#Oh no look who's writing a Mob AU

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

The doorbell buzzes. You loathe that noise. You stay as you are, unbothered by the visitor. You already hear Kitty asking Adrienne who it could be. 

You continue to shuffle through the contents of the cigar box. You’re neither surprised or disgusted by the love letters. You know your mother’s writing and you know it isn’t here. You always assumed your father was rotten to the core. No, you were certain of it. The proof only makes you feel worse for your mother. 

The door opens. There’s voices. Soft tones. Kitty’s, Adrienne’s and... his. 

Then, footfalls that ascend the stairs. Too heavy to be your sisters’. You close the box and toss it in the black bag. There is not box to keep. All your father’s stuff needs to go. You have no use for it. 

“You know I’m here,” Barnes says as he appears in the doorway. 

“I do,” you take the old baseball your father made you catch as a girl. He was always disappointed he never had a son. It makes you want to smile knowing he never got the thing he wanted the most. 

“You’ve had your time to mourn,” he says, and nothing else. His meaning is clear. 

You drop the ball and get off the floor. You cross to him with your head down. He’s stoic and still. You reach for his hand. That makes him flinch. As if he’s surprised. He lets you lift it and you kiss the ring on his pinky. 

You let him go and look him in the face, “he’s gone. It’s over. Let’s move on.” 

His brow arches and his eyes narrow. “You understand what happens now?” 

“You take care of my sisters. That’s all that matters to me.” 

“All about family,” he remarks. “Well, real family.” 

You’re silent. You don’t know what he wants you to say. Your heart is in your throat, can’t he see it beating there, choking you. 

“I showed you my loyalty. I did that and I will never tell a soul.” 

“Oh, I know, doll,” he smirks and shifts his weight. It’s your turn to wince as he brushes his knuckles along your cheek. “I don’t just want that loyalty for one night.” 

You blink and fight not to let your fear show. It’s all so uncertain yet deep down you know exactly what he means. It just seems all too much. 

“Sit down,” he drops his hand and turns. He shuts the door. 

You avoid your father’s bed and instead, sit at the vanity where your mother would perch and apply her night cream. He paces and puts his hands in his pockets. He exhales and measures the air. 

“It’s sorted. Everyone knows what happened. Vengeance is taken, the tables are balanced,” he says. “So we move forward. Your sisters are protected. They will have roofs over their head. You will too.” 

You stare at him, waiting for the other shoe. 

“Doll,” he tilts his head, “why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Just say it,” you sniff. 

“Say what?” 

“Tell me what it costs,” you sneer. 

He snickers, “that’s what I admire about you. You don’t beat around the bush. You come to my office, tell me to off daddy. You won’t even let me charm ya, dammit. You just wanna get down to business.” 

“Please,” you beg. “I... I can’t take any more.” 

His expression softens and he approaches you delicately, like an animal he doesn’t want to scare off, “we’re gonna have a big wedding, doll. You’re gonna wear the most expensive thing you can find, and we’re gonna drive off into the sunset together.” 

You gulp and search his face. It sounds ridiculous. You don’t know this man, he doesn’t know you. Yet, he’s the only man who knows what you did. Who know that you could do something like that. 

“Ah, come on, I’m a real man,” he unbuttons his jacket and reaches inside. “I’m more than words.” He takes out a hexagonal velvet box. “So, let me know if it fits.” 

You hesitate but accept the box. You open it with some effort, the hinges are tight. You snap the lid up and stare at the ring within. It has a large teardrop diamond at the center and four decent sized ovals to each side, with little round diamonds worked in between. The gold gleams with the elaborate style of the thick band. 

You slide it out and turn it in your fingers. It has to be worth more than all the stuff your daddy pawned off. More than even this house. You roll it over again and line up your finger with the band. You push into it and it fits snugly below your knuckle, covering half your finger. 

“Too big,” you say. 

“Loose?” He wonders as he leans a hand on the vanity table. 

“No, it’s... clunky,” you wiggle your hand. 

“Never thought I’d hear a woman complain a rock was too big,” he says. “Doll, I expect you to show off. You’re mine, I’m yours. That’s something to brag about.” 

“Flashy. Distracting,” you comment. 

“Any man stupid enough to try to steal that off ya, he won’t be thinking much longer,” he insists and grabs your hand. “Come here.” 

He tugs you until your standing. He admires the ring on your finger and his cheeks dimple as he grins. He puts your hand on his shoulder and wraps his other arm around you. Sweat beads across your scalp and down your back. He’s so close you can smell his mellow cologne. 

“Always good to have more to love, isn’t it?” his fingers curl into the cushion of your hip as he crushes you against him. He brings his palm up to cradle your face as his eyes drift down to your lips. He purrs and rocks you.  

You shudder as your breath catches in your chest. The idea never fully bloomed in your head. You never dared to imagine this. Yet here it and it’s more startling than anything you could ever fathom. 

He turns his hand to frame your chin and pulls you even closer. He leans in and presses his mouth to yours. His beard tickles you as his lips caress yours and his tongue pokes out coyly. You close your eyes as you open up to let him in. 

Your heart thrums behind your ears as you seal your deal with that kiss. You didn’t barter for your freedom, just another master. 

[unholyhelbig]

request: oversight au, nat and reader run into reader’s ex or ronnie’s father who was abusive to them… how will mob nat react?

Title: Old Flames [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: When reader has an unexpected run-in with an old flame and things go less than well, Natasha takes things into her own hands.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): Talks of past domestic abuse, talks of abortion, buried alive references, broken glass, blood (always), Heights, threatening statements, non-consensual kiss, horrible grammar (aways).

[a/n: Okay, I had way too much fun with this. While I loved writing the main story, it's also super great to branch out into some more dynamics with Mob Boss Nat, because I haven't made her mean enough yet.]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

The apartment building on the corner of twelfth and Hawke was a large midcentury brick building that structure that stretched to the sky. A metal fire escape latticed up the side and stretched clotheslines dripping with shirts and pants connected it to the adjacent building that had long since been used for storage.

Up until this point, you had avoided this building. Luckily, the tenants were quite timely with their rent and left little need for an enforcer to knock door to door. But it was right after the holidays and things were tough. That much, you understood. But it didn’t’ change the fact that three units were more than two months behind on their rent.

Them, you could appeal to with hot chocolate and some gentle urging. But according to Clint, there was a particularly nasty group of people living on the top floor that had gotten multiple noise complaints thrown their way.

The address hadn’t seemed familiar until you stood at the entrance and got a good look at the golden door that contrasted the rest of the structure. You’d written the code to the door on your palm, and you were having trouble differentiating the last number. It was a zero, or it was an eight.

“Gross, you’re sweaty.” Kate had pulled your hand a small distance from her scrutinizing stare, trying to read the smeared purple markings. “I knew we should have used the napkin.”

The woman dropped your hand and stepped up to the small box on the side of the entryway. She hit every button known to man until the fragile voice cracked through the speaker. “Yeah, uh-huh, pizza. I have pizza. Pepperoni-“Her ramblings were cut off by the loud buzz in.

You were treated to an innocent smile as she wrenched open the door and allowed you to follow her in. She was innovative, annoyingly so. Most of the time it worked in your favor but sometimes you found her testing your temper just to prove a point. Thankfully, she hadn’t noticed your hesitation.

It was coming back to you now; the large entryway that was lined with lock and key mail slots and a bolstered wooden staircase that was scarcely used compared to the elevator. Natasha kept good care of the place, had repainted and made sure every single lightbulb was humming in synch.

Some would say that she improved the neighborhood, block by block. But there were still those who liked the way things used to be; living paycheck to paycheck with an angry and withering stare being sent your way with each collection call.

“I’ve got Miss Henderson.”

“Oh, come on.” You protested “She sounds so cool.”

Miss Henderson was an older woman who lived on the fifth floor. Most of the time, her rent was late because it had simply slipped her mind. One look at Kate and she’d write a check before offering some of the sweetest cookies you’d ever tasted, often sending her back with a plateful.

From what you had heard, she used to travel with a circus as an acrobatic performer. Her act was death-defying; a performance that relied on her partners quick bladework. The Swordsman and his Enchantress. There were illustrations of their travels hung up around her unit- ones that you would kill to see.

“Too bad, next time.” Kate mock pouted at you before clapping you on the back. “Don’t make too much of a mess up on the top floor, alright? I don’t want to scrub carpets today.”

She took the stairs two at a time and left you alone in the lobby. A cool blast of wind hit your back as a tenant walked in with their dalmatian, pink tongue lolling to the side as his owner checked the mail, barely sparing you a glance.

The type of New York residents that occupied this space had changed greatly. The last time you’d been here was a walk of shame that left your feet raw and bleeding. You’d rushed from the apartment with so much fever that you never returned for your shoes, or your dignity, for that matter.

This time, you had shoes on, ones that you had scrubbed free of blood until they looked presentable. They were leaden on the stairs up to the top floor. Once you reached the fifth, you could hear Kate’s distinctive laugh behind the oak door. At least she was close.

The top floor was nearly silent. You could hear a television, a hockey game that you’d been listening to sparingly on the way over here. It sounded like Toronto was pulling through. The sound of a beer cracking pulled you away from the muffled announcers words.

A radio was resting in an upper window. You and Kate had heard it from the street below, a French Pop station that you could barely make out the words of. French was never your strong suite, one language requirement in high school was enough for you.

Silently, you prayed, that it was a coincidence. That the radio didn’t’ belong to the very men that you were meant to speak to. They were flighty, you told yourself. They weren’t ones to stay and if they chose to stick around after all these years- well, you’d be impressed.

You knocked twice on the center door, the deep forest-green paint threatening to chip under the elements. The music stopped abruptly, and while you could hear that someone was whispering quietly in French, you couldn’t make out the words.

The man that opened the door was too familiar for your liking; his pale waxy skin, his deep brown eyes that were so dark they were almost black, the tattoos that were smattered in different designs against his throat, down his collarbone. Pockmarked on his arms. His hair was longer than you remembered, greasier and tied up in a bun.

He took you in for a singular moment, shock reflecting in his stare, but before he moved to shut the door. You stopped the action with one strong hand, putting your boot between the frame and the wood for extra measure. “Don’t be like that, Kazi.”

“All these years, and now you’re coming back for child support?”

He raked his eyes up and down your body in a way that made you feel violated. You held your stance. He seemed impressed by the bout of strength.

You tsked “if I wanted child support, I would have gone after it by now. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

He scratched under the sleeve of his tank-top, considering you the same way you considered him. Eventually, he seemed to figure he had nothing to lose pulling the door back and letting you enter the apartment. Waves of memory washed over you.

Kazi still had the same futon covered in the same ratty blanket. There was a kitchen table that was stacked with different folders that he would never, in a million years, let you view. A blue funnel was drying on the dishrack, and countless liquor bottles that had been emptied and cleaned were lined up, ready to be filled with the slightest bit of homebrewed alcohol.

He was still running the same scam after all of these years. You remembered liking the danger about him, the way his stubble felt against you when you straddled him. He’d been so alluring to a good girl like you. He would street race at night with another guy you’d met a handful of times, Robbie Reyes.

God, you had been so naive back then. He was drawn in by your innocence and you were entrapped by his experience. If only you knew where you’d end up in seven years; with Kazi’s biological daughter being raised by the most powerful woman in the city.

The moment you told him you were pregnant, he told you bluntly to get rid of it. That same night, he’d thrown an empty liquor bottle at you, just barely missing your head. You’d refused outright and accepted his anger in turn. Glass shards cut into the soles of your feet, and stained the snow all the way back to your dorm room.

The way he stared at you now infuriated you. “What do you want, then?”

“You’re two months late on rent.”

“I figured you’d keep tabs. Most women do. But my rent? That’s a new one.”

You picked up a small paperweight that you remember being fond of when you returned to this apartment after a first date where Kazi was a perfect gentleman. He’d bought dinner, and walked you back to his place. The glass object was tinted yellow, a small mosquito suspended in the center. He must have gotten it in a museum gift shop.

“Truthfully, I’m shocked you still live here.” You tested the weight of the object. “Most landlords aren’t very lenient about tardiness.”

“Yeah, well. She’s not very attentive. What can I say?”

Oh, but Natasha was quite attentive in more than one aspect, at that. You couldn’t’ help the smile that spread against your lips. Kazi was growing agitated with your presence, always quick to temper.

With all the strength you could muster, you threw the paperweight at the wall directly behind him. In its innate cheapness, it shattered into a million pieces, littering the carpet and slicing little bites into his skin. Kazi flinched and covered his face with his arms.

“Fuck! Y/n, what the hell!” He screamed.

“You have two weeks to backdate the rent, Kazi. Another week to get us this month’s amount. That sounds reasonable to me. Attentive, even.”

He reached into the back of his sweatpants and pulled out a silver Kimber, pumping the top chamber and aiming it at you with a shaky hand. He was too lax with his hold. A pinprick of crimson was dripping from a cut on his cheek.

“Come on, Kazi. It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure you can push some half-rate liquor. Sell a few of your gold fillings, and come up with the money my employer is required.”

“Employer? You work for that… monster?”

“Now, there’s a big word.” You closed the distance between the two of you, not giving him a moment to react before you wrenched the gun from his hand and threw it onto that ratty old blanket that adorned the futon he’d found on the side of the road. “So much horrible implication behind it too. You shouldn’t name call.”

Your boots crunched against the shattered glass. Kazi was barefoot, he flinched as flesh was dug into by uneven shards. You could smell the rancid coffee on his breath. He had a mole just on small of his nose.

“What happened to you?” he whispered, “Where’s that girl that stormed out of my apartment because she didn’t get her way?”

“A lot can change in seven years, Kaz.” You glanced around his apartment. “Well, most people change. Some people don’t go anywhere in life.”

Kazi pressed forward, his dry lips suddenly against yours. You froze in an instant, appalled by the acrid taste of cigarettes and stale morning coffee that he had no-doubt heated up in the microwave and drank black. The kiss was strong, rushed and painful in the way that his teeth knocked against yours.

It took less than a second for you to push him away. His head hit the cabinet behind it, rattling the glasses inside. Your hand was splayed out on his chest, nails digging into the stained tank-top he wore. He grinned wolfishly at you. Your teeth had dug so hard into his lip that it drew blood.

“I like this rough version of you, sweetheart. It’s hot.”

You reeled back and slapped him across the face with as much force as you could muster in your close proximity. The radio in the window seemed to flicker out of power at that moment, or maybe they had just run out of shitty pop music to play. Either way, the two of you were engulfed in silence.

“Shit, baby, hit me again!”

He had no idea how much you wanted to abide by that, though, you were quite positive that it would do nothing but spur on his arousal. This wasn’t going to work. If he kept pushing the way he was, you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from pulling your own weapon.

It suddenly became too much, standing in the middle of this time-capsule of an apartment. The memories were too strong. When the two of you were together, everything you did was for his benefit. And while this had been fun at first, testing him like this, it was too much.

You grabbed the collar of his sweat-soiled shirt, wrapping it around your fingers with enough force to tear the fabric away. “Two weeks, you fucking asshole. If you don’t have the money by then, I’m sure the city will have a fun time scrubbing your brain matter from the sidewalk.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He sneered.

You pressed your booted foot down on the top of his, listening as the glass dug deeper into the soft skin. This time, he did cry out in pain, the grinding of pieces close to bone making his eyes water. You placed your hand over his mouth, muffling his protest. “I will make your miserable existence a living hell, with or without the money, for what you did to me. Do you understand?”

“You’re so full of shit-“ you pressed your full weight down and you squirmed under your hold. “Yes! Yes, I get it. Fuck!”

You pulled yourself away from Kazi entirely, straightening his shirt. He was slumped against the counter, staring at you with pure rage in his eyes. He shifted his full weight to his other foot, grimacing at the edged stain on the wooden floor.

“You should really clean that up.” You gritted, mouth still tasting of stale smoke. “Glass can be dangerous, Kazimirez.”

By the time you got to the car the only thing on your mind was taking the hottestshower possible. You’d pawed through Kate’s glovebox rather frantically and counted it a small blessing that that there was a single unwrapped piece of gum at the very bottom.

She cringed as you popped it in your mouth and let the minty dusty taste coat your tongue. If you could, without raising suspicion, you would have dumped solvent on it, just to take the taste of Kazi out of your mouth.

“I don’t know how long that’s been in there.” Kate said, watching you warily as you picked up her water bottle and downed half of that too. It seemed to take the rest of the rancid flavor away.

“I don’t care”

“You should care, I bought this car used.” She frowned, tapping her fingers against the wheel. “Okay, I didn’t’ buy it. I bought the license plates though, that’s my civic duty.”

Her words were enough for you to roll your window down and toss the gum from it. Despite your profession, you weren’t a very good liar. Not when it came to Natasha. She’d ask you about your day like usual and you’d crumble under her seemingly innocent gaze.

Nothing Natasha did was innocent.

“What happened up there?” Kate asked.

The two of you were well out of the city by now, and still had about a half-hour until you got to the mansion. The family liked their privacy, and after a year of living there permanently, so did you.

When you didn’t answer right away, she kept going. “Because I got cookies. Nearly choked on one when Miss Henderson insisted on a private show. It’s seriously a wonder that a woman her age can still bend like that.”

“Katie,” You warned, “Gross.”

“Impressive actually. She kept her clothes on, which I am eternally grateful for. It looks like you had a more eventful visit with the French dudes upstairs.” She scoffed, “Who the fuck is French anymore?”

You rolled your eyes and slumped further into your seat. Kazi was French. You used to crumble when he gave you the choppiest lines that he could remember. According to him, the language is harder to speak than it is to read and write. You never questioned him, just like you didn’t question a lot of things.

“I have a… history with the man who rents 807.”

“A history, or a… history?”

“The first one. The second one. Shit- I don’t know, both! He’s Ronnie’s dad.”

Kate slammed on the brakes with enough force for a layer of rubber to be peeled from the tires of her mostly stolen care. The seatbelt cut into your neck and you figured yourself lucky that you’d taken a back road that was rarely used, god forbid she cause an accident.

“Dude!” You shouted as she put the car into park.

Kate twisted her entire body in the seat, placing her hand on the back of your seat. The motor was sputtering wildly, trying to compensate for her abrupt stop. Something had to be damaged, you thought, with her force on the pedal.

“Don’t dude me. Are you really that dense? If you haven’t noticed, Natasha is possessive over her things. And you? Well, you’re one of her favorite things. She’s not going to take this well in the slightest.”

“Kate, I think I know how to handle my girlfriend.”

“No, you know how to handle Natasha, the sweet, loving woman who would die for you and your child. Admirable, really. But you don’t know how to handle Miss Romanoff, mob boss extraordinaire.”

But you had seen Natasha in action before, countless times. She’d always kept this calm coolness about her that you were in awe of. Maybe Kate was right. You’d only seen a fraction of her jealous side at the first party you had ever attended in the house. That night she ripped the dress she’d picked out specifically for you to shreds.  

“I was dating a man named Eli when I was first taken in by the Romanoff’s, He turned out to be… not so favorable despite my constant reassurances. Natasha just knows. She had him dig a grave right off I-25 and then she made him lay in it.”

Your jaw threatened to drop at the simple fact. Kate removed her hand from the back of the seat and eased off the brake before she slowly got the two of you back up to an acceptable speed.

“All Eli did was cheat on me one night in a club. It wasn’t great, but I wasn’t sure if it warranted that kind of reaction. I never knew if she was proving a point to me, or to Eli. Either way, the smallest offense against any of us is met with archaic conviction.”

You didn’t respond to Kate, instead you stared at the trees that were whizzing by in a lush green wall of color. You’d decided that she was right- any type of reaction Natasha was going to have to Kazi would be severe.

“You’ll be fine.” Kate tapped her fingers nervously on the wheel, trying to backtrack her words. “As long as he didn’t’ touch you.”

