had given you, you recognize immediately—pride. It feels good to have Bucky call you “his girl”, even if you barely know him. It’s strange, and the thought makes you squirm in your seat again. You drop your hand down to the bartop and take another sip of your drink, trying to quell the strange feelings inside of you.

What is going on with me? Why can’t I just feel normal about all of this? Is there even a normal way to feel about this?

“You hungry?” asks Bucky, and you nod when you realize he’s talking to you again.

“I make a mean twice-baked potato,” Steve says. He plants his hands on the bar to look between the two of you. “Whaddaya say, Y/N? You up for it?”

“Only if you put the jalapeños on the side this time, punk,” Bucky tells him before you can reply. He seems to remember himself a second later, however, because he looks over at you. “Unless, of course, you want them on top.”

You shrug, not wanting to upset anyone, and Steve groans.

“Come on, Y/N,” he says, and he smiles wide as he gestures around the almost-empty bar. “I’ve got all the time in the world to make your food exactly the way you want it. Don’t make me guess.”

“He’s bad at guessing,” Bucky chimes in.

“Terrible,” Steve adds, nodding earnestly.

Tentatively, you list off what you want, and Steve makes a note of everything on a notepad that seems to appear out of nowhere. Once he’s got your order down, he disappears through a door in the back wall. Before it closes, you catch a glimpse of a shining kitchen filled with stainless steel, and you wonder how many patrons come through the bar if Steve has what looks to be a full-sized kitchen in the back.

“You didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured I’d bring you someplace that actually has good food,” Bucky says. He reaches across the bar to grab a bottle of beer Steve has left out, and he uses one hand to pry the top off.

You gape at him, too distracted by the blatant show of strength to properly process the very thoughtful thing he’s just said to you. “What?”

“I said that you didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured—”

“You just pulled the top off like it was nothing. How did you do that?” You look around on Steve’s side of the bar for another bottle, hoping to try your luck. Maybe it’s some new kind of bottle that he’s trying out before it hits the market, or maybe Steve has bootleg beer with a different kind of cap.

Bucky is staring at you, seemingly just as confused as you. “With my arm.”

“With your arm?” you repeat. You’re certain that he’d used his hand to pry it off.

He stares at you for a second longer before the confusion disappears and is replaced with a glint of mischief in his eyes. It makes the shadows on his face melt away a little, and his blue irises seem bright and youthful again, entirely unlike a man who’s seen too much.

“My arm,” he reiterates, and then he pulls off the black glove you’d assumed to be part of his personal style. It’s not just for show, however, because he pulls it off to reveal a black metal hand with dull gold knuckles. Bucky continues, standing and shrugging off his jacket, then rolling up the sleeve of his button-down shirt. As he reveals more and more, you realize that the black metal continues, making up what would be his left arm.

No wonder it hurt when he grabbed me.

“It’s metal,” you dumbly say, and he snorts.

“Observant.”

You shake your head and look from his arm to meet his eyes. “You have a metal arm. How didn’t I know that?”

Bucky shrugs and drapes his jacket over the back of the chair. He leaves the glove on the bar where he’d first set it down. Once he’s seated again, he rolls up his other sleeve to match.

“Beats me. I figured everyone knew. My dad wasn’t subtle when he was bragging about the arm he had made for me when it first happened,” replies Bucky. He takes a sip of his beer, then sighs and sets it back down.

You don’t want to pity him, so you try your best to school your expression by taking a sip of your own drink.

“Was it an accident?” you ask after a minute has passed. He doesn’t reply right away, and you scramble to save the conversation. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen,” he says, and his voice is quieter than before.

You look back down at the drink in front of you. Twisting the glass around and around, you ask, “And it was an accident?”

Bucky takes another swig of his beer. “I was with my dad, working a job. I didn’t even realize I’d been injured until I woke up in the hospital, two weeks later, missing an arm. Apparently, falling shipping containers are heavy.”

You can’t help but curse. What he’s describing sounds horrible, but Bucky only laughs.

“That sounds about right, yeah. I’m lucky I had Steve around to keep me sane,” he tells you. “My friend Sam was a big help too, but he moved down to Louisiana a few years ago.”

“Steve seems like a good friend,” you agree. “They both do.”

You can feel Bucky staring at you now, and you take a sip of your drink while you wait for him to look away again. When he doesn’t, you glance in his direction.

“What?” you ask.

“What?”

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are!” you laugh, and you look at him fully this time. Bucky’s grinning, and you ball up a cocktail napkin and toss it at him.

“Okay, I was staring,” he admits, still smiling. “But I can’t help it. You’re pretty, and you’re nice, and you seem smart.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm at the compliment, and you look away. “You don’t have to say that. We’re already engaged.”

“I’m not saying it because we’re engaged. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

You don’t have a chance to reply before Steve comes out with two hot plates. He places them in front of you, joking briefly about giving you the wrong order, and it’s distraction enough that you sit up tall and smile wide. You push Bucky’s compliment out of your head as you chow down, groaning and moaning about the potatoes. They’re exactly what you need after the stressful dinner. Bucky was right—you hadn’t eaten much, and Steve’s cooking is delicious.

Once you’re full, you push your plate away and lean back in your chair. Steve grins at you before he goes back to counting the cash drawer. The other patrons have left already, leaving you, Steve, and Bucky alone in the bar.

“That was amazing,” you tell him for the hundredth time, and Steve chuckles.

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to tell mo bhean chéile—my wife—you said that, considering she still believes potatoes aren’t a meal.”

You notice the wedding band on his left hand as soon as he says it. Above it, also in silver, is a familiar ring. If you weren’t able to see the family crest, you would’ve thought it was the same as Bucky’s, but this ring has an eagle and a star engraved on it, rather than the wolf you’ve seen on Rebecca and Bucky’s rings.

“Potatoes are a meal!” you argue. You can tell that Steve has clocked you looking at his rings because he shifts his hand, instinctively blocking your view as he looks for your own ring. You’d taken your parent’s ring off the day you’d cried in the bathtub and you haven’t worn it since, but no one in Bucky’s family has replaced it with their own. It’s the first time since middle school that you haven’t worn a family ring, and you’d be lying if you said it was a weight off your shoulders. You’d thought it might be, but instead it just makes you feel naked.

Steve laughs and his posture relaxes. He stops hiding his rings from you when he realizes your hands are bare. “Well, whenever you meet her, you can have that argument with her, because I’ve already had it at least a dozen times.” He closes the drawer and fixes his eyes on Bucky, who’s just finishing his food. “Speaking of, when are you two coming over? I promised Peg I’d wait until Y/N had settled in to ask, and you seem settled enough to me.” He glances at you for the last part, and you look down at your empty plate.

“It’s not up to me,” answers Bucky. “We’ll come over whenever Y/N is ready. This is the first time we’ve been together since my dad dropped the bomb on us.”

Steve pauses, his hands on the tablet he’d set down before starting to count the night’s profits. “Wait. Really?”

You nod when he looks at you, suddenly self-conscious again, and you pull your hands into your lap. “I haven’t been the best house guest…”

“You’re not a guest, Y/N. It’s your home now, too,” Bucky interjects.

Reaching over the counter, Steve smacks the side of Bucky’s head. His accent is thick when he huffs, “Íosa Críost, you thick! You didn’t think to go talk to her? To see if she wanted to watch a movie? To see if she needed anything?”

Bucky stammers over in his seat, and you keep your head ducked to hide your smile. Clearly, Steve knows more about being married than Bucky does—most likely from experience, since he’s already mentioned his wife—and he isn’t afraid to tell his friend off for not looking out for your well-being.

“I’m sorry!” exclaims Bucky, ducking another hit. “I wasn’t thinking!”

“Like ifreann you weren’t!” Steve retreats and picks up the tablet with a huff, then looks at you. “Y/N, I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with him. He’s actually a nice guy when he’s not being stupid.”

“Stupid?” Bucky protests beside you.

“I wouldn’t have talked to him even if he’d tried,” you admit, finally looking up, “but it wouldn’t have hurt if he had.”

Steve nods, satisfied with your response. He leaves you a minute later when his phone rings. The wide smile on his face is enough to tell you who’s on the other end, but then he says her name as he walks away, the phone already held to his ear.

“So what’s with this place?” you ask. The quick change in subject is purposeful, and you hope that Bucky will take the bait.

Thankfully, he does. Bucky glances around before finishing off the last of his drink and setting the empty bottle closer to Steve’s side of the bar.

“Well, Steve wanted a place that we—and other people like us—could spend time without feeling like there was always a fight about to happen. We didn’t have that growing up, you know? And now that he’s in charge, he can do what he wants with his money. Everything’s filed properly, he doesn’t advertise, and all employees are paid above the table. If other people show up, then sure, they’re welcomed in, but they’re also fully vetted once Steve gets their IDs. Weapons aren’t allowed, and there’s no shop talk of any kind.”

“So it’s your little hideaway,” you say, propping your head up with one hand. The heaviness of the potatoes combined with the alcohol is starting to make you sleepy, and the emotional exhaustion from the night has started to weigh heavy on you, too.

He smiles a little. “Something like that.”

Bucky stands and rolls his sleeves back down, then pulls on his glove. He pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and sets it on the bar.

“Come on, doll. We should head home,” he says.

The warm feeling you’d felt when Bucky had called you his girl comes back, and you smile a little when he holds open his suit jacket for you. A little sheepish at the gesture, you slide off your seat and let him help you into the sleeves, then take Bucky’s hand when he offers it.

“Bye Steve!” you call, waving with your free hand.

Steve looks up from the other end of the bar, where he’s wiping down a counter with one hand and holding his phone with the other. He lets go of the rag to wave back.

Silently, Bucky leads you out to the front, where the valet already has his car pulled up. You’re not sure how they knew to have it ready, but you don’t dwell on it. Stranger things have happened in your world. Bucky tips the valets with another wad of cash before opening the passenger door and helping you in.

You fall asleep on the drive home. You don’t mean to, but Bucky turns on the radio a few minutes into the drive, and he lets the first station that comes on continue to play. The music is soft, and he drives so smoothly that it lulls you to sleep before you’re even fully out of the city.

When you wake, it’s because Bucky’s stubbed his toe on something, jostling you in his arms. He’s muttering curses under his breath and hobbling down the hallway, and though the jerking motion and his tightening grip isn’t the most comfortable for you at the moment, you keep your eyes closed and force yourself to keep your smile at bay. Bucky is a much sweeter guy than you’d first thought him to be, and it seems like he’s trying now to make up for lost time. You’d misjudged him at first; just like you, he has his own ways of dealing with the life forced on him by his parents, but he really is a gentleman underneath it all.

He carries you to your bedroom and carefully lays you on top of the covers. Then, as gently as possible, you feel him lift your foot and pry off the uncomfortable shoes Marta had picked out for you. Bucky stays totally silent as he takes the shoes off and sets them on the floor at the end of the bed. He pulls a thin blanket over you, one that you’re sure is just for decoration when the bed is made, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. You have to force yourself not to smile when he whispers,

“Goodnight, sleep tight.”

The door clicks shut as he closes it slowly, and you peek open an eye after a few seconds have passed. Your room is dark and empty. Silently, you smile to yourself and crawl under the covers, your eyes heavy. It’s been a long, exhausting evening, and you’re happy to be in bed. You fall asleep to the sound of spring rain on the estate windows and with Bucky’s jacket still wrapped around you.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky slowly enters your life in both big and small ways. He smiles at you over meals in the dining room and late night snacks in the kitchen. He drives you to the city to visit Steve, Peggy, and his other friends, and when he finds out that his father still has your license, Bucky argues with him for over an hour to get it back. Marta delivers your license to your room the very next day, along with a handwritten note that the dark blue Mercedes in the garage is there for your use. Sometimes, you wake up to a bouquet of flowers with another handwritten note. Sometimes it’s a text, and sometimes it’s a gift. Bucky develops a habit of purchasing anything you mention enjoying or even vaguely liking, and you eventually have to tell him to stop because he’s bought you so much that there’s nothing left to buy for yourself.

Bucky turns out to be a closer friend than anyone you’ve ever known. He’s kind, and funny, and intelligent, and he remembers all the little things about you that nobody else does. When you’re sick or feeling lonely, he’s attentive and his presence alone reminds you of all the good things in the world. He makes your days brighter, even the worst ones. You find yourself falling in love with him, much to your surprise. You admit this to him one day. He kisses you then, and he tells you that he’s been in love with you since the first trip you’d taken to Steve’s bar.

Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas roll around. New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, and Easter come and go. The Barnes’ grand celebrations for every holiday blur together as the months fly by, until eventually, it’s June and you’re standing in your room, staring at your reflection in the full-length mirror.

The wedding dress you’d picked out a few days after Christmas is just as beautiful as you remember it being. It fits you perfectly, thanks to the impeccable work of several tailors employed by Winnifred, and your hair and makeup are flawless as well. There’s no possible way you could’ve imagined how beautiful you look and feel on your wedding day.

Through the open window, you can hear a string quartet playing outside in the rose garden, where the ceremony is set up. Steve has already come by once to check on you at Bucky’s request, but both men are back downstairs. Bucky’s no doubt at the front of the garden with the priest—the one that you now know for certain is on your father’s payroll—and Steve is waiting with the rest of the wedding party. The only people remaining in your room are Marta, your mother, and Peggy.

You’ve grown to love Peggy more than any of your childhood friends. She didn’t grow up in the same world as you. She didn’t even grow up in the same country, and you love her all the more for it. She’s rational, cool-headed, and kind, though she’s not afraid to stand up for what’s right. On top of all that, she’s drop-dead gorgeous. It’s easy to see why Steve fell for her during his time in the military.

The quartet finishes the song and moves onto a new one, one that you recognize after only two notes. Your stomach drops and you close your eyes, gripping your bouquet tightly. It’s the song you’d been listening to the morning you’d found out about your engagement. You’d discovered it the night before, and you’d had it on repeat before going to sleep that night, then again that morning as you’d gotten ready. You’d even listened to it in the car on the drive from your parents’ estate.

Who added this to the playlist? Is this some kind of sick joke to them?

The same feeling of dread you’d felt that morning comes back, making your mouth dry and your head spin. You try to take a slow, deep breath to calm your nerves and block out the song, but it doesn’t work.

“Y/N?” Peggy asks.

You inhale sharply at the sound of her voice so close to you. She’d been texting Steve from near the window only moments before. You hadn’t thought that anyone would realize your distress, and you’d hoped to be able to collect yourself before it was noticeable. You hadn’t even sensed her coming closer.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell her, but your voice wavers and your lower lip quivers. You try to take another slow breath.

“What’s going on?” Marta asks. Her hand lands on your arm and you pull away, closing in yourself and pulling the bouquet tight against you.

Your mother’s scolding makes you feel like you’re a little kid again. “Careful, Y/N! You don’t want to ruin those flowers. We don’t have time to make another bouquet for you. George is already hounding your father about how soon after the ceremony you’ll be signing the certificate.”

Anger wells up in you at her thoughtless comment, and you open your eyes. She’s standing behind you in the main part of the bedroom, near the foot of your bed. Any guilt you might’ve felt over ruining the flowers is gone now, and you turn and chuck the bouquet at the carpet by her feet. It bounces once, then lays motionless in a heap of smashed petals and ribbons.

“Enough, Mother!” you shout.

Marta rushes to close the window so the guests in the garden won’t hear your outburst.

Your mother gapes at you, somewhat surprised, but she doesn’t budge. “Y/N, dear. What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” you yell, stepping closer. Your dress swishes as you walk, and you normally enjoy the sound, but you’re too furious to care how pleasing it is. “What are you doing? I am your only daughter! You should be treating me like a princess and worrying about how I’m feeling and what I need, but instead you’re too busy thinking about the damn flowers! I’m sick of you thinking of me like I’m an object you can sell, steal, and trade away whenever it’s most convenient! You and Dad are so obsessed with the timeline you’ve created for yourselves that you don’t even notice how much this has affected me! You didn’t even ask if this is what I wanted!”

She scoffs at you, and any trace of motherly care and concern has disappeared from her expression. Your mother is showing her true face—the mafia wife that has almost as much blood on her own hands as her husband does, if not more.

“It’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” she asks. She picks up her clutch from the end of your bed and steps closer until you're standing eye to eye. Her voice is patronizing and infuriating, and she continues, “It’s your wedding day, dearest, and you can’t back out now. We’ve made sure of it. Even James has agreed to the contract.”

Your anger wavers. “Contract?”

“Yes, the contract,” she repeats, smirking. Her cards are all on the table now, and she’s got a winning hand. You both know it.

There’s a malicious glint in her eye as she says, “It’s already in effect. It has been since we agreed on the marriage.”

“What contract? What are you talking about?” There’s a sinking feeling in your chest, like your heart has decided to drop into your stomach, then down to your feet and through the floor. Bucky hadn’t said anything to you about a contract, and you trusted him, but you certainly didn’t trust your parents anymore, nor did you trust George and Winnifred Barnes.

Your mother smiles, a sickeningly sweet smile that makes you want to puke. “That’s a conversation for another time. After all, it doesn’t even matter to you until James gets you pregnant.”

The alarm on your phone rings and you close your eyes, your hands trembling. You’d set that alarm to remind you when it was time to leave for the ceremony. Right on cue, the wedding planner knocks on the door to your bedroom.

“Y/N?” she calls, knocking again. “Are you ready?”

Slowly, you squat down and pick up the bouquet. It’s smashed on one side and the petals have fallen off of various flowers, but it’s mostly intact. It shakes as your hands tremble and tears well up in your eyes.

Marta appears in front of you, having pushed your mother out of the way, and over the ringing in your ears, you hear Peggy talking to the wedding planner. Somehow, you make it out to the ground floor of the estate, to the double doors that lead out to the rose garden. You’re dazed by your mother’s strange revelation. The sound of the alarm is still ringing in your ears. Peggy says something to you, but you can only stare straight ahead.

Your father is next to you then, as Peggy disappears through the doors and joins the rest of the wedding party. You see her glancing back at you, and whispering to the rest of the groomsmen and bridesmaids. Most of them are Bucky’s friends who have now become your own, and all of them look worried.

“Let’s go, princess,” your father says, and he pulls you forward by the arm.

Numbly, you follow his lead. Not even Bucky’s initially delighted expression shakes you out of your trance, but the way he rubs his thumb over your hands at the end of the aisle pulls you out of it just enough for you to lift your head and look around. You don’t remember walking to him, nor do you remember handing off your bouquet to Peggy, just like you’d practiced last night at the rehearsal.

“Y/N? Darling?” Bucky asks. He crouches and tilts his head slightly to try to catch your eyes. “You okay?”

“I—” Your mouth is still dry and you swallow, your eyes flitting from one place in the garden to another with no rhyme or reason. The world feels like it’s spinning and you clutch Bucky’s hands, unsure of what to do.

“Someone get her a chair,” Bucky orders, raising his voice enough that you flinch. He immediately starts murmuring reassurances to you, and he pulls you into his arms until he can lower you into a seat.

Someone fans you and a cool glass is pressed to your lips. You drink obediently, closing your eyes as the water helps the sandy feeling in your mouth abate just a little. When the water is gone, the glass is pulled away.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Bucky asks.

Slowly, carefully, you nod your head. He sighs in relief and when you open your eyes, he’s kneeling down in front of you. His shoulders are tense and his forehead is creased with worry. You’ve never seen him this stressed over anything and it makes you want to cry.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, heat flaming in your cheeks. You feel horrible. Bucky has been looking forward to the ceremony—he’d told you last night at the rehearsal dinner.

“It’s okay,” he quickly replies. He reaches forward and takes your hands, and you glance away from him to peek at the guests, your parents included, who are still watching you from their seats.

“Are you ready for this, or do you need a break?”

You look back at Bucky. “A break?”

