#first time hosting mafia got me fucked up

[vidavalor]

The pub scene is even funnier when you consider that poor Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets has likely had this longtime pash on Aziraphale and, like everyone on Whickber Street, he has no idea who exactly The Ginger Goth With The Old Car is. He knows the prevailing theory is mafia but Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets has seen Ginger Goth hanging around Mrs. Sandwich and her "Sandwich Shop" and also around the bookshop a bit and also some naked guy was also at the bookshop recently, so... what's the likeliest conclusion drawn by Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets? That the old bookseller's lonely and paying for it.

He sees them come into the pub and thinks Aziraphale is classy like that and is taking the sex worker for a drink first or maybe that's part of it-- he's gone the whole 'boyfriend experience' route. Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets sees Aziraphale with that chest stroke of that Thin Dark Duke he's paying and while Mr. Brown (of Brown's World of Carpets, just FYI) isn't here to judge and gets it as he's lonely, too... and while he does think the bookseller picks some hot ones... he wants to give Mr. Fell the real thing. The kind of love you can only get between two middle-aged, still-sorta-closeted queers like they are. He'll be someone the bookseller can talk to and find some genuine chemistry with, Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets will be, so he decides to shoot his shot and knows the bookseller is skittish from their past interactions, so he goes for the meeting option. He'll have to come over to drop off the chairs, of course. Give them an excuse to talk more, alone, when Mr. Fell is not, erm, entertaining.

And poor Mr. Brown--President of the Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association, Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets is-- fine, upstanding, boring as all holy fuck fella... He's met by Crowley coming over with drinks and a greeting that says this is neither the first time, nor, he doubts, will it be the last that he's had to Husband the bookseller but again, Mr. Brown of Oh, You Know By Now thinks this is a bit, so he's not intimidated.

"I was just absolutely hitting on him for real, unlike you," is what he basically told Crowley when explaining what they were chatting about.

And Crowley's like lol you got him flustered enough to host this meeting. Good on you, Mr. Whoever the Fuck You Are from Whatever Shop You Run. Look at you *go*. 😍 I've got a new favorite human, Aziraphale.

He's all "you astonish me" to Aziraphale, teasing him like you're leading the poor, balding bastard on, angel. I know it's hard for you to reign in your divine sex appeal but you should maybe try. His heart is only human, after all.

Mr. Brown still thinks Crowley's a sex worker though so he doesn't give up and is all like remember, Mr. Fell, our date is right after work on Thursday in a group setting to set you at ease but I'll see you first to set it all up because I want you and I want to make sure you know I'm not just here for the business meeting.

Crowley: That's it-- I'm adopting you, Ballsy Mr. Carpet. I like your style. But you'll never wear my angel down. We've been married for 6,000 years. I am definitely up for saving you from some demons on Thursday though and making it rain on you and literally any fruity, single shop owner in the greater metro area next season. You're on the deck after my shop lesbians. Now piss off, Mr. Barnes. We haven't been to the pub in ages and you're in my seat.

[marysdonuts]

Tom and Jerry

school clown!Hoshi x top student!reader

Synopsis: After crossing the rubicon with your annoying classmate Hoshi "relationship" between the two of you improved. However you bump heads once more at Mingyu's game night party

Warnings: plot with smut, enemies to lovers, high IQ (f.) x low IQ (m.), slight angst, Mafia game at Mingyu's house, classmates, semi-public, banter, dirty talk, oral (f. receiving), brief mentions of other members, crack, Hoshi acting cray during the game, (no questionable fashion choices mentioned)

WC: 1.2K

Status: part 2 (ongoing), read part 1 here

masterlist / requests / taglist

Why should it be awkward after fucking your arch nemesis? Well, isn't that what all the books and movies want us to believe?

- The female lead got into dragged out moral battle with herself after giving in to the detestable male lead.. Making audience yawn. Questioning if this is who she really is, questioning God's intentions - ultimately running away never to return again. Revolutionary.

In reality things didn't have to be so black or white. There was no need to go thru the emotional rollercoaster of blaming it on your childhood trauma or turning it into religious guilt. Ultimately, we were put on this Earth to have fun. Why beat ourselves up for doing something that we actually enjoyed?

Living in the grey area had its perks.

Improved relationship with your desk-mate Hoshi was one of them. The steamy encounter in locker room visibly dissolving tension between two rivals.

You were in higher spirits than usual.

Well that was fun, didn't think he had it in him. Why was I acting like a bitch before? Guess I just needed the attitude fucked out of me. Kekekekekek

"What are you scheming down there, hm?" walking in Soonyoung saw you hunched over the desk cackling like an anime villain planning to take over the world.

"Wouldn't you like to know." pushing up non existent glasses reflecting the light for dramatic effect.

"I would love to know." towering over you

"Pfff, you wouldn't understand even if I told you!!" springing up the chair, sticking your tongue out at him

"See you at the game tonight~"you spiralled out the classroom in a way that resembled category 5 hurricane. Leaving Hoshi flabbergasted.

"Wasn't I supposed to be the crazy one?" rubbing his chin in disbelief, your wicked laugh echoed thru the halls

//

And exactly what game were you talking about?

Of course the quarterly Mafia get-together. You've been told that everybody gathers up in class president Mingyu's house once every three months. It's your first time attending.

Please, please, please give me a role! I can't stand being a boring citizen - eyes shut, you prayed as the host passed behind you. Tapping you on the shoulder.

"The mafia has been chosen."

silence

"The police officer has been chosen."

silence

"The doctor has been chosen."

//

You killed the doctor first. Something in Seungkwan's proud eyes gave him away. He liked to play the saviour and once again it got the best of him.

"Why am I always the one getting killed first?? Why do you hate me soo much" pouting, hands crossed on the chest

"That's what happens when people had enough of your shit. Bang, bang, bang!" Hoshi collapsed in front of Kwan, seemingly coughing up blood "better keep your head down next time.." clinging to Boo's ankle before theatrically releasing his final breath. Freezing on the floor.

"You! Shut the hell up!" kicking his foot, trying to free himself from Hoshi's iron claw

//

Citizens were dropping like flies. Only making the sinister look in your eyes grow bigger and bigger.

And so did Hoshi's craziness.

"it's MINGYU, HE'S THE MAFIA!!!" pointing at Mingyu, shivering in the corner, probably questioning why he invited this madman in the first place. He was voted off.

"Everyone, WAIT JUST LISTEN TO ME...!" human sized worm was now wriggling in Joshua's direction

With every nonsense spat from Hoshi's mouth, you could feel your braincells dying.

"MWAHAHA, YOU THOUGHT I WOULDN'T NOTICE THAT LOOK IN YOUR EYES, CHAN?? CAN'T FOOL ME!!!" backflipping to the opposite side of the room, attacking the youngest

Idiot. Can't fool you now, huh? We'll see 'bout that.

"What a big mouth you have over there, Kwon," raising to your feet, cackle of devil ready to deliver divine retributions "would be a shame if someone shut IT." you shot your thumb down making all the remaining civilians vote in unity. Crowd vailing.

Heh, so this is how it feels to be a roman emperor - sentencing slaves to their death for entertainment of the colosseum.

//

Not long after you were the sole survivor

"Mafia WON! Standing ovation for the lady!" clap clap clap host crowning you MVP of the game.

"Thank you, couldn't done it without you." palpable wink in direction of the fuming hamster, now seeking comfort between Mingyu's humongous man-titties. Once enemies now reunited in shared hardship

Misery loves company, doesn't it? Chuckling to yourself

Hoshi Kwon (19) left the mortal world behind right then and there - figuratively speaking of course. Utterly humiliated by you, again. He was supposed to SHINE! He was supposed to find the mafia! Finally got a role of policeman but every guess that he made tonight was incorrect

"You win. For now." darkness possessing his amicable face

Familiar knot taking shape in your stomach

//

DU! DU! DU!