It didn’t seem to matter how ferociously you scrubbed your skin with the honey scented soap you shared with Natasha, you swore you still smelled like smoke. It clung to your clothes, and lingered in the air after you’d shoved them to the bottom of the clothes basket.

The water was blazingly hot, filling the bathroom with a thick mist that made it slow to breathe. Natasha had chosen a dark blue tile that seemed to transport you into another world. Even without the scaring remembrance of Kazi’s lips against yours, his hands where you didn’t want them, you could stay here for hours.

Her hands were freezing cold and startling as they splayed against your naked stomach. You let out a small noise, going rigid before registering Natasha behind you. Her front was pressed against your back, and you’d know the curve of her body anywhere.

“Izvinite, moya lyubov', I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You turned in her arms and took in the state of her. She’d stripped down just as you had, small drops of water littering her skin like a constellation in the sky. She’d been in the sun today, a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose giving her away.

There was a bruise forming against the side of her jaw, one that you ran your waterlogged fingers over. Her eyes were an intoxicating shade of green, playing off the indigo tiles. You wanted to scold her for getting the bruise in the first place, but you were so entrapped by her simple presence, the way she fit so perfectly against you.

Natasha closed the distance between you both, pressing her lips against yours in a hurried kiss. You moaned into the embrace, allowing her tongue to find purchase in your mouth. God- you had missed her in the short few hours you’d been apart.

“Did you take up smoking?” she asked, barely pulling away, the words were spoken flushed to your lips. “It’s a terrible habit, darling.”

The glovebox gum hadn’t done its job, and apparently the swish of mouthwash and subsequent teeth brushing hadn’t done anything either. Of course, Natasha noticed. Of course. You weren’t going to try to hide it, though the thought did occur to you to save some heartache. But you were hoping you could placate her in a less slippery spot of the house when you were less naked and incredibly turned on by her presence.

A groan of a different cadence than she was used to escaped you as you dropped your head to her shoulder and clenched your eyes shut. “No, I didn’t take up smoking.”

“You taste like you have,” She gently led your eyes to hers. It was tender compared to the first time she had done so. “Licking ash trays again?”

“Gross, no.”

Natasha valued honesty above all. That much had been clear from the moment you met her. She’d nearly taken your head off in the gym when you repeated your one-night-stand with the enemy. The devil incarnate who happened to only be decent in bed. You remembered her hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough for you to give her the answers she craved.

“What is it, pet? You can tell me.”

“Do you… I’ve been with men before.”

She let out a small chuckle that reverberated off the deep tile. “Yes, I know. I didn’t want to make assumptions, of course, but Ronnie does have a father.”

The way you stared at her in the silence that followed the statement made the smile on her face falter until it dropped entirely. She must have seen something behind your eyes, something that weighed the situation down more than she was intending on a typical Wednesday night.

“I’d completely blacked it out and didn’t realize it until I stepped foot into the lobby, but he still lives in the same apartment on the top floor. He thought I was after child support, or something but things sort of… escalated.”

You felt like a child, spilling your secrets about a vase you had broken. This time it was a cheap paperweight with a bug in the center that you frankly felt bad for. The words came out like emotional vomit, granted, Natasha had become used to your rapid admissions.

Her grip tightened against your chin, “Escalated how?”

“He kissed me, and I hit him hard enough to break his jaw.”

That same silence enveloped you again. The scalding water had lost its effect, numb and beating against your back. The two of you were still impossibly close and there wasn’t much escape for you in a shower this size. The glass door having fogged up and only giving you a stunted view of the large bathroom.

Natasha had an immeasurable rage behind her stare, her lidded expression ran as dark as old blood. It chilled you to your core. She reached beside you and shut off the constant flow of water. You’d been in here for about an hour now and the cold air that touched your skin felt like an assault of needles. You instinctively wrapped your arms around your center to preserve warmth.

“He laid his hands on you.”

“Yeah, Nat, he did.”

“He touched you.”

“I gave him hell for it, but it didn’t seem like it was enough.”

“Without permission.”

“He’ll never do it again.”

Whatever split-second decision she made; it was done without the usual calculation behind her eyes. She threw the door to the shower open and forcefully shoved a towel into your arms. While you revered in the warmth, you watched as she sauntered in her usual way out of the bathroom and into your shared bedroom. She was dripping wet.

“Natty!” You stumbled over the partition and nearly slid on the bathroom floor. It was much colder outside of your cocoon of warmth and subsequent mist. She thankfully hadn’t left the room and was pawing through her side of the dresser. You nearly lost your footing once you reached hardwood. “Fuck,”

She seemed to find what she was looking for, a plain black tank top that hugged her sides and looked entirely uncomfortable to wiggle into while damp. You watched with baited breath in a sloping towel as she adorned herself with underwear and pants, before turning towards you.

“Get dressed.” She ordered in a dangerous tone.

Shit. She was going to make you dig your own grave. You’d just showered all of the grime from Kazi’s apartment off and in a matter of minutes you would have dirt up to your knees. Natasha may have let Eli live after his blunder, but maybe she’d cover you completely and let you suffocate in your own efforts.

Numbly, you put on a pair of sweatpants and the closest shirt you had. There was no need to get dressed for your own funeral, you supposed. The worms would chew through whatever you wore regardless.

Clint was stretched out on the chase in the foyer, a pair of thick-lensed glasses balancing on the tip of his nose. Regardless, he still squinted at the book in his hands. You wondered why he wasn’t in the living room, but caught a glimpse of a particularly intense game of twister between Ronnie, Yelena, and Kate.

Darcy held onto the board, flicking the small plastic needle and calling out the colors. When Kate clocked the anger in Natasha’s eyes, she dropped to her back, taking down Yelena and Ronnie with her.

She gave you a pleading look, but you were already too far gone to return anything other than a flushed expression. You followed obediently after Natasha. She opened the front door and watched you with a calculated expression before slamming the front door hard enough to shake the glass fronting.

“Get in the car.”

“Do you want me to grab a shovel?”

“What?”

She contemplated this for a minute, growling softly. The near silence was terrifying. Her arms crossed over her chest was terrifying. Your mouth with incredibly dry, and you wished that you were back under the constant stream of water.

“No. I don’t think we’ll need that. Get in the car.”

Numbly, you did as you were told, placing your hands in your lap. This was quite possibly the last time you would be sitting in any car, much less, next to Natasha. She reached across you and pulled your seatbelt into place, tugging on the upper portion until she was sure you weren’t going anywhere.

The tires picked up traction on the gravel and the drive that usually took an hour seemed to whiz by. Natasha was quiet, the route to the city more than familiar by now. She run her hands against the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. You could hear her breathing deeply, trying to ease her nerves. You didn’t dare say a word.

For a moment, you figured that she’d abandoned the idea of burying you alive and switched her ideals to something much more sinister and public. She pulled her car up to the front of the very building you had left a few hours ago, the sun just barely setting behind the skyline. You blinked at her, and then up at the very property that she owned.

“Come on.”

There was no room for discussion. The air here was clouded with the scent of smoke and the coolness of the cement structures around you. It was moments like these where you much preferred the country.

Of course, Natasha knew the code, she had recited it to you earlier as you and Kate ate lunch by the docks, stretched out on the hood of her car. It was wrong then and your nerves were too elevated to pay attention now. She got in without the theatrics.

There seemed to be more activity as the day for working folks began to wind down. Two people halted their conversation by the mail-slots, nodding solemnly at the woman. On the third floor, you caught a glimpse of a woman struggling to push her keys into the lock, juggling her gym bag. The sixth floor held a small boy who darted from one apartment to another, edging across the hall.

She kept climbing until that same irritating French pop filled your ears. He must keep it on at all hours of the day, just to drown out his own miserable thoughts. “What apartment?”

You lifted your chin slightly, hands shoved in the pockets of your sweatpants to ward off the biting chill. “807.”

“Spasibo, lyubimyy.”

Natasha’s booted foot connected with the center of the very door you had politely knocked on earlier in the day. You flinched, covering your face with a guarded arm. The wood of the doorframe seemed to splinter, slivers reigning across both sides of the entrance.

“What the fuck!”

Kazi was hunched over the kitchen table, the funnel that had been drying by the sink was positioned perfectly in the mouth of a soaked and peeled liquor bottle. He had a stack of his own labels ready to place evenly on the finished product. Both of his feet were haphazardly wrapped with gauze, small sprouts of blood worming through the soft material.

He’d taken care to clean up the glass, but with the way Natasha headed straight towards him, that didn’t matter much. More of it fell to the floor and shattered upon impact. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and started walking him backwards across the living room. Kazi seemed too stunned to speak, his words caught in his throat.

“I-I-I didn’t mean it! Please!”

“When you speak to me, you’ll do it clearly.” She gritted, shoving him towards the window. Somewhere in the scuffle, the radio had fallen from its perch on the cracked windowsill, crashing to the alleyway below with one last fizzled cry. “You had no trouble saying whatever you wanted earlier, did you?”

“I’m sorry! Fuck! I told that bitch I would have the rent!”

“Yeah? Was that before or after you shoved your tongue down her throat?”

Natasha bent Kazi’s torso fully over the screenless window. He grasped frantically at her hands, clawing at them as the balanced him over the long drop to the pavement below. His bare feet kicked, trying to throw her off her equilibrium, but he was much too weak for any type of damage.

“You walked out on them.”

“What? Oh, my god, what?! I told her to get rid of it- I didn’t walk out on anyone! You’re batshit lady!”

To you, it didn’t’ seem very wise to throw insults at the woman holding you above an eight-story drop, but Kazi never was known for his intelligence. His bravado, maybe, but never anything more. He looked so small compared to Natasha’s anger.

“She didn’t get rid of it, Kazi. She kept the kid that you couldn’t have bothered to give another thought to. She made a life for both of them. She fucking loves that kid enough to fill the absence you left.” Natasha let her hand slip, letting him waver in his height for a moment before pulling him back up. He was crying, sobbing for his life. “And you have the nerve, to touch her, to break her and then come rushing back when she was strong enough to pick up the pieces?”

“I wasn’t ready,” he moaned out “I couldn’t be a dad.”

“It seems like there are a lot of things you can’t do, doesn’t it? You’re a pathetic excuse for a man. A pathetic excuse for a human being and once we leave here- I never want to see your face in my city again. Am I clear?”

Kazi let out another course of intelligible, wet, words. His back was nearly breaking under the force of Natasha’s hold, her knee directly up against his crotch, pushing down with all the strength she could muster.

“Y/n, I think this is a teaching moment, don’t you?”

The softness of her words as she addressed you caught you off guard. There was no malice. In fact, she beckoned to you as if she was calling you into the living room to join her under the blankets for a movie. Your heart raced fast enough for your chest to ache as you closed the distance between you both.

“See, the trick is making them think that you’re going to let them go.”

She said this to you as if Kazi wasn’t a slobbering mess under her touch. He’d carved little half-moon marks against the tops of her hand, some of them starting to leak blood with the sheer force of his struggle.

“You have to get creative with the fear aspect. If they think they’re going to die, it tends to work in our favor. Doesn’t it, Kazi?”

“Please,” He whimpered, “I’ll do whatever you want. I’m sorry, y/n, I’m sorry.”

Natasha did the seemingly impossible, she pushed him further out the window, his calves struggling for purchase against the drywall. “Oh, now that simply won’t do. You must keep her name out of your mouth.”

“In situations like these, darling, it’s best to keep full control. If he was anything other than wretched, then maybe you’d have to worry about him fighting back. You’ll get some people like that, but that trick is having leverage, literal and physical in cases like this.”

“I see,” You let the words escape you in a single breath “and how long do we play this game?”

“Until they know it’s not one.”

It took little effort for Natasha to push Kazi the rest of the way out the window. In spite of his clinging grip, the force of gravity was enough to do the work for her. His cry stunted in his throat and it only took a few seconds for a dull thud to echo through the alleyway, followed by the unmistakable sound of a car alarm going off.

With a small gasp, you leaned over the window yourself, staring down at the white Toyota that now had a sizeable dent in the top, the windshield spiderwebbing. Kazi let out a groan that you could hear from up here, blinking up at the sky with malice and shock in his eyes.

“Nat,” You breathed.

“Please, eight stories is survivable. Some people need to be taught a lesson.” She shrugged, pulling you back into the apartment by the sleeve of your shirt. “I’ll pay for the car repairs, if that makes you feel better, detka.”

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“Of course I did.” She reached forward and cupped both of your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. It was impossible to ignore the gesture, the words that she had said with so much blind passion. Tears threatened to overtake your waterline. “moya lyubov', he put his hands on you without permission and before that… before that he hurt you in ways unimaginable. I meant every word I said.”

You could hear sirens in the distance, a hazard of living in the city. They could be for Kazi, you supposed, something to take care of the surely broken ribs and the bruised ego. But, they could be for something more important.

You pushed forward and kissed Natasha delicately. You wanted to be impossibly close to her. Most gestures you had received in the past had come in the form of flowers, maybe the occasional box of chocolate from the drug store. Once again- Natasha had proved something to you.

Her chuckle vibrated into the kiss, “Mm, we should probably leave.”

You couldn’t agree more. You wanted to get out of this stupid apartment that was teeming with memories of your time with Kazi. The way he claimed his love for you, and forced you to make a horrible decision all in one exhale.

As the two of you walked down the long and winding steps, Natasha asked, “What was with the shovel thing?”

You laughed, suddenly feeling foolish for fearing Natasha in the first place. Her silence caused waves, and somehow, that was worse than if she’d threatened you outright, something that she never did with much heat.

“Kate, she told me about her ex-boyfriend, Eli, I think she said his name was.”

“Ah, Eli.” She frowned, “He cheated on her, and I only made him dig for an hour.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, as long as you never make me dig my own grave.”

 “I would never do that. There is no punishment in things you can’t control.” Natasha gave your hand a squeeze, her solemn words punctuated with a slowly creeping smile. “Besides, detka, that’s simply not my style. It was much too messy.”

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

[steviebbboi]

Stevie BB 200 Followers Celebration Writing Challenge!

Howdy lads~ exciting news to share:

I just reached a 200 follower count on Tumblr 🎉🎉🎉

I kinda can't believe it? Writing is indeed good for my soul. Interacting with y'all on here has helped me with my mental and emotional wellness due to just finding such great community on here. Thank you for giving me the space to write and for following along/supporting in my writing journey 💖

With that spiel spoken, I wanted to host a writing challenge in celebration of this milestone! *squealing because i'm so excited to host*

Stevie BB 200 Followers Celebration Writing Challenge Masterlist

*you'll find all writing submissions and writing requests (answered) at the link above*

You could participate by sending in either:

✨ writing request via my Asks (💙)

and/or

✨ writing submissions (💥).

General Rules:

the challenge will start October 1st until the end of November (flexible on late entries for submissions only💥; let's say till mid-December or so).

I'll read/write for Chris Evans characters, Henry Cavill Characters, and Charlie Hunnam characters [and Bucky Barnes specifically lol] (these are my preferences but if there are other characters that you'd like to bring in, just ask me)!

for writing requests 💙, i will only be accepting requests (2 max/person; pls do not send more than 2 asks!) until the end of November.

for writing submissions 💥, go wild! submit as many as you like!

you can do both (send in a writing request 💙 AND send in a writing submission(s)💥) if you want to; rules still apply for the requests though.

use at least one prompt within your request 💙/submissions💥 from the lists below (but def. go crazy if you wanna use more than one! you don't have to claim any prompts).

works can be inclusive! poc, gender neutral, neurodivergencies, mid size/plus size/curvy readers are encouraged!

No word limits but please use a 'read more' after 200 words

Works can be part of an existing series but must be able to stand on their own

tag me @steviebbboi and use the tags #bbboi200celebration and #steviebbboiwritingchallenge in your entry so i can read/reblog your work! (If I somehow lose sight of your submission, please remind me and I'll take a look at it right away ☺️)

Most important one: Have fun!

How To Play:

✨ You must be 18+ to participate in this challenge!

✨ Choose one (or multiple 😏) BB's:

Chris Evans Characters

Steve Rogers/Captain America

Ransom Drysdale

Ari Levinson

Frank Adler

Curtis Everett

Andy Barber

Hayden/Harvard Hottie

Nick Gant

Jake Jensen

Johnny Storm

Lloyd Hansen

Henry Cavill Characters

Clark Kent

Napoleon Solo

Geralt of Rivia

August Walker

Charlie Hunnam Characters

Jax Teller

Raymond Smith *extra brownie pts if you write about him omg*

King Arthur

Sebastian Stan

Bucky Barnes [he's all by himself im so sorry lmfao 🥹]

✨ Choose one (or more) of the following prompts:

*if you don't want to write smut, you don't have to choose anything from the kinks prompt! feel free to only use the following two prompts :)

soft dom!BB

clothes/naked ratio

size kink

slow and deep 👀

breeding kink (non-pregnancy version)

somnophilia

free use

cockwarming

belly bulge

Squirting

consensual non-con

consensual dub-con

cumeating

creampie

anal/or dp

possessive/or protective manhandling!BB

oral sex

orgasm delay

dumbification

daddy/princess kink

overstimulation

sex pollen

prone bone

cockdrunk

threesome (BB/Reader/BB)

ass/pussy spanking

mild degradation

body worshipping

quickie/don't get caught (public sex, threats of exhibitionism, etc.) 😏

Grouchybb! who is only soft with you

Married and loyal!spouse

A/B/O

lumberjack!bb who is a teddy bear on the inside tho

mob AU

biker AU

soulmate AU

mutual pining/idiots in love

childhood besties to lovers

reformed playboy

professor AU

supernatural/mythical (gods, sirens, werewolves, witches, vampires, ghosts, oh my!)

frenemies to lovers

fwb to lovers

locked in AU/forced proximity

medieval AU

fake dating/relationship

sharing one bed

polar opposites attract

break up and make up

spy AU

meet cute

cowboy AU

gentle recluse!BB

brothers best friend!BB

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Yes, take it, slut"

"It's not that big of a deal."

"God, why do you always do this"

"You're impossible."

"Then I guess we gotta be quiet, huh?"

"We're trapped."

"Shh, you wouldn't want anyone to hear, or do you?"

"You're taking me so well, baby"

"Good girl" *for fem readers; adjust accordingly!*

"Tsk, uh-uh, c'mere, honey"

"You always feel so good around me, baby"

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Here, let me help you."

"Yeah, are you a cockhungry slut, now?"

"I hardly think that that's necessary."

"Don't be a brat, baby."

"Aw, does it feel good right there?"

"I'm sorry!"

"What do you want from me?!"

"I didn't mean to!"

"What do you think you're doing here?"

"Nope. Again."

"Don't worry, I got you."

"Just stay still, there you go."

"Just one more, I promise."

"C'mon, don't you wanna be good?"

"Stay over there!"

"You better hurry up, baby."

"Thaaaat's it, you're doing so well, honey."

"Uhm, I'm not sure that's going to work."

"Please, I'll beg, please!"

"Be honest."

"Be careful there, darlin'."

"Are you okay?"

"Are you sure you wanna go there?"

Scenarios? Any! Go. Wild.

✨ I love reading/writing angst w/HEA, soft dark (nothing too dark though), fluff and SMUT (as you can see w/the many many kinks).

no incest (stepcest is ok if tasteful lol), no infidelity, no watersports, no murder, no gore. if you're unsure if a trope is appropriate, ask me!

if im ever uncomfy with writing something, i will lyk and we can talk more about it to see if we could work with it!

feel free to ask any questions!

i think i got everything!

Have the best time, laddies~ thanks for celebrating with me!