“She’s fine,” your mother says, and you look over at her from your seat. She’s standing in the front row, her eyes fixated on the priest behind you. “They’re fine, Father. Y/N’s been a bit nervous all morning. Wedding day jitters, you know.”

“I—” You frown at her, still clutching Bucky’s hands. “That’s not what it is.” You look down at him and shake your head. “I’m not nervous to marry you.”

“I’m not nervous either,” he says with a small smile.

“Then shall we continue?” the priest asks.

You turn to shake your head at him. “No. I’m sorry, Father. I need to talk to Bucky—James—in private for just a minute. Is that alright?”

He smiles gently and nods. “Of course.”

There are more agitated murmurs from the crowd, but you ignore them as Peggy, Steve, and Bucky help you up and back down the aisle. When your mother moves to follow you, she’s blocked by Sam and Clint, another one of Bucky’s friends. She calls after you once, but you ignore her as Peggy helps you onto a bench inside, then leaves, closing the double doors behind herself. She’s handed back your bouquet, and you clutch it with both hands like it’s an anchor in the storm.

“Is everything okay?” Bucky asks. He stands near the door, and you can tell from the way he rolls his shoulders that he’s stressed. His prosthetic always bothers him more when he’s agitated, and you suddenly feel even worse about stopping the ceremony.

“Yes,” you say, but then you shake your head. “No, I’m sorry. Obviously, it’s not, or I wouldn’t have stopped everything. I’m sorry, Bucky, but I have to ask you something.”

“Okay…” There’s a wariness in his eyes, one that you loathe yourself for. You put it there, and you wish with all your might that your mother hadn’t told you what she did. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to do this.

“Did you sign a contract? With our parents?”

He frowns and his whole body grows very still. “A contract?”

You nod. “Yes.” With your hands still fisted tightly around the bouquet, you inhale deeply and add, “A contract about getting me pregnant.”

“What?” Bucky’s furious response is immediate. He shakes his head, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you might be making this up. “Y/N, what are you talking about?”

“Did you sign a contract agreeing to marry me, and agreeing that my parents get something after you get me pregnant?” The words make you sick to your stomach. You haven’t eaten anything all day, which doesn’t help, but the thought of Bucky agreeing to something so vile… It’s enough to make anyone nauseous.

He’s shaking his head at you again. “Why the hell would I sign anything like that? Do you really think I would do that?”

You shrug a little and look down at the bouquet. “My mother…”

“Darling…” Bucky sighs and comes closer, and he kneels down in front of you again, just like he had outside. All the fight and anger has left his voice. “I would never do anything like that. Not in a million years, and especially not to you. I love you.”

“She said you signed it before they’d even told me we were engaged,” you said, quiet now that he’s so close. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, to see what his face might be telling you that his words aren’t.

“Can you look at me? Please?”

Reluctantly, you lift your eyes from the flowers in your lap to meet Bucky’s eyes. They’re just as blue as the ribbons wrapped around the flower stems, a choice you’d specifically made without the wedding planner’s guidance. You’d wanted him to be your ��something blue”, even if it felt a little cheesy.

“Do you want to marry me?” Bucky asks.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod. “Yes.”

“Do you believe me when I say I had nothing to do with that contract? That I didn’t know it existed?” he questions.

You nod again, tears forming in your eyes.

“And do you trust me to help you find a way to get rid of it, once all of this is over? Do you trust me to protect you?”

You nod for the third time, and Bucky takes both of your hands in his.

“Okay. Then let’s get married, and I swear to you that as soon as our honeymoon is over, the guys and I will start doing some digging.”

“What about me?” you ask, sniffling. You pull one of your hands away to dab at your eyes before the makeup can get too damaged by your tears.

“What about you?”

“Can I dig, too?”

Bucky chuckles and kisses your knuckles on the hand that he’s holding, and then he pulls himself up off the floor to sit beside you on the bench. He pulls you into a half-hug and you cling to him, sniffling and smiling as he rubs the your back and answers,

“You can do all the digging you want, doll. I’ll even hand you the shovel.”

Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil. = It’s good to see you.

Mo bhean chéile = My wife

Íosa Críost = Jesus Christ

Thick = A stupid person

Ifreann = Hell

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

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Forever: @aya-fay

Bucky Barnes: @lipstickandvibranium @valhalla-kristin @buckymcbuckbarnes

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theemporium · 3 months ago

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[22k] in attempt to bridge the decades old rivalry between the two gangs, a marriage of alliance is proposed between the new jersey devils and the new york rangers. the last thing you expected was to find yourself offered on a silver platter to your enemies. and you certainly didn't expect your future husband to be the likes of the devils leader himself, nico hischier.

new jersey mob masterlist || nhl mob masterlist

warning: this is a mob au. topics and themes such as violence, blood, murder and gun use are prevalent and constant throughout the fic. please keep that in mind if you choose to proceed with this fic and the whole series.

read part one here

It was chaos the second you walked through the door.

You had never seen the house in such a state: orders being yelled out, people pushing past each other, guns and weapons being loaded onto belts and into bags, screams so loud they were basically incoherent.

Somewhere in the mess, Nico had taken your hand and refused to let go. You couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away just yet either.

He tugged you through the bustling crowd of people, pulling you towards a large dining room in the back of the house—the one used for the weekly family dinners—when the incoherent screams began to make sense. You could hear each of their voices so clear, so distinct, so angry.

It made something in your own chest tighten and twist into something ugly.

Jesper was the first one to notice you both. Or maybe he was the only one willing to tear his eyes away from the heart-stopping sight in the middle of the room.

You had seen Jack in many states. You had seen him in his usual everyday, bubbly and loud moods where he was charming and sweet and a little sassy. You had seen him drunk and clingy and throwing himself around like he was unstoppable. You had seen him silent and angry and huffy when things didn’t go his way, when he messed up or didn’t do something up to his personal standards.

You had seen him so many ways and yet, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of him now.

He looked dead.

There was no other way to put it, no way to sugarcoat it. He was laying out on the dining table they used for family dinners: his face was black and bruised and cut up, his clothes were ripped and wrecked, his shirt was practically nonexistent and giving you a clear view of his torso.

It was shredded.

You had seen men die in a million different ways, fast and slow and easy and torturous. You had seen men on the brink of their life, begging and pleading and praying to a god that wasn’t watching over them. You had seen men beg for mercy. You had seen men so arrogant they could barely finish their sentence before the bullet was put through their head.

But you had never seen something like this—or maybe you had never seen someone you care about like this.

There were large gashes spanning across his stomach. They were huge and deep and gruesome to look at. And it was bloody. So bloody. So much blood seeping out of his wounds and staining his skin, his clothes, the table, the wood.

Everything.

And his body was unresponsive. His eyes were closed. His skin was pale.

And he looked dead.

Jack Hughes looked dead and it made you queasy.

It hadn’t even clicked to you where the screams were coming from, or rather who they were coming from before you heard Jesper talking.

“They can’t do anything to help him until he moves,” Jesper rasped, something quite like fear lacing his words as he spoke. “Nico, he’s freaking out and he’s—”

“I’m not leaving! I-I can’t! He can’t leave me!”

Your eyes snapped over Jesper’s shoulder, finally spotting Luke being held back by Kurtis and Kevin with sombre looks on their faces. He was thrashing against their hold, angry and worried and upset. For the first time since you met the boy, it hit you just how young he really looked when his emotions really took over.

“Get him out of here,” Nico hissed, short and snappy but the concern could still be heard.

“We can’t,” Jesper repeated, exasperated. “We tried—”

“Let me,” you spoke up, not even waiting for a response from the two boys before you headed straight towards Luke and the others.

“He can’t be dead,” Luke yelled, his voice raspy and broken. “He—He can’t!”

“Luke,” Kurtis tried, squeezing the boy’s shoulder. “They need to—”

“He’s not allowed to die!” Luke pleaded, his voice almost sounding like a choked out sob. “He…we…he can’t!”

“And he won’t,” you said in a firm voice, even if the words tasted like battery acid on your tongue. “He won’t die if you let them help, Luke.”

His eyes snapped away from Jack, away from his dying brother on the table, to look at you and it broke your heart. It broke your heart to see the fear and anguish and misery, a haunted look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite understand but shattered the pieces of your heart into dust regardless.

“I can’t do this alone,” he whispered, no longer tugging against the hands pulling him back as he stared at you with a hopeless expression. “I don’t want to do this without him.”

“You won’t,” you said it like a promise.

Luke shook his head, his eyes red and glossy from tears. “You don’t know that—”

“I do,” you interrupted. “I do know that. It’s scary, I know. But you’re not alone and neither is Jack. The doctors are going to do everything they can, Luke.”

A small ‘ooft’ left your lips as the boy stumbled forward, as his body fell into yours and you caught him as best you could, letting him press his face against your shoulder and let the fight leave his body.

“Let’s give them space, okay?” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Stay with me?”

“Of course,” you murmured, squeezing him tighter.

…

You had spent almost every day with Luke Hughes for the better part of the last four months.

You had seen the younger child charm in him, the slightly awkward but endearing allure that captivated a part of you. You never had any siblings, destined to be the only child your parents had, but you liked to think in another world you had a younger sibling quite like Luke: one that was good-natured and irritating and sassy and witty.

You liked to think that in this world, in this lifetime where you met under unwanted circumstances, that he was more than the boy appointed to be your bodyguard under Nico’s command.

Even from day one, he had never seemed like the young, obedient henchman following the instructions given to him by his boss in an eager attempt to please him. He became a friend, even if it took him a few weeks of wiggling his way into your life until you accepted it. You cared for him more than you ever cared for the younger boys back in New York that made feeble attempts to get on your good side to get an in with Jacob.

You had been denying a lot of emotions and feelings and truths to yourself over the last few weeks and Luke was one of them. You cared for the younger boy. You saw him as a friend, as a brother even. It hurt when he was upset with you, ignoring you for a few days.

And it hurt seeing him now, so broken and hopeless and a shell of the boy who was usually finding new ways to get under your skin.

“He’s all I have left,” Luke murmured, his cheek squished against the pillow beneath his head. “I know the Devils are a family but—”

“I know,” you assured him before the guilt of his words could swallow him whole. “He’s your brother. No one is judging you.”

“I should be beside him,” Luke rasped.

“What Jack needs right now is the doctors,” you murmured, pushing some curls away from his face and watching his eyes flutter shut. “And you need to rest.”

His eyes snapped open. “I can’t—”

“You will,” you said with a pointed look. “You can stay here. If he wakes up, I’ll wake you up.”

Luke swallowed. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you said with a soft smile.

“You’re a good person, Rogue,” he whispered as he slumped back down against the pillow, no longer fighting the exhaustion.

“Yeah, you too, kid,” you said fondly.

You didn’t move from your spot until the boy had fallen asleep, his breaths slowing and his face looking a little more peaceful as he rested. And even then, you remained for a little longer just in case. It was only once you were sure Luke was asleep and okay that you moved to stand up, throwing a blanket over him before you snuck out of your own bedroom.

You almost jumped out of your skin when you turned around to find Nico leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for you.

“Sorry,” he shot you a sheepish smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I didn’t expect anyone to be outside,” you admitted, slumping against the door as you mirrored his smile. “How’s Jack?”

“He’s gonna be okay,” Nico said, and you felt the relief hit you like a truck. Even if you hadn’t wanted to admit it out loud (especially around Luke), you were terrified of the other outcome, that Luke would wake up to his brother gone. “Probably won’t be happy he will be stuck on bedrest for a few weeks.”

You snorted, despite yourself. “He will be bummed but at least he will be alive.”

“How’s Luke?” Nico asked, a crease between his brows as he tried—and failed—to hide his concern.

“He’ll be okay too,” you said with a soft but sad smile. “I know Jack is his brother but…god, seeing him like that was heartbreaking.”

“Thank you,” Nico murmured, watching as your face morphed into one of confusion before he nodded towards your bedroom. “For what you did for him.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you said, the emotions of the last hour or so finally catching up on you as you tried to ease the suffocating feeling around your throat. “I always wanted a roommate,” you added, though the joke fell flat.

Nico frowned.

“Sorry,” you winced a little. “I was just going to sleep on the floor anyways—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nico quickly intercepted. “You can sleep in my room.”

You paused, raising your brows. “I thought that wasn’t until we were married.”

His lips twitched. “We can make some exceptions.”

…

The second you stepped into his room, you almost wanted to laugh.

Maybe it was the rush of emotions or maybe it was the fact that after four months, some things about Nico Hischier were so predictable to you and his bedroom was one of them. It had dark wooden floors and matching furniture. It was black silk sheets and a door that led off to a walk-in wardrobe where you could almost imagine all his suits neatly hung up. It was fit for a mob boss.

And then there were the things that did genuinely catch you by surprise.

The bookshelves stocked with a variety of titles you both recognised and had never heard of before. Trinkets dotted around the room like small reminders. Photo frames holding pictures that almost made him seem like a normal person, like he was just some twenty-something year old who wanted to decorate his space with sweet memories.

It was just another one of those things that made your chest tighten.

You had been staring at a photo on his dresser—one of him, Jonas and Timo grinning shamelessly at the camera whilst they sat in some bar—when you heard the man let out a sigh. He was slumped against the edge of his bed, running a hand through his hair and almost looking out of place in his casual wear from the picnic.

And he looked exhausted. Dejected. Crushed.

Your feet were moving before you could stop yourself, before you could second-guess your actions.

Nico lifted his head as you stood in front of him, his legs spreading a little wider as you stood between them and replaced his hand with your own. His eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feeling for a few moments before you spoke.

“Jack and Luke will be fine,” you murmured, nails lightly scratching against his scalp as he let out a deep sigh.

“I know,” he swallowed harshly. “I just worry. They have been through so much and today could have been avoided and—”

You lightly tugged on his hair for him to continue.

Nico looked contemplative before he spoke. “Did Luke ever tell you about Quinn?”

Your brows furrowed together. “Who’s Quinn?”

“He was Jack and Luke’s oldest brother,” Nico said, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

You blinked. “Was as in…?”

“Dead,” Nico confirmed with a nod. “They used to live in Toronto. They got into some shit with some bad people up there but Quinn never made it out alive. Jack and Luke were lucky to make it to New Jersey.”

“Oh my god,” you breathed out, the realisation hitting you like a punch in the gut. His freakout went beyond just caring about his brother, it was about potentially losing his second brother. “How old were they when—”

“Luke was thirteen or so,” Nico said with a blank face. “Jack turned sixteen a week after it happened.”

“Fuck,” you swore.

“Yeah,” he flashed you a sad smile. “Fuck indeed.”

You frowned. “They came to New Jersey alone?”

“I remember the day I first met them so clearly,” Nico murmured, swallowing back the thickness in the back of his throat that made it hard to mutter out the words. “They were so young and hopeless and—” He paused for a moment. “I promised myself I would never let them feel like that again. I know what this world is like and I know it’s impossible to put that on myself but I never wanted to see them or any of the others look like that again. And that was exactly what I saw in Luke today.”

“Nico,” you whispered softly.

“M’sorry,” he huffed out, tucking his head down as he let out a sad, pitiful laugh. “You just spent the last hour comforting Luke, you don’t need to do this again.”

“You care about them so much,” you murmured as you tugged his head back, as his chin rested on your stomach as he looked up at you. “And you put so much pressure on yourself to be the one they can lean on. But you need someone who takes care of you too.”

“I like taking care of them,” he whispered, soft and honest. “I like taking care of you. The Devils are my family and it’s my job to look after them, to be the one they can always rely on.”

“Let me be that to you,” you whispered back, your thumb lightly stroking against his cheek. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

He leaned into your touch. “This is enough. This is all I need.”

And it felt hard to ignore when he whispered those words to you. It felt hard to push down the feelings you had been having for the last few weeks, to ignore what you think you had known for a while but couldn’t quite admit to yourself. It felt hard to ignore the truth.

You lowered your hands until both hands were cupping his face in your palms, your eyes meeting his warm gaze, your body trapped between his legs. It was close but not close enough and you never wanted to leave the twisted embrace.

It took less than a second before you leaned down to press your lips against his.

In an instant, Nico’s arms were winding around your thighs and tugging you closer. He kissed back like it was instinctive, like he had been waiting for the moment to approach. He kissed you like he loved you, in a way you had never experienced before. He kissed you like you had the rest of your life ahead of you to live off of these kisses. And you found that you really wanted that.

“I want to marry you,” you whispered, watching his expression change with the admission. “I don’t care about the wedding. I don’t care about finding the perfect venue or getting the most expensive flowers or any of it. I just want you. I just want to marry you.”

Your thumb pressed against the dip of his dimple as he smiled at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

His hands gripped your thighs, tightening his hold. “God, if I knew all it would take was one kiss, I would have made a move sooner.”

You snorted, trying to push him back but he just pulled you closer. “Shut up.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to catch up,” he added, but there was something affectionate in his voice.

“We may have been a little unconventional in the way we got here but I mean it,” you said, your palms still holding his face. “I want to marry you, Nico.”

“I can’t wait to marry you, baby.”

…

You weren’t shocked to find Luke already in the room, sitting by Jack’s bed where you had expected him to be since he woke up the following morning.

You were shocked to find that Jack was already awake.

If you were being completely honest, he didn’t look much better than when you last saw him, bleeding out on the dining table. But he was awake. His eyes were open, there was somehow still a smile on his face—even if it was a little tender—and he was talking, which was more than you were expecting to see.

He had been the one to spot you by the door first, flashing you a somewhat sheepish smile as he nodded you to come in.

“Found time in your schedule to see lil’ old me? I’m honoured.”

You shook your head, though it was almost fond. “Good to see they didn’t break your sense of humour.”

“Gonna need to do more than almost kill me for that,” he joked, the words leaving his mouth before he even realised.

Your eyes instantly snapped towards Luke. There was a mixed expression on his face, one you couldn’t quite figure out but it was giving you the same overbearing need to hold him in your arms like you had done the previous night.

“Too soon,” Luke grumbled.

“Sorry,” Jack murmured, his eyes softening as he reached for his little brother, as he took his hand and gave it a soft squeeze. Like a reassurance that he was still there.

“Well, there will be no more attempts because Nico has put you on bedrest indefinitely,” you quickly chimed in, crossing the room to stand by where Luke sat.

Jack’s jaw dropped. “What? No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way,” you snapped back, giving the boy a look. “You’re out, Hughes.”

“This is unfair,” Jack huffed, leaning back against his pillows and trying to hide his wince as he did so.

“It took us twenty minutes to get you to sit up,” Luke deadpanned. “For once in your life, listen to Nico.”

“Whatever,” Jack huffed. “I get jumped out of nowhere and yet, I am punished for it.”

“Nico is already on it,” you told the boy.

“If this is just going to be the same argument, I’m gonna go get breakfast,” Luke muttered as he stood up from his seat, wincing a little as he stretched his legs. “Do you want anything?”

You shook your head. “I already grabbed something with Nico earlier.”

Luke shot you a curious look but didn’t say anything before he left the room. His brother, on the other hand, was less than subtle. In fact, he was just downright blunt.

“Since when did you and Nico become so close?” Jack retorted, the pout long gone and replaced with a smile that oddly resembled the Cheshire Cat. “Anything you want to tell me?”

“He’s my fiancé,” you retorted. “I am bound to be close to him, aren’t I?”

“Oh, he so wore the white tank in front of you,” Jack snorted, only to wince a little afterwards. And yet, his injuries didn’t stop him from being a meddling gossip. “Did his plan to make you love him back finally work? Am I finally free from his two hour rants about which cufflinks you’d notice?”

You rolled your eyes. “Rest, Jack.” There was a small pause before you continued. “I’m happy you’re okay.”

His face softened. “Thank you for looking after Luke for me.”

“Anytime,” you murmured, giving him a soft smile. You hesitated for a moment before you reached out, squeezing his hand the way he had done with Luke earlier. “For both of you.”