Heavy knocks on the bathroom door

"Just a moment!" drying your hands

DU! DU! DU! DU! DU!

"Hey! I said I am coming..!" swinging the door open

"Oh? I wondered when you'd show up." smirk looming up your lips as Hoshi shoved you back inside

"Smart girl. Wanted to see me that badly?" there was nothing sweet about the way he closed the door shut

"At least one of us," shooting back "are you here to serve your sentence?" tracing finger on his lips

"Didn't you say somebody should shut my mouth? Then, sit on it."

Ah and there it was the residual craziness clouding his judgement. Ain't gonna argue with a dude that has big brown eyes. Whatever you say, beautiful.

You weren't wet yet but it wasn't hard to guess that in exactly two minutes you will be

"Hahah- what?" you were just joking, didn't expect to actually do it here. At house party? Is there a cliché more american? Neither of you were an american but you'd rather be caught dead than doing something so mainstream.

"Did I stutter? You always talk a big game in public but I want to see how brave you are now." hot breath already caught between your thighs, hungry kisses biting at your soft flesh making you whine. Guess they didn't call him tiger for nothing

"We are in Minguy's bathroom.." voice disappearing into thin air the moment his starving mouth made contact with your, now wet, private area

"And? didn't seem to mind the locker room last time" Hoshi's swirling tongue rolling over THE spot of your clit

"s-shut up, you idi- OOOOH" a cry hardly appropriate for friendly game night. The sensation making you drunk on his expert movements.

"Oh? I didn't know top students had such a dirty mouth" working harder and more relentlessly than before, the train of needy moans couldn't be stopped anymore.

And there you were. Once again with a good for nothing dude between your legs. Making you feel things nobody before him managed. How does he know exactly what you liked? Was it the environment? First the locker room now friend's house...A combination perhaps?

Taste of forbidden fruit is not easily forgotten,

but who doesn't love a good enemies to lovers trope?

To be continued

[first-edition]

Pool “Party”

Mafia!bucky x fiancé!Reader

You host a pool party to celebrate you and bucky getting a new house and it goes wrong with you and Natasha arguing. Does your boyfriend have to interfere or can you win this fight yourself?

Warnings- fighting, verbal abuse, cussing, threats, mention of weapons, talk of sexual themes but no actual smut, mention of alcohol consumption.

(I have nothing against Natasha i just had this idea in my brain and liked it.)

You’ve invited all your friends and bucky some of his. You’ve decided to host a party to break in the new house although bucky wanted to break it in by fucking you raw on every single surface he can, which youre more that happy to let him do later. 

Three hours into the party after games and food, You and your friends sit in the hot tub, drinks in hand and glow sticks floating. Bucky stands with steve, sam, tony and Thor talking by the little outdoor bar.

“This place is so nice.” Wanda giggles entangled in visions arms. 

“yeah you think. Did you see the theater room!?” You exclaim. She nods and giggles. 

“Bucky said i got to choose this time.” You says smiling to your self looking down at your engagement ring through the steamy water. 

“I saw that tennis court on the side too.” Carol says you smile at her loving the feedback. 

“the upstairs area bucky wants to make it into a mini shooting range you know bust out the walls, I said just build onto the house that way you can have extra storage but he’s adiment about it.” You say shrugging. 

“let him do what he wants.” Natasha mumbles into her drink. 

“hmm?” You ask Looking to her. 

“nothing.” She says. 

“no what is it?” You ask 

“she said let him do what he wants.” Sharron rolls her eyes at Natasha’s comment. 

“I am. Didnt you hear me?” You say 

“i did.” 

“so why comment?” You ask. 

“becuase I have the right to speak, No?” 

“yeah but mumbling it into your drink just makes you look snotty” you say to her. 

“Oh im snotty really? You’re hosting a house party on the house your fucking fiancé bought acting like it’s yours.” She scoffs. 

“it is mine. I paid for half.” You begin. 

“yeah with who’s money…Hm the money he puts into your account.” She snaps at you holding out her hand. 

“Natasha can you not?” Pepper asks. 

“Im just saying he only purposed to have her as trophy wife i was there first.” She says. 

“Nat what the fuck is your problem? You’re being a bitch right now. When i first got together with james you were also a bitch and im not gonna have your negative attitude here.” You snap back. 

“Why am i a bitch becuase i wont sit and listen to you brag and show off your lavish new house HE bought you who only got with you as rebound from me and use as a fuck-toy. Pillow princess fucking shoulder candy?” She cusses back.

“nat fuck off.” Carol says

“No carol You know what Natasha, Yeah, that the fact that you’re just fucking mean You’ve been up my ass and jame’s ass so far that you cant seem to pull your self out. It’s bad enough you came dressed in the same fucking bikini as me. How about you go back to the mother fucking red room and get more of your uterus ripped out. Maybe that’s why bucky did you want you anymore hmm? A bitch cant be a fucking bitch with out being bred. This is my fucking house my fucking life, I’m sorry you fucked up yours so bad you have to be cunt to other people, but don’t accept my invite, come, and shit on me.” You rage at her. 

“YOU WANNA FUCKING TALK HUH!?” She stand water splashing. You stand as well. 

“YOU FUCKING KNOW IM RIGHT YOU FIRE HEADED SLUT!” You yell back at her before punching her she falls back into the hot tub. 

“Hey. HEY!” Bucky runs over to your both fitting in the tub you clearly winning as you hold her under the water. 

“DOLL!!? STOP IT!” He yells at you grabbing you easily and pulling you off her out of the water kicking and screaming. 

“Hey! Look at me!” He says 

“YOU FUCKING CUNT! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU BITCH!” You scream. 

“That’s enough from you!” Bucky says angrily before picking you up and putting you over his shoulder. 

Nat coughs and gasp finally getting air.

Bucky carries you inside and upstairs as you remain yelling slurs at nat who can clearly still hear you from how loud you’re yelling. 

“Stop it!” Bucky barks angrily at you putting you down on the bed. Caging you as he hovers of you. You immediately begin to break into a violent sob. 

“y/n. Whats wrong are you hurt?” He says worried about you. 

You shake your head gasping for air as you cry. 

“Baby talk to me what it?” He asks worriedly. 

“y-you used me!” You sob. 

“what? What No when have I ever used you?” He asks 

“You used me!! You used me as a rebound. A-a fuck-toy!!” You sob almost choking on air.

“doll look at me look, I’ve never used you. Ever. I put a ring on your finger becuase i love you, i want you for the rest of my life You make me so happy. Coming home from a long work weekend and seeing you dancing around the place of sleeping the bed makes me calm. Baby look at me.” He says but some how you cant stop crying now that you’ve started. 

“Shit doll come here.” He says his heart hurting knowing how easy it must’ve been to listen to Natasha. He pulls you up in a crunching hug not letting go as you cry in his arms. 

15 minutes pass and eventually you’ve knocked your self out with how much you cried. Bucky takes off your suit for you and puts you in comfy clothes in bed before storming out side to Nat. 

“What the fuck is your problem?!” He yells walking to nat who’s wrapped in a towel. 

“Her bucky shes my problem-” shes cut off by bucky grabbing her neck with his metal hand. 

“You Fucking come around me or her again i’ll fucking drown you myself. Dont you ever tell her lies and bullshit like that again do you understand me.” He huffs. She dosnt answer only prompting bucky to tighten his grip. 

“Y-yes..yes.” She pleads with him to let go. Which he does. 

Nat walks off leaving. 

“she okay?” Steve asks about you. Bucky nods. 

“she fell asleep. Thank you for coming but parties over.” He says.

“i’ll see you Monday.” He says bucky nods and walks the remaining people out before going back to you changing and getting into bed neck to you holding you in his arms before falling asleep himself. 