All are welcome to join in the fun! ❣️

Tagging a few mutuals who may be interested but no pressure bbs:

@bigtreefest @mercurial-chuckles @stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork @buckets-and-trees @hotdamnhunnam @laurfilijames

@autumnrose40 @eloquentlytired @misscherry-26 @stellar-solar-flare

@darsynia @navybrat817

[sissylittlefeather]

Viva Las Vegas

A mafia!Elvis AU Story

A/N: This was a request that threw me for a loop. I didn't know anything about the mafia. But after watching Casino and talking to my husband, I think I did this one okay and I had an absolute blast writing it! Hopefully it's exactly what it's supposed to be and you all enjoy it!

Warnings: SO MUCH SMUT AND VIOLENCE 18+ NO MINORS, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, swallowing, ejaculation, creampie, ALSO GUN VIOLENCE

Word count: ~6.2k (it takes a lot of storytelling)

In 1973 after the Aloha Special, Elvis decided he had had enough of the colonel and his life in Vegas. He didn't want to leave Vegas per se, but he wanted to try something different.

Thats when he bought a casino and entered the world you'd been trying to get out of for a decade: the world of corrupt casino bosses and the mafia back east.

You hate your father. He owns one of the casinos in Vegas, which means he's in neck deep with the mafia. All of the casinos are tied up with the mob somewhere. Some are from New York, some in Chicago, and a few in other cities around the Midwest.

The casino Elvis buys is New York mafia and it doesn't take him long to get wrapped in their web. Despite his rock star status, he loves it and is eager to do odd jobs for the bosses here and there and earn their trust. Before too long, he's one of their most trusted lieutenants. And by 75, he's his own kind of boss in Las Vegas. The mafia game is new in Vegas, but Elvis is on the forefront, creating his own family of Memphis guys to help him enforce the dealings of his casino.

Your father owns a Chicago mafia casino. And although there's not really beef between the two in their individual cities, the battle over who reigns supreme in Vegas rages. Elvis dives headfirst into this feud and is quick to figure out who the enemy is: your father.

This is not a problem in the beginning. You've sworn up and down that you'll marry a nice man and get out of this bullshit. You're tired of people you know ending up buried in the desert. You'll never get involved with a mafia boss. It's just not in the cards for you.

And then 1975 rolls around and you attend an event put on by the gaming commission to thank the casino owners for their contribution to the city of Las Vegas. You wonder if they have any idea how dangerous it is to have all these men in one room together. Still, you're not there with any of them. You're there on the arm of a senator. He's sweet and naive, and a little bit dumb, but at least he doesn't kill people in his spare time. Your father is disappointed, but the work you're doing with the senator might pay off, so he doesn't try to stop you.

That's when you meet Elvis. You catch his eye across the room and hold his gaze for a few seconds. You know who he is, but you're not eager to know him any better than you already do, so you look away. Still, you feel eyes on you and you look back in his direction to find that he's still staring at you. You look away again to try to convey your disinterest, but when you look back a third time, he's left his date and is walking towards you.

"Oh fuck." You whisper under your breath and roll your eyes. You walk away from the senator toward the bar in an effort to dodge Elvis. But somehow he catches up to you.

"I'd offer to buy you a drink, but you already have one." When you turn to face him, he's taller than you expect.

"Also they're free."

"True. Can I offer you something in gold and diamonds instead?" He smirks and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes again.

"I only wear white gold."

"Noted. What's your name."

"I'm y/n. Y/f/n y/l/n."

"Y/l/n? Any relation to Marco y/l/n?"

"He's my father."

"Oh."

"Yeah, so I suggest you move along, soldier. I know who you work for."

"Now hold on, I'm not a soldier. I own my own outfit these days."

"Good for you. I'm still not interested." You go to walk away from him and he grabs your arm and pulls you close to him.

"Oh, I think you are, doll. You wouldn't be so keen on runnin' away if you weren't." Your proximity to him allows you to notice the scent of him. He's all cologne, cigarillos, and peppermint. It's an intoxicating blend and there's something about the way his eyes sparkle that draws you in.

You were a fan of him when you were younger and he was still starring in movies. He's 40 now and he's grown into his maturity in a way no one expected. He carries more weight than he has before, but somehow that makes him more attractive. Like he's a whole man now and he knows what a woman wants.

"Say I was interested. It's not like you'd be allowed anywhere near me. If you don't want to end up in a hole in the desert, I suggest you go back to your date."

"Your father doesn't scare me, honey. All I heard was that you're interested." In a move bold enough to shock you, he leans in and kisses your cheek.

"I can't believe you just did that."

"You're a beautiful girl. Might be worth a hole in the desert." No one has ever pursued you with such fervor. You hate to admit it, but it's turning you on quite a bit.

"Okay, I'm interested. What's your plan now?" He smiles and wraps his hand around your waist.

"Come with me, sugar."

He leads you through the party back to the door that goes into the kitchen.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

He takes you into the pantry where they store the dry goods. It's bigger than a closet, so there's space for both of you. As soon as the door closes, he kisses you, one hand on the back of your head and the other on your lower back, pulling your body in close to his. You kiss him back and melt into his embrace. You know you should stop him, but you don't. He pulls back and looks into your eyes.

"Just how interested are you?" His hand moves to your breast, where he squeezes gently and then slides down to your core, easily finding your clit through your dress.

"I'm interested, daddy. But you better make it worthwhile."

"Mmmm sugar, don't you worry about that. Daddy'll take good care of ya." He gets on his knees and pushes your dress up to your hips. Sliding your panties down your legs, he moves back up to your center, pressing his mouth to you. You gasp a little at the sensation. He slides two fingers inside you to pump in and out while he licks your clit. He makes circles over and around it with his tongue and you moan and put your fingers in his hair. He continues to lap at you as he fucks you with his hand. You feel your orgasm coming to slam into you and your walls tighten around his fingers.

"Let go, baby. Cum for daddy." As soon as he says it, your climax hits and the pleasure washes over you like waves crashing on a beach. He licks you through your orgasm and then backs away slowly. He stands back up and turns you to face away from him. Whispering in your ear, he unbuckles his belt and drops his pants just enough for his cock to bounce free.

"You want daddy to fuck you, sugar?

"Mmmhmmm yes please daddy." You whimper and moan as he lines himself up with your entrance from behind. Then, he holds your hips as he slides into you and picks up a steady rhythm of pounding you. He's balls deep inside you when someone opens the door. He slams it shut with his hand and hollers, "Occupied!"

You giggle a little and he laughs too. Through the whole episode, though, he doesn't stop fucking you. He holds your hips and slams into you over and over again until it feels like you just can't stand it anymore. You cum hard on his dick and he pulls out just in time and pumps his cock a few times to shoot his seed all over your ass.

"Fuck yes, sugar, fuck!"

When he's finished, he finds a napkin to clean you up and then pulls your panties back to where they belong. He slaps your ass before he pulls your dress back down. "Mmm. I want you to belong to me."

"I'm not sure that's possible. You know who my father is."

"I don't give a damn who your father is."

"Well, I don't want you dead. This was fun, but that's all it was."

"We'll see, sugar." He leans in and kisses you deeply one last time. Then, you both make your way out of the closet and back to your respective dates at the party.

But for the rest of the night, you catch him looking at you from across the room.

You've never hated your father more.

******

Three days later a box arrives at your suite. Your parents have the penthouse, but your living area is nothing to sneeze at. You've got three full bedrooms, a kitchen, two bathrooms, and a large space for entertaining complete with a bar. You're no stranger to luxury.

So when you open the box and even you are shocked, you know this is an impressive gift. You lift out a large, ornate jewelry box and open it carefully. The whole thing is packed to the brim with white gold and diamonds. Necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and rings you suspect to the tune of roughly a million dollars. There's a card inside as well, so you open the envelope and pull it out gently. A necklace falls into your lap when you go to read it. The card is blank except for a single line:

"This one makes you mine. -EP"

You hold it up to examine it. It's smaller than some of the others, but the whole thing is coated in little diamonds. The letters "TLC" surround a lightning bolt and hang on a white gold chain. You look back down at the box of jewelry on the table in front of you. If you accept this gift, you're opening the door to a dangerous situation for both of you. Is he worth it? There's a part of you screaming yes, but you also swore to never get involved with a mob boss. And now you're considering your father's biggest rival? No. You decide to call him and thank him, but graciously tell him no.

"Hello?" Of course he doesn't answer the phone. It's obviously one of his guys.

"I need to speak to Elvis please."

"I'm sure you do. You and every other broad in this town."

"Tell him it's Sugar and I just want to thank him for the gift." You can tell he sets down the receiver and you hear mumbling in the background. After a few more seconds, the phone is picked up again.

"Hi, Sugar. Sounds like you got my present?" His voice is warm and sensual and you're almost hypnotized by it. You shake your head a little to bring yourself back down to earth.

"I did. And it's very sweet, thank you. But-"

"No."

"No?"

"You're not sending it back. It's yours."

"Elvis, I can't keep this."

"You will. And you'll have dinner with me tonight."

"Elvis, no I-"

"I'll pick you up at 8."

"You can't come here."

"So meet me on the corner outside. Wear something pretty and don't forget your necklace. I'll see you at 8." There's a click and the line goes dead. You look at the receiver and slam it down on the dialer. He's impossible.

******

At 7:30, you sit on your bed staring at the dress you picked out. It's tight and short and covered with black rhinestones. Are you actually going to do this? You'd be lying if you said you didn't want to see him again, but there's so much at risk. Your hair and makeup are done and all you need to do is get dressed and put on your jewelry. You look at the clock again and bite the inside of your cheek.

"Fuck it."

You stand up and slide the dress on. It fits you like a glove and won't do much to keep him from liking you. Neither will the black strappy heels you pull on. You go to the jewelry box and put on a pair of large diamond earrings, a bracelet, and several rings. You stand there holding the TLC necklace and stare at yourself in the mirror. Going to dinner with him is one thing. Wearing the necklace that claims you as his own is totally different. But you're not sure what he might do if you show up without it. At 7:53, you throw the necklace around your neck, grab your purse, and head for the door. You stand on the corner for less than thirty seconds before a long black limousine pulls up and the window rolls down.

"You waitin' for someone?" Elvis gives you a mischievous smile.

"Maybe."

"Hi Sugar. Come on." A guy pops out of the car and opens the door for you to slide in next to Elvis. As you settle on the seat, Elvis reaches across and fondles the necklace where it sits on your chest.

"It looks good on ya." You feel your cheeks get warm.

"I wasn't sure I wanted to wear it."

"And yet, here you are. You're in love with me, Sugar."

"You seem pretty sure of yourself."

"Because I'm in love with you."

"You literally met me once."

"That's all it takes when your souls are aligned like ours are." He leans forward and captures your lips in a deep kiss. You begin to make out heavily. As your tongues move against each other, the passion overwhelms you and you crawl on top of him to straddle him. You continue to kiss and his hands run over your body hungrily. Eventually, he grabs your ass with both hands and pulls you in against him, his hardness pressing into you between your legs.

"How far is the restaurant?" You whisper breathily.

"Far enough." He lets you unbuckle his belt and get his pants open enough to pull his cock out. You hike your skirt up to reveal that you aren't wearing panties.

"Sugar, you're gonna kill me." He holds your hips, lining you up with him, and then drops you down on his dick. You roll your hips against him and fuck him deeply. He grunts and grabs your neck to pull you into a kiss. You both know that you don't have much time, so you move on him quickly. He lifts his hips a little and his cock rubs perfectly against your g-spot. Without warning, you cum hard on him and the intense pleasure runs through you like fire.

"Mmm." He grunts and you know he's getting close too, so you back up off of him and drop to your knees on the floor of the limo. You put your hands on his thighs and pull his cock deep into your throat. "Dear god, woman."

You bounce up and down on him for a few more seconds before his hips buck and he fills your throat with his warm release. You swallow it all down and then run your tongue around his uncut tip. When you pull back off of him and sit on his lap, he grabs your chin and kisses your lips gently.

"Sugar, you're mine and you know it."

"I am." He kisses you again.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

The car stops and you both make yourselves presentable before the door opens. You head into the restaurant together and never look back.

******

You spend the next few weeks together pretty much 24/7. Periodically, he disappears to take care of business, but for the most part you're either talking, sleeping, or fucking. You really hope that your parents don't notice that you haven't been home except to grab a suitcase since you left for dinner that night. This is the happiest you've ever been in your life and at the beginning of the fourth week Elvis walks into his suite after some business and asks you to come sit with him on the couch. You do as he asks, but you're starting to get a little worried because he seems really serious.

"What is it, baby?" You settle in close to him but he moves away from you to look into your face.

"Sugar, I've never felt like this about a woman. I truly believe our souls were meant to be together. I want you to marry me." He pulls a box from his pocket and opens it to reveal an enormous emerald-cut three-stone diamond ring of no less than 14 carats.

"Wow. Elvis, I- wow."

"What do ya say, Sugar?"

"Elvis, I want nothing more than to marry you. But I don't think I can. The only reason we've made it this long is because my father doesn't know."

He slams the box down on the coffee table and stands up, pacing.

"Damn it, Sugar, I told you I don't give a fuck about your father! Let him find out!" You stand up too and raise your voice to match his.

"Do you think I want him to kill you?!"

"You don't believe I can defend myself?! Is that what you think of me?!" He kicks over an end table, sending the things on it flying. "I'm a man, y/n! This is what I do!" He puts his foot on the coffee table and pulls the gun from his boot, dropping it on the table with a thud. He rips his jacket off and pulls the two guns out of his shoulder holster, tossing them on the table too. He pulls the guns from his waistband holsters and adds them to the pile.

You watch as he does all of this. You've seen your father do almost the same exact thing at the end of a long day. You feel the tears well up in your eyes and you want to scream. How did you end up here, so in love with a man who is in this world? If you marry him, you'll never escape. You'll get married in the mafia, raise your kids in the mafia, and watch your husband die in the mafia. It's all too much and the tears start pouring down your cheeks.

He realizes you're crying and puts his hands on his hips, trying to avoid softening, but he can't.

"Now, Sugar, what's all that about?"

"N-nothing." You sob and he walks over to you and wraps you in his arms. He strokes your hair and you cry on him.

"Come on, out with it." You burrow your face into his chest and yell.

"I don't want you to die!" He looks up at the ceiling and sighs deeply.

"Sugar, I don't have any plans on dyin' any time soon." You look up into his face and he uses his thumbs to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"You don't know that."

"No. I guess I don't. But I know this. I love you right now and I want to marry you right now. And if I die, then I die, but I'm alive now and I want you to be my wife while I am." He leans down to kiss you softly on the cheek. You push away from him and he sighs again deeply. "Sugar, please."

You turn and look at him. Then, you snatch the ring box off of the table. He's afraid you're going to throw it at him, but you don't. Instead, you open it and take the ring out. You jam it onto your ring finger and purse your lips.

"Okay. Yes."

"Yes?" A smile spreads across his face.

"Yes." You walk over to him and jump on him and he catches you, spinning you around. He kisses you deeply and then carries you into the bedroom. You both laugh as he takes your clothes off and you fall into each other again.

******

What you don't know is that your father has noticed your absence. He sent out some of his favorite soldiers to locate you and they did. They call him to let him know where you are.

"She's with Elvis?"

"Yeah, boss. Looks like she's been there a while."

"I guess we have some business to take care of. Bring her back here."

"Understood."

Your father hangs up the phone after hearing about your location. Then he turns and throws the phone at the wall.

******

You're lying naked in Elvis's arms when there's a loud knock on the front door. He immediately gets up and dresses quickly. One of the things he's learned is how to assess a threat and this feels like something bad.

"Stay here, Sugar." He goes in the living room and puts all his guns back where they belong on his person. There's another loud knock.

"We know she's in there! Open the fucking door!" He looks at you standing in the doorway in one of his shirts. He walks over to you and hands you one of his pistols. Then, he kisses your forehead and cups your cheek in his hand.

"Stay in here. This might get ugly."

"Those men are my cousins. Maybe I should just go with them."

"Is that what you want? They won't let you come back to me." Your eyes flick between his while you think. The decision you make right now will define your future. Do you stay with the man you love? Or do you go with your family and forfeit your chance at happiness with him but make sure he stays alive? You know which one he would want you to choose. The cold metal of your engagement ring becomes heavy on your finger. You can't live without him.

"Donny got in a fight when he was younger and doesn't see very well out of his left eye. Use that if you can. I love you." You kiss him deeply on the lips and then take the pistol in the room and shut the door. You find some pants and put on your shoes in case you have to make a run for it. Then you sit on the bed with the pistol in your hand and listen.

Elvis opens the door carefully. He's got a loaded gun in his hand behind his back. The two men saunter into the room.

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"You know who. Marco sent us to get her."

"You can give her to us the easy way or we can take her. It's up to you."

The sound of your cousins' voices is not hard to hear. Donny is the big booming one. The higher-pitched whiny one is Nick. They're both a little older than you, but you try very hard not to remember them as kids.

"You're not taking her." Elvis looks toward the door. They must've already dispensed of the guards he keeps out there day and night.

"Hard way it is, then." You hear the sounds of a scuffle as Donny lunges toward Elvis. You open the door silently and peek into the room. Elvis fires a shot at Donny, but he's a moving target, so he misses. Donny wrestles the gun away from him and gets him on his knees with his hands behind his back. Nicky stands in front of him with a gun pointed in his face.

"Tell us where she is and we'll take her and go. We're not lookin' to start a war over this bitch. Her daddy just wants her back."

"Fuck you and her daddy."

As the conversation happens, you slip off your shoes and walk silently into the room with the pistol in your hand. It takes Donny a minute to register that you're there, so his warning comes too late.

"Look out Nick!"

When he turns to face you, you have the pistol cocked and pointed at his head.

"Oh, come on now, y/n. You're not gonna shoot me."

"You know I know how to." It's true. Your father had a gun in your hand as soon as you were old enough to hold it. Your marksmanship is solid.

"Just come home with us. You don't need this fucker."

"Don't talk about him like that." You shake your head and then Donny chimes in from across the room.

"Just grab her, Nick. We don't have time for this." Nick nods and makes like he's going to grab you. Without thinking, you pull the trigger. Again, your marksmanship is spot on.

Once you shoot Nick, Donny is so caught off guard that Elvis is able to slip away from him. He grabs his loaded gun from the floor where he dropped it earlier, turns, and shoots Donny in the head.

Your gun falls to the floor and you drop to your knees shaking. You've never shot a person before, much less a family member. Elvis rushes to you and catches you just before you pass out.

******

When you come to, you're in a car. You turn and see Elvis in the drivers seat.

"You alright, Sugar?"

"Yeah. Did I really shoot Nick?"

"You did."

"Fuck." You're overcome with nausea and you start to shake again. Elvis notices how pale you are and pulls the car over on the side of the deserted highway you're on. You stumble out of the car and vomit in the dirt. It doesn't take long for him to be by your side, holding your hair back and humming a soothing melody. When he can tell that you're finished, he scoops you up like a baby and carries you to the backseat of the car. He slides in next to you and holds you close to his chest. You're too shocked to even cry. That'll come later.

"Nicky was a real asshole. He shot my first boyfriend- buried him in the desert- because he took my virginity. Pretty sure my father just wanted him beat up, but Nicky was always taking things too far. He would've killed you too."

"I believe you, Sugar. You did what you had to do."

"I did. And I'm not sorry. I probably should be, but I'm not." He lifts your chin and looks into your eyes.

"Welcome to the mafia, Sugar." You nod slowly and lean back into his chest. You sit like this for another half hour, with him still stroking your hair and humming. Eventually, you sit up.

"Okay. I think I'm okay. Where are we going?"

"One of my guys owns a motel out here. It's safe. We'll stay there until I can figure out the next step. I have an idea, but I'll need to do some business to work it out."

"I trust you." He kisses your forehead and then you both get out and get back in the front of the car. Once you're settled, he grabs your hand and holds it in his lap. The future is cloudy for both of you, but at least you're together.