Jack didn’t say anything but he nodded like he understood and, for now, that was more than enough for you.

…

It was the following Sunday when you received the call from Jacob Trouba.

It was ironic how much could change in a short space of time. Just a few months ago you were cursing his name for not reaching out after you stepped out of that meeting room, spent nights almost wishing he would finally reach out. The alliance was about bringing the Devils and Rangers together, and yet you just felt iced out from your previous life.

And now?

Now, you were staring at his name on your phone screen and you felt…indifferent. The feelings of awe, admiration and respect you once held for the leader of the Rangers was now gone, replaced with a sort of irritance that left a crawling sensation under your skin.

You waited three rings before you finally answered the call, lifting the phone to your ear with the oddest desire to hang up and end the call already. But you were curious and you knew he would never speak first.

“Calling on God’s day,” you mused. “This must be important.”

“It’s nice to hear your voice, Rogue.”

“Surprised you remember my name at all,” you snapped back, your fingers tracing over the spines of the books on Nico’s bookshelves. Despite the fact your room was now free, you had spent every day since in his room. You didn’t see that changing any time soon.

“Don’t be like that.”

You knew he was goading for a reaction. You could imagine the scene so clearly with him sitting in his office, leaning back in his chair with a knowing smirk on his face. You almost rolled your eyes at the thought.

“Is there a reason you’ve phoned me?” You asked, straightforward and blunt.

“Always so straight to the point. I’ve always liked that about you.”

This time you did roll your eyes. “Jacob.”

“Oh, c’mon, baby.” Your jaw clenched a little at the nickname, your stomach twisting in disgust at the word leaving anyone else’s mouth but Nico’s. “Don’t tell me you’ve become all stuck up and boring over there.”

“I thought I wasn’t your problem anymore,” you chimed, fingers fiddling with some random trinket as you spoke.

“I’ll always care about you, Rogue.”

“So you called to be sentimental?” You deadpanned.

“I apologise for wanting to catch up with my best girl.”

“Not your girl,” you gritted out. “Never have been, Trouba.”

“Oh, Trouba now? Guess Hischier has really gotten into that head of yours. It’s fine, you’ll snap out of it when you come back home.”

You froze, your brows furrowing together. “Excuse me?”

“I am breaking the alliance. The deal is off the table. You’re coming back to New York.”

You scoffed. “No, I’m not.”

“I do not permit you to marry him anymore.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you permit me to do,” you bit back, your irritance growing into something more angry. “You can’t just break the alliance, Jacob, you signed a contract. You both signed—”

“I don’t give two shits about the contract or the alliance or any of it. I expect you back in New York by Wednesday.”

You laughed, dry and unamused and severely pissed off. “Jersey is my home now.”

“So that’s it? After everything I do for you, and this is what I get in return?”

“Oh, cry me a river,” you retorted.

“Fine. Stay with the fucking rats.”

“You’re the one breaking the alliance!”

“And your future husband is the one that sent his pretty boy sniffing around my territory!”

Your jaw clenched. “It was you who attacked Jack?”

“Yes. A shame the bastard is alive. But that’s what I get for sending a couple of idiots to do the job.”

“And you’re responsible for just Jack?” You questioned, something quite like dread and anticipation swirling in your stomach.

“I look forward to seeing you crawling back to me, Rogue. I bet you look pretty on all fours.”

The line went dead before he finished his sentence.

…

The click of your heels were frantic as you approached Nico’s study.

You hadn’t bothered knocking, pushing the door open with the words ready on the tip of your tongue, only to find a handful of people already in the room. You froze for a moment, taking in their various expressions of concern, annoyance and contemplation. Your shoulders practically sagged in relief when your gaze caught Nico’s.

“You already know.”

He nodded in response.

“How?”

“The shredded alliance contract left burning at the front door was telling enough,” Nico answered with a frown.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

“He has someone working for him,” Nico continued. “Someone feeding him information. From Candy to the warehouses to Jack. Someone was telling him everything and we didn’t even fucking know.”

“What?” You shook your head, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. You were in his circle for years, someone he trusted, someone he confided in. You would have known about a spy in one of the Rangers’ biggest enemy territories, especially long before he was contemplating the alliance. “No, that’s not possible. I don’t know how he—”

“Do you not?” Timo questioned.

You blinked. “What?”

“Do you not know how?” Timo continued, something written across his expression that you couldn’t quite work out. “You’re close to Trouba, no? One of his lackeys?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you insinuating something?”

“Does a duck quack?” He retorted.

“Enough,” Nico interrupted, his lips turned downwards. “We don’t know for sure who—”

“Jacob Trouba is practically flaunting around New York that he gutted Jack,” Jesper chimed in. “He has someone he trusts—someone we trust too—whispering in his ear.”

“And you think it’s me?” You spluttered out, your shock clearly written across your face. “Are you fucking serious?”

“I am just pointing out the facts,” Jesper responded.

“I wasn’t even here when half of the attacks happened,” you retorted. “I didn’t even know I was coming here until that day in the meeting room.”

“So you say,” Timo muttered, eyes narrowed.

“I have spent every day for the last four months here,” you gritted out through clenched teeth. “What do you think I was doing? Sending carrier pigeons to Trouba?”

“You have a phone,” Timo pointed out.

You let out a humourless laugh, throwing the phone towards the boy as he effortlessly caught it. “Check it if you’re so sure.”

“We are wasting time,” John spoke up, having stayed mostly silent as he stood by the desk, brooding as he usually did. “And arguing is getting us nowhere.”

“Wherever he is leading you, it will be a trap,” you pointed out, ignoring the glares some of the boys were sending you and, instead, focusing on the one man you could rely on. “Nico, please. I know him. I know how his head works.”

Nico’s jaw clenched, a pained look in his eyes that made your heart twist in discomfort. But it was his words that cut through you, leaving it a little harder to breathe as he spoke with a blank face.

“Maybe it’s best if you stay behind.”

“You think I’m the rat?” You whispered, your voice cracking despite your attempts to keep it even.

He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye after that.

…

“Not you too.”

Luke didn’t say anything, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

“Are you serious?”

Luke remained silent.

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” you muttered under your breath as you threw the book down on the bed beside you, a failed attempt to distract yourself from the sick feeling in your stomach when you thought about what Nico was going to walk in to. “They need the fucking babysitter! They are the ones walking straight into a trap!”

Luke still remained silent.

“Do not fucking do this now,” you grumbled as you pushed yourself to stand up, rounding the bed and walking towards the boy. You almost scoffed as he moved just as quick, stepping in front of the door, blocking your way out. “You don’t seriously believe I’m the rat?”

“I am just following orders,” Luke stated.

“Luke,” you stood in front of him, your hands on your hips. “Do not fucking play with me right now. We spent every fucking waking moment together, do you really think I would do any of that?”

His eyes snapped down to you, a conflicted expression painted on his face.

“Do you really think I would do that to Jack?” You continued, your voice a little softer and you watched as the boy swallowed harshly.

“No,” he rasped, his voice rough but honest. “But there is a rat. Someone did do that to Jack and I—”

“I know,” you murmured, winding your arms around his torso. It didn’t take much for the boy to return the hug, to find comfort in your embrace. “We will find them. I promise. And I will personally let you be the one to give them what they deserve. But we need to help the others first before Trouba gets to them.”

“How can I help?”

You pulled back, a somewhat sheepish expression on your face. “Depends. How well do your puppy dog eyes work on Jack?”

…

“Absolutely not.”

“Jack—”

“Nuh uh. Not happening.”

“Dude, come on—”

“It’s bad enough that I am stuck in this bed whilst everyone else gets to go have fun,” Jack huffed, though the pile of pillows surrounding him did little to help sell the angry expression on his face. “I am not giving you my baby on top of everything else.”

You shot him a look. “You boys and your motor toys.”

Jack blanched. “She is not just a toy, she is—”

“A motorcycle,” Luke intercepted, shooting his brother an apologetic look.

His eyes narrowed. “Why can’t you just take one of the cars?”

Your gaze wandered to the floor, slightly sheepish as you shrugged. “I can’t drive stick.”

“Luke can.”

“Luke isn’t coming.”

“Wait, what?” Luke snapped his head around to look at you. “Yes, I am. You’re not going in alone.”

“It is bad enough that the rest of them are already there,” you bit out. “I am not letting you risk yourself too. You saw what he did to Jack.”

“I was caught off guard,” Jack grumbled.

“I am going alone and I am not arguing about this,” you said, hands on your hips as you waited for the boy to do the exact opposite and start arguing with you.

And just like clockwork, he did.

“How the hell am I supposed to help from here?” Luke questioned, a crease forming between his brows and the beginnings of the classic upset Hughes’ pout starting to show. “Jack is the injured one, I am completely fine!”

“Stop reminding me,” Jack sighed deeply.

“You can help from here,” you stated.

Luke shot you a look. “How?”

“I don’t care how you do it and I don’t care what lies you have to tell but get on that phone and get the others back as fast as you can,” you said, your face remaining serious. “Nico wouldn’t have taken them all. They are probably waiting somewhere as back up. Call them and get them back here. Lie, bribe, blackmail—do whatever.”

Jack blinked. “You really think it’s that bad?”

“I think killing them would be too easy for Trouba,” you said honestly. “I think there is a bigger picture we are not seeing and tonight is not the night to figure out what that is. At least not under Trouba’s discretion.”

Luke stared at you for a few moments. “Fine. But stay safe or whatever.”

You smiled, playfully patting his cheek. “Don’t worry about me, kid. I can handle myself.”

…

“So, she was right.”

Nico slowly turned his head to look at Timo who was on the chair next to him, his arms and legs tied tightly just like his were. He shot the other man a look, his face remaining blank and unimpressed.

“Got yourself quite a wife there, Boss. Smart lady,” he continued, flashing Nico a slightly strained smile.

“Your ability to act like we aren’t completely fucked is admirable,” Jonas deadpanned from his spot on the other side of Nico. “On the off chance we get out of here alive—”

“Which we probably won’t,” Timo supplied.

“—Nico will kill you for that comment alone,” Jonas finished.

“I wouldn’t,” Nico spoke up. “I would let her.”

Jonas snorted.

Timo nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“As endearing as this whole moment is,” another voice spoke up from the other side of the room. “You are really making me regret not bringing gags with me.”

“Kinky,” Timo mused.

Nico shot him another look.

“My bad for trying to make our last moments enjoyable,” Timo huffed.

“Would be enjoyable if the ropes weren’t tied so badly,” Jonas grumbled.

“God,” Jacob growled, pushing himself off the desk and walking towards where the three of them were currently stationed. “I don’t know how that little bitch could stand you for months. Thirty minutes and I don’t know if I want to put a bullet through your heads or mine.”

Nico’s jaw clenched. “Watch your mouth.”

“Aw, touched a nerve?” Jacob smiled as he closed the distance, crouching down a little so he was face to face with the Devils’ boss. “Possessive over your wannabe wife, Hischier?”

“Keep her out of this,” Nico growled, his teeth gritted.

“Hm, it’s cute you think you have any power here,” Jacob commented, his next movement a flash of blurred colours. It wasn’t until the pain erupted in his nose and he could feel the blood starting to drip down his face that he realised Jacob had smacked him with the handle of his gun. “Don’t make me muzzle you like a fucking mutt.”

“Bite me, Trouba,” Nico snapped back.

“He might be into that,” Timo murmured.

“Dude,” Jonas hissed.

Nico let out another groan, his head snapping to the side as Jacob pistol-whipped him once again.

“Hey!” Timo exclaimed, the legs of his chair scuffling against the floor as he tried to fight against the restraints.

“You were annoying me,” Jacob said with a shrug as he stood back up. “And his pretty face annoys me.”

Nico lifted his head, spitting the blood pooling inside his mouth in Jacob’s direction before flashing him a smile. “You think I’m pretty?”

Jacob shot him a blank look.

“My wife thinks I’m pretty too,” he continued, something almost sadistic written across his face. “Remind me, did she ever think you were pretty?”

“I think,” Jacob began, the telltale click of the safety lock being removed echoing through the empty office space. “I’m sick and tired of having your lot become such a problem for me.”

“Yeah, I could really tell from that alliance you signed,” Nico deadpanned.

Jacob let out a dry laugh. “There is no honest man in this life, Hischier. You’re a naive bastard if you believe anyone other than yourself.”

“He does know contracts are legally binding, right?” Timo muttered.

“Yeah, because everything we do is so legal,” Jonas drawled, unamused.

“Why sign it?” Nico questioned, his eyes trained on the man in front of him.

“It was fun messing with you,” Jacob said with a shrug.

“Bullshit,” Timo snorted. “You just laid back for four months for fun? Yeah, sure.”

Nico glanced at his friend before returning his gaze to Jacob. He noted the way his jaw clenched, his eye twitching a little in frustration. He tried—and failed—not to take pleasure in the small signs of annoyance.

“Because the plan didn’t work out the way you intended,” Nico guessed, and assuming from the small, irritated huff Jacob let out, he was right. “Because you had to hold back and work out some things but, like a petulant child, you ran out of patience. That’s why the attack on Jack was so messy. You threw caution out the window.”

“You seem far too interested in the fine details for a man in your position, Hischier,” Jacob grumbled.

“Call it a dead man’s curiosity,” Nico retorted with a smile.

“Speaking of death,” Timo piped up. “You are keeping us alive for a surprisingly long time.”

“Because he needs something from us,” Nico assumed.

“You think you’re so smart,” Jacob hissed.

“Well, he knows how to tie a better knot,” Jonas grumbled under his breath.

Nico shot him a look, only for Jonas to shrug in response.

“I’m just saying, you can tell he doesn’t do the dirty work.” Jonas added.

Jacob looked unimpressed. “I don’t typically lower myself to dirty work.”

“How noble,” Timo snorted.

“What are you waiting for?” Nico poked, his eyes narrowing a little with determination. “Why keep us alive? One bullet through my head and you would have everything you want. But you’re hesitating.”

“You done with your conspiracies?” Jacob bit back.

“Whatever it is you want, you’re not going to get it,” Nico told him, so sure of himself.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Jacob responded.

Nico shrugged as best he could in his restraints. “I would.”

…

As a Ranger, you were one of Jacob’s top enforcers.

It was the unexpected factor that made you effective. The others were tall or buff or intimidating, but you were able to get away with a lot more—call it taking advantage of the inherent and ridiculous misogyny within the mob life.

But your effectiveness and skill was the exact reason why Jacob Trouba trusted you, why he let you in on the private meetings, why he kept you so close within his circle. It was also one of the main reasons why the initial arranged marriage caught you off guard.

You weren’t made for marriages of alliance, you were made for this.

The forty-eight floor office building in Lower Manhattan was an abandoned project that failed extensive safety acts but was too expensive for the city to knock down—in the books. Off the books, it was a grey area the police tended to look away from and not prod too much. It was the perfect place for someone like Trouba—who controlled the majority of the crime and underground businesses in New York, who didn’t like any more eyes on him than he allowed.

It was a building you were familiar with, one you had spent many days and nights in for the years you stood in Trouba’s circle. You knew the ins and outs, the various corridors to sneak around and hide. You knew the exact rooms where the screams and pleas of a man would be deaf to the bustling city outside. You knew which floors were reserved for the kind of things people with weak stomachs tended to avoid.

And, for the first time ever in your life, you stepped into the building with a sense of dread lingering over your head.

Every time you had ever stepped into this building, you were indifferent. You were there to complete a job and you always did so. You never hesitated or second-guessed yourself. You went in, you did your job and you left.

Because never once had there ever been the life of someone you cared about on the line—never once had you ever feared you wouldn’t be able to save someone’s life, rather than being the one to end it.

And yet, the mere idea of walking into one of these rooms and finding out you were too late was eating you alive as you made your way in through the side entrance, trying not to take the lack of men stationed around the building as a sign that you weren’t fast enough.

At least, it was eating you alive until you were distracted by your phone buzzing in your pocket.

“You better have a good fucking reason to be calling me right now.”

“First of all, that was rude. I am bed-ridden and lonely. You could at least say hi.”

You rolled your eyes.

“And second of all, I wanted to make sure my baby is okay.”

“Your motorcycle is fine, Jack,” you deadpanned.

“One scratch on her and we are going to have problems.”

“However will I escape your wrath when you are bound to your bed?” You questioned, the sarcasm dripping from your words as you made your way through the corridors—one hand holding your phone and the other clutching your gun.

“That was also rude.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes again. “Why did you call, Jack?”

“Well, there’s good news and bad news.”

You paused for a moment, straightening your back. “Good news?”

“We got everyone back. Jesper is a little pissed. John is really pissed but that is on Luke for lying about—”

You quickly interrupted. “And the bad news?”

“Timo and Jonas are with Nico, so you are now on a three man rescue mission—”

“Which would have been easier if you let me come,” Luke yelled from somewhere in the background.

“And he is waiting for someone. Supposedly. We are assuming whoever the rat is.”

Your brows furrowed together. “How can you be so sure it’s them?”

“According to the dude Kurtis bet up for some information, Trouba has been sending money to the rat for months. Today was meant to be the day they met, and supposedly Nico was the price they demanded.”

“He doesn't even know who his rat is?” You scoffed. “I’m assuming there’s no real name attached to the account.”

“Unless you know a Barbra Parker who lives in Brooklyn and attends weekly zumba classes for senior citizens and sometimes attends church when she wants to gossip, then no. We have no name and no more clues towards whoever Trouba has been paying.”

You let out a sigh. “Great.”

“On the bright side, Jesper did admit he was wrong for accusing you and I got the admission on video for you to blackmail him with.”

You laughed a little. “Thanks, Jack.”

“We got your back, Rogue. You’re a Devil. But if Nico asks, this was totally my idea and he owes me dinner at that fancy steak place I got banned from three years ago.”

This time you did roll your eyes before hanging up.

…

Nico watched as Jacob Trouba paced the room, the nerves emitting from him like a bat signal for weakness as he kept glancing down at his watch. He had never seen such obvious and badly concealed emotions from a man like Trouba, it was almost off-putting to watch if he weren’t trying to work out the little puzzle in his head right now.

Most of the pieces were there, but there was something glaringly obvious that Nico was missing and it was starting to irritate him.

“It’s actually quite sad to watch,” Timo commented. “He looks like a distressed polar bear.”

Jonas flashed him a confused look. “What?”

“You know, those videos where the polar bear is in a zoo enclosure and gets really stressed and starts exhibiting weird behaviours?” Timo said, only to receive blank expressions in response. “What? I literally sent you the video a few weeks ago. Assholes.”

“You sent it to me when I was down in Philly,” Jonas retorted.

“Excuses,” Timo huffed.

“We really need to discuss your hostage conversation topics when we are back,” Nico deadpanned.

“Hard to have that discussion when you three will be dead in a few hours,” Jacob spoke up, turning to finally look at them for the first time in the last thirty minutes.

“Seems like you’ve been stood up, Trouba,” Nico assumed, the amusement clear in his voice despite the fact he was the one who was restrained. “It happens to many men, you’re in good company, I’m sure.”

Jacob clenched his jaw, rounding towards him. “You little—”

“Watch how you talk about my husband, Trouba.”

All four pairs of eyes snapped towards the entrance.

You stood there, your hands holding onto your gun tightly and pointing it directly at your former boss—your former friend—with your finger on the trigger. It was an odd feeling, one you had never really experienced before. Because as much as you wanted to tell yourself you felt indifferent towards Jacob—that maybe even a part of you despised him for the way he treated you over the last four months—there was a louder, more vocal voice in your head reminding you just who he was to you.

Just who he used to be to you.

And it was so fucking disorienting.

Something quite like surprise and elation crossed Jacob’s face. “Rogue.”

“Drop the gun,” you nodded towards the gun in his hand. “Right now.”