[lang-rangler-enjoyer]

TELL ME ABOUT YOUR STONE OCEAN OCS I'M WORKING ON MY OWN OCS AND NEED ✨INSPO✨

(esp Canada Goose he looks so FUNKY)

OK HERE WE GO :0 I don’t have too many

Canada Goose (yeah, that’s his name. legally)

•Somewhere in his late twenties. Six foot two. Chunky boi with fat tiddies. Has a large black back tattoo of the letters “BNL” in block font

•He’s a mid-to-high level ranking gangster in Sports Maxx’s gang who’s serving a reduced sentence (like Maxx, due to mafia destruction of evidence and legal tampering) for trafficking and selling hard drugs.

•He’s a natural stand user wielding Barenaked Ladies (often abbreviated to BNL). BNL is a soft, squishy parasitic stand that enters the body through open wounds and travels up the bloodstream to your brain. Once it’s in your head, BNL attaches itself to your brain and can read and transmit weak electric signals. Basically, this allows Goose to hear all your thoughts and allows him to send you telepathic messages. BNL can’t do any physical damage to its host, but it’s a psychological weapon that also gives Goose a huge boost in combat, kind of like Dragon’s Dream.

•Not too smart, but then again he doesn’t need to be. He’s good at what he does, he’ll leave the thinking up to people like Maxx. He’s a good listener, he loves just hanging out and shootin’ the shit with people, maybe with a drink and a smoke too.

Viktor Rolf (like the fashion house Viktor & Rolf)

•I COULDNT NOT STEAL HIM HES SO PRETTY LOOK 👁️👁️ AT HIMM

•Mid twenties. No significant tattoos, marks, or piercings.

•Dropped out of university (majoring in English) in his second year due to burn out and personal issues. Got a “temporary” job at the prison and promised his family and friends he’d be back at university as soon as he was feeling better. It’s been at least four years and yeah, he’s starting to feel like that’s never gonna happen. Not that he likes his job at GD st., he fucking HATES it here, but he just can’t bring himself to change everything again.

•He’s cold and standoffish with most people. He doesn’t want to get close with any of his coworkers because it feels like settling in, admitting defeat, admitting he’s never going to leave. Not rude per say, just curt and withdrawn.

•Oh yeah, and he’s secretly dating Goose. He appreciates that Goose doesn’t judge or ask questions.

Dege Goose-Rolf and Skinner Goose-Rolf (like the fashion company Dege & Skinner)

Don’t ask how it happened. Goose would probably tell you, just don’t ask.

•I’m away right now and haven’t had the time to draw them more :( so these are just preliminary sketches

•The twins are weird. like those kids who show up at family gatherings and you’re not quite sure who they’re related to but your mom says you have to sit next to them even if they chew crayons and smell funny.

•They’re very close. Goose is trying his best but he is a first time single dad with no idea what he’s doing, so they sometimes have to rely on each other.

•They share the stand Beastie Boys. I haven’t figured out what it does yet 🤔

[slime-sandwhich-nom]

I ACTUALLY HAVE SOME OPINIONS

Ok so, I haven't finished it, since it's late, but so far:

Love how the dwellers can talk! But I guess they got replaced by the minions, still awesome though, since most warn you about things.

the dwellers without a mask! They are described as desperate of a host, or a mask, so they possess whatever object you put in front of them. Cool version of the bomb cherries!

The plants! Annoying, but they are so cool. I wished there weren't so many though.

snatcher! He's basically the same, except he's a minor character and a literally shadow, but in personality looks the same!

He basically does nothing but annoy you for no reason other than his own entertainment, which is very in canon. And his reasons to get the time pieces is because they are shiny and he steals things, so he isn't giving it back to you, fits a lot too.

If they mixed it with the final product snatcher, I would love him even more. Plus, we would have gotten more of screentime for him! instead of doing his bidding. I would have liked if they mixed him messing around with you WHILE doing his bidding and everything (since he wants us so dead, he could have cheated and tried to mess things up to make it harder for us.) , especially with the third floor.

the third floor Is already cool, I've played a different mod that let me play it, rather than the one letting me play the whole beta subcon, but it was really cool! It was like a break from vanny and a fun puzzle game.

moonjumper, saw a few of him for the moment, but he sounds very cool and twisted in his own way! He is very friendly to us, letting us know what he can see and welcomes us! But the way he uses the strings are suspicious.

The only example I have at the moment is him using the strings to force a dweller to say that subcon is the best place ever and hat kid should stay,

The reason he did was because the dweller was telling hat kid to LEAVE while she can and they will soon too. But moonjumper blocked them and then greeted the kid like nothing (cool twist.)

the concept of subcon. I like how everywhere you go, is a BIG sign of "THIS AIN'T A FRIENDLY PLACE". Not because of the atmosphere, but because of the things in it. Almost everything comes and hurts you, and while yes it's annoying, it's very fitting for subcon.

the only people who haven't hurt you from what I have seen at the moment are moonjumper (probably will want you to stay forever and will become the big boss instead of snatcher), snatcher (rather annoys you and steals your shit, but he says it when we first meet him, that he is the snatcher, and he steals things you forget about, so I'm not mad.) And the dwellers, who simply talk to you.

I haven't met Vanessa yet, but I think she's the same.

the outhouse! Cool concept. instead of being possessed, it's just a random outhouse the creatures who can in subcon use, and to unlock the fight, you gotta wake it up (with a sacrifice. It was like..a mafia goon, a plant and another creature in subcon.)

The Bush cats! Very cool, but also aggressive, they simply chase you down, you can kill them easily with your potion hat.

It looks very cool, honestly, might add some of these cool unused things as my headcanons!

once I get a good show of how moonjumper is, I might as well determine how the prince is! Or was.

Depending on what I think fits. Might twist up the prince a little to make it more,,, understandable of why he gets so sadistic and evil when he becomes the snatcher.

8/10!! Please why are there so many fucking plants. they are hard to kill too.

Playing the beta subcon and it's so cool dude

[writing-without-time]

memento mori

memento mori. a latin phrase, meaning “remember you will die.”

imagine impulsively hosting a game of mafia with @crispy-saur @resident-of-the-mind-palace @theonlyrealerin and @tentenrightsactivist then you get so into the story you made Erin starts drawing it and you and Ash start writing it oh wait

A murder runs rampant in Meteora. That’s the one thing anyone is certain of. Of course, all Mariam is certain of is protecting her wife and kids, and Ash is concerned for Erin, and Lima is concerned about how she’s gonna protect everyone. Bre’s only worried for her mother and siblings, and Erin.. Erin’s been quiet,  lately. 

It’s a fine evening, but clouded by the worry and town’s incredibly low morale. Erin, Ash, and Mariam sit together at a cafe, an outdoor table. Mariam drinking tea like no tomorrow, and Erin staring worriedly at the sky. But then she looks back down to see Mariam finishing off another cup of tea.

“That’s like, your fifth one.” Erin comments. 

Mariam sighs as she sets the cup down. “I know.. I’m just so worried! My family is here…” She stares down into the cup quietly. “There’s a murderer in our home..” Erin winces. 

“I understand your concern, Mar.” Ash says, setting a hand on her shoulder. “Rest assured, I’m getting to the bottom of this. Tonight..you don’t mind if I borrow Bre to help me out a bit, do ya?” 

“But…” Mar frets. “...I suppose, it’s part of her duty. Okay.” She sighs as Ash removes his hand from her shoulder.

Erin looks back up at the sky. “I’m worried...there’s a big storm coming.” Ash and Mariam also glance up, and find the storm clouds above them to be a dark, dark grey. 

“It’ll be alright, I’m sure.” Ash says. “Storms happen all the time. We might wanna get heading back though.. Start pouring any second now.” He stands from his chair. Erin and Mariam follow suit, though Erin reluctantly. 

“I suppose you’re right..” Erin sighs.