******

You're at the motel for three weeks in the desert. Overall, you're doing okay except for the nightmares. But Elvis is always there to take care of you, whether you're screaming, crying, or throwing punches. It doesn't take long for you to sink back into your routine of talking, sleeping, and fucking.

Elvis makes business calls and even goes to a couple of meetings in town. Every time he leaves, you're a basket case until he returns. You sit in the bed with a loaded pistol in your lap just waiting. But every time he comes back unscathed. It helps that his men are all over the motel and they accompany him any time he goes into Vegas. The only thing you argue about is who needs the most protection when you're apart. He wants you to have the bulk of the security and you argue that he's in much more danger in the city. He always wins, though, and you end up with a better protection detail than the president.

At the end of the three weeks, Elvis comes to you with an assignment.

"I need you to get dressed. We're going into Vegas."

"For what?! How should I dress?"

"Well, I've got a little business deal to solidify and then we're celebrating. So wear something nice. Maybe something white."

"White?"

"Yeah. Just in case." You have no idea what he could possibly be talking about, but you follow instructions and pick out the only white dress in your bag. It's a long-sleeved mini dress with a deep v-neck that shows off your cleavage nicely. You put it on with your white patent leather boots. When he sees you, he looks you up and down and whistles.

"Will this work?"

"Sugar, it's already working." He grabs you and pulls you to him, kissing your neck down to your breasts.

"Mmm you want to take it off of me?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. But we have somewhere to be soon. Later I'll rip it off with my teeth." He nibbles your breast a little and growls. Then he turns and grabs a briefcase, puts his jacket on over his guns, and walks you to the door.

You settle in the back of the limousine with him and giggle a little. He looks at you with an incredulous look.

"Sugar, what's got you tickled?"

"I was thinking about the first time we were in the limo together."

"And you didn't have any panties on?" He turns to look at you, his eyes darkened with lust.

"I'm not wearing any tonight either."

"Mmmm." He shakes his head and grunts. Then he runs his hand up your thigh to your center to verify what you've said. It's true. "Sugar, you sure know what daddy likes."

He gets on his knees in front of you on the floor of the limo and yanks you to the edge of the seat. He spreads your legs and pushes your dress up over your hips. Dragging his tongue up your thigh, he presses one finger into you.

"Mmmm yes daddy." You moan as he works his hand on you.

"You want daddy to eat this pussy?"

"Yes please." You answer breathlessly and put your fingers in his hair. He smiles at how eager you are and moves his mouth to your center. His tongue begins its familiar pattern over and around your clit. He's learned your body and knows exactly what you like. He knows how you squirm when he runs his tongue directly over you hard and how you moan when he pushes his tongue into your slit. He knows when to flatten his tongue and move his head side to side and when to tighten his tongue to a point and lick up either side. He does all of those things and more and it's only a little while before you cum hard in his mouth and he licks you through it, the electricity of your orgasm running through you to your fingertips and back again. He kisses your clit one last time, pulls your skirt down, and then sits up next to you on the seat, wiping his mouth with his hand. You're just about to crawl on top of him when the car pulls to a stop. He leans over and kisses you.

"I can wait, Sugar." He pats your knee and the door opens for you to get out. Your breath catches.

You're at your father's casino.

"Elvis! What are we doing here?! He will kill you!"

"No, he won't. I've arranged a business meeting through both of our lawyers. And his board of directors."

"How did you work that out?"

"It's a long story. Come on." In a gesture bold enough to make your heart jump, he pats your bottom to encourage you to walk. When you get inside, you head to a meeting room. Your father is seated at the head of the table with several men around him. They're in boring, relatively cheap suits, though, so you suspect they're truly businessmen and not mobsters. You notice your father's mouth pop open a little when he sees you and Elvis walk into the room, but he quickly rearranges his face. His jaw flexes, but that's the only indicator of his feelings. Elvis shakes his hand and smiles warmly and then takes the seat at the other end of the table. The meeting begins with the discussion of business. As it turns out, Elvis has opened a shell corporation and then used it to negotiate a purchase of your father's casino. Now you see why he's so angry. Without knowing it, your father has allowed his biggest rival to buy his prized casino. He made a pretty good chunk of change in the meantime, but now Elvis and his connections to the New York mob will run Vegas.

After the business is settled, Elvis dismisses the business men so that it's just you, him, and your father in the room.

Your father glares at him.

"I should kill you for this disrespect."

"I wouldn't try it. I have more men in this town now than anyone else. You wouldn't make it to the sidewalk." Your father swallows deeply. He knows he's beaten, so he turns to you.

"I'm going home to Chicago. You're coming with me. Your mother misses you." There's a small pang in your heart at the thought of your mother. Elvis puts his arm around your waist and pulls you to him protectively. His grip steadies you and you feel more confident than you have since you walked into the casino.

"No, I'm not. I'm sorry about mother, but I'm not going back to Chicago." Your father's anger flares up again and he reaches for one of his guns. But Elvis beats him to the punch.

"Here's the deal, Mr. Y/l/n. I bought your casino. And I'm gonna marry your daughter. You can accept that and leave, or I can shoot you right here, right now. It's up to you." Your father looks between the two of you and then down at the gun Elvis has pointed at him. He spits at you and throws his gun on the table. Then, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room. Elvis turns to you and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

"I can't believe that just happened." You shake your head incredulously.

"It did, Sugar. Now. I already asked the question and you already said yes. All that's left to decide is when and I say tonight is as good a night as any."

"That's why I'm wearing white!"

"What do you say, Sugar?" You nod your head excitedly and throw your arms around his neck.

You manage to make it in and out of a chapel without anyone noticing who you are. And you've got a slew of bodyguards with you anyway.

You barely make it the short ride to the casino before you've got your hands in his pants. Instead, you make it to the elevator and he hits the stop button while you yank his pants down and drop to your knees in front of him. You hold the base of his cock with one hand and lick a slow circle around the tip. Then you run your tongue along the bottom of the shaft and tease him a little.

"Goddamn, Sugar." He weaves his fingers into your hair as you pull him deep into your throat. He holds your head still and begins to thrust into your mouth, making your eyes water. Suddenly, he stops and tries to pull away from you. "Mmmm. Daddy wants to fuck you, Sugar, and if you don't stop I won't be able to."

You back off of him and stand up. He pushes your back against the wall and lines his cock up with your entrance. Then, he bends his knees a little and pushes into you like he's done so many times before. But this time, he's your husband.

"Hey." You grab his face and look into his eyes. "Don't pull out this time."

"You sure, Sugar?"

"We're married, aren't we?" He kisses your mouth, your cheek, your neck, and then your mouth again. You didn't know he would be so excited, but he is. The prospect of another child is something that's excited him since he met you. He begins to pump in and out of you deeply.

"God, I love you, Sugar."

He pounds into you rhythmically for a few more minutes before you feel him shudder into you.

"Oh fuckkk yes." He yells as he fills you with his warmth for the first time, but certainly not the last. He stays inside you for a while, kissing your neck. Then, he slowly pulls out and starts the elevator again as you adjust your skirt and he puts himself away. When the doors slide open, the men posted there nod to him. One of them says, "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Presley." And you giggle. You're Mrs. Presley.

He scoops you into his arms and carries you across the threshold. You've finally accepted that the mafia will be your life forever. But as long as it's a life with him, you couldn't care less.

******

Share your thoughts! I love to hear from you! 🩷🩷🩷

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @elvisbooty76

[navybrat817]

Partners in Crime

Pairing: Mob!Nick Fowler x Female Reader Summary: A night out with one of your father's most trusted associates puts you on a new and dangerous path. Word Count: Over 1.9k Warnings: Implied e/xplicit s/exual content, d/runk s/ex (con-sensual), d/rinking, talk of v/iolence, p/ossessive behavior, possible soft!dark vibes if you squint, engagement, not-so-great dad, Nick Fowler (he's a warning, okay?). Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics , Nick edit - Nix, Moodboard - yours truly A/N: Welcome to my Wicked Arrangements AU! For @the-slumberparty 's April Writing Challenge (prompt in bold italics) and we'll see a few other characters down the road. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby and pre-read by @slyyywriting ​, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The first thought that entered your mind when you woke up was that you were never drinking whiskey again. You couldn't even remember how much you had, but you weren’t going to bounce back immediately from this hangover. You tried to avoid getting drunk whenever you could. At least it wasn't at your dad's party.

Not that you stuck around for most of it anyway.

Nick Fowler, one of the most powerful men in the city and your dad's most trusted associate, was waiting by your car when you left.

"Why don't we have a real party?

A man as ruthless and dangerous as he is beautiful, there was a reason why so many wanted him on their side. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty or the kind of man to cross. Though he didn't say much to you with your dad around, it didn't stop him from eye fucking you every chance he had.

It was only natural that you wanted him.

"Sure. I could use a distraction."

"Oh, sweetheart, I'll give you much more than that."

With a groan, you cracked one eye open and then the other. The pounding headache made it difficult to see as you tried to blink away the spots in your vision. If you had to choose an equivalent to what your throat felt like, sandpaper would be the closest. At least you didn't get sick. The bed you laid in was also comfortable and the sheets kept your naked body warm enough.

You forgot about the pain in your head as the ache between your legs grabbed your attention.

Oh, yeah. That happened.

Closing your eyes, a blurred vision of tangled limbs surfaced, the blue eyes of Nick piercing through the fog.

“Knew you’d take my cock like a good girl.”

And you did over and over.

Doing your best not to move too fast, you carefully turned your head and opened your eyes again. You expected to see him sleeping beside you, but he wasn’t there. Gently touching the spot, you noticed it still had a bit of warmth. Maybe he went to the bathroom or decided to get breakfast.

It took a moment to register that something sparkled on your left hand as sunlight peeked in through the curtain. “What the hell?” you mumbled as you stared at the diamond ring on the fourth digit.

A ring that looked suspiciously like an engagement ring.

No, no, no, we did not.

“Morning, sweetheart,” a familiar voice gently pierced the air as you kept staring at your finger. "Surprised to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

You tore your gaze away to look at Nick, who had an all too smug look on his eyes.

"I don't know yet," you said honestly, clearing the scratch from your throat.

Nick hummed as he walked across the room in just his underwear. A hint of a smirk formed on his handsome face as you admired him. The black suits he normally wore hid how broad his shoulders and chest were. They also hid most of his tattoos, which you vaguely recall tracing a few with your fingers and tongue. Your gaze trailed down his chiseled abs to the front of his boxers, the throbbing ache between your thighs intensifying.

No. Focus.

"You did say too much whiskey would give you a headache," he said, handing you some aspirin and water.

You quickly took the pills with a generous gulp, the cold liquid soothing the slight burn in your throat. "Did we…?" you trailed off.

"Did we what?" he asked, running a hand through his short hair. You were pretty sure you tried to pull it while you rode him. "We did a lot of things last night, so you'll need to be more specific."

Your cheeks flamed as you held up your hand, proud when it didn't shake. "This."

He slowly ducked down and you couldn't stop the hitch in your breath as his lips touched your forehead. "Get married? No," he said, pressing a soft kiss against your skin.

You could breathe a bit easier. While your dad wouldn't lay a hand on you if you married without his permission, he could and would wreck the life you tried to have beyond the bubble he put you in. Piece by piece.

"But you also said I couldn't have you unless I put a ring on your finger, so I did."

"I was kidding!" you said. No way he actually believed that.

"I took it seriously," he murmured, moving his mouth to your ear. "And it's a perfect fit. Just like my cock inside you."

"Oh, my god," you whispered.

"You said that, too," he whispered, dragging his lips down the column of your neck. The scruff on his chin left a delicious burn in its path. "I reminded you to say my name instead."

The gravel of his voice sent a shiver down your spine before you moved to the other side of the bed and out of his reach. "I need a minute," you said, feeling his eyes on you as you stood up.

"I'll be waiting."

You didn't bother to cover yourself up as you went to the bathroom, your head not spinning as much as you expected it to. Nick saw everything last night and into the early morning, so you had no shame if you watched your hips sway. Splashing some water on your face, you had no idea where to go from here. While Nick was fun and a wonderful distraction, you couldn't help but wonder if last night was a calculated move.

It wasn't a secret that your dad wanted a son to take over his empire one day. He got you instead. He should have been a good father who loved and cared for you, but he treated you as an investment. You had a good education after you chose a college from the options he provided you. The same with your job as he limited the places you could apply to.

While he didn't keep you in a cage, he certainly kept you on a leash.

Maybe if mom was still around, things would be different.

You would only take over his businesses with a man of his choice by your side. He usually only had you around his inner circle of men long enough for them to flirt and leer at you. You were certain he was prepping you for the highest bidder.

Are you that bidder, Nick?

"Why were you waiting for me last night?" you asked once you went back into the bedroom where Nick was now on the bed. "Did my dad ask you to?"

"I was waiting for you because I wanted you. I thought that was obvious," he answered, unashamedly looking you over as you joined him. He reached for you, his fingers surprisingly gentle as he touched your cheek. "And I got tired of waiting."

Nick Fowler got whatever he wanted.

"But did he ask you to?" you repeated, showing him your hand again. "And how the hell did you just happen to have a ring on you my size?"

"Your dad had nothing to do with it. I've had that ring on me and my eye on you for some time," he said, kissing your hand and drawing a gasp from you as he put you on your back. "In case you forgot, I slipped it on after you drank the rest of my Jack Daniels and gave me a lap dance in my private booth. You didn't complain."

You recalled grinding to the beat as Nick sat back and watched. He looked like a modern king on a throne as the lights pulsed around him. No one would have bat an eye if he fucked you in his VIP section.

Which he did.

"We're not actually engaged, Nick. I said I was kidding about putting a ring on my finger."

His eyes darkened as he stretched over you, his muscles rippling before his weight settled. "You said you'd be mine."

Your heart raced, but it wasn't out of fear. "You don't even know me. Not really," you said, thankful that tears didn't fill your eyes.

How could he when no one was able to get close to you?

His knuckles caressed your cheek and you tried not to lean into his touch. "Told you I've had my eye on you for some time, dulceata. I know you better than you think."

You wanted to believe he did, but could you trust a man who worked with your dad? Did he want you simply to gain access to more resources? Gain more power?

"You're manipulative."

"I prefer calculating and there isn't anything wrong with that," he said before his lips touched yours.

His kiss brought back a reminder of the pleasure he gave you, your body humming with the promise of more. The man had layers to him, but something inside you said he wouldn't hurt you. He may be more inclined to hurt anyone who hurt you.

Maybe.

"I guess you have to be in your line of work," you said, a bitter laugh escaping. It was better than crying. "But if you're serious about whatever this is, do you really think my dad will let us be together? Well, he might if he thinks he can get something from you. He does value you. Pretty sure he even likes you more than he likes me."

It didn't hurt to say that as much as you thought it would.

"I don't give a fuck what your dad thinks," he said, his handsome face gazing down at yours. "I know he thinks he can control your life, but he's in for a rude awakening. And I can promise you I would never be that kind of father to our daughter."

"Please, don't talk about us having kids," you begged. You still had too much of a headache for that, but your womb clenched of its own accord.

"Why not?" he smirked. "You're going to be my wife."

I'm not even going to argue for the time being.

"Well, I need to rest, future husband," you said before he suddenly slid down your body and parted your legs. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Just looking at the pretty pussy I ruined," he said, tracing a finger along your slit. Your body quickly responded to his touch and you weren't ashamed of the small moan you let out. "Which belongs to me now. If it wasn’t meant to be, you wouldn’t fit me so perfectly.”

"Is that right?" you asked, clenching around nothing.

Should I beg him to fuck me or play a little hard to get?

"You know it does. And if you want to go back to sleep, go right ahead. I'll fuck you until you're stuffed with me and wake you with my tongue," he said, making your back bow as his warm breath skimmed your folds. "You'll be begging me to fuck you all over again."

Your body went pliant against the sheets. "Nick?" you breathed out. "How do I know I can trust you?" You questioned before you would allow him to distract you.

"I guess I'll have to prove my loyalty to you," he replied, his eyes dark and calculating as he looked up at you. "I'll start by killing your father".

Surely Nick doesn't mean that. Right? Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Nick Fowler Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 5: From the Ground Up

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: It’s time for Bucky to take charge in your absence.

Word count: 4,065

Content/warnings: Interrogation, restraints (not in the sexy way), allusions to violence, swears, name calling, pet name usage, female reader, kissing, horseback riding?

Author’s Note: I REALLY loved writing this chapter. This is where we start to see the other storylines of the Outta Nowhere AU emerge, so keep an eye out as those get released.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

< Prev | Series Masterlist | Next >

Bucky was mad-no, he was seething as he paced back and forth in your home office. It was in the wee hours of the morning when his private jet had landed on the local airstrip. Within that same hour, Sam had personally escorted in the little nerd responsible for a good third of the turmoil going on in Bucky’s head: Jake.

Sam had taken the liberty of pre-binding his hands and duct taping his mouth shut. Bucky was going to enjoy ripping the goatee straight off his mousy little face.

Five hours ago

As soon as Steve had gotten off the phone with Bucky, he called the construction crew. They kept them on call for things like this, but the two of them never thought the stakes would be this high. It wasn’t often that someone important and non-expendable was put in this type of danger, let alone someone Bucky cared about. As he was finishing up the call and directing them towards your house, Sam reached out to him with a sticky note.

On it was a name and the address to an apartment in the city, along with Sam’s scrawled ‘pick her up on your way over.’ Steve nodded as he hung up his call and placed another, grabbing the duffel bag he kept packed by the door and heading out.

Three Hours Later

Bucky hadn’t left your side since the rocks collapsed. Luckily, the two of you had been able to find a small gap in the rocks where you both sat. It wasn’t large enough to keep air circulating, but it was big enough to at least allow the two of you to talk with each other. You and Bucky had shared so much, from him sharing his first business operation with Steve, to you detailing crazy college stories of when you, your roommate, and Curtis would hang out.

Bucky laughed along. There was a whole side of you he never knew. He had studied intently what showed up on paper, and he knew the hardships you’d faced from your deep conversation last week, but this? This was a whole new, more playful side. He was surprised to see your spirits so high despite the situation.

“I do not believe that one bit. No way you were climbing up clock towers at school just to steal the clock hands, or a random brick or whatever. You’re too straight-laced.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes as you leaned your head back against the stone wall. “Oh please, people already pay so much to go there, if anything, I had more than the right to do it. Our money pays for that stuff. Technically we owned it. Not the school.”

Bucky snorted. “You didn’t even pay tuition. Didn’t they pay you to go there?”

“That’s besides the point, Bucket. Fight the man. And anyway, if you think I’m straight laced, you should meet my roommate.”

Bucky grimaced. “Yeah, about that. She’s on her way here right now.”

Your ears perked up. “Decks is on the way? Oh, that’s good. She’ll be super helpful. She’s so organized, although, I can’t imagine she took well to whoever had to interrupt her beauty sleep. Who’s the poor guy?”

Bucky sharply inhaled. “Steve.”

“Oooo hooo hoo.” You laughed. “That’ll be a fun one for both of them. They’re either gonna love or hate each other. What are all the rest of the ETAs?”

Bucky looked at his watch. Well, really, he had been checking his watch this whole time to monitor his pulse, which was over 100 consistently since the tunnel buckled. He was shaking with concern for you, but kept his voice level to keep you calm, a trick he and Steve had worked tirelessly to master. “Ummm… looks like the construction crew should be here within the hour. And I’ll bet Decks and Steve will be pulling up any minute.”

You hummed in acknowledgment. “Anyone else coming that I should know about? So I can figure out where they’ll best fit around the farm? Decks is great with the animals.”