He smiled, his head tilting a little. “You know I’m not going to do that. And I know why you’re really here, you can drop the act.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“Not quite on your knees,” he continued, his grin growing when Nico let out a string of curses. “But I knew you’d come back to me.”

“Your ego is truly astounding,” you mused, your eyes glued on Trouba. You couldn’t look towards Nico. Not right yet. Not until you had dealt with the man in front of you. “Almost as pathetic as your mind games.”

Jacob cocked an eyebrow.

“I mean, of all the people to choose as your rat,” you continued, watching as his face dropped a little as the lie passed your lips. “You really thought I wouldn’t find out?”

Jacob huffed out a laugh, dry and a bit tense. “Rogue—”

“Meanwhile, you don’t even know who your rat is,” you added.

His jaw clenched a little. “I do.”

“Do you?” You questioned.

“You were always the smartest one in my ranks,” Jacob mused.

“And yet, you sent me away,” you finished for him.

“But you came back,” Jacob grinned, as though he had planned this all along, as though he was the mastermind. “Like I always knew you would.”

“And you need your ears checked because I think I have made myself very clear where I stand,” you gritted out.

“Don’t tell me you have gone soft for him?” Jacob scoffed, looking at you in a mix of disbelief and amusement. But when your gun remained pointed at him, he only laughed. “Yeah? You expect me to believe you’re going to do it? Fine then.”

You watched as his gun moved away from Nico, watched as the barrel of the gun was pointed towards you instead. Something prickled under your skin, your hair standing on the nape of your neck. You have watched that gun in his hands kill so many people and now it was directed at you.

It felt so wrong and, yet, you didn’t lower your weapon either.

“Is this what you wanted? Some noble showdown to prove yourself to them?” Jacob goaded. “They will never trust you. You will never be one of them, no matter who you marry or who’s dick you suck. You will always be an outsider. You will always be a Ranger.”

Your jaw twitched. “I stopped being a Ranger the second you sold me off like fucking cattle.”

“Rogue, baby, you never stopped as long as I say you haven’t,” Jacob smiled, all-knowing and smug. “Now, put the gun down. The game was cute but it’s getting a bit dull now. You’ve put on your little show, you’ve made your point. It won’t happen again. Scout’s promise.”

You stared at the man for a few moments, stared at the person you once knew so well. “You know the difference between me and you?”

He raised his brows. “What?”

“You’re far too sentimental over shit that doesn’t ultimately matter anymore,” you said, your finger pressing down on the trigger before you even finished your sentence.

Jacob let out a pained exclamation, his body falling towards the floor as his hand instantly went to the bullet wound now oozing blood from his thigh. His grip on his gun was still firm but before he could even raise it, you shot him once more on the opposite shoulder, letting his cries of pain bounce through the room.

“Take this as my one and only mercy, Trouba, for the man you once were to me,” you spoke, blunt and indifferent as you approached the man. Your foot was pining his wrist down, letting you throw his gun towards the other side of the room before you turned back to him. “Next time you even touch a hair on my family’s head, I’ll put a bullet through yours. Remember that.”

Jacob didn’t even get a chance to reply to your threat before you slammed the handle of your gun against his temple, knocking him out cold as he laid motionless on the ground.

“Fuck, that was hot.”

Your head snapped around, finally settling on the three men tied to the chairs in front of you. You took a quick glance over Jonas and Timo, happy to see a limited amount of blood on them before your eyes finally stopped on Nico. It was almost embarrassing the way relief drowned you at the sight of him smiling at you.

“Fucking hell,” you murmured out, your body moving on autopilot as you stumbled towards him. You took his face in your hands, unbothered about the blood drying on his face as you leaned your forehead against his. “I fucking told you I was right.”

Nico huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, baby, you did. Should listen to you more often.”

You smiled a little. “You have time to learn.”

“All the time in the world, Rogue,” he confirmed, his nose nudging against yours.

“This is really cute and that was really badass but could you two please stop so she can untie us and we can go home?” Timo spoke up.

“Please, it’s insulting having these terribly tied knots holding us down,” Jonas added.

You laughed, pulling away to look at the other two with a fond smile. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

…

“You know, I am pretty sure it’s considered rude to sneak away from the party when the party is for us.”

“I don’t see you trying very hard to go back to the party.”

“Well,” Nico said with a heavy sigh, trying to bite back his smile as he let you pull him towards the counter you were currently sitting on. “I am a weak man when it comes to the whims of my beautiful, cunning, scheming wife—”

You snorted, your arms wrapping around his neck as he stood between your legs. “So dramatic.”

“You still married me though,” Nico grinned, his hands on your thighs as he shamelessly played with the edge of the little white dress you put on for the occasion. “You’re stuck with me, baby. I’m all yours.”

“What a tragic life sentence,” you mused, your eyes softening a little as you leaned in to press a quick kiss against his lips. “What have I got myself into?”

“Hm, let’s see,” he started, puffing his cheeks a little before he let out a sigh. “We are basically at war with the Rangers and all their allies, there’s an unknown rat in our ranks that knows we are on their tail and one of my best men is still out of service until further notice. Add in the fact that we have a handful of rocky aliases to strengthen across the country, especially the west coast, and you have a pretty big fucking mess you’re walking into.”

“But it’s something we will solve together,” you said in a determined voice, your hands moving to cup his face so you could stare into his eyes. “Me and you. In sickness and in health and in huge fucking messes.”

His lips twitched. “I don’t remember that in the wedding vows.”

You shrugged. “I’m paraphrasing.”

He laughed softly as he fisted the material of your skirt in his hands. “There is no one else I would rather have standing by my side, Mrs Hischier.”

“Good,” you huffed, lifting your chin a little as the mischief shone in your eyes. “Because in the wise words of a smart man I know, you’re stuck with me, baby. I’m all yours.”

His grin widened. “And that is more than enough for me.”

Your smile pressed against his as he leaned in to kiss you again, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you sunk into the embrace. The music thumping through the speakers could still be heard, even so far from the actual party, but in the arms of your husband is exactly where you wanted—no, needed—to be.

You huffed out a small laugh, though you couldn’t find it in yourself to bat his wandering hands away as he squeezed your thighs before tugging you closer to the edge of the counter. You pulled back a little, taking in his flushed cheeks and shining eyes and felt something quite like fondness explode in your chest.

“I am so in love with you, Nico Hischier,” you whispered, like a soft confession shared just between the two of you.

“I’m glad you’ve finally caught up, baby,” he whispered back. “It’s about time people know.”

“Know what?”

But his grin only widened, the love and adoration he held for you so clearly written across his face as he cupped your face in his hands. “That my girl is a Devil, through and through.”

And as you stared back at him with a similar expression on your face, there were a few things you knew for certain: Nico Hishcier was the leader of the New Jersey Devils, he was a kind and fair man despite the world you lived in, and that you were truly and utterly in love with him.

And you knew that you would stand by his side whatever the world threw at the two of you.

For better or for worse.

Until death do you part.

#nico hischier #nhl #new jersey devils #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier fic #nico hischier one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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auroralwriting · 4 months ago

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Hi love! I’d like to request a mob!bucky fic where he is the man that runs New York and the reader is his wife who convinces him to let her start opening hospitals and homes for people in need etc. one of his rivals tries to take her while at a charity thing and calls Bucky weak and losing his touch so he literally destroys him to protect his woman.

I understand if you are too busy but would love ya forever if you could write what has been in my head!

guard dog

mob!bucky barnes x wife!reader

bucky doesn't take too kindly to people hurting his wife.

word count: 1.7k | warnings: violence, cursing, bucky having a sweet spot for his doll ♡

i wrote this one so fast. thank you for this amazing request!! i hope i did your vision justice!

Everyone knew of Mr. James Barnes. He practically ran New York with every politician pressed under his palm, along with every rich business man and woman wrapped around his little finger.

The one thing you needed to understand about James, Bucky, as his wife called him, was that you were never to be messed with.

To Bucky, you were the epitome of innocence. No one was allowed to lay a finger on you or say anything that could even potentially upset you. You were his world, and he made sure it was protected.

Of course, he was absolutely right. You were truly an angel on earth, the truest definition of kind. Little did everyone know, while they were wrapped around Bucky's finger, he was wrapped around yours.

"Bucky, you cannot kill someone on a Sunday," You'd gripe. "Sunday's are holy days, and the days I make my cannoli. You don't want cannoli?" Bucky would give in, rescheduling to fit your needs. "And see if that guy wants a cannoli, too. If I were gonna die, I'd sure as hell want a nice, homemade cannoli."

You practically controlled his every little move. You kept Bucky somewhat grounded for a mobster. You also made sure to keep him from disappearing off the face of the earth.

"Hun, you mom's coming over for dinner tomorrow- No, I don't want to hear it! Anyone who had the guts to raise you and not lose their mind deserves a nice, home cooked meal with her family. Dinner, six o'clock, be there."

Your latest topic, though, was helping people. You didn't give too much mind to the people Bucky worked with, but your mind was set on the homeless. Some news report on CNN had utterly convinced you that you needed to be the change in the world.

"Buck, please!" You begged, latching your hands onto your husbands arm. "This is my calling!"

A small grin formed on Bucky's face, "I thought your calling was to foster little orphans. Or was it to start an animal rescue. Oh, maybe-"

"James, I'm serious!" Use of Bucky's real name was a sign you wanted him to take you seriously. "Please, I just want to help the innocent people out there who don't have anything or anyone."

With your puppy dog eyes gleaming at him, Bucky knew he couldn't say no. "Alright, alright. But I get to choose the place since I'm buying."

A large smile erupted on your face as you leaped to hug Bucky. "Oh, thank you! Thank you so much, baby!"

Bucky's wide palms rubbed your back softly as he kissed your head. "Anything for my precious world."

And so, the hunt for the perfect shelter was in place. Immediately, you called some friends to bounce ideas back and forth off them. Eventually, you decided on the name Feast. Food, emergency aid, shelter, and training. It was everything anyone could ever need. It was perfection.

Even Bucky had to agree, it sounded pretty solid. He was amused at the acronym, enjoying the excitement your project gave you.

After a few months, Feast was nearly up and running. To gather attention, you decided to host a gala. Bucky helped you invite anyone and everyone important. You needed to get Feast's name out there, and the big people were who would do it. Secretly, Bucky only agreed because he knew he could.. convince the ones who denied to lend a hand.

The night of the gala approached. You sat with Natasha, as she finished putting on her makeup. "Natty, you look so pretty already."

"Yeah, but you know Steve likes the shimmer. I just want to add a little bit more," Natasha replied, referring to her husband, aka Bucky's best friend. It helped a lot that your best friend was married to Bucky's best friend. Natasha and you did almost everything together.

"Steve would like you if you wore a cardboard box," You groaned. "Come on, we're going to be late!"

Natasha laughed as she stood up, "Alright, alright! You, Mrs. Barnes, are going to have a wonderful outcome I hear."

Your heart leaped at her words. "Really?"

"Yeah, I heard anyone's who's anyone is coming." You squealed at Natasha's words and lead her down to the limo where Bucky and Steve were waiting.

The moment Bucky laid eyes on you, he felt like he was falling in love all over again. "Doll," He breathed out, holding your waist carefully with both hands. "You're an angel,"

You blushed at his words, "You always know just what to say to me,"

"That's why you married me," Bucky teased, knowing all too well there were too many reasons to name as to why you married him. He still felt so lucky.

"You both look amazing," Steve complimented. "But if we don't get going soon, we'll be late."

Quickly, the four of you shimmed into the limo, having some champagne and listening to soft music while you made your way to the gala. You'd left all the interior planning up to Natasha, who's taste was the best in all of New York. You trusted her with your life. After making your way into the hall, it was solidified once more that Natasha was incredible.

The hall was beaming with gold and silver, a soft jazz band playing and a bustling bar full of the most appealing looking drinks you'd seen in a long time. You gave Natasha a thankful look as Bucky began to softly pull you away. He'd spotted the Mayor, and he was itching to make conversation.

It was probably two hours of chit chat later and you found your feet aching from your insanely high heels. You leaned up to Bucky's ear, "Hun, I'm going to go grab a drink. Want anything?"

"Rum?" Bucky muttered back as you gave an eager smile.

You sat at the bar, ordering yours and Bucky's drink. After a moment or so, you noticed the presence of someone in the seat beside you who wasn't there previously.

"Mrs. Barnes," You looked over to see Brock Rumlow. He, too, was a mobster. However, he wasn't one Bucky or Steve were particularly fond of. You didn't even know he was invited tonight. "What a lovely event this is."

"Oh, Mr. Rumlow," You said with surprise laced in your voice. "Thank you, it took a lot of preparation."

"I'm just surprised," Rumlow hummed. "Such a.. charitable thing your husband is endorsing."

You shook your head, "It was all my idea."

"Of course it was," Rumlow bitterly responded. "Barnes' pretty little play thing wanted a new passion project to occupy herself. How expected."

You felt your heart pang at his words. "Oh," You stuttered, losing any sense of confidence.

"I got you at a loss for words?" Rumlow's voice was low as he began to lean over your figure. It felt daunting rather than sultry. It felt dangerous.

"Rumlow, please back up a little bit," You pleaded as Rumlow's smirk grew. "I don't have any space."

"That's the point, baby girl." He continued to prowl over you like a hungry beast, ready to pounce on its prey. For a moment, you felt overcome with fear. The way Rumlow eyed you made you wish you had worn a more conservative dress.

Before you could blink, Rumlow was pushed back harshly. It caused you to jump up and into someones arms. You didn't even need to question who it was; you knew Bucky's touch anywhere.

"What the fuck were you doing with my girl?" Bucky growled as Rumlow shook himself out of shock.

"Just making conversation," Rumlow dryly responded. "She's a joy to talk to."

Bucky scoffed, "It looked like you were about to drag her out of here."

"And so what if I was?" Rumlow challenged. "What would you do, huh, Barnes? You've gone weak, she's making you lose your touch. You're just her silly little guard dog. No one's scared of you when everyone knows that you'd never do anything to upset your precious-"

Before Rumlow could even finish his sentence, Bucky was on top of him, punches pushing his head back and forth, left and right. The sickening sounds of skin against skin was too much for you to bare, but luckily, Steve had come right on time. He was quick to pull you behind him where Natasha was waiting to hold you in her arms.

"Don't you dare call me fuckin' weak!" Bucky yelled. All eyes were on the scene unfolding.

The crack of Rumlow's jaw was not to be missed as Bucky's fist collided with it so hard you could've sworn Bucky broke some of his teeth. "You think you can come here to my wife's gala and try me?"

You wanted to stop Bucky, but you could tell that with his anger, thee was no stopping him until he was done. More sounds of cracking, Rumlow's howls of pain, and the blow's of Bucky's beatings were all that echoed in the hall.

After a few minutes, Bucky slowly stopped, panting as he leaned over Rumlow breathlessly. It was then you stepped in, running behind Bucky and putting your hands on his shoulders. "Buck, c'mon. Let me get you cleaned up." Blood was splattered on Bucky's face, his fists drenched in it. You nodded to Steve who, once Bucky was standing, picked Rumlow over his shoulder and took him out of the building. Natasha waved the band who began playing, and everyone fell back into conversation almost as if nothing happened.

Bucky and you were silent as the bartender handed you some towels to clean Bucky up. "Did you see any of that?" Bucky asked softly, his tone much different than a few minutes beforehand.

"Steve pulled me behind him," You answered, wiping off Bucky's knuckles. They were already bruising due to the beatings on them.

"Good man," He nodded, knowing that he would have done the same for Natasha. They protected each other's girls, always. "I'm sorry this happened tonight. I didn't mean to ruin the gala."

You chuckled, forcing Bucky to look up and around. "Look, nothing's ruined. You don't think these people are used to this stuff?"

Bucky gave a soft smile in return as his fingers fell across your cheek, softly rubbing it. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"Endlessly protect and love me, to start." You cheekily replied.

"Yeah," Bucky nodded, kissing you softly. "Always." He added as he pulled away. "Now, come on. I don't think we spoke to the Stark's yet."

#bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #bucky barnes imagines #sebastian stan x reader #bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #winter soldier #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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soap-brain · 3 months ago

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i think one of the nate eliot things is that they're both fucking unhinged. there's something feral about them, something that's capable of disregarding basic humanity. we know eliot is a killer, and a ruthless one at that, and he's not afraid of being in those kind of situations, which in a way dehumanises him, this inability to feel fear.

and nate. nate!! that man is terrifying! get in line, or get out of the way is his motto, and he applies it to absolutely everyone. especially in the earlier seasons, and yes he applies it to sophie (who is unarguably closest to him) too! for maggie he decides that she will get out of the way (because falling in line with him would mean that she would break the law, and she's a Good Citizen, not a Criminal or a Thief, and it never occurs to him that it's not a black and white situation... or that his ex wife matches his crazy).

and if you do neither, he ends you. simple as that. he doesn't kill you and he doesn't physically harm you, but what he does is arguably worse, because he ruins your life in ways eliot can't.

and they very quickly recognise each other as apex predators and both allow the other to use that for their crusade. eliot is a weapon that needs pointing in the right direction, that's what he's getting out of their relationship; and nate needs someone who'll have a go at him and who he can't actually hurt. because nate ruins lives by ruining their reputations, and what reputation does eliot have to lose? and conversely, not even nate ford could convince the world that eliot spencer isn't really fucking dangerous

(sidenote: that's why making moreau watch eliot spencer decrying the evil presidential dog fights is so fucking funny. there's an excellent post about it somewhere on here)

eliot thinks he's further along the path of being something inhuman, and he also thinks nate can still be saved from becoming that too. being an insurance cop, a "good guy" (btw a very laughable concept about how working in insurance makes you a good person. like. if that were the case then how come the same "good guys" let nate's son die so they didn't have to pay for his treatment?), was what kept nate on the straight and narrow before, and now giving him something to do might stop him from going completely off the rails ("how long until you fall apart again? a guy like you can't be out of the game, that's why you were a wreck. you need the chase" is what eliot's saying to convince nate to stay with the team).

unfortunately running with criminals doesn't fix nate the way eliot would like for it to, because the guy suddenly stops recognising any and all societal rules and overcompensates by trying to keep full control of everything all the time. he is so unreasonably mad at sophie for trying to help her friend teresa who got screwed over by marcone.

"she should've known what she got into, her husband working with the mob" and cpl perry from the ep before should've known what he got into, joining the military, but for some reason he's worth helping because he didn't "choose" to become a criminal. did teresa choose to get in with the mob or did she and her husband just not have another chance?

and when the entire team agrees they want to take that job, nate throws a hissy fit. tells them all to walk if they don't like the way he runs the team.

so does leverage fix nate? maybe after five seasons. but at first it makes him worse because between "not having to abide by normal human laws anymore" and the alcohol he completely loses his restraint

and eliot gets that. eliot has been there, has completely lost any and all principles (working for moreau mostly) and is now trying to glue the pieces of himself back together into something that isn't horrible. but nate isn't there yet. nate is still violent and dangerous, and eliot is the only one on the team who isn't disgusted by it. sophie certainly is. hardison and parker are too, even if they don't say it out loud. eliot may not like it, but he gets it.

and in return, nate is the only one who knows about what happened in the big bang job. he can hold eliot back with as little as a gesture or a look and it's not a slight to eliot at all. eliot trusts nate to point him in the right direction because they both need the same thing:

to be a good man.

also:

eliot: what, you think the only thing i know how to do is bust heads? nate: no... well, yeah. eliot: hold a knife like this, cuts through an onion. hold a knife like this, cuts thought like eight yakuza in 4 seconds. screams, carnage... nate: yeah good point actually

like apart from how it's funny, any normal person would react with some version of "that's so fucked up". and nate is just like yeah nah that tracks actually, fair enough, do carry on

also @scotchiegirl something about nate and eliot and violence? sorry for tagging you aslkdjfhasdlkfj i just had ThoughtsTM

#leverage #anyways! time to walk the doggy #this is such a deeply uncool way to end a post XD #OH GOD I JUST REALISED.#"at least that way we might be able to... together... come across some kind of redemption.#if you know what i mean lol #brb gonna bite something about this

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danny-chase · 2 years ago

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I feel like people understand that Dick changed while Jason was gone, but where it goes wrong half the time is people assume that Dick "growing up" meant that Dick was irresponsible around the time he and Jason interacted/was mean and unable to conceal his jealousy well, which he then evolved from due to Jason's death and was able to build a loving big brother relationship with Tim and Damian and fix his relationship with Bruce.