“Get some sleep, okay?” Ash says. “You’ve been off lately.” Erin nods as Ash turns to Mariam. “And go spend some time with your wife. It’ll all be over soon.” Mariam nods as well. 

The three bid farewell and part ways to their homes.  

.

In the night, Mariam shoots awake in her bed, frightened by a nightmare, one of her poor wife crying over her corpse. In a shaken, panicked state she writes a letter to her wife, and leaves it on the kitchen counter. She leaves her house, yet her vision is clouded by tears. So clouded by tears, she doesn’t notice the car heading towards her as she crosses the road. Nor the oh-so familiar driver, and she only notices when she is hit, but then her body is thrown over the hood and tumbles over the back side of the car. And she’s left there, rasping for breath in the road as the vehicle speeds away. 

“Kenzie…” She breathes. Then the world turns a bit darker than she had ever known.

Across town, Ash and Bre sat in a different car, headed towards Erin’s house.

“Are you sure we should investigate?” Ash asks, hands at firm, tense and uncomfortable ten and two at the wheel. 

“Yes.” Bre sighs. “Don’t be biased. You’re gonna risk an investigation because you like Erin, or something? Eliminate her as a suspect now, and it’s fine and over with.” She sets her head against the window, any sight two feet past the car a bit hard to see due to all the raindrops. That storm had long passed but the rain persisted.  Ash doesn’t respond, and keeps quiet even as the car parks and the doors slam as they leave in front of Erin’s house. 

She isn’t home, that’s clear evidenced by her car being gone. Yet the lights are on and the door is swinging open in the wind… odd. “Don’t tell me..” Ash breathes.

Bre elbows him. “Erin’s strong. I doubt it.” She walks in unafraid as Ash follows, and heads to the kitchen, where on a counter, her and Ash both find a single, bloodied kitchen knife. The sink mirrors it, seemingly stained orange from the countless and countless washes. 

“...Well, fuck.” Bre sighs. 

“..No.” Ash says simply. “This is planted. Obviously, see? The door was open.. And she’s not home..” Ash runs a hand through his hair. 

Bre sighs, and mutters something along the lines of ‘clouded mind, foolish man.’ “...If you’re gonna insist. But I’m telling you. Something is not right.”

“...Whatever. We’re getting out of here.” Ash says, walking out of the house briskly. Bre sighs and follows. 

.

You could say most of the town was woken not by a rooster, but a screaming woman, and any detective to rush to find out what the fuck woke him up at 7AM, would find Kenzie, now widowed, crying over her wife’s corpse. So of course, a memorial is held for Mariam as quickly as possibly, and Ash addresses the town with guilt on his back as he talks of how he will catch this murderer soon. But Meteora was such a small town, turned so small it was more like five people and three cats at this point. And the day goes by, silent and quiet, the sky still raining down. Crying, maybe, just like Mariam’s daughters, sons, wife and friends. And it’s a slow, dreadfully long day until nightfall. 

And when night comes, Doctor Lima stands in her home, eyes rolling along the childhood photos that lined her home as she walked through it. She had chosen to go and protect someone, maybe Erin tonight, start putting a stop to this fucking maddness if Ash won’t. But as she observes the pictures of her infancy she feels the hair on her neck stand. And she turns to find nothing, but the paranoia screams in her ears. 

“Maybe I should just go to bed.” She tells herself, walking into her bedroom where in it a picture of her abroad lover stood on a night stand. And in the reflection she saw not only a doctor. A strong willed girl with a fuckin’ PhD, but behind that a murderer. And as she spins to confront them, she’s grabbed and her neck is slashed. Maybe not slashed elegantly, or in the most effective way..but surely she would die soon. And she hits the floor as spots appear in her vision and her friend and foe walks away. 

“Erin…” She rasps, everything around her slowly starting to fade.

And Lima thinks she’s dead, but she hears footsteps. Two sets of them, coming back after who knows how much time has passed. And she can’t really make anything out, it’s all blurry and fading, so all she can do is rasp Erin’s name once more as she slips away. Now gone into whatever afterlife the doctor believed in.

“Holy shit.” Ash says, looking down at the doctor who just passed in front of him. 

Bre sighs. “Look who was right. Now what are you gonna do? She’s got over 5 or 6 people on her hands.” 

Ash sighs. And a tear hits the ground before he mutters, “We have to execute her.”

.

The next time Ash and Erin see each other is long after a brief, unprofessional town trial. Almost unfair when the whole town wants someone to blame. But the next time Ash relives his realization, his grief, he learns all over again someone he loves murdered his friends, is when he stares Erin in the eye, Erin standing at the gallows.

Erin dons white clothing, almost pathetically loose and doesn’t even fight against the rope that binds her hands together behind her backs. She knows she’s caught. It’s too late. Distraught and shame overcame Ash as Erin stared at the floor that would soon collapse under her feet. 

“Before your town, your lover, and your god, do you have any final words?” Bre asks her, no effort to hide how repulsed she is by the person who murdered her mother and friends. 

Erin raises her head to look at Ash, who stood closer to the platform than anyone else. “Ash..I love you. Always. I did this for you.” She smiles bitterly as tears trace her cheeks. And Ash is forced to watch as Bre cranks back the lever with all the might in her body, the floor drops, and Erin’s neck gives a loud, horrid snap that makes Ash wince. 

Bre is unphased, muttering a simple “Mors tua, vita mea” Your death, my life.

Ash feels the tears that trail his skin, and his shaking hands as he watches his lover dangle by a snapped neck and piece of rope. But he feels numb, cold, almost dead himself as his lover sat pale. Those left of the town scream in joy at the sight, yet all Ash can find himself to do is mutter a simple, “Aeternum vale.”

Forever farwell.