You hadn’t heard all of Bucky’s or Curtis’s phone calls earlier since they stepped out of the cave to make them with better reception. Bucky didn’t want you to know Jake was on the way, mostly because he knew you’d make him promise not to hurt the rat, and he didn’t want to have to make that promise with the high likelihood it would be broken. He decided a better move would be to change the subject.

“So where did the nickname ‘Decks’ come from anyway?”

“Oh! Well it’s actually-“

Bucky heard footsteps near the mouth of the mine. He did his best to politely cut you off. “Wait, Honey, I’m so sorry, quiet for one second.”

He sat there and silently listened, the rustling becoming closer and clearer until he identified it as hooves clopping gently against the soft ground. He heard Curtis’s voice say something vaguely before he moved to get his feet underneath him and brush off his pants.

“I think Curtis is here with Steve and Decks. I don’t want anyone else to come in, just in case it’s still too unstable. Can you tell me exactly what you need them to do?”

You nodded, even though you knew Bucky couldn’t see it and began to lay out the instructions. Decks and Steve weren’t here to clean out the tunnels, they were here to help keep the farm running until you were freed, and no one knew how long that would take. It was best to keep only those who could be closely trusted around until this was all figured out. God forbid the authorities come knocking, or worse yet, Cole. Bucky held onto your every word before briefly leaving the tunnel to relay the information.

Bucky returned to you shortly after instructing Curtis to take Steve and Decks back to the house so they could rest before their long day tomorrow. Everything needed to run as smoothly as possible to not raise suspicion from your absence, which they were going to claim was due to a corn crop farmer’s conference out in Iowa if anyone asked.

After another hour with you, Bucky let you know the construction company arrived and was starting to stabilize the ceiling so they could dig you out. “I’ve gotta go deal with some business, so I’ll be back soon. Plus, I can’t get in the way of these vehicles. But say the word to one of the crew and I’ll be back here in a minute flat. I promise.”

Bucky’s promises meant a lot. That was something you had learned in your conversations. He never said something unless he had a plan to deliver. A man’s word was everything in his line of work.

“Okay, I’m going to hold you to that!” You yelled back.

Bucky chuckled. “I’m going to send Sam back here as soon as he arrives. He’ll keep you company.” And with that, Bucky made his way back to the house.

So this is where Bucky found himself, walking back and forth menacingly behind Jake, who had been tied down to the guest chair in your office. Jake’s eyes shifted back and forth with nervousness as he tried and failed to hold back whimpers and near-hyperventilating breaths.

Bucky had been silent for only ten minutes. He liked the way it made them squirm. He could sit and stare all day, completely unbothered, as anyone he interrogated slowly lost their mind. Of course, there were other, more fun ways, to get information, but he wouldn’t dare mark up your home. He’d never let the one they called ‘The Winter Soldier’ be unleashed in your sanctuary. This is the closest he would ever get, though, and it would never be seen by you.

Bucky stalked around Jake and crouched in front of him. “A milk maid came in here and told me that you’d given him information about this farm. Care to share?”

Jake shook his head vigorously and whined through the duct tape over his mouth. Bucky leaned in closer. What was more terrifying than being yelled at by him? Bucky with an alarmingly level voice.

“Sorry, I couldn’t quite catch that. I can help you talk a little better, but you’ve gotta be quiet. There are people upstairs sleeping, and I can’t guarantee they’ll be as nice as me if you wake them. Promise to be good?”

Jake nodded carefully and slowly. Bucky reached for the tape at the corner of Jake’s mouth and ripped it off quickly. Jake’s head lurched forward, his mouth open with a silent scream between gasping breaths. Bucky examined the sticky side of the tape. There was no hair on it. The steam from Jake’s mouth must’ve reduced the stickiness just enough that it didn’t cause damage. Shame.

Bucky slammed his hands over Jake’s on the armrests of the chair. “Tell me everything.” He gritted out between clenched teeth.

Jake giggled uncomfortably. “Uh….there’s not really much to know, mister…sir….does this have to do with Peach? I thought she owned this farm now. Where is she?”

Bucky growled. “That’s not important right now, but yes, this is about this farm. Tell me everything you told the guy with the soft hands and the jackets that were too crisp to indicate a day of work in his whole life.”

Bucky had no intention to associate that with his own designer crisp suits that he wore everyday back in the city. That was different, it was a totally separate line of work, plus, he wasn’t trying to pose as something that he’s not when he wore them. Anyway, he’s not the one on trial here.

“Oh! You mean Cole? Fucking prick.” Jake mumbled looking down and to the side. “I can promise whatever he said to you was a lie. That guy’s always been awful. He hides a demon face behind his handsomeness.”

Bucky didn’t want to be on Jake’s side, but he couldn’t argue with that. But to keep him talking, Bucky leaned in closer, moving his hand towards the knife on his belt loop. Jake flinched and raised his hands in surrender as much as he could with his wrists tied down.

“Okay, okay, I promise I didn’t say much. At least not on purpose. I was at an investors party up in San Francisco when Cole bumped into me. He was bragging about how he had just inherited his parents’ company and it was way bigger than when we were in high school. Frankly, I didn’t care, I make an effort to forget about a lot from back then, mostly him, so I tried to disprove him by saying that there are still nice little farms around despite his family’s efforts. I told him I still had my mom buy me honey that Peach makes, herself.” He hung his head in shame.

Bucky huffed as he leaned back against your desk and crossed his arms. “Well, way to go. You know, they painted you to be some genius, but you’re an absolute idiot.”

Jake looked up and scrunched his nose. “Well I actually prefer the term loser, bu-“

Bucky raised his hand to stop Jake from talking. “I really don’t care. What matters is that you’ve made a mess for Honeybee that inconveniences all of us. I’ve gotta be the one to work on cleaning this up while she’s otherwise occupied.”

Jake cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow in confusion. “Who the fuck is ‘Honeybee?’ Are we talking about the same person?”

Bucky sighed and wiped a hand over his face, stopping with it covering his mouth. He looked at the helpless man in front of him. How had you ever dated this guy? If he used to be great, what on Earth happened to him? “God, you’re slow to catch on. Yes, it’s the same person, but I don’t think the sweet peach you used to know and love is in there anymore. Not after you abandoned her. And especially not after you gave up her operation on a silver platter to Cole.”

Jake swallowed as he caught on. He had seen the devious glint in Cole’s eye when they had run into each other, but just thought it was a product of Cole’s braggadocious success. Not his complete hunger for domination. Despite the way Jake left, he still cared for you. He didn’t want to see the thing you loved taken away, especially by the guy who caused him so much grief. The guy your family defended him from on so many occasions. He felt awful. You’d taken care of Jake when he was around, but when the opportunity came for him to do the same for you, he failed.

Tears began to well up in his eyes. “I’m so sorry. Whatever I can do to help, I will, please, misterrrr…….”

Bucky’s shoulders pushed back in arrogance. Jake squealed all the information he had and didn’t even know the name of the man interrogating him. That wouldn’t do, especially if Bucky wanted to eventually release Jake back out into the wild once this was all over. He made a mental note to have someone coach Jake on how to not give up sensitive intel so easily. But for now, Bucky would take advantage of the ease of informational access.

“Barnes. You get to call me Barnes.”

“Ooh! So like a cool nickname only I get to use? I feel so special.”

Bucky chuckled dryly at that. Jake really was clueless. “No. Not at all like that.” Bucky leaned forward, elbows on his knees as his face inched closer to Jake’s.

“Now tell me everything you know about the mines.”

Jake’s eyebrows raised. “Oh? Those old things? Yeah, Peach and I used to make out in the-“

Bucky waved his hand again as he closed his eyes, unable to look at Jake for another second. “No. Skip that part. What else?” He quickly said, dismissively.

“I know they’re old? Like crazy old and probably prone to collapse at this point. But Pe- I mean, your Honeybee does some occasional civil engineering contracting work. She could probably easily whip up a plan to reinforce them.”

Bucky looked at Jake more intently. He liked the way Jake said his Honeybee, but he couldn’t let that distract him right now. And anyway, you were very much your own person. Far from his. If anything, he was yours. He knew about all your business endeavors, but not those kinds of specifics. “Keep talking.”

“Yeah, I kept up with her after school-well, more like I asked my mom to keep up with her. Apparently she’s like, designed bridges for town and stuff. Why? What’s going on with the mines?”

“That’s not technically your business.” Bucky stood there, debating on his next move.

Jake’s eyes lit up as he gasped loudly. “Oh my gosh. Is she in trouble!? Did she get hurt in a mine!?”

Bucky slapped his hand over Jake’s mouth and whisper yelled at him. “What did I say about keeping it down?”

Jake winced and whispered back. “Sorry. Does Curtis know?”

Bucky nodded. “Yes. And he’s upstairs sleeping. Don’t. Poke. The Bear.”

Jake nodded again. He was being so compliant, Bucky figured he could let a few more details slip. Maybe Jake was a little smarter than Bucky gave him credit for. “She’s trapped in one of the smaller caves. I’ve already got a construction crew digging her out.”

“Wait wait wait. You guys have a proper plan for this, right? You’ve gotta put supports in first and then calculate the load-bearing rocks. You can’t just go willy-nilly digging or it could get worse.” Man, based off that language, Bucky had no doubt Jake truly did grow up around you.

“Good observation, Jakey. That’s where you come in. I know I could’ve just called you if I wanted to know what you told Cole, but I needed you in person to know how serious I am. Grab your little computer and we’ll get going so you can run the calculations while Honeybee talks you through them. You can still ride a horse, right?”

Jake moved to get up, only to be stopped by the restraints. Bucky turned around from the door, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Oh, that’s right, my bad. I’ll get you untied and then we can go.”

Sam was talking with you about where to put which construction vehicles when he heard hooves make their way to the entrance. Bucky dismounted the back of a horse holding a laptop, followed by Jake who was riding ahead of him on that same horse.

“Not a word of this, Samuel.” Bucky growled lowly into Sam’s ear with clenched teeth. “I’ve already threatened the kid with the same.”

Bucky still had no idea how to ride a horse on his own, but would never admit that, so he was actually extremely grateful that Jake could take the reins. Sam had taken the other horse to get to you, leaving only one back at the house for him and Jake to use.

Bucky handed Jake the laptop and patted him on the back harshly, making it more of a shove. This led him to the small hole where you and Sam had just been talking.

Bucky followed at a quicker pace, reaching the area just before Jake could and held his arm out in front of the blond to bar him from going any farther. “Hi Honey, it’s me. I brought you a little present to help out, I hope you’re not mad. It’s your old friend Jacob from high school. Say hi.”

“Jake? Like… Jensen?” You responded, trying to look through the small hole unsuccessfully.

“Yeah, Peach, it’s me. I’m here to get you out. A-and Mr. Barnes wants you to know he’s been nothing but kind to me.” Jake clutched his laptop firmly to his chest, leaning over to be heard better through the small opening.

Bucky gave a stern nod to Jake for already responding well to his coaching on the way over here. Jake sat down by the hole where Bucky had sat before and got to work.

“Okay, Bee. Like I told you before, you say the word and I’ll be here in a minute. You can time me.”

“Where are you going?” He could hear the slight worry in your voice.

“To run a farm. And by that, I mean listen to Curtis.”

You giggled. “Okay, Bucket. See you soon.”

He looked back and smiled before turning towards Sam and pointing into his chest. “You tell me the second she’s close to getting out. I’ll be there.”

Sam nodded. “Sure thing, boss. Need help getting back up on your horse?”

Bucky was already turned away and heading back to your house. He waved a hand dismissively. “No. I’m walking.”

Sam chuckled as he watched the mob boss trudge away. He knew something had shifted in Bucky’s feelings. And he definitely had his suspicions that Bucky couldn’t ride a horse.

When Bucky returned to your house, he didn’t go upstairs. He feared the creaking of the steps would wake Decks, Curtis, and Steve. Plus, he knew he wasn’t going to sleep. Why would he when there was so much to do to help you? He would just get in the way at the mines, so he went into your office. He pulled out the files and article you had planned to show him the previous night regarding Cole from the kitchen, and as he sat down in your chair, he saw a contract with a familiar watermark. Shit.

Fuck. Shit. Bitch.

The letterhead was from ‘Turners Farm Corporation,’ which he had expected, but the associated law firm was ‘Hansen & Co.’ Bucky had his fair share of law firms in his back pocket, but this was not one of them. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

Lloyd Hansen was something of Bucky’s rival in the city. He was an unhinged lunatic. Where Bucky ran things with honor, poise, and calculated movements, Lloyd was messy, unpredictable, and reckless. He’d been trying to make multiple steps into Bucky’s territory, geographically and business-wise, but Bucky had done a decent job at shutting it down thus far.

And now Cole was in cahoots with Lloyd, well, not him directly on paper, just his bitch-ass sister who ran the firm. Bucky couldn’t believe-well, actually he could. He could believe that Cole would have teamed up with Hansen to build enough power for a takeover, especially considering it didn’t add up if Cole was making these moves on his own.

Fired by frustration that more than supplemented the sleep Bucky lacked from not just tonight, but this whole week, he snapped a picture of the contract and sent it to Sam. Sam would make sure it made its way through the right channels and contacts still back in the city. For now, Bucky had a more important priority than personally dealing with business: You. He had never been so grateful for Sam.

As he skimmed through the final page of the contract Cole had proposed to you, the first rooster crowed. Bucky got up to gather the eggs and make breakfast like any other day in the routine he’d grown so familiar with over just the past two weeks. But instead of cooking for you, he was cooking for the small army that came to your aid.

Curtis came barreling down the steps first, followed by Decks, and then eventually, Steve, who slumped and slinked down the stairs, reminiscent of Bucky’s first day doing the same. At least they were able to get themselves up.

Bucky plated their food, Curtis eyeing him with a small smile that Bucky failed to notice, and he sat down in his normal spot to start eating. He honestly didn’t have the appetite to do so, but he knew he’d crash without food since he already wasn’t sleeping, so he forced it down, preparing to go over the assignments with everyone once again.

Steve would be doing what Bucky had last week to set up the farmer’s market since it was scheduled to go again. Decks would be taking over the tasks you had, feeding the animals, and then doing sales with Bucky since people already knew his face. No need to raise more suspicion by introducing two new people to an event you were usually at.

Once everyone cleared their plates, they got to work, doing everything they could to be of assistance for the mob boss who was very evidently on edge.

It was early afternoon when Bucky got a call from Sam. He immediately picked it up.

“We’re close, boss. Only a couple more large boulders to go before there’s a big enough gap to pull her through.”

Bucky dropped the empty crates he was carrying onto the floor of the storage shed where he was returning them from the farmers market. Lucky for him, the storage shed was much closer to the mines than the barn.

Bucky was full-on sprinting in a way no one had ever seen. He never had to once he rose to power. All he did was walk, his long strides alone commanded enough respect. But this wasn’t about pride. It was about you.

He arrived at the mine entrance, breathing heavily, just as Sam was holding your hand, helping you step over a pile of sand and pebbles. Jake stood awkwardly to the side as you looked up from your feet to see Bucky quickly moving toward you. A smile took over your face and you sighed in relief. He scooped you up and spun you around before setting you down again and using his large hands to frame your face. Bucky didn’t care about the dirt and grime that had built up on the two of you. All he cared about was your safe return to his arms.

You watched as his eyes darted between yours and down to your lips. You wouldn’t hold back anymore. He had put all his resources into saving you, helping you. Without wasting another second, you leaned up on your toes and smashed your lips into his. When you pulled back, Bucky lost consciousness, collapsing in your arms.

Next >

Bonus A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Tbh I thought some moments in here were so funny, but I’d love to hear your thoughts!! Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are sooooo appreciated!!! If I could, I’d make a secret handshake with you through the phone for following this plot line with me. 😉🤠

Series Taglist:

@scuzmunkie

@openup-yourmind

@vicmc624

@hawkeyes-queen

@blackhawkfanatic

[captain-mj]

Mob boss Ghost Waiter Soap Au

Soap gets a migraine at work while serving Ghost and goes to leave Ghost stops him because Soaps his favourite and is a little sus about why he’s leaving

Soap says he’s got a migraine and Ghost can either shoot him or let him go home either option would be preferable (migraines suck)

Ghost is smitten and kidnaps him (affectionate) to sleep it off in his soundproofed block out curtained room and king sized bed.

Ghosts mum used to get migraines so he knows how to help someone through them.

Hurt/comfort happy ending

I might be taking a bit of a step back from writing on here (less frequent writing but I'll answer questions/give hcs) for the next month, I'm going to be moving and trying my best to do a form of NaNoWriMo.

That being said, please still send me asks!! I'll do my best to do them!!

Ghost waited to be served. This restaurant was a personal favorite of his. Not because the food was particularly good, though it wasn't bad. It was because of his favorite waiter.

Johnny looked a tiny bit irritated to see Ghost. He walked over and stood over him. "What do you want?"

Ghost tilted his head. "That anyway to greet your favorite customer?"

Johnny sighed before plastering on a smile. There was a tension behind it, almost like a grimace. "Hey, Simon. How can I assist you today?"

Ghost tilted his head. "My usual is just fine. And a black coffee."

Johnny nodded and walked away, stumbling a tiny bit. He looked a bit pale as he came back to pour a cup of coffee for him.

Ghost watched him through his eyelashes. "Love, you alright?"

Johnny huffed at him. "I'm fine, sir. Don't worry." He accidentally spilled the coffee, hands shaking slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry." He grabbed napkins and started to fix the mess.

Ghost took it from him. "I got it. Don't worry about it, darling."

Johnny nodded and left.

A different waiter appeared to bring Ghost his food and he smiled. That fake customer service smile Ghost hated. He understood it was part of their job and he'd never judge them for it, but he hated it. A lot.

"Who are you?"

"Your waiter wasn't available to bring your order so I took over for you. I know he's your fa-"

"No. Why did he leave?"

The waiter was starting to get nervous, glancing at Ghost's hips like he had a gun on him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ghost, sir. Soap wasn't feeling well and"

Ghost waved his hand and stood. He noticed Johnny walking past and perked up. He followed him quickly. "Johnny."

"Simon." Johnny whined, looking even more pale. "Please. I have a migraine. I know you like having me as your waiter, but I'm in no condition to work. And one day, I'm not going to be working here and where will you be? Huh?" He huffed at him.

Ghost shrugged. "Well, what's wrong?"

Johnny frowned. "Migraines. I get them sometimes. Now, please, sir, I'm le-"

Ghost put his arm around him, easily pulling him into his side. He lowered his voice to a hush. "Why didn't you say so, love?" He gently tugged him along. "I'll give you a ride."

Johnny relaxed immediately. "Oh, thank god. I did not want to handle the bus like this." He knew Ghost wouldn't hurt him. It would disrupt their Tuesday routine of Ghost coming in and seeing his favorite waiter. Perhaps, if he was a bit more clear headed, he'd think about the potential ramifications of being seen with a local mob boss who was known for being short tempered and dangerous. But for now, the idea of a car ride, hopefully with the ac on blast and no music.

Ghost helped him into the backseat of his car. Johnny expected him to get in the driver's seat, but instead he climbed in with him. Someone else started to drive.

Some very soft piano music, just loud enough to drown out the gentle roar of the engine, was playing and Johnny decided that was alright. He tried to stay sitting despite the pounding growing in his temples and behind his eyes.

Ghost reached over, being very slow with his movements. Instead of speaking, afraid his voice would be too loud, he simply led him to lay down with his head in Ghost's lap.

Johnny whined. "Simon."

"Shh, Johnny. I got you." Ghost gently ran his fingers through his hair before finding one of the pressure points he remembered helped his mom. With a great amount of care and love, Ghost dug his fingers in and started to rub in gentle circles.

Johnny whined and went to fight him back before the relief started to seep in and he melted. "Fuck that's good."