Meanwhile canon is like:

>Be me, Dick Grayson, esteemed and respected leader of the Teen Titans

> Your younger brother dies

> Fire the youngest member of the Titans because it happened because you had a crisis of responsibility about child vigilantism

> Get punched by your not-official dad

> Help mentor new younger brother because you can't stop him and Bruce from the path they're on, and like hell is another kid going to die

> Kid dies. Not that one. The ex-member of the Titans died disobeying your orders and saving the world in a heroic sacrifice you didn't want him to make, this is exactly what you tried to avoid

> So did two of your friends and one of their moms

> Failed marriage, and a whole lot of relationship stuff you don't want to talk about

> Dad didn't ask you to surpass him in the roll he trained you for since you were 8, gives it to a guy who goes of the rails and starts trying to kill ppl

> Dad asks you to take the roll because he literally has 0 other options and wants to take a vacation

> Bond with younger brother II more, will kill everyone in this room and yourself if anything happens to him

> Move to a new awful city that's often compared to hell

> Having nothing to lose makes it kind of nice here

> Younger brother II gets killed by the same guy who killed younger brother I

> Kill the guy

> Younger brother II wasn't actually dead

> Dad used CPR, so neither is the guy who killed them

> Angst over not being a good enough person not to kill your brother's murderer

> Things start to become okay again

> Best friend dies

> Get shot in the shoulder and fired from your job

> Childhood home gets burned down, 20+ people die

> Apartment building blows up, 22 of your friends and acquaintances die

> Find out it's because someone was specifically targeting you

> Person dies for talking to you

> Choose to step aside and let the guy targetting you die

> Run home because dad needs help

> Get shot in the leg, while passed out another kid hero dies

> Quit being a hero

> Join the mob

> Things start to get better

> Help dad out with some case about this guy named the Red Hood

> City gets nuked because you live there

> Get radiation burns and pass out while saving people, content that you died doing something good

> Dad saved you

> You're still alive :/

> Propose to your ex-girlfriend (not the one from the last marriage)

> Crisis event happens, take a laser beam meant for your father

> Coma for 3 weeks

> She says no (for good reasons)

> You're still alive :/

~and around here is where Dick finds out Jason's alive~

Anyways Dick was not more well adjusted by the time Jason came back from the dead, his life was a constant series of L's, and he got worse 😎

#anyways aus where Jason comes back and is like wtf is wrong with you? >>>> aus where Jason is like. wow dick sucked ass as a brother to me #how come he's so well adjusted and loving to the rest of you #dick did change while jason was gone. he did not get better. he only got worse #Dick's downward spiral of a life is everything to me #most ppl also forget that it took time for Dick and Damian to get along he was not doing good at first shdjdjjdjd #and tim was off doing his own thing for a while at the time #dick grayson

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whumpthemusical · 1 year ago

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Whump: The Musical Prompts!!

As stated before, this challenge will run from March 1- March 31, 2024. All fandoms are welcome to participate despite it being prompts based off of musicals. Once again, all types of media are allowed. This challenge has the standard "choose one for the day" style, but feel free to do all three prompts if that's what you want to do!! All types of whump are allowed, but please be respectful to your fellow audience members and properly tag it!! Some of these prompts are sensitive, so make sure you warn your readers correctly! There will be an ao3 collection and an FAQ post coming soon, so if you have any further questions or comments about this challenge, feel free to drop me a line. Happy writing, my beautiful ingénues, and enjoy the show :)))

The prompts will be listed under the cut for those who have difficulty reading fonts!!

Cats- Sabotage • Second Chances • "I Can Dream Of The Old Days."

Wicked- Mob Mentality • Propaganda • "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished."

Jesus Christ Superstar- Whipping • Betrayal • "Then I Was Inspired, Now I'm Sad And Tired."

Les Mis- Survivor's Guilt • Failure • "Drink With Me To Days Gone By."

Heathers- Poison • Reluctant Whumper • "Wanna fight for me?"

Newsies- Chronic Pain • Exploitation • "Let 'Em Laugh In My Face, I Don't Care."

The Last Five Years- Infidelity • Gaslighting • "I Will Not Lose Because You Can't WIn."

Hadestown- Deals • Doomed Narrative • "Doubt Comes In."

Sweeney Todd- False Imprisonment • Razors • "Have You Decided It's Safer In Cages?"

Rent- Substance Abuse • Poverty • "Feels Too Much Damn Like Home."

Bare: A Pop Opera- Outing • Religious Trauma • "Please, See Me."

Waitress- Unplanned Pregnancy • Abuse • "She Is Broken And Won't Ask For Help."

Tick Tick Boom- Atychiphobia • Working To Exhaustion • "Is This Real Life?"

Dear Evan Hansen- Deception • Broken Bone • "Words Fail."

West Side Story- Star-Crossed Lovers • Prejudices • "A Boy Who Kills Cannot Love."

Come From Away- Stranded • Aftermath • "Blankets And Bedding And Maybe Some Food."

Spring Awakening- Withheld Information • Suicide • "I Don't Scream, Though I Know It's Wrong."

Hamilton- Hurricane • Dueling • "I Will Kill Your Friends And Family To Remind You Of My Love."

Falsettos- Sickness • Identity Issues • "Death Is Not A Friend."

Into The Woods- Blame • Lost • "Nothing But A Vast Midnight."

The Great Comet- Abduction • Letters • "Did You Love That Bad Man?"

In The Heights- Grief • Homesickness • "I Know That I'm Letting You Down."

Be More Chill- Mind Manipulation • Panic Attack • "Everything About Me Makes Me Want To Die."

Moulin Rouge- Class Differences • Sex Work • "Come What May."

Chicago- Cold Blood • Trial • "He Had It Coming."

Six- Execution • Trauma Bonding • "Playtime's Over."

Ride The Cyclone- Unexpected Tragedy • Forgotten Whumpee • "I Hear The Anguish Of The Street."

The Rocky Horror Show- Obsession • Wrong Place, Wrong Time • "I've Seen Blue Skies Through The Tears."

Nerdy Prudes Must Die- Bullying • Ritual • "Who Will Pray For You?"

Jekyll And Hyde- Duality • Good Vs Evil • "If I Die, You'll Die."

Phantom Of The Opera- Disfiguration • Shunned • "My Power Over You Grows Stronger Yet."

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salemoleander · 1 year ago

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I don't know how it felt when Third Life started, but I like to imagine Secret Life feels a little like those first few sessions.

Not that we can ever get back to that naiveté! BUT. Idk if it's the silliness of the tasks or the generous game-ified rewards or Gem & Mumbo & Lizzie but it all just feels so new.

This is the first Life Series where they could actually defeat the Ender Dragon. Beat the game. Leaving aside any meta or lore or whatever- consider how special is it that they can win the original battle, the core goal of Minecraft, together.

This world is gentle - I know it lacks regen, but is it so terrible to be cautious? To have time and reason to go slow?

Food is abundant. Plentiful passive mobs, and a way via spawn eggs to get more. There are berries and pumpkins, and cherry and dark oak and mangrove trees, not generated but kindly placed. A mesa and a jungle and a savannah and a plains and a jungle - so many biomes to choose from.

The tasks so far are silly, kind - puns, pranks, nicknames. Building homes near each other. Poetry. Trust falls. What does it say that the worst task is simply to dig a hole?

They can gift hearts for free! And 30 hearts a person! A creeper blew up right behind Scar, and this time he lived. They are all so strong here.

With a way of getting more health, and the barrier to death so high... I'm sure the CCs have their plans, but per the world we know right now: no one has to die. There's an impossible, wonderful sense that this time could be different.

#if you're looking for some dramatic angsty postscript like 'it wont be' you wont find it here #what if we let the joy seep in. what if we didn't turn it to angst right now #it almost certainly will do that on its own; i want to be joyful right now #secret life #slsmp #secret life smp #life series #trafficblr #salem tag #salem meta

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genevawrenn · 9 months ago

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Interested in QSMP but unsure where to start? Then this post is for you!

Hello all!

I've seen a few posts here and there about being interested in the server but feeling overwhelmed with the amount of information there is, so I want to do my best to help as someone whose been here since Day 1.

Let's start out with what is QSMP?

QSMP is a multilingual Minecraft survival world [English, Spanish, Portuguese, French and Korean predominantly so far] opened on March 22, 2023 that uses real time translations to break language barriers and educate a large audience on different cultures through Minecraft content. It came to life under the careful hands of Quackity and his team, building a fantastic world with plenty of stories to uncover. There is both server-based lore and individual creators stories, whoever you choose have all added their personal touches to this expansive place.

At the beginning of 2024 a soft reset happened where their spawn was shifted 200k blocks away from the original, allowing for a fresh start for both the audience and creators which makes it the perfect time for new members of the community!

More info below;

Brief lore recap so far;

QSMP originally started with Spanish and English creators who all got placed on a single world with a large wall down the middle [Quesadilla Island]. Arriving by train a few commented on their past where most seemed to be going for a fresh start from the worlds they left behind. Placing a giant red button on the wall with the words 'don't push it', the streamers ignored that immediately and pressed it. Destroying the wall that kept the two communities apart, early QSMP was very much building and bonding.

Then, the egg tasks came.

So a bit of fourth-wall breaking on the eggs, the eggs are admins who play children that were assigned to one Spanish and one English parent. During the beginning of the event they were paired up and given tasks to complete so their eggs didn't die [ex. reading a story, clearing a dungeon, mining], as they were also in survival the parents had to worry about keeping them alive from the mobs and other players [as QSMP includes a large list of mods there are several enemies who made their lives living hell].

Unfortunately some of the original eggs have since died leading to all the parents to get extremely protective over their own charges and everyone else's. Whether that be the fault of fellow players or the over-seeing organisation called The Federation, the islanders were bonded by tragedy and tribulations.

The Federation is the organisation that oversees caring for the island and its members, the main face is that white bear you've probably seen art of named Cucurucho. Its unclear where their morals lay, a lot of clues hint they are using the members who arrived via train and later other methods of transports as experiments. There have been plotlines investigating into this mysterious organisation, leading to some characters being harmed.

The QSMP is heavily focused on uniting cultures holding multiple holiday events for the different countries involved and raising awareness about traditions. They have also held server-wide events such as Purgatory 1 & 2 where they were all assigned teams and told to fight one another. Other events include being thrown in Prison together, leading to hilarious escape antics and much chaos.

What languages have been added?

The addition list went the Spanish & English, then Portuguese, then French and most recently one Korean creator [so far?].

Who and where can I watch VODs?

There are a total of 37 members [there was 38, but one has since been removed]. I will list them in order of additions as well as a brief statement about their creator, character and lore, you can view them anytime they are live through the link below.

A website crafted by Quackity and his team that allow you to turn on subtitles in your preferred language!

***These statements may contain spoilers of lore and storylines, I did my best to do a broad overview of the points I believe are important to them***

Quackity [English & Spanish speaking] (He / him)

The main man himself, Quackity is up first. Quackity has been making content for over a decade moving from server to server such as SMP Earth, DSMP and Karmaland. He started this project with the intent to break language barriers and by god he decimated them. Prone to clickbait and dramatic titles, he's got a kind heart full of passion you can see in everything he creates.

He plays two characters on QSMP currently, a cubito sharing his name then another named ElQuackity. Quackity is an erratic but caring individual who has a rather lonely lore but an intriguing one. Assigned an egg with no co-parent, Tilin and their father's relationship was distant at best. At the time of his child's death they were on okay terms but the guilt stuck with him until current day. Kidnapped by the Federation, he returned a broken man with little to no memories and had to be protected by others.

ElQuackity is his brother who behaves in a more cold and sinister fashion compared to Quackity's kind-hearted intentions. He disappears and reappears at various points throughout the lore, most recently in Purgatory when he infiltrated a team before being revealed as a traitor. Choosing to remain with the Watcher, who is the overseer of Purgatory, its unsure as to his next moves or his inner motivations.

Wilbur Soot [English speaking] (He / him)

Wilbur Soot is a content creator and musician, he has been absent as of late from the server on a hiatus. You may have heard his name attached to such servers as DSMP, SMP Earth, and SMP Live.

[I do not support him as a content creator, I'm adding this edit post everything coming out. Believe victims!]

He is the father of Tallulah, a sweet girl who loves music and flowers. Often serenading her with his guitar and singing. Entrusting her care to Philza, he hasn't been seen in quite some time. His absence has weighed on his daughter, but she has found her true family now.

FitMC [English speaking / learning Spanish and Portuguese] (He / him)

FitMC is a content creator from the wastelands of 2B2T, the oldest anarchy server in Minecraft. You may recognise him for his iconic voice, he streams Monday through Friday on QSMP. He was also on SMP Earth and SMP Live.

He plays a grizzled anarchist who puts up a front of an asshole but that hides his kind heart. He arrived on Quesadilla Island for a mission he's only recently discussed more in his individual lore and found a family along the way. Father of Ramon, his character recently started dating another by the name of Pac, who we will get into later. He was initially paired up with Spreen, who has since stopped playing on QSMP, as such Fit refers to him as his ex-partner. Close with Tubbo and Pac, their clique came to be known as Morning Crew as they often login at the same time. He worked as a Janitor for The Federation and was a part of the Rebellion against the Federation up until the soft reset, his current employment status is unknown since. In canon, he has a prosthetic left arm in which he stores the data he needs to save.

His chat is known as the Huevitos.

Philza / Ph1lzA [English speaking / learning Spanish] (He / him)

Philza is a content creator who is known for dying in his 5 year Hardcore world to a baby zombie, a spider and a skeleton. The clip went viral landing him on the news, boosting him into regular viewership by Minecraft enthusiasts. His history also includes DSMP, SMP Live and SMP Earth. You may know him as part of Sleepy Bois Inc, as well as a warrior in keeping Technoblade's memory alive. He streams Monday, Wednesday and Friday, usually a few hours in his current Hardcore World before he spends time in QSMP.

Father of Chayanne and Tallulah [Wilbur asked him to care for her in his absence leading to him adopting her as his daughter], he is an corvid hybrid fallen from grace. Notable features include the damaged crow wings you may see in fanarts, he is paranoid and observant. Platonically married to Missa Sinfonia, he is close friends with several islanders despite being a hermit. Fierce and will return damages tenfold if provoked, he has a rocky history with the Federation and other methods of authority, joining Ordo Theoritas, earning Cellbit's trust and admiration with his photography and hoarding of important items. With references to his Hardcore Lore & Deities aplenty, he is my favourite POV and the one I started with.

His chat are portrayed as crows.

Jaiden Animations [English speaking] (She / her)

Jaiden is an animator and creator most well known for her animated gameplay videos and funny anecdotes. I admit I don't know much about her past relating to roleplay servers, she has amazing content regardless.

Jaiden's character is a bit different to the others with an unknown past, lore has revealed that she might be more tied to the Federation than she originally thought. Also an avian hybrid, she formed a close bond with Cucurucho which lead to some distrust between herself and the other islanders. Mother of Bobby, who is deceased, she was partnered with Roier as a parental unit and mourns her lost child to this day.

Her chat is a flock of hummingbirds who follow her around.

BadBoyHalo [English speaking] (He / him)

Badboyhalo has an extensive history with Minecraft gameplay, a prominent member within these communities and was one of the first members of DSMP and now QSMP.

BBH plays a demon hybrid who is friendly and kind, he is willing to help out any member new and old. Logging long hours he probably has some of the highest playtime on that server, whether that be caring for the egg children, hanging out with friends or bothering Foolish Gamers. All the eggs look up to him as a parental figure, there are plenty of jokes he is the server's babysitter but I don't think he minds. All islanders have spoken about how much they trust him with their charges, his priority has always been the kids. Father of Dapper and Pomme, he co-parents them with Baghera Jones.

His community is known as Ghosties.

Foolish Gamers / Foolish [English speaking / learning Spanish] (He / him)

Foolish is well known for his incredible building skills, when he was added to DSMP it brought his name into relevancy where he flourished, expanding his gameplay into other games like Valorant which has a loyal following. He often engages in months long projects such as building the Titan from AOT and streams long hours regularly on the QSMP.

His character is portrayed as a Totem of Undying mixed with shark genes, leading to emerald eyes and parts of shark mixed into his physiology. Silly and chaotic, he is a well loved POV of the server for his jokes and ability to stumble across lore. Viewed as a more laid-back parent, he helps them learn through experience while making sure they don't get seriously hurt. He was hired by the Federation as an agent and an enforcement officer, leading to his fellow islanders keeping information away from him in fear. Father of Leonarda with Vegetta, his partner has been absent for many months leading to him raising and caring for Leo alone.

His chat are called Doozers, a reference to the TV show Fraggle Rock.

DanTDM [English speaking] (He / him)

I am going to keep this one short and sweet, Dan was one of the original members but ended up dropping out of the project due to personal reasons, no bad blood. Father of Trump with AgenteMaxo, Trump died quite early into the server due to neither of their parents logging in.

Charlie Slimecicle [English speaking] (He / him)

Charlie Slimecicle is a hilarious creator who has a gift for breathing life and depth into any character he creates. Sharing a similar history as others on this list, he participated in DSMP, SMP Live and SMP Earth.

His character is tragic, in short. He was charged with caring for an egg he named Juana Flippa with his wife ElMariana, their daughter then died from a sweeping edge glitch that was discovered months after her death. Going on the rampage of a lifetime, he was stopped by the other members when his intent was to kill the other children potentially forcing whoever was in control to revive them all including his daughter again. Failing, he has struggled to find a place and purpose for months until his 'daughter' came back and he became infected with a type of code virus causing his physical appearance to become warped. During the QSMP Prison arc he was informed he was a father of one of the newest eggs, SunnySideUp, his co-parents are Tubbo, Pol and Lenay.

Luzu [English & Spanish speaking] (He / him)

I am going to be honest, I am a newer fan of Luzu so I will do my best to describe him but please take this with a grain of salt.

Luzu is a creator who played on the same server as Quackity called Karmaland which a good majority of the Spanish speakers have in common. Sarcastic, chaotic and slightly unhinged, he's always willing to go with the bit.

Luzu's lore is interwoven with the main storyline, though his cubito has been IA from the server he would often log in to leave cryptic messages in binary and computers followed him everywhere he settled. Father of Tilin with Quackity, Tilin unfortunately also passed early into the server leaving them in mourning. Something the parental unit holds to this day, threatening harm against the party who was the cause of their child's death.

Luzu's character is unique as he also has a counterpart named Arin, an AI bot who takes over when Luzu goes to sleep. Unable to speak aloud, they communicate through typing in the game chat and is extremely naïve.

Rubius [Norwegian, Spanish & English speaking] (He / him)

Rubius I admittedly don't know the most about as he was active early in the server's lifetime but less so lately. Also a member of Karmaland.

In those beginning days he played an Angel / Devil entity who seemed particularly protective of the eggs the islanders were assigned between making requests of the server members in exchange for rewards. Prior to the Purgatory Event he revealed he had been stripped of his power and thrown back to the mortal realm to participate in the Purgatory Event, it's unsure past that point as he has not logged back in.

ElMariana [Spanish speaking / learning Portuguese and English] (He / him)

Mariana is a creator who hails from the lands of Tiktok, he's dramatic and friendly, often a little bit flirty.