[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 17

Part 17: I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love

Series Masterlist

Words: 4.1k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mafia families. References to breaking and entering, violence, and sexual assault. Firearms. Deception. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

~~~

“Boss?”

Steve had just reached is study, ill at ease with the message Dyson sent him early this morning. All it had said was urgent. And that had been enough to pull him out of his bed before he wanted to leave it.

He wasn’t sure what was worse, the implication of that text or leaving his little wife there sleeping peacefully in his bed. He’d quickly relieved himself in the shower, trying to be quick about it. But his hand couldn’t come even remotely close to the sweetness of her tight little body. He’d barely explored her, just a few days into their marriage.

So Steve was in a foul mood to start the day, glancing up as Dyson bustled into the study, shut the door.

“What?” he asked his man with no small dose of impatience.

Dyson’s color was high, his ears blood red. “There was another incident last night.”

Incident? Steve had a bad feeling about this.

His man’s expression was grim. “They hit Giordano’s last night.”

Giordano ran a highly successful retail shop that was under his protection. They dealt in hunting and fishing gear. It was a great front for running guns and ammo under the radar. The man’s father had been an old poker buddy of his father’s and they always had a good relationship, dealt well together.

Anger rose quickly. “How bad?”

It took Dyson a moment to meet his gaze which just meant it was worse.

“They waited until they closed shop,” Dyson explained. “And they broke in through the back before the staff could even make it out for the night. They got a shit ton of ammo, several rifles, and all their cash.”

“Fuck,” Steve muttered. Running a hand over his beard, he waited. He could just tell there was more by the way Dyson was shifting his weight from one foot to the other on the other side of his desk. “Anyone hurt?”

Dyson dropped his gaze. Oh, this is bad.

“Yeah, Vince’s kid took a rifle butt to the head,” Dyson told him. “Knocked him out. He’s in the hospital. So’s the girl…”

“Girl?” Steve felt bile rise in his throat, afraid of what direction that was going in.

“Yeah,” Dyson explained. “The girl worked at the shop. A college kid. They, ah, they did a number on her… A really bad number on her. Yeah…”

Rape?

“How bad?” Steve wanted to know.

“More than one of them got her,” Dyson told him in a lowered voice. “Cut her up too.”

Steve knew what this was. Rising from the desk, he stared his man down.

“This is the second fucking time they’ve hit something that’s ours,” Steve said angrily. “And this is far worse than the first one.”

The first hit had been on a pawn shop under his family’s protection. Yeah, they’d taken the cash and most everything of value in the dive. But he hadn’t considered that, at the time, as more than just a random hit.

That had just been a week ago. Now Giordano’s had been hit and hit hard. It was on the same street, a much more lucrative target. And the loss of money and weaponry was bad enough. Attacking the staff? Violence and rape? That upped the ante.

The strike was meant to inspire fear. To shake faith in his leadership. While he wasn’t entirely surprised by the move, he was taken aback by the brutality of it. It wasn't Barnes's usual style.

“Any clues?” Steve demanded. “I want to know everything.”

“I sent Scott and Neal down there,” his man explained. “If it had just been a B&E and robbery, we might have had a chance to keep the cops out of it. But with the assaults? The girl?”

Steve felt sick. The business his family had been in for a few generations was brutal and ugly. In leading the family, now all the families of Boston, Steve had to be brutal, do things that haunted him.

But some things just weren’t done. Steve’s father brought him up old school. Women and children were off limits. Unless of course you ran into a female soldier, and it happened once in a while these days. Most of them were wannabes.

He blew out an exhale, considering the one he had under his roof, watching over his wife. He had his doubts about the situation. About Belova’s daughter. But Belova had been one of his best lieutenants and that was a big reason Steve was giving his daughter a try.

That and his wife demanded it for a wedding present. Now that she was in his bed, he could be a little indulgent. As long as his wife was also protected by his men until he could gauge Yelena’s skill set.

Outside of that, women and children? No. He beat the shit out of the last man in one of his clubs allowing an underage girl in to sell herself. Yeah, they dealt in girls as well as guns, but no one was forced to work in the whorehouses. They had a choice.

“I feel like Barnes is behind this,” Steve told him.

Dyson nodded.

“When Neal and Scott return,” Steve instructed, “I want Scott here. I want you and Clint to stay here. The three of you and Belova will know where my wife is at all times. Is that in any way unclear?”

Dyson’s salt and pepper brows inched up at that.

“The first strike happened around the time she moved in here,” Steve pointed out. “That the second escalated to this extreme right after our wedding isn’t a coincidence, Dyson.”

His man nodded, considering his words. “What are you thinking?”

Steve shook his head. “She’s at the center of all this. I wish I knew what the bastard had in his head. Maybe he wants her because he wants my seat that badly. Maybe he wants revenge for what her mother did. Either way, I want her protected.”

“Of course,” Dyson said. “I swear it.”

That Dyson loved her so much wasn’t lost on Steve. He was counting on it.

“I need to figure out who is making these moves and why,” Steve explained. “While I’m dealing with that, I have to know she’s safe.”

“She will be,” Dyson told him.

“Keep an eye on Belova for me,” Steve bid him.

Dyson blew out an exhale.

“What?”

“Belova is okay,” Dyson told him meaningfully. “She’s a good girl. She’ll show you.”

Steve cocked a brow at him. “Why is she running around trying to be a soldier then?”

“She’s got her reasons,” Dyson told him. “You’ll probably figure it out in time. Until then, know this. Yelena’s a good person. She’ll fight as hard as any of us to keep your wife safe. And your wife trusts her.”

“What are you not telling me?” Steve asked carefully.

“Not my story to tell,” Dyson told him. “But if you trust me, trust Belova.”

That Dyson defended the young woman was something. He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t believe it. Maybe there was more to the situation than he saw on the surface.

“We’ll see,” Steve told him. “Just make sure you know where she and my wife are at all times."

“You know I will,” Dyson said to him.

“Have Clint bring the car around,” Steve told him. “I need to head into the city. I’m calling a meeting with Sam, Thor, and Tony.”

“I expected you would,” Dyson told him. “I’ll manage things here.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as Dyson left the study, Steve rose and went to the window. The snow was melting, and the temperatures were rising. In a few weeks, it would be spring.

He thought of his bride, sleeping alone in his bed upstairs.

The morning hadn’t gone the way he planned. With his body still aching, he stood there contemplating his situation for a long time.

***

You woke up later in the morning, alone. Steve wasn’t there and he hadn’t woke you before he got up. That was new.

The break was nice though it had you feeling out of sorts. Had you wondering. Was everything okay?

Or was he tiring of you already?

After you’d showered and dressed, you made your way downstairs. Today was warmer. You weren’t wearing a ton of layers and it was nice.

At the foot of the stairs was Scott, his blue eyes as friendly as his smile.

“Good morning,” he told you.

“Good morning.”

He followed you into the dining room. No sooner had you taken your seat than Luca came out, carrying your breakfast. Something lit up the cook’s dark eyes. When he placed that tray in front of you, you took in a small stack of pancakes with eggs. Three types of syrups, a cup of fresh fruit.

Luca chuckled at your reaction. “I thought so. I got more of them pancakes ready to go if you want more.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you. But this is plenty.”

Nodding, he headed back for the kitchen. You’d just dug in when Yelena wandered into the kitchen. Just like the men who worked for Steve, she wore a suit. Trousers and a suit coat, a high-necked blouse under it. You appreciated her dedication. You didn’t envy them wearing all that as warm as it would soon be.

Her green eyes were assessing. But there was something beneath the surface…

“How are you?” you asked her.

Yelena nodded. “Good. We have a big day planned.”

“We?”

“That’s right,” Yelena told you.

Scott stood at the entrance to the dining room and the way Yelena eyed you…

Okay. You’d play along.

“What are our plans?” you asked.

Scott, in trying not to appear that he was listening to your conversation shifted awkwardly, giving you the opinion that he was indeed listening. Yelena never cut her glance his way once, her gaze locked with yours.

“I’ve arranged for someone to see you today,” she told you with a smile. “She works at a local salon. She does wonderful manicures. I thought that might lift your spirits since you need to stay here at home for the time being.”

Really? You hoped the woman coming to see you was here for what you really wanted.

Pausing over your breakfast, you smiled at her. And it was genuine. “That sounds wonderful,” you told her in your best hopeful tone. “It won’t… cause a problem will it?”