Ghost grinned. He started with an area right behind his temples and then towards the back of his head. Once he felt he couldn't do much more there, he moved further down to his shoulders, specifically the place between them. Johnny's eyes fluttered as his body fully relaxed.

The car drove in circles until Johnny fell asleep. Ghost wanted plausible deniability about not knowing where Johnny lived. He picked him up in a bridal carry and brought him inside.

His room had black out curtains with sound proofed walls anyway, so it made sense to bring Johnny to his room. He put him in his bed and sat in a chair nearby. After a bit of thought, he decided not to smoke. The smell might make it worse.

Ghost kept a mini fridge in his room that luckily had some water bottles in it. He'd just have to wait for Johnny to wake up.

Johnny looked so peaceful. A little lamb. He relaxed more and snuggled into the blankets, sleeping peacefully.

He only got about an hour before a flare up woke him up. Ghost watched him with great interest. Despite the black out curtains, there was just a sliver of light in the room where Ghost had left it a cracked. Just enough for him to be able to see.

Johnny looked up in confusion before seeing him. He had a little color back in his face.

Ghost stood up and started to get closer. Johnny scrambled back from him. As if Ghost would ever raise a hand to him.

Quietly, he got him a drink and grabbed him by his ankle, pulling him closer easily.

"Here ya go." He handed him the bottle, watching the realization and then the embarrassment on Johnny's face. "Fell asleep before I thought to grab your address. I didn't want to go through your stuff."

Johnny looked at him for a moment before laughing, almost immediately wincing when he did. "You did it on purpose. I know you did."

"That's the store you'll tell everyone."

Johnny nodded. "Yes, sir. You keep all your guest rooms this dark?"

"You're not in a guest room."

Johnny looked up. "Not expecting any favors right?" Ghost must've looked as affronted as he felt because Johnny smiled. "Nah. Of course not. You're a nice guy."

Ghost hummed. "Most definitely not that." He closed the minifridge and then fixed the curtain, plunging them in to complete darkness. "I can leave, if you'd feel more comfortable."

"Can you do the thing with your hands again?"

Ghost didn't answer in words, just went over to him and shifted them around. He got in the bed with him and started to massage him gently. "There you go. I got you."

Johnny melted into him like putty. "Thank you."

"Course. Maybe you could stay for dinner."

"You keep doing this and absolutely I can."

[mammalsofaction]

39

39. Perryshmirtz kissing as....time runs out

From the prompt list here.

Sugar, we're going down swingin'

Rating: T

Relationship: Heinz Doofenshmirtz/Perry the Platypus

Add tags: Angst, ambiguous ending, human Perry the Platypus, OWCA Files AU, PTSD flashbacks

A/N: Bit of a cliche but I loved getting to stretch my minute made writing muscles again. I considered a fluffy alt but I know Lex loves a bit of grief in her morning coffee.

Canon compliant to my Human Perry lore. Eve had been his sister (Ferb's biological mother), who died in the line of action about 12 years ago here.

---

There was something to be said, Perry thinks, of panicking.

(Every sound rang clear as crystal, as murky as dirt. He can feel his own pulse beating beneath his skin like every artery connected straight to his heart. It’s almost tranquil.

We've been here before.)

"Agent P," Harry yelled. It's difficult to hear over the sound of falling rubble, and the blaring alarms resonating through the inside of the volcano, and through the sheer rushing of blood through his ears. "Please, we need to leave!"

"Perry?" Heinz whispered. Perry looks up to him then, numbed of all feeling, save for the bleeding wound on his hip, stinging enough to remind him that he was, at least, still alive. He's looking up, he's staring, but he's not quite seeing. Perhaps physically, they were all trapped inside the lair of an alchemist madman, set to collapse above his head any minute, and to be fair it is all terribly exciting. But Perry was, in truth, bearing down a steel doorframe of an old warehouse stinking of gunpowder, dust and sweat, cradling two small bodies against himself, praying for the mercy of a God he doesn't believe in for a few minutes he could no longer afford 20 years ago.

"Can you walk?" Heinz asked. Right, yes, because he'd asked that question too, that fateful night of fire and gunpowder. What had Eve said to him then?

I can fight. He signed, and he pushes himself off, handing over the briefcase containing what they'd all come here for. The evidence, the antidote, the killing blow. Go, I'll catch up.

(He'd thought about what she'd said, there, in hindsight. He thinks it was meant to be funny. That was how she defaulted to things, on account of Perry not having a single humerous bone in his body, in stark comparison. She was the good cop.

We'd learned to fight before we'd learned how to walk, that was what she always said. There was pride in that, to mask the sadness underneath.)

The henchbots kick against the hinges of the only door holding them back, and bolts come flying. It won't be too long now. Heinz had frozen, briefcase pressed into his chest as he stares a bit dumbly at how Perry attempts to hold himself up, checking the ammo of his guns, so Perry gives him a little push to emphasize his point. He catches Perry's outstretched hand, instead.

"You can't be serious." He hissed, and Perry shook his head. "Come on."

There was only one pod left out of here, and Karen and Maggie had taken the only other one. Between their bulk, the briefcase, and the sheer speed they had to push for in order to make the gate closing any minute now, Perry would only slow them down.

Go, Perry said, and for a second his guard comes crashing down. His hand trembles, pressed against the side of his chest, and it is closest he'll ever get to a wobbly lip. Please?

"You-," Heinz said, but with one mighty kick the door finally bangs open under the assault of manic steel feet. Heinz flinched, but Perry opened fire, trigger finger cool and steady. Two simple headshots. He had 5 bullets left, and a mob to deal with.

"Guys, come on!"

"I'm not leaving you here." Heinz hissed, the grip on Perry's wrist almost crushing. "We're leaving together, or I'm not going anywhere, you hear me?"

Oh.

Oh, Heinz.

As rubble falls and crushes the control panel of the exit gates behind them, and the echo of a dozen feet barrels down the corridor, Perry tugs him closer, and their lips meet like an electric shock, still every bit of a thrill as the first. He feels it tingle right down to the tips of his toes, and slick swipe of his tongue down on Heinz's bottom lip like a promise.

They part with a gentle smacking sound, breathing the same air. Perry wants to remember this. He wants to leave on a good note.

"Perry," Heinz chokes, either on dust or on his own heart. "What do you-,"

I'll catch up. Perry lies, and presses on the trigger for the grappling hook on his belt. Heinz grunts, wide eyed, as it latches on the exit way of the foyer, right next to Harry himself, and Perry treats himself to one last look of his baby blue eyes wide open in fury as it pulls him back hip first.

5 bullets. Perry uses one of them to shoot a hairline fracture down the side of the wall, and the support beam keeping the lighting features aloft gives up the ghost. No way out. No way back in.

"Counting down, lair self destruct." The robotic overhead intercom announces, pleasant and calm. "T minus 10 seconds."

"Trespasser located." The henchbots declare, stepping into the foyer, falling apart. Perhaps one of them. Perhaps a bunch of them at once. He can hardly tell--blood seeps down his side in rivulets, and his head feels heavier by the minute. The edges of his vision begins to blur, and he can't quite tell what's up from down.

But Perry's got a gun in a steady hand, and he's got 4 bullets.

"Resistance is futile." The bots warn, the last of their cogs whirring. It's all appropriately dramatic.

Perry grins.

[maleficient]

Hello 🩷

can I please have a Mob Boss Itachi, who get obsessed with the rivalling Clan‘s daughter (Reader). Said daughter left her Clan a few years ago to live a life outside and undercover of the Mob-world. He finds out about her and wants to make her his.

(You can make it slowburn or in different parts, your writing is chefs kiss 🩷)

💋 dark account; second post. be safe.

Modern au! ; Sick obsession ; Thoughts of kidnapping someone ; Possible age difference ; Disappearances of people ; Itachi being insanely jealous ; Dismemberment ; Itachi being typical Yandere ; Itachi is being delulu & a perv!

Part 2 with smut (soon!)

;;;

Itachi Uchiha had fallen in love with the daughter of the clan's rival. His obsession was perhaps noticeable to some, perhaps not.

That didn't matter anymore.

He didn't remember when exactly he saw her.

December?

Or was in October?

The only thing sure is that it was in a photograph while he was checking the remaining members of the pathetic rival clan.

Very few members; his rival had been greatly reduced. Pathetic, just pathetic.

And then that was when he saw her, and everything changed.

She was beautiful. She IS beautiful.

So beautiful that it made his breath catch in his throat.

Again, that didn't matter anymore.

When he found out that his rival's daughter rebelled and decided to leave the dark world of the mafia, he was shocked; however, that only made him even more obsessed with the woman.

Without her realizing it or knowing, he sent several of his subjects to take pictures of her.

He told himself over and over that it was for her well-being.

At least that's what he told himself so he wouldn't feel so bad about vandalizing his beloved's personal space.

Until the threats came.

Like flies, weak and pathetic men approached his beautiful woman to try to flirt with her.

He could see it—how they looked at her more than necessary while she waited on them, oblivious to their intentions.

Of course, his beautiful angel was innocent; she didn't know that those weak men looked at her in a way that was inappropriate for a lady like her.

How dare they?

Maybe it was his fault that the male clients of her work decreased, but... they deserved it.

So two long years passed in which he let his beautiful Angel build her new life, and meanwhile he quietly planned in secret how to take her and make her his.

The plan to kidnap her was on his mind for a while, but he quickly discarded it when he thought that the head of the rival clan was surely monitoring her and would get angry if Itachi did something so risky.

He wasn't that cruel either. He already traumatized her by sending her a hand from one of the men who decided to touch her in a box; he didn't want to corrupt his angel.

His fingers moved in desperation; if only she wasn't the daughter of that stupid man, he would already have her in his arms and jumping on his hard cock until she couldn't take it anymore, and he would fuck her without caring that she was already sensitive.

And Itachi wasn't an impulsive idiot. Of course not; he was a smart person. He wouldn't let his desires take control of him, though the temptation to give them free rein was deliciously tempting.

The Uchiha would take it slow.

He would let the woman fall in love with him at her own pace, and he would take on the role of a businessman in the meantime.

He would allow the woman to navigate the finely crafted lies he had created as a backstory. He would allow her to look at and appreciate the good part of him, just the kind and gentle part, permanently if he could.

He would play out all her fantasies of being rescued as long as she stayed by his side.

He would let the moth get close to the lit candle, and when he knew the beautiful woman wouldn't be able to turn back...

When his lid is blown.

— Oh, hello, how can I help you? —

When she discovers the lies. When the dark truth comes to light.

— I would like a latte — the Uchiha replied with a friendly and charming smile, making the beautiful woman blush. His beautiful Angel...

He wouldn't let her go.

[sungbeam]

BIRD HUNT — teaser

nonidol!choi line x f!reader

gotham city is a gutter running rampant with the ill, corrupt, and the insane. at times, justice and vengeance must be served by one's own hand... no matter the lengths one must go to do so.

▷ genre, teaser warnings. bat family au, vigilantes au, murder mystery au, action, suspense, humor, swearing, mentions of dead bodies, murder, grief, corruption

▷ taglist. open

▷ first ep drop. feb 2nd?, pst (or earlier if i somehow get more writing done)

series masterlist

TEASER BELOW THE CUT (APPROX. 800 WORDS)

"How do you know Ln Yn?"

Beomgyu whirled around just as Soobin settled into the desk chair, waiting. Beomgyu made a scoffing noise, eyebrows flying up to his shaggy bangs. "Where did that come from?"

Soobin shrugged. "You tell me." He slurped up a bit more milk from his cereal before adding, "You're the one who reacted like that in front of everyone when she said she was grieving her mother's death. You sounded shocked that she died."

"Well yeah, wouldn't you be shocked to hear someone else died within the past three days?"

"Stop trying to bullshit him, Gyu."

Both the brothers looked up at the voice who had just entered the underground space. Yeonjun strolled into the main area in a white tank top and sweats, hair sticking up in different places. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned loud and wide.

Soobin cocked a brow at him. "Nice of you to finally join us, hyung. How'd the 'date' go?"

"Great," Yeonjun quipped. "We're going on a second one soon. I think Felix almost sent me off with a kiss goodnight." He slumped onto the edge of the desk, eyes lazily taking in the images and information displayed on the many monitor screens. "This is our stiff, huh?"

Soobin sent him a look that distinctly read 'No, we're just looking at dead bodies for fun.'

"Yeah," Beomgyu replied. "The note the killer left is so familiar to me though. Have you seen it before?" He knocked his knuckles against the monitor with the note.

Yeonjun's eyes narrowed on the screen, before he leaned back with that bored look renewed on his face. "You're both idiots. It's from that one killing a couple weeks ago."

Beomgyu and Soobin traded looks. "What?"

Their eldest brother leaned down to reach the lowest drawer at the desk. From its depths, he fished out a large bag of chips and grabbed a handful to stuff his face with. "Y'know," he garbled and gestured vaguely with his crumb-dusted fingers. "Beomgyu, you know! You were there with me. It was that one lawyer guy who was found dead in his car beneath the bridge. That same note was taped to his windshield."

"Oh yeah," Beomgyu drawled, while Soobin shook his head with a sigh. The former then knocked his foot against the latter's shin. "Aye! You didn't even know it."

"Yeah, because I wasn't on that case," Soobin fired back. He finished off the rest of his bowl of cereal and set the empty ceramic in his lap before crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes, like his brothers', were lined beneath with heavy eye bags. Someone was supposed to be on patrol around the city right now, but neither of the three brothers were in any rush to get up. "So it's just one person going after these people then."

Yeonjun chewed his bottom lip. "Then we just gotta find the connection."

"Was the lawyer guy from a couple weeks ago Lee Sungjae's attorney?" Soobin asked.

Beomgyu grabbed a hold of the wireless keyboard on the desk and braced it upon his thighs. He pulled up an internet browser and typed in their inquiry. All three brothers made noises of disgruntlement; if the lawyer hadn't been Sungjae's attorney, then how were they connected? It was no secret that 99.9 percent of the population here in Gotham had some sort of shadow looming over their shoulder. It was almost impossible to get anywhere without the help of a corrupt figure, whether that be a mob boss like the Penguin or a loan shark with special strategies to get someone to pay up.

Either way, there would be lots of digging required.

"Let's start with Lee Sungjae and the lawyer's records,'' Soobin decided as he sat up in the chair. "We'll sort through phone records, acquire security footage of their movements, their texts, etcetera."

"I call none of those," Yeonjun said. When his younger brothers scowled at him, he raised both hands in feigned surrender with a giggle. "Fine, fine. You're both lookin' at me like I murdered your favorite puppy."

They remained silent.

"What, too soon?"

The basement headquarters suddenly erupted in a dull siren sound, and Beomgyu was swift to pull up a set of footage on one of the monitors. It displayed a section of the sky, a white spotlight circle cast against a massive, dark gray cumulus cloud with a distinct bat shape in the center—their call to action.

All three men were on their feet in an instant—keyboard and cereal bowl abandoned on the table, capes and utility belts clicked into place.

"Meet you losers there!" Yeonjun hollered as the cave filled with the revving roar of his motorcycle engine like a clap of thunder.

Soobin and Beomgyu hurried over to their respective cycles. "Hey, we're not done talking about Yn!" Soobin called to his younger brother.

Beomgyu flashed him a thin smile. "That's what you think!" And he sped away down the runway.

Soobin chuckled to himself, grinning. Then he revved his engine and launched himself after his brothers.

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @meosjinnn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @loveliestfelix @zhaixiaowen @justanotherkpopstanlol @w3bqrl @kangfication @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @super-btstrash-posts @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @rikizm

series taglist: @winterchimez @mosviqu @boba-beom @strawbrinkofdeath @baek-at-it-again95 @todosmash

[sashaisready]

Chapter Ten - Do you want to take this elsewhere, Doll?

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again.

Warning: Beginning of smut 😎

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Chapter 11

Series Masterlist

He sets off out of the alley and you pause for a second before following him back to the club entrance, not really sure where this is going. He gestures to the bouncers who let you both in and he strolls back through to the bar area.

"Bucky, how is this quiet-" you protest but he just grabs your hand and leads you around the bar.

You flinch at the contact, making a mental note to remember later how your hand felt in his.

He leads you to a door and ushers you towards a flight of stairs. You drop in line behind him, your curiosity taking over. There's another door at the top which he unlocks with a fob and props open for you.

You step inside, it's a chic office with a huge mustard couch, as well as a small bar in the corner alongside the large writing desk. The walls are a brilliant white. Everything is modern and expensive looking, lots of high end wood and fancy furnishings. It looks like a picture from an interior design magazine.

He closes the door and looks at you expectantly, wriggling his fingers in a 'Ta da!' gesture. It's a lovely room, but you're not really sure what your meant to be looking at.

"I mean it's nice but..." you begin.

"And what can you hear?" he asks.

You pause. "Nothing...? Oh wait...wow, nothing!" You realise there is not a single sound coming from the thriving nightclub below.

He nods. "Yep...completely sound proofed up here. Perfect if you want some peace".

You listen out for any suggestion of a sound from below but he's right, the only noises are your footsteps as you walk through the room.

"It's so quiet" you gasp. "You could murder someone up here and-"

You freeze for a second, realising your mistake and who you're talking to. You turn to him, the colour draining from your face.

He just shrugs and awkwardly grimaces.

"Well...If you don't want anyone to hear anything" he sighs with a loaded inflection.

Your mouth hangs open in shock and your eyes dart around the space, looking at it with horror now you have new context – panicking as you wonder what might have happened where you're standing. A chill runs down your spine.

Bucky begins to snort with laughter. You flip around to look at him with your brows furrowed.

"Fuck, I'm kidding!" he laughs warmly. "It's only soundproofed so I can get some work done when the club's open...You've seen too many movies".

"Jesus, Bucky!" you squeal, slugging him on the shoulder. "You're such a dick".

You laugh reluctantly, relieved that he's only playing with you.

You flop onto the enormous couch, savouring the comfort.

"Thank-you for this, I just need a minute".

"Take as long as you like, Doll" he says kindly, taking a seat next to you.

You shoot up suddenly and look at him, remembering what he was doing before you ran out.

"Oh, wait – don't you need to get back to your girlfriend?"

Bucky frowns. "Who?"

"You know, that pretty girl you were with downstairs".

He scoffs. "She's not my girlfriend. She just attached herself to me in the VIP area like a limpet. I don't even know her name, why do you think I didn't introduce her to you?"

You snort laughing. "Fuck, you're such a pig" you giggle.

He grins smugly. "So I've been told".

You roll your eyes, playfully swatting at him. He smiles back, moving closer to you so that your legs are touching. You manage to stifle a gasp.

"So you thought she was pretty, huh?" he asks teasingly.

You nod. "Jesus Christ, yeah. Stunning. But all your girls are, aren't they?" you smirk back at him.

His eyes are suddenly alight with mischief.

"And how would you know that?" he purrs.

"You're not the only one who can read up on people..."

He cocks his head as he watches you intently. 

"So...what, you didn't want to be one of them?" His voice is lower now, less playful, more serious now your previous conversation has come up.

You rub your lips together, unsure of how much to admit to him. Everything just got a bit heavier. You pause for a moment, considering what to say. You're quickly sinking under the weight of his gaze.

"Well...I didn't think I could be one of them" you finally admit. Your voice is small, shy.

"What?" he asks, his face is suddenly stern.

"C'mon Bucky. Let's be real. I don't look like any of those girls" you shrug. "I was never going to fit in at Gambino's with thousand dollar wine bottles and cuts of steak costing more than my rent. I'm more...a beer and burgers kinda girl, you know? I didn't want to embarrass you..." you shrug.

He jumps up from the couch. "What??" he practically barks, his face twisted in anger.

"What?" you ask incredulously, surprised by his reaction.

"THAT'S why you turned me down??" he practically snarls.

You raise your eyebrows at him. "Well...yeah".

He runs a hand through his hair, chuckling in disbelief. "You're kidding me right??"