Mariana is Slimecicle's goverment assigned wife and they often playfully argue with one another between divorces. The other half of Juana's parents, he has a rough past of being the reason Flippa lost one of her lives. It's referenced to this day despite the fact Mariana cares quite a bit for the remaining children, gentle and sweet with everyone's kids. He's one of the less active members, recently given a new child named Pepito who he co-parents with Roier, Carre, Quackity and Rivers.

SpreenDMC [Spanish speaking] (He /him)

Another one I will keep short as he no longer plays on the server. Father of Ramon, his influence only shows in the family he abandoned occasionally making snarky comments against his character. Rumours go he is Missa's brother but I am not entirely sure how canon that is to the server's lore.

Missa Sinfonia [Spanish & English speaking / can understand some Portuguese] (He / him)

Missa is a musician and a Youtube-based creator primarily, he knew Roier, Spreen and Quackity prior to his invitation to the QSMP. The epitome of wet cat energy, you can't help but enjoy his silly energy as he will always bring a smile to your face with his antics.

Very similar to his character in fact, paired up with Philza during the initial egg event they were quick to label themselves platonically married as they cared for their son Chayanne. Missa is a rare appearance on the island but always a delightful one when he does. He believes he isn't worth Phil's affections due to his absences, something Phil is quick to squash as he always makes sure there is space in their lives for him. A rare eclipse when they are together, the fandom likes to compare them to the sun and the moon. Tallulah considers him her third father, post being asked during the Prison event when there was a rare reunion of 4 of 5 members of the Death Family [Philza, Missa, Chayanne, Tallulah and Wilbur Soot].

Roier [Spanish & English speaking / can understand some Portuguese] (He / him)

Roier hails from the land of Youtube gameplays where he posts regularly. Friends with Missa, Quackity, Spreen and Rubius among others, he was one of the original draft for Quesadilla Island.

In character Roier is funny, energetic and known for playing multiple personas with a talent for voice acting. Easy to get along with and goated at fighting, he is only a call away when something serious happens. Paired with Jaiden to become Bobby's parents up until Bobby's death, he remains close with Jaiden and protects her. Adopted as a son by Foolish and Vegetta, he has a playful relationship with his sister Leo and will look after her if needed. Meeting and falling in love with fellow islander Cellbit, after they got married he considers Richarlyson and Pepito as his own. One of his persona's is Melissa, his cousin who runs a therapist office in the original borders of the land. His streams on the server are random, but a good time!

I am not the most caught up on his lore but from what I have seen in passing he went into mourning when Cellbit chose to stay on Purgatory in an effort to save his son and his personality became more withdrawn. Roier has a twin brother Doied who implemented his twin's consciousness into a rat and took over Roier's body. This lore is still ongoing, some islanders have become suspicious of Doied.

Vegetta777 [Spanish speaking / some fluency in English and French] (He / him)

Another arrival who has Karmaland in his past, Vegetta is known for his impressive builds and a love of symmetry. He has a distinct voice and is famous within the Spanish community for his gameplay.

He was decently active at the start, creating a large property he then surrounded with security procedures after a certain red-hood wearing demon broke in to trade with his villagers. Paired up with Foolish as parents of Leo, both doted on their child with great amounts of love until Vegetta stopped logging on.

I don't know the story as to why he hasn't come back in a while, but it led to a storyline of Foolish & Leo becoming much more dependant on each other and his character still has importance each time either of them see something that reminds them of him.

Maximus [Spanish & English speaking] (He / him)

Another person I am not sure about his history [I can't find too much online so I'll talk mainly about his lore].

Maximus is the other half of Trump's parents who took his son's death hard. Launching him into investigating the real truths behind Quesadilla Island and later establishing the The Theory Bros in an effort to uncover anything to help, Max was a figurehead in early lore for pushing back against the Federation and trying to find out their secrets. His creation of the Theory Bros lead to Ordo Theoritas, which will become important in later character discussions. Max has since passed in the lore via giant nuke on Egg Island, where Purgatory was held, but I've heard some rumours he may return in the future. Do not take that as a certainty, I only know from a few clips I have seen with him speaking about it.

~That's it for the original members, let's move on to who was added afterwards~

The Cargo Ship arrival April 30, 2023

Cellbit [Portuguese, English & Spanish speaking] (He / him)

Cellbit is a famous creator from Brazil through many forms of creative media, his most prominent being a tabletop RPG called "Ordem Paranormal" he created and hosts regular campaigns through. Compassionate and clever, he is known for his love of puzzles and roleplay. Most notably of his past is his escape from prison pertaining to his character alongside Pac and Mike within Minecraft: FUGA IMPOSSÍVEL - O FILME.

The character he plays has an incredible amount of depth, deeply entwined with the Federation and other fellow members of the island. Curious as a cat he began to investigate the mysterious organisation known as the Federation. Going to dangerous depths to find hidden secrets, becoming employed by them in an attempt to grow closer. This eventually lead to his capture and subsequent torture by Cucurcuho.

Once he was released he went on to take a more passive role, forming Ordo Theoritas. Spreading the word he would take any information, other islanders stepping up to help. Leading to him growing closer with his fellow people as his life turns more joyful, he marries Roier in the first wedding on Quesadilla Island. He is the father of Richarlyson, Bobby and Pepito and twin brother of Bagi. Though his past is bloody and left scars on friends of old such as Pac & Mike, many members trust him implicitly and he always takes special care to save flowers for all the egg children, forging close bonds with them all as one of their tios. Cellbit took a break from QSMP post-Purgatory events but has since returned, he likes doing multiple things a stream as such the QSMP is often a segment between various games and chatting.

Felps [Portuguese & English speaking / learning Russian] (He / him)

Felps has a running joke going with the QSMP that he never actually joined, which is only reinforced by his more rare logins to the server. He streams often on Twitch leading to most of his content surrounding that channel and is a longtime friend of Cellbit, Pac and Mike.

I am going to be so real, I don't know the most about Felps and the character he plays other than he dug a giant hole near original spawn and the islanders now worship him as Saint Felps. An adoptive father of Richarlyson he is spoken about fondly by other islanders, indicating he has a caring heart and is an attentive father when he logs in.

Pac [Portuguese & English speaking] (He / him)

One half of Tazercraft, Pac is an excitable and enthusiastic creator who you can't help but become enamoured with. Bright and a fantastic actor, his history is connected with both Cellbit and Mike prior to QSMP in Minecraft: FUGA IMPOSSÍVEL - O FILME.

As a character Pac is friendly and approachable, often even flirty with those he is comfortable with. He is positive to everyone but himself, lacking any love towards the accomplishments of his past. He loves with his whole heart, quick to comfort anyone who needs it or to be a listening ear. His right leg was lost during his escape from prison with Mike, resulting in a prosthetic. He co-owns Chume Labs with his best friend, enjoying causing general shenanigans with those he is close with whether that be breaking rules or going places they shouldn't be. A recent development is he is now dating FitMC after the anarchist told him the truth about the anarchist's past, a couple formed on the basis of a strong friendship they are not afraid to flaunt their happiness. Quick to accept Ramon as his son alongside Richarlyson, he will give it all to protect those he now see as his family. A member of the Rebellion against the Federation, he lends his aid when needed as one of the newest recruits. Close to Fit and Tubbo, a grouping that came to be known as Morning Crew as their schedules matched leading to many occasions of spending time together.

Mike [Portuguses & English speaking] (Any pronouns)

Outspoken, silly and a fun time to watch, you know you will be entertained after tuning into one of Mike's streams. Best friend of Pac and married to a beautiful soul, he has an enjoyable energy to him. The other half of Tazercraft, he participated within Minecraft: FUGA IMPOSSÍVEL - O FILME.

A lot of this carries over to his character, an erratic scientist at Chume Labs with a love for general rule-breaking and experimenting. He *ahem* took a bunch o' Kelp cocaine and passed out for a good long while but he has since returned. Between himself and Pac they have built several minigames on QSMP such as Hide n' Seek and Murder Mystery. A more strict parent of Richas compared to his best friend, he is willing to go to any length to save those he loves including spilling blood. A regular appearance on QSMP, he enjoys spending time with his friends and his son.

Forever [Portuguese & English speaking] (He / him)

I wasn't even sure I wanted to include this but I wish to record the actions of only his character. He was expelled from the QSMP for past actions that I do not condone under any circumstances. I will not go into detail here, I will leave that up to you if you wish to search.

In my statement below I am only speaking of the character he played and the lore he influenced.

Forever arrived with the rest of the Brazilian members and soon thereafter the Elections arc kicked off. He was voted in as President and was the liaison between the Federation and the rest of the islanders. A doting parent, he built NINHO, a protective hotel that could instantly teleport entities by simply interacting with a camera tablet all islanders held to protect everyone's children. When their children went missing it led to him being medicated by Cucurucho to become happier. Pac followed his footsteps with the intent to also become less sad but was convinced by Cellbit to document his symptoms in an attempt to find a cure. Due to that foresight, both of them were cured by Philza, BBH and Cellbit after finding the instructions and ingredients at Chume Labs. Later becoming infected by black matter which seemed to possess him, he was then stopped by Cucurucho during a rampage who then executed him after teleporting him far away.

The Plane arrival May 16, 2023

Baghera Jones [French & English speaking / learning Spanish] (She / her)

Baghera Jones is a badass. That's the long and short of it. As a creator she has raced cars and is just about the coolest person I have ever seen. She has an active YouTube channel and enjoys streaming regularly.

She also plays an amazing character on the server. Strong, smart, sensitive and strong, she is respected by many members of the island. Mother of Pomme and Dapper, she took to motherhood quickly and dotes on her children with her whole heart. She did run for President but then gave up her chance as a rebellious act against the Federation. Striving to get better in fighting skills to protect her loved ones, she will go to the bloody end for those she loves. She took a break from the server at the same time Cellbit did but has since returned.

Her chat is potrayed as fireflies.

Etoiles [French & English speaking] (He / him)

Etoiles is a man of culture and is honourable, an enthusiast for learning new things besides his gaming content he also hosts museum walkthroughs educating thousands about ancient histories. Known for his prowess in both Super Smash Bros and Minecraft PVP, he often grinds long hours on the QSMP in pursuit of knowledge about the world they were spawned into.

His character is an anthroplantae cucumber, no I am not kidding, who is infected by code after completing his sword earned through combat. One of the main antagonists near the start of the lore were these creatures the islanders nicknamed Code Monsters who would appear with overpowered weapons. Choosing to prove his worth in battle, Etoiles spent many hours battling these beasts and learning their methods, earning himself a special shield and sword and the title of the best at PVP on QSMP. He enjoys bantering with fellow islanders and is generous with items, liking to gift items to people to make their lives easier. Father of Pomme, he will do anything for those he protects and enjoys being tio of all of the eggs. A member of the Rebellion, he strives to create harmony on the server and to protect those compromised or weaker than him.

AntoineDaniel [French & English speaking] (He / him)

Antoine is multifaceted as an actor, streamer and Youtuber [he even has a Wikipedia page, I just found out]. He seems clever and very comedically gifted, easily making others laugh.

There isn't much known about the character he portrays which seems to be ideal thing for him. A mystical identity with multiple faces, alluding to not being human and higher that average health, he will always surprise you. He appears when he wants to and leaves impressions on everyone he comes across.

Kameto [French speaking] (He / him)

There isn't much online with who Kameto is beyond he has competed in League of Legends tournaments in the past and Etoiles is a close friend of his.

It was revealed several months ago that Kameto is an undercover spy for the Federation but he hasn't logged on in a good while so nothing has come to fruition surrounding that.

AyPierre [French & English] (He / him)

He knows a ton about the mods within the QSMP, showing up and building large factories to store massive amounts of resources, plus a good amount of knowledge surrounding redstone. He likes running things from the shadows and being a supplier of goods and services. Enjoys streaming on the server regularly and has a playful rivalry with Tubbo surrounding create and what they can build. Once upon a time he was dating Max but things ended badly, he seems to regret Max dying before things were at least amicable between them. I am not sure the distinction between the cc and the character, I will leave that up to you if you are curious about his content.

The Ice Prison arrival August 28, 2023

Niki Nihachu [German, Spanish & English speaking] (She / her)

Niki Nihachu is a gifted actor and roleplayer who is close friends with several of the other members of QSMP, a former DSMP member as well and an old friend of several other members. Kind, soft spoken and gentle, she is very open about mental health struggles and provides a safe environment for her community.

In character she is part cat and part human, with white ears poking from her pink hair. Not much has been revealed about her character other than she is fiercely careful surrounding the eggs and is ready to defy figures of authority given any reason. Mother of Empanada, she is close to her fellow mothers as well as other islanders like Tubbo and Philza. At the original spawn her daughter and herself made plans with the Death Family to start a bakery but it is unclear whether those plans still stand where they are living now.

Tubbo_ [English speaker / learning British Sign Language] (He / him)

Energetic to an unhinged amount, he acts like he has consumed about fourteen coffees in thirty seconds but its just so endearing you can't help but tune in. A former member of DSMP and SMP Earth, close friends with Philza, Niki, Quackity, Foolish and Wilbur Soot.

From his day one of the QSMP he has some of the highest playtime between streaming on both his main and alt channel whether it be hanging out with friends or building his thousandth machine. Likes testing the rules and the extent of the servers capabilities, tempting Cucurucho's ire within hours of being on the server leading to him strongly distrusting anyone in power. Assigned a bright and confident egg named SunnySideUp he was alone as a parent in raising her for the first several months, relying on friends nearby such as his fellow Morning Crew to care for her. In character it was recently revealed he is not alive, at least not in the human sense after being forcefully shut down by Richas in a play brawl. Tubbo going offline led to the appearance of Creation, someone who is programmed to protect all the eggs in order of importance starting with Tubbo's daughter Sunny.

IronMouse [English, Spanish, Korean & Japanese speaking] (She / her)

A well known creator for many things including an easily recognisable persona, a beautiful singing voice from many years of perfecting it and an impressive amount of charity work, she is an icon. A gremlin at heart, she was a welcome and surprising addition to the QSMP who I now can't imagine the server without.

Another demon in the lore, she offers advice to her fellow species while being a proud member of her race. With a scream that could shatter eardrums she is willing to claw her way through any obstacle. Wild and free, she is dramatic and fiery with her admiration. Mother of Empanada, she is close to Foolish and was one of the only people he invited to live near him.

Tina Kitten [English / some Korean speaking] (She / her)

Tina Kitten rose to prominence during the era of Among Us playing games with several large creators and becoming a regular content creator. Close to Foolish, she was apart of DSMP up until its conclusion along with Foolish, Badboyhalo and several others.

In character she is a demon who is very secretive about her true race, playing it off like she is human as she seems ashamed of her identity. Interested romantically in another character named Bagi, she makes friends easy but has trouble opening up to others. Mother of Empanada, when she is angry her aggression bursts forth which she attempts to keep at bay as to not scare the others.

Lenay [English & Spanish speaking] (She / her)

Lenay's career is impressive to say the least, a lot of this I am just learning now. Discovered as an actor and hosting a regular show on MTV, she's gone on to have credits in both acting and singing while also being a Youtuber and a Twitch Streamer.

On QSMP she is a rare login but always a delight when that happens, she is the mother of Sunnyside up alongside Pol, Slime and Tubbo. Tubbo crafted this whole lore about her being a mermaid when Sunny discovered one of her mother's bodies floating in a river near original spawn, they have met since but Lenay hasn't logged on past the first day of the soft reset. Married to German irl, they are intent to protect one another during gameplay and often stick close together.

Riversgg [English, Spanish & French speaking] (She / her)

Rivers is a Mexican streamer and Youtuber who has a large list of accomplishments. She is quite sporty including both through soccer and winning a large boxing match plus she owns a restaurant? Basically, the coolest person to ever exist.

Shown to be gifted in player vs player combat, holding her own in Purgatory along with being able to strike up a conversation with anyone around she is a valuable asset to any team. Close allies with Roier and her fellow Spanish speaking creators, she is also the mother of Pepito.

Willyrex [Spanish & English speaking] (He / him)

Willyrex is a famous Spanish Youtube personality and has written a series of books with Vegetta777. His Youtube channel is within the top 100 most subscribed in the world, doing a variety of content. A member of Karmaland alongside other creators such as Vegetta, Quackity, Luzu and Rubius.

Willyrex has a love for explosions, setting mines all over the previous spawn as he moved from place to place. Choosing not to build a house worried it would be destroyed, he has grown close with a few of the egg children during his apperences on the server such as Dapper, Ramon and Tallulah. Wishing to have an egg of his own, he commented on their weakness but grew attached to many of them quickly.

Polispol [Spanish, English & Catalan speaking] (He / him)

A cinematographer and director, he is someone Quackity looks up too. Having a love of film, he has several credits under his name. I admit I don't know the most about him otherwise and there isn't too much online, he seems to have a genuine and kind heart.

Traits that carry over to his character, he is very friendly and enjoys light hearted pranks upon fellow server members. Father of Sunny, they have yet to meet as he has been on break and last I heard the admins were cooking something with his lore but nothings come of that yet.

German [Spanish & English speaking] (He / him)

German has the second most subscribed channel on Youtube in the Spanish language. He is a Youtuber, singer & songwriter, comedian and writer. Married to Lenay, he has many achievements to his name and is well known across the internet including appearing in many Youtube Rewinds.

As a character...there is basically nothing. Tied with DanTDM for how often he has signed onto the server, the only thing to be said is he is protective of his partner Lenay and enjoys exploring the environment around him. He has no egg assigned to him, similar to Willyrex, the only two on the island without children.

The Wheel arrival September 16 & 18th, 2023

Bagi [Portuguese & English speaking] (She / her)

From the lovely lands of Brazil, she is close friends with several other members such as Cellbit, Pac, Mike and Felps. Youtuber and streamer, she is determined and strong.

Descriptors I could also use for the character she plays, willing to wield a weapon against anyone who harms her or those she cares about. Smart and analytical, she has been independently researching into the Federation and her past. Discovering the fact Cellbit is her twin brother, they share many secrets between them after having a heart to heart in their old home on the island. She knows how far her brother is willing to go in his emotional states and supports him regardless even if she doesn't agree with his methods. One of the first person she trusted with the location of her secret base besides her best friend Pac, she is cautious and clever in creating sanctuaries for her family and loved ones. A regular streamer who is considered to be a part of Morning Crew & Friends, many people on the island trust in her and her abilities. Mother of Empanada and Richarylson, she wanted to be a parent from the moment she joined during the time the eggs were missing. When they returned, she gained two children and loves them dearly.

Carre [Spanish / some English & Portuguese fluency] (He / him)

Carre is a Twitch streamer and Youtuber who does a variety of content winning fans over with his charisma and comedy. Coming from a well known series called Tortillaland, he also enjoys dancing and has won and award for it. Prior to joining QSMP it's noted he is friends with Roier, Quackity and ElMariana which reflects in his gameplay on the QSMP.

He is a carefree and social individual, easily getting along even with people he doesn't regularly interact with. He isn't upfront with his caring nature, taking things to heart like when Roier killed him in Purgatory. He was worried about meeting his son Pepito but once he did they grew close quickly, skateboarding all across the server together.

The Third Train February 11, 2024

악어 / Acau [Korean speaking / learning English] (He / him)

The newest member of the server, the first Korean speaking creator he joined recently after the soft reset. Relying entirely on the translator unlike the previous additions, he got along well with people immediately.

Teasing others and taking to parenthood right off the bat of the newest egg 춘식 (pronounced Choo-n-shi-k), many other islanders have offered their help as they complete quests and raid dungeons together. Proficient in PVP, he is quick on his feet and stubborn.

I hope this blog helps you if you are interested, this server is one of the most welcoming and receptive of feedback I have ever seen. Everyone who is white-listed grew close as friends if it wasn't the cause of their reunion, drawing a large community to surround them.