Innocently you looked from her to Scott and back. Now the two of you had Scott’s attention.

“I’ll need to search her and her things,” Scott told you.

Yelena nodded to him. “I would expect no less. She’ll be here within the hour. Will you let me know when she is cleared?”

Scott smiled. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” she told him.

“Thank you!” Your excitement was real. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he told you, staying put while you finished your breakfast.

When you were finished you headed for the living room with Yelena. Her friend arrived within in minutes. When she hit the doorbell, Scott wasn’t the only one heading to answer the door. Dyson was on his heels.

You looked to Yelena, but she didn’t react at all, just patiently waited. After a couple of minutes, the older woman carried her bag into the living room, smiling at you.

“What do we have planned ladies?” Dyson asked, bustling in after her.

“My friend Agnes is here to give Mrs. Rogers a manicure,” Yelena told him with a smile. “She’s been a little blue coupled up because of the snow. I thought it might cheer her up.”

Dyson watched Agnes’s gaze sweep over the room.

“The dining room might work better,” she told you.

“Of course,” you told her, rising to lead the way.

In a matter of minutes, you were seated at the table in your husband’s seat. Agnes to your right, setting out everything she would need while Yelena and Dyson watched from the side.

Dyson pulled a face at the many tools she pulled out. “Why do you need all that to do her nails? Looks like you’re going to torture her.”

Agnes laughed, her black curls bouncing. “You’ve never heard the phrase it hurts to be beautiful?”

Dyson scoffed. “She’s already beautiful. She doesn’t need fancy nails.”

Agnes’s grin was pure mischief. “Nothing like a good manipadi to cheer a girl up. She’ll feel good as new.”

He shook his head. “I’ve got no idea what you just said but as long as she’s happy, fine.” To you, he said, “Yell if you need anything.”

“I will,” you told him happily.

Your friend didn’t look entirely convinced but only because he didn’t understand. After moment, he wandered off leaving Scott to stay just outside the room.

And Agnes proceeded to give you a manicure, working with the efficiency of a skilled surgeon. You’d only ever had one manicure in New York on one of your last visits. You’d like how it looked.

And Agnes was certainly charming, chatting with you and Yelena both as if you’d known her all your life.

“Keep them shorter,” Yelena instructed, and Agnes nodded.

“Shorter?”

“You’ll see later,” Yelena told you.

When Scott’s phone chimed, he answered, walking up the hall.

Agnes stopped, looking you in the eye. “When was your last period?”

“I’m due in the next day or two,” you told her.

Her concerned gaze went to Yelena. “If there’s any chance she’s pregnant…”

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Yelena said grimly.

“Are you sure?” Agnes asked you.

You hoped you weren’t pregnant. It was possible. Swallowing hard, you nodded.

Opening her coat, Yelena pulled out a covered medical needle. “Go.”

Agnes grabbed the collar of your cardigan, pulling it low enough to swab the area with alcohol and quickly administer the shot. It all went so fast, you barely felt the sting.

“Keep an eye on the injection site,” she said quickly. “Keep track of the date. The next one has to be administered in three months. Anything over 13 weeks puts you at risk.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

A beat later, she was back at work on your nails and chatting with Yelena like nothing ever happened.

You tried to put it out of your mind, but your mind was spinning. Had you done the right thing? Preventing pregnancy without telling your husband? What if you were already pregnant? Would the injection hurt the child?

You had beautiful French tips, not too long, and your mind was still spinning as Yelena paid Agnes and you said your goodbyes.

“You look tired,” Yelena remarked. Before you could say anything to that, you noticed that Scott was back.

“I guess I am. Maybe I’ll take a nap.”

“I’ll walk you up,” Yelena told you.

When you reached your room, she followed you in, closing and locking the door.

“You got quiet,” she told you in a lowered voice. “Second thoughts?”

“Not really,” you admitted. “I’m not ready to start a family. But what if I’m already…”

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small bit of plastic. A pregnancy test you realized. Quickly, she told you what to do since you’d never actually seen one before. You headed for the bathroom.

It was a long five minutes but there was only one line on the test when it was done.

Negative. It was a huge relief.

“Better?” she asked.

You nodded.

“Now that some of the pressure is off in that area of your life,” Yelena told you, wrapping the used test in tissues and shoving it into her pocket. “Let’s work on other aspects. Maybe you’re to stay here for your safety, but there’s a lot we can do with that time.”

Sinking onto the end of your bed, you asked, “Like what?”

“Where is your .22?” she asked.

Getting up, you headed to your closet. At the back of the walk-in, was an assortment of shoes arranged in plastic holders. Mostly ballet and pointe shoes, but there were other shoes you didn’t wear often. Water shoes, a pair you’d bought for running but ultimately found too narrow and uncomfortable.

From the back of the shoe bag, you pulled out a small bundle. You’d wrapped the small handgun and the cuff in satin garment bag. Yelena watched you from the entrance to the closet, shrugging.

“Not bad,” she told you. “Bring it to me.”

You did, carefully because it was loaded.

Yelena directed you to take a seat on your bed. “Let’s start with the basics.”

She showed you first how to release the clip, popping it out of the gun so it was no longer as dangerous. Then she made you demonstrate that you could drop the clip and reload the clip. Once you reloaded, she dropped the clip, sitting it next to you on the bed.

“Keep it unloaded,” she told you. “Like this. You also need to make sure you don’t have a round chambered.”

“What?”

As you understood it, there could be a bullet in the chamber, ready to fire, even with the clip out.

“Now, you will ensure the gun is in this state before you practice,” Yelena told you.

“Practice?” You were confused. “How am I going to practice when he doesn’t want me outside the house?”

“It’s not necessary to actually fire the gun with live ammo to practice,” she pointed out. “You should carry it around for a few minutes each day. Familiarize yourself with its weight. You can also practice aiming, using the sights.”

“Sights?”

For the next hour, Yelena went over so many things. The safety was easy enough to understand. The sights? That was explained too, how to use them to line up a target. When you held the gun up, Yelena corrected your stance, your grip.

“Bring the gun up to your eye, not your eye down to the gun,” she told you.

When she was satisfied that you could load and unload the gun, use the safety and the sights, she started explaining the ammunition. How many rounds, bullets, the clip held. To keep track of your shots to be on top of reloading.

When you passed her exam, and it was complicated, Yelena nodded. “Very good. You will practice each day. Make sure the door is locked when you do this.”

“Got it.”

“You’re a good student,” Yelena told you. “You’re not afraid of the gun and you follow instructions well.”

“I try,” you told her.

“If you will work hard,” she went on, “you’ll be every bit as good with gun as Scott or Clint.”

“Not you?” That had you grinning.

Yelena winked at you. “Maybe one day. You’ll come close.”

Laughing, you ensured the gun was unloaded, no bullet in the chamber, and wrapped it back up, restoring it to your hiding place.

“Take that nap now,” she told you. “I’ll come back for you for dinner.”

A nap sounded good. You thanked her and stretched out on the bed to do just that.

You didn’t think you’d been asleep for long when the pain woke you up. Cramps. Of course, your period hit right on time. Curling on your side, your mind spun, your hands sliding over your tummy. You’d always had really bad cramps.

Pulling yourself up, you headed for the bathroom to deal with that before you started to bleed through. Your head was hurting too. Just great. How was that going to go with Steve? Would he want to have sex anyway?

When you walked back out into the bedroom, Steve walked in, smiling to see you. As his gaze took you in, his smiled faded.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, shedding his suit coat, and dropping it out the end of the bed. He tipped up your chin with his fingers when he reached you, had you meeting his gaze. “You’re not feeling well?”

Here we go.

“I’m not,” you told him. “I’m sorry.”

“What is it?”

You really didn’t want to tell him that you had your period. You’d never talked about it with your father, nor any man. Too embarrassing. And knowing that you weren’t in the family way was bound to displease him, unrealistic as it was given how long you'd been married.

Guilt for temporarily taking that option off the table was just beneath the surface, had your hands shaking.

Concern crept into his expression then.

“Princess, what is it?” his tone was gentle. “You can tell me.”

No, you really couldn’t.

Easing you down to sit at the edge of the bed, he went to the bathroom. When he came back, he joined you on the bed.

“Is it your monthly?” he asked without preamble.

Probably found your supplies under the sink. Menstrual products were about the only thing you didn’t find in the bathroom that had been stocked for you when you moved into Steve’s room.

You dropped your head into your hands, your anxiety escalating.

Steve’s hand was gentle, stroking your back. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s part of life… Is it bad?”