You chew your bottom lip. "....no?" You said hesitatingly, not sure what answer he's looking for.

Bucky stamps his foot and claps his hands victoriously.

"Fuck! I knew I wasn't going insane at the bakery" he whips out his phone. "I need to tell Steve this and rub it in his face" he says childishly as begins to furiously type on his screen.

This goes on for a few moments, his focus on you now entirely lost.

You glare at him with confusion, unsure of what you're meant to be doing. You're a bit annoyed that this is his reaction after you were open with him, putting yourself out there and admitting your insecurities. Now, what, he's texting his friends?? You slowly rise to your feet and awkwardly head for the door, thinking you should probably leave him to it.

"Nope" he says authoritatively. Without looking up from his phone he points aggressively to the couch.

"Sit your ass back down, I'm not done with you yet".

You obey him and plop yourself back onto the couch again immediately, responding to the assertiveness in his tone almost instinctively, seeing a tiny glimpse of his boss persona.

He finally finishes on his phone and slides it into his jacket inside pocket. His eyes lock onto you once more.

"Okay, so where we were? Oh, right. What the fuck is the matter with you?" He asks inquisitively.

"Excuse me?" You respond coolly, scowling at him.

"Am I getting this right - you turned me down for a date because you were uncomfortable with the restaurant choice and got yourself worked up looking at photos of me and other women?" He scolds, folding his arms across his chest.

"...uh. Yes".

"Right. So you did want to go out with me? And you were flirting with me in the bakery, right?"

You blush, feeling embarrassed at this interrogation and exposure of your feelings.

"...yes" you reply meekly.

He nods. "Okay. So I'll ask you again, what the fuck is the matter with you?"

You glare at him and clench your jaw. "I'm not going to sit here being spoken to like this"

You get up to leave and furiously head towards the door but he blocks your path.

"Dolldolldoll - I'm sorry" he stammers, grinning at you fiendishly.

"Don't be like that. I don't mean to give you a hard time. I just didn't see this coming. Here's me thinking you just didn't want to go out with me, that I'd misread all of the signals. That's why I haven't been back to the bakery – I assumed you thought I was a creepy jerkoff".

You avert your gaze. "No...but maybe I do now."

Your tone is stroppy, sullen. You're embarrassed that he finds this all so amusing.

He cups your chin in his hand and your breath hitches. He gently tilts your face up with his gloved fingers, leaning in close. You look up at him anxiously, very aware of the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

"Doll..." he says, much softer now. "All you had to do was tell me. We didn't have to go to Gambino's. I just wanted to take you somewhere nice. But I'd never want you to feel uncomfortable. We could've gone anywhere. Hell, I would've taken you to Burger King if that's what you wanted".

You beam at him. "Really?"

"Really." He grins back.

"But all those women, Bucky. I don't look like them. I just don't know if I'm enough for you-"

But you don't finish your sentence because he cuts you off with a sudden kiss. He pulls your face to his, nibbling on your lower lip for a moment before his tongue is in your mouth. You press back into him, your hands entwined in his hair as your tongue welcomes him greedily. You're practically panting as his arms lock you in his embrace. Your entire body seems to fizz as you drop the bottle of water you've been clutching. It's electric, better than you could have ever imagined.

He pulls away and locks your face between his hands, holding you so close that he's practically eye to eye with you.

"You really think I'd do that if I didn't find you attractive enough, Doll?" He tells you between heavy breaths.

"If I didn't think you were gorgeous? If I hadn't been losing my mind thinking about what's under your overalls every time I'm in the bak-"

It's your turn to cut him off now. You push him down onto the sofa, straddling him as you return to your place on his mouth, kissing him desperately, hungrily - as if it could be snatched away from you at any moment.

He kisses back just as urgently, his hands running up your back and over your hips. You can feel the metal arm now. His gloves are still on but you can feel the weight of it, feel the difference between it and his other hand as his fingers slide up the back of your dress.

You weren't even aware that you'd begun to rock back and forth, your crotch rubbing against his suit trousers as you desperately seek friction.

He moans softly into your mouth, it cuts through your lust haze and goes straight to your core. Your only thought is that you want to hear him make more of those noises. And you want to be the one causing them. Teasing them out piece by piece as if uncovering buried treasure.

He manages to peel you off him for a moment, gasping for breath as he looks at you.

"Do you want to take this elsewhere, Doll?" He pants. "I mean I'm happy to keep going here but I'm aware one of my men might come knocking at any moment - and I don't think I'm going to be able to stop if we go any further..."

You ponder his question as he begins to smatter butterfly kisses up your neck and down to your chest. You mewl at the feeling. On the one hand you want to go home with him - do this properly with the care it deserves and not risk interruption by one of Bucky's goons should something need his attention in the club...

...But you know you're already dripping. You're practically aching for him, desperate to feel him. You whine in frustration at having to stop, your libido clouding your judgement.

Bucky grins, his ego imploding at your clear desire for him. You've barely touched one another and you're already foggy with lust.

"Can we go to your place?" You ask quietly.

He nods and smiles at you, tapping your back with his fingers to signal for you to get off his lap. You do, getting to your feet and giving yourself a shake to break out of your cloud of arousal. Bucky grunts and adjusts his obvious erection as he stands up. 

You go to pick up the water bottle you dropped but he just waves it away and grabs your hand - leading you back down the stairs.

[icarusbetide]

king's college, hamilton & custis: two very different 1773 students

Jacky Custis (Washington's stepson) enrolled at King's College in May 1773, but "dropped out" in less than a year. Crazy how small colonial America was, because guess who else began attending King's College in 1773 before being formally matriculated in 1774? Alexander Hamilton. Who, like George Washington who originally wanted to send Jacky to Princeton, had applied first to Princeton but gone to King's College after being rejected.

You can really see their contrasting motivation because Hamilton was devouring all these books and whatnot as per usual, and Jacky was out here sending letters to his mother going "the teachers look upon me in a particular light aka they suck up to me a lot"; Myles Cooper the president of King's College writing to Washington in the best light possible at first, saying that Jacky "dines with the Professors and myself in the College-hall...I doubt not will make a Proficiency equal to the warmest Wishes and Expectations" in July. But they gave up the ghost and Washington wrote in December that Jacky wouldn't be returning to King's College. Very passive aggressive: "I have yielded, contrary to my judgment, & much against my wishes, to his quitting College." (Myles Cooper is also the Loyalist that Hamilton tried to help by talking down the Patriot mob long enough for him to escape.)

From the notes in Cooper's September letter to Washington, it appears that Jacky left King's College late September and arrived (?) at Mt. Vernon on October 2nd, never to return. Washington assumed this was just a mini vacation but it wasn't. Knowing this and that Hamilton most likely started studying in fall of 1773, there's a very slim chance that Custis and he crossed paths at least once.

Someone write that fanfic for me. Hamilton remembering a lackadaisical, pompous student he met at King's College, joking and sharing the story with the military family - Washington realizing who he's talking about, but not saying anything much until Hamilton realizes in horror that the "John or whoever that ate with the professors and never picked up a book and went on and on about his girl Nelly" is General Washington's son Jacky.

This is me still fixating about the southern Hamilton au, but it tickles my fancy to think that both Washington's actual son and his rumored illegitimate son attended the same college in the same year, though with wildly different results. More realistically, even if Hamilton never met Jacky, it still must've been an awkward conversation with the general, if it ever got brought up. "I studied at King's College, sir." "Oh really? My son attended King's College in 1773." "Oh! I started studying there in 1773 too, maybe I met him!" "Probably not since he dropped out in a few months." "Oh."

[drabbles-mc]

Interruptions

Angel Reyes & OC Evangeline Reyes & Ezekiel Reyes Franky Rogan x OC Evangeline Reyes

Warnings: 18+, pining, language, this really is just a fluffy little something

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: For my next trick! I will pull out of my bag of wonders a character that the show-runners seemed to have forgotten about but I sure didn't! 😂 Shout-out to Franky Rogan- I hope he's doing okay lmao. I'm not really planning on turning this into a multi-chap per se, but I do plan on just writing some snippets/one-shots that all exist in this universe. This is our first look into this au, but definitely not the last if I have anything to say about it 😂 Enjoy! xo

As far as Evangeline was concerned, there was no real reason for Angel and EZ to be in her shop. She’d told them as much about five minutes after they’d walked in and started causing more ruckus than she wanted to be dealing with. She tried to shoo them away, tried to get them to pop one more door down to go and bother their father instead, but they weren’t budging.

Angel was sitting on one of the chairs by the dressing room and EZ was standing off to the side of the sewing machine that she was currently using. Angel was gawking around at everything as though he didn’t stop by every week, and EZ was studying over her shoulder like he was thinking of becoming the next family seamstress. If the shop had belonged to anyone else, the two of them never would have bothered to set foot inside. Not to mention if the shop had belonged to anyone else, they would’ve barred the two of them from entry ages ago.

“I can feel your breath on my neck,” she said, sounding annoyed for a split second before she started laughing.

EZ chuckled, stepping back and instead starting to pace around the shop. “Sorry.”

“Vete—go be sorry somewhere else. You’re gonna scare people off before they even set foot in here.”

Angel shook his head dismissively. “C’mon, Eva. Don’t think of it like that. Think of it like…we’re like protection, you know?”

Head still angled down at the pantleg she was hemming, her eyes lifted just enough to look over at her brother. “What, you two in the mob now too? MC wasn’t enough?” She shook her head and looked back down at the garment draped over the machine. “Protection,” she mocked. “Who you guys gonna protect me from, anyway? The high school girls coming in for me to tailor their prom dresses?”

EZ laughed as he watched his two older siblings go back and forth. “I don’t know,” he chimed in. “Think those girls might have Angel out-gunned.”

He sucked his teeth. “Fuck both you guys.”

She finally leaned back in her chair, taking her foot completely off the sewing machine pedal. “If you’d left when I told you to, you wouldn’t have to be going through this.”

Angel was finally laughing with her and EZ. “Nah, you know if we never stopped by you’d—” He stopped mid-sentence and stood up from his chair when he saw a police patrol car pull up to the curb right in front of Evangeline’s shop. “What the fuck is this?”

Evangeline mirrored his actions, standing up and carefully draping the pants she’d been working on back over the hanger she’d took them off before she had company. The tailoring job for them was a quick one, or at least it would be once her brothers left and she could actually do her job. She ran her hands over the fabric of her own pants, smoothing them out before looking out the window to see whatever it was that had elicited that reaction from Angel.

She laughed when she saw the cop car parked out front. “Oh, good. Maybe someone will finally be able to make you leave. You think if I ask real nice they’ll give me a couple pairs of cuffs specifically for you two?”

EZ was smiling and shaking his head at his sister, but then when he saw that Franky was the officer getting out of the car, both he and Angel became way more amused than they were annoyed at the cops being there. “Oh,” EZ said with a nod, “yeah I’m pretty sure he’ll give you whatever you want.”

Angel was on the brink of cackling as he nudged his sister’s shoulder. “He’ll give you a pair of cuffs as long as you promise to use them on him just once.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t stand either of you sometimes. I hope he knocks your bikes over,” Evangeline muttered with a tiny smile as she moved away from her little brother and went back behind the desk where the cash register was.

There were only a couple seconds between Franky shutting the door to the patrol car and him walking into the small boutique that Evangeline owned, but it was long enough. Angel was sitting back down again, this time just in a different chair that was towards the front of the store. He was leaning back, practically sinking into the soft cushions of it. His legs were spread farther apart than necessary, one hand on one knee, his other on the arm of the chair that he was sitting in. Meanwhile EZ was standing behind his brother’s seat, hands holding onto the edges of his kutte—his default these days.

Evangeline was looking at both of them with a mildly amused look on her face. It looked like they were pulled right out of a movie or a cartoon—stereotypical goons trying to look tough and not quite hitting the mark but they didn’t realize it yet. Her attention shifted off them when the soft chimes above her door signaled Franky’s entry.

He stepped inside, immediately looking around and greeting her with a casual, “Hey, Evangeline,” as he did. He looked at Angel and EZ, seeing the image they were trying to put off and also not being overly convinced by it. When it was just the two of them separate from the rest of the club, they weren’t nearly as intimidating. It was hard to be scared of the same boys he went to school with. He’d known them long enough to know that whatever macho act they were putting on, really was just an act. They had the same look in their eyes that they did back then when they were about to cause trouble after school.

It didn’t take long at all for his gaze to land on Evangeline, the real and only reason he’d even pulled up to the shop at all. She was standing behind the counter, leaning forward onto it so that her elbows were propped onto the wood and her chin rested on top of her interlocked fingers. Her hair was pulled back out of her face, a convenience style when she was using the sewing machine, but there was one unruly lock that had managed to escape and it was hanging just enough to the side so that her face wasn’t obscured at all. She smiled at him, head tilting slightly as it rested in her hands.

He'd known Angel and EZ for most of his life, and it made it hard to find them intimidating these days. In the same vein, he’d known Evangeline for almost his whole life too. Only instead of that fact making her less intimidating, it almost made her more intimidating—it was a different kind of intimidating than her brothers were aiming for, but still. Sure, it’d been so long since high school, and they were all such different people now in a lot of ways, but sometimes when she was looking at him like that Franky still felt like he was the dorky kid in class who was a little in love with his friend’s older sister. They were older now and he was much less dramatic than the teenage version of him had been. In love was an overstatement these days of course. Not that the semantics of it all really mattered in moments like the one he was in.

“Something I can do for you, Officer Rogan?” she finally asked, proving one more time over that she was the only Reyes sibling who could address him as such without using any sarcasm.

He turned so that he was completely facing her, purposely ignoring the looks he was getting from her two younger brothers. He shook his head as he walked over to her, standing on the opposite side fo the counter from her. “No. Just making the rounds and thought I’d stop by.”

She hummed in amusement as she stood upright again. “Got it. Thought your ears might’ve been burning somewhere out there.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You talkin’ about me?”

She laughed and shrugged. “Was talking about getting someone to throw these two,” she nodded towards her brothers, “out of my shop. And then you rolled up.”

“Yeah,” Angel chimed in from where he was still sitting, “like an answer to all your prayers, right?”

Evangeline shot her brother a look. “An answer to one of them, at least.”

Franky turned and looked at Angel and EZ. “You know it’s bad when even your own sister is waiting for you two to get picked up.”

Angel stood up out of his chair. In two easy strides he put himself right in front of Franky. There was just enough of a height difference for Franky to have to tilt his head to look Angel directly in the eyes. It was something that would never stop amusing Angel in any close encounters the two of them had.

“I bet you’d be real happy to do that for her, huh, Officer?” he goaded.

Evangeline was standing, arms crossed over her chest as she shook her head at the two of them. EZ was watching her just as intently as he was watching his brother and Franky. The scene was amusing from every angle for different reasons. And, as much as he would’ve loved to see how far Angel was going to take things, he liked his sister too much to let it happen in the middle of her shop. It was one thing when they were at the clubhouse, or Vicky’s. But not here.

“C’mon, Angel,” EZ inserted himself into the conversation, “let’s go. Pop still needs help with the compressor anyway.”

Evangeline cut a small sigh of relief, flashing EZ the quickest of smiles to thank him. “Yeah,” she agreed, “go make yourselves useful somewhere. Por favor. I’m begging.”

She was half expecting Franky and Angel to crash shoulders as the two Reyes boys made their way to the door, but they didn’t. Franky did manage to get the last word in with them, though. Rebutting Angel’s, “Stay safe, Officer,” with an easy, “I’m sure I’ll see you two soon. With the lights and sirens on.”

The door chimed again to signal the two of them leaving. Through the glass windows that made up the storefront, she and Franky were able to watch as the two of them made their way next door to their father’s shop. They were both shaking their heads at the pair of brothers, but for very different reasons.

“Nice to see you boys all getting along still,” Evangeline joked once they were out of sight.

Franky laughed as he put his attention back on her again. “Saying that like I’m the one who started any of that.”

She shook her head as she made her way around so that they were both on the same side of the counter. She leaned back against it, crossing her arms once more out of habit. “That’s not what I said.”

He watched as she crossed one leg over the other, the bright silky fabric of her pants distracting for only a moment before his gaze traveled back up to her face. He saw her knowing smirk and he cleared his throat, hands resting on his belt as he looked down at the floor for a second before getting himself together again.

“They give all the cops that hard of a time? Or just me?”

She laughed. “No one has an easy time with those two…” she trailed off for a moment before continuing, “but yeah you get it a little worse.” She saw the incredulous look on his face and she couldn’t pretend that there wasn’t something endearing about it. “C’mon, Franky. I know you were all friends in school but, you know, they grew up and became members of a motorcycle club. And you grew up and became a narc.”

He laughed, placing one hand on his chest. “Ouch, damn.”

She shook her head as she laughed right along with him. “Their words, not mine.”

They shared another quiet laugh about it before the conversation hit a pause. The only noise in the shop was the music playing from the speakers scattered around, a playlist the Evangeline changed from day to day depending on the mood she was in. Franky looked down at the floor, then around the shop, and then back at the woman standing next to him. He didn’t know for sure but he was fairly certain that she’d been watching him the entire time.

“Talk to me, Rookie,” she said, gently nudging his shoulder with her own. “What’s going on?”

That got him to chuckle. “Evangeline, I told you, I haven’t been a rookie in—”

“Franky, I told you, it’s not gonna make me stop calling you that.” She smiled. “I remember when you were slugging your way through the academy, before they got stupid enough to give you a gun,” she joked. “You’re always gonna be a rookie to me.”

“Almost as hurtful as your brothers callin’ me a narc.” There was a brief pause and he cleared his throat. “I really was just checking in. I think they told me that something about this job has to do with protecting and serving or some shit like that.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I heard the rumors.” Reaching back, she took her hair out of the loose, messy ponytail that she’d thrown it into earlier in the day. She continued to speak as the long, loose waves of hair fell down around her shoulders. “I appreciate you checking in. I’m alright, though. All quiet on the strip.”

“’Til your brothers get here.”

She cracked a smile. “Yeah, ‘til my brothers get here.”

He stepped away from the counter and reached into his pocket for his keys. “I’ll let you get back to work then. Don’t wanna be another distraction.”

Her smile was warm as she shook her head at him. “Very considerate of you.”

He stepped backwards towards the door. “Call if you need anything.”

“911 still a good number to reach you at?”

He grinned. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

She was laughing, mostly to herself, as he turned and let himself back out of the shop. She watched as he went back to his patrol car, noticing how he shook his head at her brother’s bikes on the way. There was a split second when she thought she was going to get exactly what she’d asked for earlier, that he was going to knock them over. But of course he didn’t, not looking to kick up that kind of trouble.

By the time that EZ and Angel came back over to her shop, Evangeline had not only finished altering the pants that she’d been working on earlier when they’d stopped in, but also taken care of another pair in between customers filtering in and out. She considered it a successful day, and the shop wasn’t even closed yet. Judging by the looks on Angel and EZ’s faces, she wasn’t sure if they’d had the same amount of success she did.

“Compressor got you beat?” she asked.

Angel scoffed. “Fuck no. We fixed that shit.”

She looked over at EZ. “Did you really?”

He flashed a grin. “Limping it along until the new one comes in.”

Angel’s head dropped back and he let out a dramatic sigh. “Dude, what the fuck?” He ignored the way that they were both laughing as he focused on his sister again. “So, what’d Rent-A-Cop want, anyway? Y’know, besides your hand in marriage.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes. “He was just checking in.”

Angel scoffed. “Yeah, gotta make sure his precious Evangeline is all good over here.”

She tilted her head. “Why are you saying my name like that?”

Angel gestured to the curb even though Franky’s car was long gone. “That’s how he fuckin’ says it! Swear to God, ‘mana, I haven’t heard that guy refer to you as Eva since he was like, twelve.”