I promise even though the lore can seem overwhelming there are plenty of people who are willing to answer any question you may have. I have loved my time here, I started my journey into MCYT content through DSMP and found a lovely home here while still fondly appreciating my past.

If people want I will come back to edit this to include a portion for the eggs, or maybe I will do a separate post?

Let me know in the tags or replies if you stumble across this post after the poll has been completed.

Anyways, this is Wren signing off, this post took me 3 days to write and please feel free to reply letting me know of any mistakes within the information!

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shigayokagayama · 2 months ago

Note

What are the biggest losses between the manga and anime? I just finished watching mp100 and I'm curious what the manga has!

ok biggest losses are kind of hard to define because like. anime and manga are two inherently different mediums and there are a good amount of cuts that improve pacing and then a good amount of cuts that people sort of argue over the merit of so im just going to go for biggest differences. i would also highly recommend reading the manga just because it is a pretty different experience tonally along with the minor plot differences and cut scenes + theres a bunch of omakes that both flesh out characters that dont get too much focus and have some really good bits in them. putting the rest of this post under a cut bc i ramble

mogami arc

this one is kind of inescapable i feel like but the anime version of the mogami arc had a LOT of things trimmed for a couple different reasons. season 2 already got an extra episode in order to do the fire scene as a cliffhanger so with the way things shook out the director had to choose between a. cutting a bunch of stuff out of separation arc to make it one episode so mogami arc couid stay three episode or b. cutting a bunch of stuff out of mogami arc so separation arc could stay two episodes. imo they made the right choice, whats even the point of adapting mob psycho if you dont get confession arc right, but some of the cuts to mogami arc will be dearly missed and others will be fought over to the end of time. cuts include:

minori being established as a brat in a video everyones shown and the video being part of how reigen deduces shes possessed (reigen deducing her possession in the manga is generally just a lot better done and after you read the manga the scene in the anime feels so awkward because you know whats missing

the psychics deciding to band together to beat this little girl to death to save themselves and shinra stepping between them to protect her and getting utterly thrashed, not by mogami, but his fellow psychics

reigen trying to convince mob to leave without him and call for help while he distracts him which leads to this

the general mogamiland section lasting a lot longer and being more brutal (notably the stray cat mob feeds getting killed in front of him)

mob getting fucking torn to pieces by spirits during the fight instead of ambiguously dying offscreen

generally would recommend if nothing else reading the manga version of this arc and confession arc because i feel like these are the only two where you lose like. a significant amount of the story and themes from the cuts. speaking of....

2. WHY THE FUCK DID THEY CUT THIS I WILL BE MAD UNTIL I DIE

maybe its just because i reread this arc on its own probably 50 times before the anime came out but this is the only arc where the cuts actively piss me off because there is absolutely no reason they had to do it. they cut a bunch of important shit, left in things that didnt need to be there, and added scenes that contribute literally nothing to the overall point. if they just did any one of those things or combo of two of those things i wouldnt be as mad but it feels like they put a bunch of filler in then speedran the actual story

cut #1 that pisses me off: HOMOPHOBIA?????

THERE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A HEART IN HIS EYE. WHY DID THEY NOT INCLUDE THIS. THIS IS THE CULMINATION OF TERUS ARC. THIS IS HIM SEEING THE PERSON HE HAS IDOLIZED AND DEIFIED IN HIS HEAD AT THEIR LOWEST AND STILL CHOOSING TO LOVE HIM, AND THROUGH THIS HE IS CAPABLE OF BEING LOVED EVEN THOUGH HES NOT PERFECT BECAUSE NO ONE IS. WHY WOULD YOU CUT THIS?

cut #2 I NEED WHOEVER CUT THE DIALOGUE FROM THE FIRST PANEL IN PRISON

the lack of inclusion of the first panels dialogue along with the cuts to the mob and shigeo conversation (WHICH WE WILL GET TO) make me think the person who adapted this arc fundamentally misunderstood what was happening. this line. is. THE POINT. THIS ISNT SOME SEPARATE SCARY THING. THIS IS MOB. HE IS CHOOSING TO DO THIS BECAUSE HE IS SCARED AND ANGRY AND HURT BUT HE IS IN CONTROL OF HIS ACTIONS AND ALWAYS HAS BEEN.

cut #3 HE DOESNT WANT TO BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR HIS ACTIONS

this entire conversation is so good and i was looking forward to watching it voice acted for so long and its just. gone. for me the "i am shigeo kageyama who are you" reveal felt like a gut punch because the opening being "i knew i would be needed" made me go "oh hes like possessed or his powers are sentient or something" and this conversation was the slow unraveling of my view of these as two separate people and instead as a scared, traumatized teenager who has convinced himself that the parts of himself he hates are something else outside of his control instead of an intrinsic part of who he is because if he's convinced that the parts of him that are able to feel desire and frustration and anger and malice are him then he'll lose all these relationships he's worked so hard to cultivate as his perfect, non confrontational self. and of course that isnt true. all his friends and loved ones are making their way to the center of a damn hurricane because they see he's in distress and want to help him. but he cant see that so he pushes them away. ugh. mob. protagonist of all time.

cut #4 WHY WOULD YOU CHANGE THE COMPOSITION OF THIS I CAN LITERALLY SEE HOW THIS WOULD BE ANIMATED IN MY MINDS EYE W

can you imagine how beautiful this would be in motion. just. god.

cut #5 HE WAS TALKING OUT LOUD. REIGEN HEARD ALL THIS

cut #6 the bowling arc

so the scene where reigen takes his shoes off is supposed to be a lot more solemn bc like. taking your shoes off before killing yourself is a trope in japanese media (ive heard it started in media and bled over into real life but i might have it backwards?). reigen knew he was probably going to die. anyway i cant take this scene seriously because of this edit

the bowling arc.

cut #7 WAAAAAAAAAAAA

WAAAAAAAAAAAA *sniff* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

cut #8 homophobia again

rip pensive fruity tea sip

cut #9 mob threw the cake directly in reigens face on purpose

i literally experienced every stage of grief realizing this got changed. why. its so perfect. why would you change this.

3. World Domination arc

so WD arc is in a very interesting place where it had a lot of scenes cut but unlike the other two most of the cut content youre like. yea probably best not to include that. ill start with the good content that got cut then go into the weird content

serizawa got his power drained by toichiro. i am quite sad this scene didnt make it in because its sorta heartbreaking

teru fighting off the claw assassin is shown and we see that teru can both make shadow clones AND hold a barrier while attacking, he seems to be the only esper with this ability!

the reason dimple could tell mob's family was alive is that there was no sense of grudge at the house which would have been left behind by people passing in a violent manner

mob briefly goes unconscious during the start of the toichiro fight and dimple possesses him and says "shit"

dimple possessing mob shoots shibata with a gun

we get mukai lore.

it doesnt make any sense and just raises more questions but we get it.

toichiro has a team of telepaths to recap where everyone is because this arc took an entire calender year to update

literally everyone shows up to fight shimazaki. i cannot stress enough how many people show up to fight shimazaki. it would be faster to list espers who dont show up to fight shimazaki

the middle school delinquents show up and start fighting the claw grunts literally completely out of no where and this is never brought up or referenced ever again

when mob and ritsu get home ritsu says all their stuff is in boxes and they need to hurry and redecorate the house before their parents get home which implies that shou packed the entire households worth of belongings into boxes and hid it somewhere before lighting their house on fire which is such a funny mental image that i cant even be mad at it. loony toons ass plot point.

4. other random interesting cut things

takenaka is just generally more of a bitch during alien arc. "ah i think they took him" remains one of the funniest goddamn panels in the manga

peak

alien arc overall is a lot funnier in the manga, i have a slight preference for the manga version just bc theres a lot of really good bits that didnt make it to anime but the anime version is so heartfelt and nostalgic it makes me happy

between omakes and small things that got cut or changed for the anime teru just feels way more fleshed out in the manga. like. anime teru is a completely different person. its hard to explain if youve never read it.

the all girls school part originally went right before the ghost family stuff and was the beginning of mob's existential crisis about why spirits and people get different treatment but tbh it works well where it is i just wish it werent. like that.

the scene where ritsu and teru shake hands was teru draining ritsus power which he seems to have learned to do from encountering ???%

teru.

thats all i can think of off the top of my head, im sure ill realize i forgot something some time after posting this but. yeah. read the manga its good

#mp100 #mob psycho 100

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natsarrownecklacx · 1 year ago

Text

Cruelty Is An Art Form

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word count- 1,920

Summary- Your the daughter of one of New York’s most known Mob leaders. Unfortunately, you’ve caught the attention of New York’s most feared Mob leader, Natasha Romanoff.

Warnings- Minors this fic isn’t for you, Allusion to murder, Dark Mob Natasha, Thigh riding, marking, allusion to non con.

ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ

There is no evil known to mankind worse than Natasha Romanoff. Of this, you are almost certain.

Sure there are other terrible things that plague the world like famine, natural disasters and horrific diseases, but the difference between Natasha and all of those things is that, when it comes to how they affect people, it isn’t their fault. All of those things are more or less out of our control, and the way they impact people, out of their control.

Natasha however, is practiced with her cruelty. Each and every ounce of pain and suffering she inflicts is calculated and purposefully. She takes a pride in it that could only be measured to that of a parent towards their child or an artist towards their art.

Usually when a person contains this type of passion for cruelty it would be contained to the unfortunate few people who find themselves in the presence of the evil being who cultivates it. For example serial killers or people with an affinity for torture and their victims.

Sadly this isn’t the case with Natasha Romanoff, who has enough power and influence that her cruelty spans over hundreds if not thousands of people, even if they do not realize it. As the leader of one of the most powerful and dangerous gangs in New York City, Natasha’s control spans just over triple the city's population.

She is known throughout the underworld of gang leaders as the “black widow”, the name being given to her in recognition of the countless bodies she has left up and down the coast of many cities across the globe.

No one would dare mess with her, in any way, unless they had a death wish. Even then, unless that person wanted to die in the most slow and torturous ways even the darkest minds could not conceive, they would stay far, far away from her.

Which is something you’ve, thankfully, managed to do for all twenty years of your life, despite your fathers standing as a rival gang leader in New York. One that, for the past few months, Natasha has been taking territory from.

To Natasha anyone other than herself and the few people of her inner circle are merely ants ready to be squashed under her boot at a moments notice, even purely for her own twisted entertainment. So she did not know, nor did she care, who’s territory she was taking over, nor did she fear any backlash from the unknown ant.

Your father let her behavior slide, for the sake of peace and to avoid the possibility of innocent civilians getting harmed in the crossfire if he were to start a war between his own gang and the widows.

He has warned you to stay far away from her, away from any territory she deemed her own, in fear that she may recognise you and harm you for the sake of sending a message to not only him but the other leaders in the city.

So you did as he asked and stayed away, not wanting to cause any problems for your father or anyone else. But how were you to know that while you were on a night out with your friends that the redhead would choose the exact bar you occupied and claim it as her own, killing the previous owner where he sat in his office before strolling her way up to the bar to order herself a glass of vodka.

Natasha sits at the bar, glass in hand as she lazily surveys the room, looking for someone to sate her need for the night, getting her use out of the unwitting victim before killing them.

As she moves her gaze around the room her eyes land on you, a pretty girl on the dance floor moving her hips along to the music in a way that catches Natasha’s attention and stops her mid way raising her glass to her mouth.

She watches you for a few moments, her darkening eyes drinking in every sway and move of your body as you lose yourself to the music and atmosphere around you, dangerously unaware of the predator approaching.

Natasha is unaware of who you are and in all honesty, she doesn’t care, her plan for you remains the same. Act like the sweet gentle woman she never will be, convince you to accompany her back to her mansion, use you like a toy until the sun comes up and then discard you like the broken used thing you will be once she's finished with you.

Natasha approaches you, reaching a hand out to your waist, moving her body against yours to the beat of the music. She treads lightly, not wanting to scare you off before she can get you at least into her car. The idea of making a public scene tonight just seems like an annoying headache for the redhead.

Feeling a feminine body slid in behind you mould to your own does not bother you, even as her hands slid sensually around your waist, pulling you flush against her. You relish in the attention from the unknown woman.

Natasha drags her lips against the pulse point of your neck causing you to tilt your head back, needing to give her more room. She suctions her lips to your neck, intent on leaving a mark and branding you as hers. Her toy for the night, her slut made to proudly wear her marks.

You can’t help the moan that quietly spills from your lips at the action, leaning your head back against her shoulder and moving your left hand up to grip the hair on the back of her neck, holding her in place while she leaves her marks on your skin.

Natasha slides her arms fully around your waist, tightening her hold on you and locking you in place as she slots her thigh between your legs. Your breath catches in your throat at the action and a whimper follows soon after when the mystery woman whispers “Move your hips, baby” in your ear hotly.

You do as she says, moving your hips slowly up and down her suit clad thigh. Her warm mouth continues its attack on the delicate skin of your neck, nipping and biting every so often to ensure her marks are clear.

The whole interaction makes you want to melt against her, melt into her, succumb to the pleasure the woman is bringing you. That is, until she tenses the muscles in her leg, the hard muscle hitting your clit just right in a way that has you moaning out “fuck” and tightening your hold on the redheads hair to the point that you cause her pain.

Natasha bites down hard on your neck in retaliation, the force of her teeth strong enough to nearly draw blood.

You gasp and quickly jerk your body away from her. Natasha loosens her hold, allowing you to turn and face her but still keeps you in her grasp. You spin around quickly, determined to tell her off for such a violent act.

Your breath is stolen from your lungs the second your eyes land on the woman your father spent countless day’s warning you away from.

Your eyes fill with fear, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the redhead, and you try to take a step back.

Natasha only tightens her grip on your waist, a smirk falling against her lips while confusion flickers behind her eyes. She can see from the look on your face that you know who she is, what she is capable of, yet she doesn’t know how. Word of the infamous black widow isn’t exactly common knowledge with the civilians in the city.

“You know me.” Natasha muses, tilting her head to the side slightly, her eyes lighting up when she feels you try to step away from her again. “And you're afraid.” She says, the smirk on her face nearly doubling in size, as she takes a step toward you.

Your eyes move frantically around the room, desperately looking for the men your father sent with you everywhere. Your body guards, as you call them, or your “protection detail” as they like to call themselves.

Natasha’s hold on your waist tightens again, pulling you flush with her front and ignoring your attempts to squirm away. Your attention turns back to her and you have to gulp down your fear at the sight of the look in her eyes. It truly feels to you as though she is a starved, deranged predator and you are her prey.

Natasha takes a moment to look you over, appraising you, while you squirm under her heavy stare, your eyes move away from her, unable to continue looking at her with the intensity of the moment.

“You're a pretty little thing aren’t you.” Natasha muses, gripping your jaw in her rough, calloused fingers and forcing you to look at her. Using her hold on your face she pulls you closer to her, until you are just a breath away.

Your mind tells you to slap her, to spit in her face, kick her between the legs and run as fast as your feet can carry you. Your survival instincts tell you otherwise, screaming at you that if you want to survive then you have to keep her as calm as possible until your fathers men realize where you are.

So you stand as still as you can, your hands making fists at your sides in an attempt to keep them from shaking. Natasha’s eyes glance down to your clenched fists, a smile sliding its way onto her face before her eyes move back to your face.

She moves her mouth next to your ear, her warm breath hitting your skin while she whispers to you. “Let me tell you a secret little dove.” You feel her lips smile against your skin, trailing a short path up and down the skin of your cheek before she speaks again. “I like it when pretty girls like you are afraid. The look you all get in your eyes when your afraid for your life…”

Natasha moves her hands to rest on the small of your back, moving your body in one swift jerk so that your thigh rests between her legs. She doesn’t waste a second before grinding down on the plush skin of your thigh, a grown falling from her lips at sensation. “... it gets me so, so wet, angel.”

Natasha feels more than hears the gasp that leaves your mouth, feels the air hit her face as she pulls back to look at you again. That annoying smirk is back on her face, her eyes dark with lust and need. You jerk your leg from between hers, narrowing your eyes at the fake pout she wears at the action.

Natasha tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, her eyes never leaving your face as she whistles a tune you’d never heard before. Within the blink of an eye nearly fifty bodies hit the floor, each of them going down silently, without so much as a scream, as though someone had simply powered them off.

You look around in shock and horror, your mind running through how she could have done something like that and if you’d be next.

“Don’t worry, angel.” Natasha coos, her voice a poor imitation of someone attempting to be soothing. “I won’t kill you.” She smiles, bringing her hands up to cup your face.

“You're of no use to me dead.”

ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ

A/n- Currently obsessed with dark mob boss Nat, let me know what you think so far, part two will be out this day next week

Part Two

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #Dark Natasha Romanoff x Reader #Mob boss Natasha x reader #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff smut

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slashmagpie · 11 months ago

Text

“Pearl? Why are you in my house?”

Pearl blinks up at Bdubs from where she’s sandwiched between the wall and the waterstream, curled up on herself in the narrow space. “Somebody destroyed all the lights in my base and now it’s full of mobs,” she says bitterly.

“It wasn’t me!” Bdubs cries, raising his hands.

“Well, I didn’t think it was you, but the way you just said that’s making me think—”

“No! I’d never! I swear!”

“...I believe you,” she says after a moment, and Bdubs feels himself relax. “Can I stay with you tonight? I don’t really feel like…” She gestures in the direction of her house.

Bdubs nods. “Oh, sure, for sure,” he says. Then, “Should we invite Joel over? His house got blown up too.”

“Ah, yeah, probably. Good idea, Bdubs.” She fumbles in her pocket for her communicator, eventually fishing it out. The screen is cracked. Her fingers shake as they tap against the glass.

“Are you okay there, Pearl? You look a little…” Bdubs forces his hands to tremble.

She glances up at him, face scrunching in confusion, before she lets out a small laugh. “Just the adrenaline, y’know.” She grins. “I’m red. It’s great.”

“If it was anyone else, I’d think they were being sarcastic. But with you! With you, I’m pretty sure you’re being serious!”

She giggles, hitting send on the message and shoving her communicator away. Bdubs doesn’t feel his own buzz; it must have been a whisper. “You know,” she says after a moment, “I’m a little surprised.”

Bdubs blinks. “Surprised about what?”

“That there’s still three of us.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I’m a little surprised, too! I thought for sure Joel would die today. For sure.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“Oh, no, never. But between you and me… that guy’s kind of a loose canon!”

She snorts. “Throwing stones from glass houses, there, Bdubs?”

“Surely I don’t know what you mean.”

“Mhm.” She pauses, eyes glancing down to where her fingers pick at a stray thread on her hoodie sleeve. “That’s kinda what I mean, though. Joel doesn’t live here, and you’re making friends with half the server, I’m surprised I’m not spending tonight alone.”

“Pearl…”

“What?” She snorts. “I know how these games go, Bdubs. People don’t stay loyal. Not for long, anyway.” She glances up at him, eyes half obscured by her hair. “People like Joel, people like you? I know how this ends.”

And Bdubs—

Well, he can’t pretend he doesn’t know what she means. Can’t pretend he doesn’t remember Impulse yelling as Bdubs’ arrow had found home in his throat. Can’t pretend he doesn’t remember Etho backing away when Bdubs had tried to get just a little too close. Can’t pretend he didn’t fight when he promised he’d run. Can’t pretend he hadn’t taken advantage of his broken home.

…He can’t pretend he doesn’t remember telling Martyn about their plans, or planning to do harm to Etho. Can’t pretend he doesn’t cross his fingers behind his back every time he makes a promise, just in case.

But at the same time, he remembers—searching for Cleo in a castle she’d been too dead to return to, pushing Lizzie to her death for a life he’d never received, taking two hands in his own and vowing to face the end as four instead of two, for once, for once in his life, choosing three and being pulled apart because of it—

Bdubs lets out a breath. “Pearl, hey, no,” he says. “I told you, didn’t I? I’m your weapon.” He gets down to his knees, lowers his head before her, feels her gaze burn into the top of his head.