You nodded, feeling like a heel. “I’ve always had… bad cramps.”

Steve nodded, rose from the bed, and left the room. Did he mean to sleep elsewhere then? Did it bother him? You’d heard some men were squeamish about it.

But he was back in five minutes, undoing his tie as he walked back to you. What was he up to?

“Why don’t you get ready for bed?” he said calmly. “Get comfortable.”

Did he mean to have you anyway?

He went into the closet then and your heart lurched, wondering what he was looking for. He came back out with your favorite pink pajamas.

“Here.” Steve handed them to you. “Everything will be here by the time you’ve changed.”

Everything?

When you came out, Steve urged you to get in bed. He positioned pillows behind you to make you comfortable. When someone knocked, Dyson and Yelena walked in.

Perfect. Everyone knew about your period now. This wasn’t at all awkward. You just wished the bed would swallow you up…

Dyson had a heating pad, working at getting it plugged in. Yelena brought you a small medicine bottle.

“Pain relievers but very mild ones. No more than two at a time, three times a day.” Handing you two of the small white pills, she gave you the glass of water she carried so you could take them.

“Dinner’s almost done,” Dyson told you as you moved the heating pad over your tummy. "Should be able to eat it before those pills knock you out.”

“Thank you.” You were embarrassed but grateful. Your friends left then, as Steve joined you on the bed, staying dressed.

Dyson and Luca carried trays for your dinner and Steve’s. You thanked Luca who winked at you, pulling a bottle of beer from his apron.

“There,” he told you. “Will make those pills work faster. Just take it easy.”

You smiled at him. The beer sounded good. Steve’s expression wasn’t exactly approving.

Yelena followed them, carrying in a small stack of files, placing them on the end of bed for Steve.

“Thank you,” he told her.

Once they were gone, Steve turned on the TV, the news. You ate in silence, but it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Save for the guilt of what you’d done earlier. Could you keep that secret without guilt eating you alive? How long did you plan to keep it up? Would he figure it out?

Maybe you just needed to talk to him about it…

He finished before you did, putting the tray to the side, and taking up the stack of papers. “I need to do a couple of work things,” he explained. “Finish eating and then get some rest. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

Part of you felt like the biggest asshole in the world.

Another part of you, well, that part was surprised. Steve hadn’t been mad at you for not being pregnant. He was taking care of you which you really hadn’t expected.

When you finished your meal, he took the tray and moved it off the bed.

You stretched out, trying to get comfortable while Steve worked quietly next to you. The pills worked their magic, the beer did help, and the pain let up. They also pulled you into a deep sleep.

At some point, deep in the night, you woke up because of your bladder. It wasn’t a drill. Steve had curled around you, naked because that’s how he slept apparently, sound asleep. When you returned to bed, you gazed at him in the shadows. Your husband. He really was beautiful.

Easing back onto the bed, you could have laughed at the way his hand found you in sleep, pulling you firmly against him. It wasn’t so bad.

@21stcenturywitchcraft @coconutqueen21 @buckybarnesplumwhorere @bval-11 @caffiend-queenend-queen @candy-and-writingting @capsicle-shieldhield @chaoticfiretaconerderd @chrisevansgirl @chris-evans-indian-fanficanfic @coldmuffinbanditshoeshoe @daughterofthenight117t117 @hv-chw3w3 @iheartsebastianstanstuff @imanuglywombatmbat @just-one-ordinary-fangirlangirl @justrae990303 @lok1sgrlgrl @lokislastloveove @mariaenchanted @marvelouspotteringg @maxwelllee2020020 @nannies-dont-datedate @nekoannie-chanan @nerdwholikeswordord @notyourtypicalrose @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho-nacho @peaceinourtime8282 @rainbowkisses31s31 @rayofdawnworldorld @richonne4lifee @rissysthoughts-blogughts @saiyanprincessswanieessswanie @scarletsoldier21-blogrrr @shygirl-000 @supernaturaldean677 @sweater-daddiesdumbdorkk @team-iron-wannabe-manan @titty-teeteee @tonib6666 @villanellevi @vitamingummiess @weebid @what-is-your-plan-todayay @what-is-your-wishsh @xoxabs88xoxx @rosalynshieldss @naturalthrone222 @marvelovernfanfan @gotnofuckss

[bnhabadass]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader Genre: Smut, 18+, Mafia AU Trope: Woke up married Dialogue Prompt: “Aren’t we supposed to be working?”  Warnings: overdosing on cold medicine, mixing cold medicine with alcohol, dub-con, mentions of sex while unconscious, vomiting Word Count: 4,480

This is my contribution to this month’s bnharem collab. I was so happy when I spun the roulette wheel and it landed on my favorite au, the mafia au. I hope you all enjoy and make sure to check out everyone else’s contributions here. Also a big thanks to @doinmybesthere​ for being my beta reader and putting so much work into creating the master list for this collab.

“A fever? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You winced at the voice coming out of your phone. You were curled up in bed, a heavy futon draped over your achey, chilled body. “I’m really sorry,” you croaked into the receiver. “I can’t get out of bed; there’s no way I’ll be able to come into work today.”

“You know how important tonight’s meeting is.”

You could feel the fire in the eyes of your underboss as he spat at you about how important tonight’s festivities were. You couldn’t care less. You hated the guy, but more importantly you hated your father for getting you in this mess.

A debt needed to be paid and your family couldn’t afford to take out a second mortgage on the house. So your father, as smart as he thought he was, went to the nicest restaurant on the far side of town where the boss of one of the most dangerous mobs in the city stationed his office.

A debt for a debt. That’s what he told you as he came home smiling with a big check in his wallet. No one in your family knew where he got the money, but he seemed confident enough that he’d be able to pay it back.

A month went by and one day, three scary men knocked on your apartment door. They said they were there to “collect”.

You were terrified. You thought they were there to rob you, to take the money you had been saving in a rainy-day fund. But no, they came to collect you. Now, it’s been four months and you’re still stuck doing odd jobs for them--grocery and coffee runs as well as spending reports and other money related things you are less than qualified to do.

You hate your job. You hate having to put up with the unorthodox hours and the unsavory jobs and the complaints about your work ethic and the having to do it over again because you didn’t do it right the first time. You want out. If you weren’t positive that if you left they would be able to hunt you down, you would have fled the country by now.

But your father’s debt still hasn’t been paid.

“Look,” you pleaded. “I can come in tomorrow and work double my usual time. Please, Kirishima-san, I just need the day to rest.”

“Not a chance. You’re coming in today and that’s final. If you don’t, well, then maybe we need to take an extra payment from your parents.”

Before you could even process what he just said, he hung up the phone.

Another payment from your parents. You couldn’t possibly let them take any more from your family. With a new threat looming over your head, you mustered up enough strength to push off of your futon and get dressed for the clients’ dinner.

By the time it was 7:00 in the evening, you had taken a large swig of cold medicine and were ready to spend the night serving these criminals.

Outside of the restaurant, two bodyguards were stationed at the front door and one at the back entrance. All three of them were dressed in black from head to toe. You, on the other hand, were tasked with serving your boss’s clients, so your outfit differed from theirs.

You were dressed in attire suited for waiting tables. Black slacks stretch across your legs and your pristine shirt was smoothed against your body. A tight black vest clung to your chest and pressed against your boobs, squishing them together. If it weren’t for the fever, chills, and headache, you would look like you belonged with this crowd of criminals.

You flashed your ID to the guard at the back door and he nodded you in. Your eyes had to adjust to the fluorescent kitchen lighting, but once they did you saw how busy everyone was. It truly was one of the most important nights for your boss, so you understood why you were needed. Still, this night would truly take the most out of you.

“Oi, (L/n),” one of your boss’s associates called for you. “Take these to table four. I’ve been covering your ass for the last twenty minutes.”

“Of course, Kaminari-san.” You bowed your head and skirted over to the table where two well-dressed men spoke with one another in a hushed tone. You placed their meals in front of them and bowed your head.

“Wait,” one of them called as you began to walk away. “I asked for a Jasmine tea. This is Sencha.”

“Yeah,” the other one piped up. “And I asked for a Sencha tea and this is Jasmine.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to yell into the abyss and slap those men across the face. But of course all you did was bow in apology and take the cups back. Kirishima’s words to you over the phone rang loud and clear in your mind.

“Anything they need, you get it for them. These are important people the boss works with and we can’t have idiots like you messing this up for us.”