Evangeline laughed. “How dare he call me by my actual name.”

“You know what I mean,” he shot right back, attempting to sound more annoyed than he really was.

She tried to divert the conversation rather than going deeper down whatever rabbit-hole Angel was trying to drag them down. “Why are you guys still here, anyway? Don’t you have motorcycle business to attend to? Parties to throw, windows to smash, all that fun stuff.”

“Party’s tomorrow,” Angel replied with a shrug. “You should come through.” He nodded towards EZ. “Prospect is playing barback.”

Evangeline laughed and nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

The two of them hugged her, taking her gentle cue to get going. Angel pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Just don’t bring the narc as your plus-one.”

She laughed as she pushed him towards the door, but chose not to acknowledge his last comments. “Be careful out there.” She waited until the door to chime shut behind them before she muttered a quiet, “Pendejos,” to herself and got back to work.

Mayans Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added!):

@garbinge @withmyteeth @darqchilddaydreamz @artemiseamoon @proceduralpassion

@fanfic-n-tabulous @danzer8705 @justreblogginfics @cositapreciosa @narcolini

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

It's Complicated

may i humbly request logan being scary? any au you like (mob, highschool, fantasy) i just want to see logan intimidating/beating the crap out of someone and the other sides being half terrified half amazed love your writing so much thank you for all the food :3 – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: amnesia, concussion warnings, misunderstandings

Pairings: logince, can be platonic or romantic, you decide

Word Count: 2533

Officially, the villain known as The Mastermind has been missing for months. No one knows what's happened and, officially, no one's really worried about it. Coincidentally, this is around the time where Roman, otherwise known as the Prince, took in his roommate, Logan. Logan doesn't remember his less than savory actions, and Roman's not exactly keen on reminding him. Not when Logan is a sweet, somewhat oblivious roommate who is far more concerned about making sure they have coffee than programming death rays or terrifying squads of innocent civilians. At least until some harmless muggers try to accost them in an alleyway and Logan...well. Remembers.

Roman swallows, hand pressed against the rough gravel of the alleyway where he'd stumbled as the fight got worse. Around them lay the broken and groaning bodies of their would-be attackers, the last one falling with a muffled thud.

In front of him, Logan turns. No, the villain Logan used to be turns around.

Roman swallows again. "You remember."

"Mm."

His voice sounded how Roman remembers it again. His walk, his posture, even his expression as he looks at Roman.

The villain is back.

Had it all been a performance? A plot to get Roman to let his guard down? No, there were things that couldn't have been fake in those months, Logan…Logan really had lost his memories.

…memories that were back now.

Are…are they supposed to fight now? He's not nearly in good enough shape to do that right now. and even if he was, even though it's clear that Logan—the villain is back, he can't help seeing the person who he's been living with for the past…god, he can't believe it.

"You know," Logan says suddenly, "it's funny. I spent a lot of time thinking you didn't know who I was, that that's why you took me in, treated me kindly."

Roman tries to suppress a flinch as he steps closer.

"But now," he continues as he crouches in front of him, "I find out that you knew, from the start, and you did all that anyway."

He tilts his head.

"You keep surprising me."

It's the callback to a conversation that happened an eternity ago that jolts Roman into action. He begins to pull himself up off the ground as sirens start in the distance.

Logan offers him a hand. After a moment, he takes it, pulling himself up slowly.

"Thanks," he mumbles, before looking and seeing a bloom of red on Logan's shoulder. "You've been hurt."

"Hm?" Logan glances down at his shoulder. "Oh. So I have. It's just a scratch."

"That is not just a scratch," Roman says, frowning at it as he starts to push the fabric out of the way, "you need stitches. Come on, let's go h—"

The words catch on the tip of his tongue. He swallows.

"Let's go get you patched up."

"We can go home too," Logan says softly, watching him with a strange expression.

Roman just nods and turns, heading away from the sirens. He glances down and sees Logan's shadow following him. As they traverse the alleys and make to the main road, he finds himself doing the things to protect Logan on instinct. Holding his arm out to hold him back, reaching out to steady him as they cross a bridge, even taking his hand so they wouldn't get separated in a large crowd.

Each time he does, he scolds himself and shoves the offending hand in his pocket. He clenches his fist to keep from reaching out and grits his teeth to keep quiet.

Logan doesn't say a word.

When they get back to Roman's apartment, he opens the door to the closet and sets the first-aid kit on the table.

"Leaving so soon," Logan asks as he goes to the bedroom, "am I supposed to do it myself this time?"

Part of Roman wants to say yes, the villain is more than capable of stitching himself up, that he's lucky Roman even let him back in here, just do it and get out.

But the rest of Roman is moving to the table and picking up the kit without further protest.

"You're quiet," he says as he shrugs out of his jacket, "you were so chatty this morning."

Roman hums noncommittally.

"Did something happen?"

Roman glares at him.

"Alright, alright, joke in bad taste, I understand." Logan keeps watching him. "…still, I've never known you to be this…quiet."

"What do you want me to say?"

Logan chuckles. "Maybe 'thank you' for saving me?"

"Thank you for saving me."

"Alright, well, if you're just going to repeat whatever I say—" Roman starts to stand up— "wait, wait, alright, I'm done."

Roman pauses. Logan gestures awkwardly to his now-stitched shoulder.

"Thank you, for helping me with this."

Roman nods and starts packing up the first-aid kit. Logan watches him start to put it away before calling out.

"So what happens now?"

Roman pauses, looking over his shoulder. Logan shifts in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, and even that subtle reminder that he's back with all his stupid body language tells and looks exactly the way he always did in those fucking interrogation rooms—

He pulls himself back.

"…would you like me to leave?"

"Do you want to leave?"

"I asked you first."

Maybe Logan hasn't gotten all of his memories back. He's never seen him look so…unsure. Only when he starts to shift more noticeably does Roman realize he's frowning at Logan.

"Sorry," he mumbles as he goes to put the first-aid kit back. He hears Logan shifting in the chair behind him. "Figured you'd want to go…I dunno, get back to work. You've been away for a while."

"Mm. And not one person came to look for me."

Roman stills, eye catching a scar on his hand. "They did."

"What?"

"They did come to look for you," he says again as he shuts the closet door, "several times."

He can feel Logan's eyes boring into his back. "And you…"

"Kept them off your scent." He moves toward the kitchen—do something normal, do something normal— "didn't sound like they wanted to ensure a safe recovery."

The apartment is quiet as Roman fills the kettle. On the street below, a car honks.

"Why did you take me in," Logan asks suddenly, "and don't give me that 'out of the goodness of my heart' nonsense."

Roman doesn't reply.

"You could've turned me over to the cope, the other heroes, anyone," he presses, "I wouldn't have stopped you. Why didn't you?"

"You didn't remember."

"Obviously, I didn't remember, so—"

"The evidence would've been enough to convict you but you weren't of sound mind and couldn't testify." He turned to grab a coffee mug. "Any decent attorney would've pleaded it at court and you would've gotten off. The whole point of bringing you to trial would be to get justice for those you've wronged who have no other way of getting you to answer for your crimes."

"So that's what this is about," Logan says, and there's that familiar cold tone, "justice?"

"No."

"What?"

"You asked me why I didn't turn you in." Roman gestures with the mug. "That's why."

"But not why you took me in."

Roman stays quiet. Logan growls in frustration, stalking over to slam his hands down on the counter.

"So that's it? I'm back to being 'the bad guy,' no ifs, ands, or buts about it?" Logan scoffs. "Your moral compass too stubborn now that everything's back to normal?"

Don't let him get under your skin. Don't let him, don't let him—but his armor is gone and Logan knows it.

"How do you think this is for me? I lose my memory and suddenly I'm just supposed to accept this? Do you know how jarring it is for everything you've known and trusted to be snatched away like that?"

"And how do you think it's been for me?" He slams the mug down and whirls around. "You think I've just been having the time of my life having you in my home? Where I'm supposed to be safe?"

Roman's breath shudders out of him as Logan grabs him by the shirt and slams him up against the wall. He winces, pain exploding up his spine. Gasping doesn't help—the wind's been knocked out of him. Tears spring to the corners of his eyes.

Something bites at his neck and his head jerks back. The sharp edge of Logan's knife shoved under his chin, an arm like a band of steel across his chest to keep him still.

This. This is familiar. This should feel better. This should—this should—

He thought he'd be done with being terrified of Logan.

And the bone-weary exhaustion that's been threatening him since the fight just…wins.

The fight goes out of him as he meets Logan's eyes. Even though he can feel the strength as Logan holds him there, even with the threat nudging him under his chin.

Then Logan moves.

His grip loosens abruptly, now almost cradling him against the wall instead of shoving him against it. The weapon leaves as his face takes on a soft, pained look.

It's the first time he's ever seen the villain out of combat.

I don't want to do this, he realizes with terrible certainty, I don't want to hurt you. Not like this. There has to be another way.

Logan's gaze flickers up to Roman's temple, his fingertips ghosting over a bloodied bruise from one of the people that tried to attack them.

"…got you good, huh?" A rueful smile. "Blood all over your pretty face."

"…you think my face is pretty?"

A laugh, huffed in disbelief and a little embarrassment. "Come, now, don't make me say it again."

Roman just swallows. "You, uh, you…have…"

Slowly, cautiously, he lifts his hand to Logan's cheek, brushing away some of the alley's soot.

"Thank you."

"Mhm."

Logan jerks his chin toward the wound. "Shall I return the favor?"

Roman opens his mouth to say something about how Logan didn't normally offer to clean up wounds he causes—indirectly or otherwise—but then again, fights didn't normally end with this sort of thing, either. So what ends up coming out is: "…sure."

Logan nods and pulls away, but the sudden lack of anything holding Roman upright has him back a second later, carefully taking him by the arms.

"Easy," he says quietly, "are you dizzy at all?"

"N-no, just…just stunned."

"Here, come—come sit down."

Logan helps him over to the same chair, all careful concern and soft touches that make Roman's head spin even worse than being shoved against the wall. In the strangest version of deja-vu, he walks over to the closet to retrieve the first-aid kit, setting it on the table and leaning against it. A small wrinkle appears between the furrow of his brows and he sets out a bandage and antiseptic from the plastic case.

A finger tilts his head up as Logan unwraps a wipe. He hisses at the slight sting of it.

"It's not that bad," Logan says softly as he works, "head wounds will always bleed more."

"I know."

Logan carefully cups his chin to hold him steady. "You're sure you don't feel dizzy or anything? Not woozy, nothing?"

"No. Doesn't even hurt that much anymore. I didn't even notice it until you…"

At the reminder, however brief, Logan's mouth tightens into a thin line. "I don't know if that's a good sign or if you pain tolerance has just become so high over the years,"

"…I don't know either."

Logan finishes dabbing at the wound and wraps the wipe up to be disposed. He takes the bandage and applies it with the same precision, smoothing over the edges to ensure there aren't any air bubbles. The whiplash of Logan having his memories back yet still treating him so tenderly after absolutely massacring those goons in the alley—

"Bright light, alright?"

Before Roman can say anything, a flash in front of him makes him flinch away. "I need more warning than that!"

Logan waits for him to recover, placing a hand on the back of his chair to lean closer. The sudden closeness does not help him gather himself, but Logan's still looking at him like that and—and—

"Bright light," he says again, softer, "okay?"

Roman nods and Logan holds up the light again. It appears in the corners of his vision and then moves away.

He's checking my pupils, Roman realizes faintly, he's trying to make sure I don't have a concussion.

The light vanishes and Logan holds up his hand. "Follow my finger."

It's a few more minutes before Logan pronounces him concussion-free.

"…thank you."

Logan hums, still looking at him. After a moment, a disbelieving chuckle rings out in the still room as he runs a finger down Roman's cheek. The contact doesn't quite make him flinch, but it makes him…feel something.

"The more I look," he murmurs, mostly to himself, "the more I see."

He traces a few of the scrapes and scars littering Roman's face.

"You poor thing." He lingers on an old scar. "How young were you when they let you outside?"

"Younger than I should've been, probably." Logan brushes a bit of hair back from his face, still tracing invisible lines across his cheek. The contact makes his head spin. "Not much of a pretty face anymore, am I?"

"I didn't say that."

"You meant it, though."

"No, I didn't. I'll thank you not to put words in my mouth."

"What, you actually think I have a pretty face? Still?"

"I thought I told you not to…" he trails off, a dark look coming to his face. Roman nearly shudders at the familiarity before— "who told you that?"

"What?"

"Who told you that," Logan demands, "who told you that you weren't pretty because of your scars?"

Roman blinks, taken aback by the sudden ferocity in his voice not directed at him, but for him. "Uh—"

Logan suddenly cups his face in his hands, staring at him intently. "Tell me who hurt you."

"What?"

"There are those who are still breathing after hurting you only because I do not know who they are. You will tell me."

"What is happening," Roman nearly whines, hopelessly confused, "I don't—what are you doing?"

His words seem to shock Logan back to himself—well, sort of—it's getting complicated, alright? His face twists, almost in pain, and his grip gentles. His thumbs smooth over Roman's cheeks again, holding his gaze for a long moment.

"You are pretty," he says softly, "no matter what anyone else says."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

"U-um, I—uh—" Roman feels heat rush to his face— "if this is a joke, it isn't funny."

"Not a joke," Logan murmurs in that damnably soft voice, "I give you my word."

"…thank you."

Logan smiles. Not a manic grin, not a calculated smirk, not a villain smile, just a genuine, soft…smile.

"You're welcome, dear."

Roman swallows. "So…where do we go from here?"

Logan sighs, idly running his fingers through Roman's hair. "I don't know, dear. I don't know. Will you try and turn me in?"

"…probably not."

The corner of his mouth tugs up a little bit higher. "No? Still concerned I won't face the justice for my crimes?"

"Don't make fun." The seriousness saps Logan's humor in an instant. "I don't—I don't know what I'm doing, okay? Don't—"

"Shh," Logan soothes, and isn't that even more of a mind fuck— "it's alright. We can figure it out together."

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl@raven1508



[dadrielle]

Trick or treat?

Happy Halloween! Here are two related snippets from the Laudna Writes A Romance Novel AU that I might get back to someday:

“I would think you'd like romance novels, darling. Half the point of them is that you already know the end.”

Imogen laughed. “You are never gonna let that go are you?”

“I just think you might like novels better if you stopped flipping ahead all the time!”

“I can't help it, things move too slow and I get all itchy about it. And I use up all my no-peakin’ willpower to not look in peoples’ heads. Reading the ending early doesn't hurt anyone anyway.”

“It hurts the intended experience.”

“Laud, I promise I will not read the end of your story early, alright?”

Laudna sniffed. “Well of course you won't, because I haven't written it yet.”

~*~

Orym stared at her. “Laudna,” he said, with that slow, knowing tone that she knew meant he could see something she couldn’t, which for some reason plucked a string of fear in the back of her brain. “You’ve been reading this to Imogen as you write it?”

“I was, yes. Or…” She started to wring her hands together. “Some of it, I did, but then she said she'd rather wait until it was done, which seemed strange since she’s usually so impatient to tear through books that she spoils them for herself and I do worry it’s because she doesn’t like it and doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. Orym, why are you looking at me like that.”

“It’s just, well. I don’t think it’s that she doesn’t like it, exactly. I mean, don’t you think she might find it a little familiar?”

“I don’t follow.” Laudna concentrated very hard on the motion of Orym scratching his chin - isn’t that funny how he picked at that one spot as he pressed his lips together thin and tight, raising his eyebrows at her, what a particular habit she’d not noticed before, and far more interesting than rising, ringing staccato in her head that seemed to be calling her a liar. “What do you mean?”

“Ok. Let’s try it this way: how do your characters meet?”

Ah, safer ground.

“Oh it’s your classic knight in shining armor situation, the heroine is beset upon by ne’er do wells who have accused her of a crime she didn’t commit, and the love interest saves her, but they’re forced to go on the run together.”

“And how did Imogen and you meet?”

“We-I was-well! She saved me from a mob, yes but. It’s not quite the same-”

“It IS pretty close though, you have to admit.”

[shadowonwater]

Mob Psycho Fic Recs: Teru's Parents Suck

Teru's parents are canonically absent in his life. In the comic he said they both work oversea. He's in middle school yet he lives alone. He's being given money, but all the same the situation is... concerning. These are fics that focus on Teru's parental situation.

They also all have Reigen becoming a parental figure for Teru. He's got some dad energy, and oh look here, a child with absent parents.

All fics are completed unless mentioned otherwise.

Feel free to suggest fics to include in the list.

Issho by ToastyToaster22 (really check out the whole series)

VERY long read. Main character is child Teru. An AU in which Teru met Mob and Ritsu before the incident where Ritsu got hurt. Story really gets across the evil of Claw with them kidnapping kids and harassing the few who keep getting away from them. Story also shows Teru's shitty neglectful parents and Dad!Reigen. Teru goes through the ringer in this fic. Fic takes place over the course of 2 - 3 years. Also Teru gets legally adopted.

In general this writer has a lot of great Mob Psycho writing. They write a lot about Teru and TeruMob. Also I really like their take on the Kageyama parents. We may not see much of those parents in cannon but it's clear they do care about their kids. Toasty does a great job on using them as actual characters.

Socha and Don't Start Now by ToastyToaster22

Socha shows Teru's life over the years and how he was pretty much abandoned. The story also has a lot of focus on how he was being harassed by Claw as a child and how that contributed to his parent's leaving. And how both these things lead to him acting out. It's also show's how Reigen starts helping him out and looking out for him. There's also TeruMob, and Teru dealing with Touch starvation.

Don't Start Now takes place in the same universe as Socha and is about Teru asking (and being allowed to) spend Mother's Day with Mob's family. Story is through Mob's mother POV as she realizes there's something wrong at home for Teru and how they end up talking about it and her giving him comfort after Teru's mom tried to contact him again after all these years.

Immoral Support by c_c_cherry

Teru lives alone, and has been living alone for awhile. He's given money from his parents but that's it. He knows how to fake signatures but now the school is demanding to see a guardian in-person. Teru not knowing what to do, pretends that Reigen is his guardian, things go on from there.

emergency contact by good_news

Teru needed someone as his emergency contact for school and asks Reigen. Each chapter is a different time that Reigen was there to help Teru.

Family Dinner by bearberrythief

Teru wants to go to a specific high school for its arts program but his parents won't sign on to it because they want him to go to a different school. Reigen help's by negotiating with his parents and getting them to agree to sign on to the other school but they won't be sending Teru as much money. Story is told though Serizawa POV and there's a great scene of the two of them talking about their feelings.

Shots by Phia

Reigen acts like a father towards Teru, and Teru isn't sure how to feel about it. There's also a sub-plot about Teru becoming friends with one of his classmates.

Tear Down Every Wall by Phia

Reigen and Serizawa pretend to be Teru's parents for a meeting with the principal at his school. The principal is homophobic and isn't happy about Teru creating an unofficial pride club. Of course Reigen and Serizawa take Teru's side.

Groceries by crescentmoonrider

The early days of Teru having to care for himself, mostly figureing out household stuff like cooking and cleaning.

More Stuff

A Tumblr Comic with Teru thinking about what the Sword Guy (forgetting his name rn) said about his backstory

Tumblr comic: Teru gets advise about shaving from Reigen

Not the Focus but is There

fics where Teru's parental situation isn't the main focus but comes up.

Keeping the Door Unlocked and Other New Habits by KarideCedria

Story is a 5 + 1 time fic. 5 Times that the kids were helped by Reigen and 1 time Reigen was helped by the kids. 1 of the times is Teru getting help from Reigen.

Drawer Full of Pamphlets by Bearberrythief

5 + 1 story. Story is about Reigen helping out the kids by giving them LGBT+ advise. Chapter 3 is about Teru asking Reigen about being gay.