“Bit late for that,” she says. “I’m my own weapon now, mate. Don’t need you to attack for me anymore.”

“Well, no—but—” He looks up at her. “Pearl. I’m yours. I promise.”

“Right. And you’re Martyn and Etho’s too, huh? We can share.”

“I’m using Martyn!” he protests. “That’s—that’s all it is—I’m usin’ him because he’s the first red and he knows his stuff! And Etho—”

“I don’t mind about Etho,” Pearl interrupts. “Like I said, I know you guys have your little thing going on. I don’t care about that.”

“I set a trap in his base,” Bdubs blurts.

Pearl blinks at him. “Excuse me?”

“I set a trap in his base. Tripwire hook.” He grins. “Right outside the bedroom. I—I think I got Grian, in the end? But—could have been Etho. I coulda—could’ve been Etho.” He swallows.

“And you’d have been okay with that?” Pearl asks, smile gone from her face, expression suddenly very serious.

“I—after I set it, I went up to them. Had a chat. Lied the whole time. I coulda—coulda told him. I didn’t.”

“And you’re okay with that?” she stresses.

She sounds dubious. Bdubs can’t blame her. He feels sick, swallowing back the bile that’s building in his throat.

“I—Pearl.”

“Bdubs?”

“I learned my lesson, Pearl. I learned—don’t put all your eggs in one basket! Because—because either they die, and then you get left alone, or—or it gets you killed, and you die. You gotta—I have two hands. I can be loyal to multiple people. But then I learned—when you do that? People aren’t loyal back. They don’t trust you anymore. Nobody else…” He laughs. “I feel like I’m the only one who can trust people like that anymore!”

“So…” She frowns. “So you’re making friends with everyone so you don’t get betrayed or left alone?”

“Exactly.”

“And you know none of us are gonna trust you for doing that.”

He swallows again. “Yeah, I know.”

“And you’re doing it anyway?”

“Well, what else—what else am I supposed to do? I can’t… I can’t go back, Pearl. That’s… I can’t go back. You know how it is.”

“…Yeah,” she says quietly. “I’m—I want you to win, Bdubs,” she says. “Out of everyone—I want it to be you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. So… You better not make me regret this.”

He blinks at her. “Regret what?”

She bows her head to him. “I’m your weapon,” she says, an echo of his earlier words. “And a bit more of a dangerous one at that.” Her smirk leaks back into her words as she glances up and winks at him. “So use me well, alright, Bdubs? I want you to win this.”

Bdubs’ heart is in his throat. He swallows it back down. It burns.

“I’ll do my best,” he promises.

The door slams open, startling them both out of their skin.

“Hey guys—uh. What are you doing?”

“Oh, for—Judas Priest, Joel, learn to knock!”

“You invited me over! Or, Pearl did—hey Pearl.”

“Hey,” Pearl says. “Come on in! Sleepover at Bdubs’ time.”

“I can’t believe this is the last of our bases left standing. It’s, like, the worst one.”

“Hey!”

“There’s no space in here!” To punctuate his statement, Joel slumps down against one wall, kicking Bdubs in the ribs as he does so. Bdubs grunts. “See?”

“It’s definitely not the most spacious…” Pearl acquiesces.

“Anyway. What were you guys doing before I came in?”

“Swearing loyalty,” Bdubs says.

“Oh.” Joel blinks. “Do you need me to do that? Because I’m a Mounder for life. Loyal to the end.”

Bdubs and Pearl glance at each other.

“Somehow I actually believe him,” Bdubs stage-whispers, and Joel squawks in offence as Pearl barks out a laugh.

“No, I think you’re good,” she says. Leaning her head back against the wall, she says, “This is probably our final night.”

The three of them are quiet for a moment.

“Well,” says Joel. “We gotta make it to the end then, don’t we?”

He’s looking at Bdubs. They’re both looking at Bdubs.

Bdubs nods.

“May the best Mounder win,” he says solemnly.

Joel grins.

#secret life #spoilers #fanfiction #i am late on the post-session ficlet this week since i wasn't able to watch until today but here it is!#this isn't quite what i wanted it to be i was struggling a Lot with this one #idk. i really liked pearl and bdubs' little arc this session.#and there's definitely like 5 other angles i could have come at this from but this is the one that ended up on the page and i'm too #brainfogged to figure out anything else so here #anyway. do you guys ever think about how dog-coded the mounders are.#two feral former lone wolves and a sad-eyed shelter dog. or something.#magpie feather quill

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spitdrunken · 8 months ago

Text

Cannibal Town Mob Characters & Reader, Rosie & Reader (not x Reader since there is no explicitly romantic content, though it could be read as such.) Notes: (consensual!) cannibalism, amputation, noncon mention (unrelated to reader), death mentions, AKA Reader is kept for meat by Cannibal Town and gets protected in return.

Please don’t read this to upset/trigger yourself, this is essentially a cannibalism kink fic, though it doesn’t contain any sexual content or graphic violence. You have been warned.

There are two main ways to make quick cash in the Pride Ring.

One of these is to sell your soul for money. It certainly is not unheard of for some deals to be struck, especially not for those particularly desperate or down on their luck, but most would not want permanent servitude in exchange for money alone. A soul is a hefty price to pay indeed, no matter what is offered in return.

The second, and far more popular method, is to sell one’s body. Usually, this refers to sex work. There are a dime a dozen demons offering to suck you off or fuck you silly for, frankly, self-abasing prices. But this work is far without its own risks. If you don’t rely on your instincts, you could easily get butchered by a trick. Even if you can, quite literally, pull yourself back together afterward, that doesn’t make it any less unpleasant. Not to mention, if you get too popular, you could easily get swooped up and ‘forcefully employed’ by someone like Valentino.

There are some who, because of the risks of the former, choose to take another route. It is not much better of an option, really. But if one wants quick money without working, how can they expect to have a game rigged in their favour?

The last, and least used way, to ‘get rich quick’ in the Pride Ring, is to sell your body parts to Cannibal Town. The rarer and more special type of demon you are, the more money it’ll fetch you, of course. The citizens of Cannibal Town might just as easily gang up on someone and tear them apart for coming too close, but there are those who simply want to cook up a nice meal for their husband at home, or the like. The meat for this is provided through such means.

The reason why such a thing is not far more popular is because, despite being unable to die and one’s limbs regrowing without a shred of doubt, is that it is excruciatingly painful to go through. Cannibals, as a rule, prefer their meat to be as untarnished as possible. Anything such as sedatives, drugs, or sleeping pills, is certain to ruin the flavour, in one way or another. According to them, at least. No matter one’s desperation, to get willingly dismembered or disemboweled is a bridge that only a scarce few are willing to cross.

You are not among those people. Though you hadn’t stayed in Cannibal Town for the money, either.

Rather, it was the protection from all kinds of demons running around the streets of Pride, the unpredictable and unforgivable nature of life there. You’re a rather humanoid-looking demon, at least from a distance, and aided you in your popularity within Cannibal Town. Sinners with such appearances as yours are rare, after all. That was the sole reason you weren’t torn apart on the spot when getting close to the town in what citizens would have described as ‘improper attire’. No, one of them had recognised your worth for what it was, and brought you over to Rosie.

She was utterly delighted to see a cutie such as yourself, and seeing the haggard and twitchy state of your being, immediately offers you an agreement. The entire protection and care of the colony, in return for a… Hm, a regular consumption of your body, is that how she shall put it? Rosie talks of the subject with an airy tone and a genuine smile on her face, the entire attitude of hers entirely surprising to you.

To put it frankly, she was the nicest demon you have met in Hell so far— And the most honest about her intention of hurting you, too. The sharpness of her teeth isn’t something that passed you by, nor the way she keeps looking you up and down. If it weren’t for her beliefs in decorum, you have the feeling she would be salivating.

She can sense your obvious nerves, and pulls back a little. You don’t have to offer your soul, if that’s what you’re worried about, dear. Just look at it as… A mutually beneficial relationship! You won’t have to worry about a thing for the rest of eternity anymore, and we will get another regular food source! Rest assured, you’ll be able to get plenty of rest in between. You shift from one feet to the other, both nervous from the mere discussion of the situation of being eaten, and the general idea of having an Overlord sitting in front of you, being so nice to you. You swallow. Will it… Hurt? You ask. Because, really, if it doesn’t, you might seriously start considering this. It is an insane thought even to yourself, but life in Hell hasn’t been easy for you, one who wasn’t gifted with physical strength nor some kind of strange power. You’re merely a run-of-the-mill Sinner, and for demons such as yourself, you have to resort to doing some strange things in order to survive. Rosie’s smile softens. Oh, dear, is that what you’re so worried about? She flicks her wrist as if waving away all of your worries. I’m sure you have seen my people out and about, tearing up some poor, unfortunate fellow, haven’t you? Is that the image you have of us? You nod, immediately and rapidly, feeling your eyes widening. Rosie laughs a little at the strength of your response, and leans forward, elbows leaned on the table in between the two of you. The tea in her cup moves a little, nearly sloshing over the rim. Well, let me tell you a little secret. I won't lie, and say that doesn't happen often, because it does. But it won't be your fate, dear. In fact... That’s not what you’ll be treated like at all! She leans back, hands folded in front of her on the table. No, I can promise you that, as long as I’m here, it’ll be as comfortable and painless as possible! You’ll get treated like royalty, I promise. Now, the specifics of such a procedure are not the type of thing appropriate over teatime, my dear, but I will tell you that you will be all blacked out sooner than you can count to ten!

You know that you can never truly die down here, still, the idea of being hurt is still terrifying to you. It would place in an immense amount of trust in the hands of the other party, to allow yourself to be torn apart, and have the belief that you simply won’t be tortured into infinity. And yet… You know that, out there, you would simply return to a life on the streets, knowing that every demon you look at wrong might as well bash your skull in. Would it be… That bad to try? You’d heard stories before, but never met anyone, who’d gone through with something like this. So, rather than immediately denying, you ask for more details. The protection of the colony means exactly what it sounds like. Within the confines of Cannibal Colony, everyone looks out for each other like a family, and, then, that would include you. If you were to venture outside of the colony, you could always have to get someone accompanying you. But I don’t believe you would want to go out much once you get settled in. Rosie tells you. Plus, this protection is to a point. You seem to be a sweetheart, dear, so I don’t think I need to say this, but no angering Overlords, or anything like that! That’s all on you, if it happens. Care, on the other hand, meant that you would get all of your needs provided for. Things like food, clothes, and shelter would all be taken care of for you, rather than a possible disaster waiting to happen. (Oh, I know my people can seem a little rough… Well, ravenous, around the edges. But they really are sweethearts at their core, you know!) You make a choice that could either ruin the rest of eternity for you, or make it a whole lot more pleasant. …Could I try it out, just once?

The first time going through it all, you were incredibly nervous and antsy. Even despite the beautiful room, the well-fitting clothes, and the regular meals provided to you, you were afraid that they would simply jump at you and tear you apart at any moment. And, sure, some of the inhabitants do look at you like a slab of meat walking around, especially during first meetings. You even got your arms pinched once or twice, but it never went any further than that. It had always seemed to you that the people of Cannibal Town were an uncontrollable force, driven by pure bloodlust more often than not but, it seemed, they were perfectly capable of restraining themselves when the situation called for it.

You come to know some of the other demons in similar situations to you, and there are not a lot of them. Either they look entirely ‘familiar’, whereas you look nearly identical to a human person, there is a female demon who looks as close to a sheep as they get, there are also a few who are downright strange— So unlike any other demon you’ve ever seen before, that you may understand why they would be interested in how one might taste. They’re all good-natured (it seems that Rosie isn’t all too fond of allowing troublemakers inside her little community), and happy to have someone new alongside themselves.

You quickly learn that most of the meat found here is either from unfortunate victims wandering in, or from people selling parts of their body for some quick money. You, on the other hand, would be considered a more ‘premium’ product, taken good care of and preserved carefully. One might think that this would create a kind of divide between you and the rest of the citizens, but it hardly does. There’s no lingering fear of death hanging over you, after all, even if parts of your body are consumed, even if all of you were consumed, it wouldn’t actually be going anywhere.

You find something in Cannibal Town that you haven’t found anywhere else in Hell: a sense of community. The men and women alike welcome you with open arms, always happy to welcome a new face open to their ways. Because you’re such a prized inhabitant, you never have to do any actual work, any of your attempts at doing so waved away.

But you’ll be taught how to dance and sing, which are favourite past times of the vast majority of citizens, dragged along from one celebration to the next. You’ll be taken to tea parties and asked to go on dinners, always greeted by everyone with a smile (Well… With a few exceptions) and, generally, treated well. You haven’t been this well-rested and fed since… Well, ever, down here, really, and you find yourself appreciating the choice you’ve made.

All the while, however, the idea of being eaten looms over you. And, eventually, you are awoken one day, and told that it’s time. It’s Rosie herself who comes to take and bring you to your appointment, as cordial and nice as ever.

Demons tend to get a little flighty, when it’s their first time. She tells you. I’ll be there to look after you, and make sure everything goes alright. You know what that translates to, really. She’s here to ensure you don’t take off running after all their hospitality, her hand clutched around your wrist, gently pulling you along. As long as she’s here, you know that you can’t escape.

Despite the reassurance from the other demons staying there (unlike the ones being paid in cash to offer their limbs) the process is nearly painless, you can’t stop the trembling in your legs. You are being dragged to your execution, or so to speak. Rosie rubs little circles on your skin with her thumb, but of course, it’s not enough to kill your nerves.

You’re made to undress behind a screen, and when you emerge, arms and hands covering your sensitive areas, shivering and covered in goosebumps, Rosie cooes at you. Oh, you poor thing. I promise, it’ll get better after the first time! Your eyes flit about the room. There’s a large table in the middle, seemingly made of steel, free of any suspicious stains. It’s wide enough to easily fit two of you on it, and Rosie pats it for you to sit on. She’s not the only demon in the room, another one standing in front of the doors, and another one in front of a curtain-covered window.

After a moment’s hesitation, you sit down, seeing no other way out of here. Rosie places her hand on your shoulder, and pushes you down until you’re in a lying position. Without a hint of hesitation, and her smile never wavering, she takes your arms, and places them next to your body, telling you that it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before, dear, no need to be ashamed! And of course you still are. You feel exposed, in multiple senses of the word, not even physically, but also in the amount of trust it takes for you to lie here, unrestrained, and allow yourself to be taken apart— Knowing you’ll emerge once again, one day, but still. It’s almost… An intimate act, despite the clinical feel of the room.

Rosie places a hand on your cheek. With the other hand, she reaches for a pocket hiding amongst the seams of her dress, and takes out a knife. It’s long and sharp, the light catching on the blade just right, and making it gleam.

Now, I will tell you how this is going to go. Keep your eyes on me. She tells you, voice still as light and airy, as if you were merely talking about the weather. That really was one of her talents, you believed. She could sound completely harmless, regardless of the reality of the situation. Of the weapon in her hand.

I’m going to use this to pierce your heart. It will hurt for a moment, I cannot deny that, it’s simply the reality of the situation, my dear, but it will only be for a moment. After that, it’ll be like going to sleep, and once you wake up, all of this will be over, okay? You will be going into recovery, and all of us will be here to guide you every step of the way.

She shows you the tip of her blade, running it up the side of her finger. You’re frozen, every primal instinct left inside you screaming at you to run, but all of the colliding feelings of shame and fear and the knowledge of the futility of your struggle and the inevitability of it all leave you unable to move.

You have been so focused on Rosie’s words and explanation, to the blade pressed so close right above your racing heart, and absentmindedly, you wonder, why it’s not moving, your heart’s hammering against your ribcage, so why isn’t it creaking, why isn’t it bursting through?, that you haven’t noticed the other demon coming up behind you, the window in the corner now left unguarded. There is a sharp pain at the back of your neck, there is the sensation of your eyes rolling into the back of your head, and then there is nothing.

Rosie’s blade never even penetrated your skin.

You wake up in your own room, your assigned caretaker smiling wider as soon as you wake up. They are ready with an apology and an explanation, telling you that the kind of distraction used on you is procedure for the first time. It’s easier when you’re focused on something else, and don’t think anything’s going to happen yet; there’s less chance for you to struggle, and possibly hurt yourself. How are you feeling?

You are feeling… Better than you expected. Sore all over, exhausted, and your throat is parched. When you ask for water in a raspy sort of voice, a little cup is immediately pressed to your lips, and you can drink to your heart’s content. You’re scared to look down at your own body at first, nervous to see how much is taken from you. But you can feel the parts of you that are missing. A constant burning and itching travels through your shoulder and right thigh, the feeling of your limbs regenerating themselves. It’s not comfortable, but it’s not painful, either. The wounds are bandaged neatly, and they’ve already stopped bleeding. It takes a couple more days of bed rest, before you’re out and about again, rolling yourself around in a wheelchair specifically for this purpose.

And then, you are greeted with something you hadn’t been expecting. One of the Cannibal Town girls who helped teach you the kinds of dances you’d only recognized from old movies, approaches you with an even wider smile than usual. She presses a quick kiss to both of your cheeks, before saying that it’s so lovely to see you again! Oh, she really has to tell you, though she’s sure you’ve heard it before, but you are absolutely delicious— Did you know that? She giggles a little, taking out her fan and waving it a little, hiding her expression. It’s the best compliment you can get around here! Really, they’ll have to start a waiting list, with how many people are wanting to get even a little taste of you…!

It’s a strange compliment to receive, definitely, but it’s also… Oddly flattering? You can’t really do anything about tasting a certain way, but it’s still nice to be on the receiving end of such positive attention. Because she’s hardly the last to approach you with similar sentiments that day. Apparently, word has traveled fast, or little bits and pieces of your limbs have been shared amongst a large group of citizens, because almost everyone has something nice to say.

There are the ones who simply compliment you on your taste. Besides that, there are some who, in a way that seems to be closer to flirting than anything else, tell you that they wouldn’t mind taking a bite out of you raw any time. A few people share their ideas for recipes using your meat, while also making suggestions for types of diets you should consume, in order to steer your flavor into a certain direction. It’s a, honestly, overwhelming amount of attention, and you don’t know how to handle all of it.

Even Rosie invites you to teatime afterwards, not immediately getting into the heart of the topic. First, while offering you a cup of tea and a cookie, she asks you whether or not they got the right arm— We wanted to make it a bit easier on you by not taking your dominant hand! And then talks a bit about how the weather has been, and any large shifts around town that took place in the couple of days that you were down for the count.

Still, after a bit, she shows you the enthusiasm characteristic of her and her people, telling you of how she had one of your fingers for a snack, earlier, and oh, it was simply delightful! What’s your secret? She says, laughing hard enough for you to know that it’s a joke.

Please, she says, Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help your recovery along, dear! I knew you had potential the moment I saw you, and I’m glad to be proven right! She hums in thought. Next time, and, oh, it’ll be a while yet, don’t you worry, we’ll be taken all of your limbs. There will be someone assigned to take care of you as you regenerate, to feed and look after you. Dear, usually there’s a bit of a slower buildup, but demand is soaring as it is…!Something shifts in her gaze as she leans her chin on one of her hands, pupil-less eyes undoubtedly focused and yours. …And I wouldn’t mind getting a bit more of a taste, either.

It is a reminder that Rosie is still one of her people, and an Overlord for good reason. (There was also no room for argument, in regards to her taking more of your limbs.) It should scare you, perhaps, but these demons have treated you better than anyone else. Though there’s some lingering fear at the idea of a next time, you still smile at her in return. I hope everyone enjoys me next time, too.

#hazbin hotel x reader #rosie x reader #hazbin hotel #rosie #cha.rosie #cw.cannibalism

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