The men smirked at you and as you turned around to grab their “correct orders,” the man who ordered the Jasmine tea leaned over to leave a hard, painful smack across your ass.

You froze but didn’t say anything and walked away.

It was still early in the night but you had run yourself thin. You needed to sit down or to at least take a sip of water, but there was no room for breaks as you bounced from table to table getting the people what they wanted. You had even left the venue a couple times to retrieve items like the proper creamer one client required in their coffee.

Your throat was so sore and dry and it was aching for a break. Your entire body was aching for a break. But as you saw someone sitting at one of the tables raise her hand to wave you over, you had to put all of your aches aside to tend to her needs.

“Good evening, ma’am.” You bowed your head. “How may I assist you?”

A small smile was on her dark red painted lips. She seemed to be searching for something as she eyed you up and down. “Do you happen to know when Bakugou-san will be joining us?”

Bakugou-san… Were you supposed to know who that is? You had never heard the name before, although you knew your boss had many ties throughout the district. It could be one of them.

“I’m not sure,” you answered honestly. “I could ask my supervisors if they happen to know.”

She waited a moment. She seemed to be searching for something in your expression. “That’s all right. You may go back to work now.”

You bowed and thanked her.

Bakugou-san.

The name did sound familiar, but you’re not sure where you could have heard it. It wasn’t until you were deep in thought, trying to recall where you had heard the name, that you could feel something pushing up against your throat. Oh god. Your stomach was churning.

You ran to the bathroom, pushing someone out of the way to get there. You’d probably hear an earful from Kirishima for pushing a guest, but you needed to find a toilet before--

Oh no.

You barely made it into the stall before emptying the contents of your stomach onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor. Your legs collapsed from under you and you kneeled in your vomit as you coughed up your stomach lining into the porcelain bowl.

Tears fell from your eyes as you struggled to breathe while hacking everything you had into the toilet. The black eyeliner you threw on before leaving the house had smudged into raccoon eyes around your lashes.

You rested your cheek against the toilet, ignoring all of the germs that were most likely crawling up your skin and into your pores. The toilet seat felt cool against your burning cheek and watering eyes. You thought you could die happily here, kneeling on the bathroom tiles in a pile of your slowly cooling vomit.

“Aren’t we supposed to be working here?”

Your eyes shot open, and in trying to stand up you slipped. Your ass landed in the smeared vomit. You winced and let out a drawn out, “fuuuck.”

It took you a moment before opening your eyes again and looking up at the man in front of you. And boy did your eyes widen. He was clearly a guest at the clients’ dinner. His blonde hair was slicked back and the bulge of his muscles under his crisp black button down didn’t go unnoticed by you. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his forearms and as he crossed his arms over his chest, his sleeves began to tighten.

“Who the hell are you and why are you puking on the floor?”

It took you a second to find your voice. “I’m, um...” you trailed off. “(L/n), sir.” You cleared your throat. “I am a worker for the person hosting this dinner.” You tried to stand up and bow, but he put a hand up to stop you.

“You work for them.” It was a statement not a question, but you nodded anyway. “Why? What do you owe?”

You’re not sure why he was asking, but his intimidating glare compelled you to answer his every question. “My dad owes them money,” you admitted. “And he wasn’t able to pay them back.”

“Who do you mean by them?”

You weren’t sure how to answer. You didn’t even know what these people did. For all you knew they were drug mules or assassins. You never wanted to know what they did when you were roped in. After all, the less you knew meant you could have more of a normal life. “The boss,” you finally answered. Who the boss was, you weren’t sure. You answered to Kirishima but he didn’t have much power aside from ordering around you and every other person unfortunate enough to be roped into working for them.

The man in front of you scoffed. “Get up.”

You scrambled to your feet, ignoring the wave of nausea that hit you. The man led you out of the bathroom, and as you walked behind him, people who passed the two of you stopped and stared. Oh no, it had to be from the vomit stains on your leg and down your shirt. You probably stank to high hell and your eyes wouldn’t stop watering from your fever.

The man stopped and you had to keep from bumping into him. “There’s an extra work shirt in the closet,” he said. “There should also be some slacks in there. Leave your dirty clothes in a pile and I’ll have someone collect them.”

His voice was demanding and it took you a moment to register what he said. It wasn’t until he snapped in your face that you moved.

“We don’t have all day, princess.”

You flinched and nodded before scurrying into the closet and flicking the light on. Inside the closet was the restaurant’s sad excuse for a boiler room. The low humming from the machinery brought you back into the present as you searched for the change of clothes you were promised.

There was a crisp white shirt folded on one of the shelves as well as a few different slacks in varying sizes. The shirt was a size too small, so you had to leave the first couple buttons popped open. Before leaving the closet, you tried to think about who the man was and why he was helping you. Was it possible that he wanted something in return?

When you emerged from the closet, he looked you up and down. You were too tired, however, to notice his lingering glare on your chest and the way the button down squeezed your breasts closer together.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking down at your shoes. You’re not sure why you were too scared to look into his vermillion eyes, but the way he called you princess earlier as he snapped at you had definitely made you tremble in your core, and you swore that if you looked up to meet his eyes, your fever would only go higher and higher.

“Why the hell’d you come here if you were sick anyway? Are you trying to poison everyone in the damn building?” His words were like little bullets that shot at every one of your doubts of coming in tonight.

You thought back to why you had come in the first place. You were huddled up in your futon that morning when Kirishima called. You begged to stay home, right? But you couldn’t. You squinted hard as you tried to remember why you weren’t allowed to rest. “I was threatened,” you thought out loud. It wasn’t directed towards the man but he nodded in any case.

“(L/n) was it, right?”

You finally managed to look up at him with bleary eyes. “Yeah, um...” You couldn’t seem to remember what his name was. Wait, he hadn’t told you. He had just led you around and given you new clothes, but he never properly introduced himself.

“Bakugou Katsuki,” he said as if he could read your mind. His lips turned up into a smirk. “But call me Katsuki.”

“Katsuki,” you mumbled. “Bakugou Katsuki.” You had heard that name before, but where. “Bakugou,” you mumbled again as if you were trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together. “Bakugou-san.”

He quirked an eyebrow up at you.

“Oh!” It hit you like a ton of bricks and as soon as you shot up, you had to recoil because of the ache in the back of your neck. “There’s a woman looking for you, Bakugou-san, er, Katuki,” you bowed.

He just chuckled. “There’s a lot of people looking for me tonight. Who was it?”

That’s a good question. You squinted as if you were looking deep into your memories to remember who it was who asked for him. “She was a woman,” you remembered. “With long dark hair and dark red lips.”

Katsuki nodded. “I see the Yaoyorozus are here.”

The Yaoyorozus. You weren’t sure what that could mean but you didn’t feel like questioning it, so you nodded instead.

Katsuki was looking down at you. His arms were crossed over his chest but a smirk that had been playing across his face all night wouldn’t seem to go away. “Feeling better?”

You didn’t feel better. Although you felt cleaner in the new clothes, there was still a throbbing in your head that wasn’t going away and the overhead lights made your eyes water. But the way that Katsuki looked at you like he was expecting you to say yes just drew you in.

He could tell that the way you nodded a yes in response to his question was a lie, and his face fell before pushing a hand up to your forehead, checking your temperature. “Have you taken anything today?”

You had to think back to earlier that day when you brought the bottle of cold medicine up to your lips, not even reading the recommended dose before downing what you could and leaving your home. “Yeah, um, I took some medicine.”

The grin that had been spread across Katsuki’s face returned. “Well I guess we’ll have to get you some more.”

He grabbed your wrist and led you through the halls and over to the bar. You didn’t pay attention to where you were going. The world seemed to be going too fast for you to keep up. What you were able to notice was that everyone’s eyes were on you as you gently swayed back and forth, trying to settle yourself down. As you were in your own head, you couldn’t start to picture what everyone else saw when they looked at you. You with your raccoon eyes due to streaky makeup that you couldn’t stop rubbing.

“Here.” Katsuki shoved a glass in your face. “Not necessarily traditional medicine but it’ll get the job done.”

You looked up at the whiskey glass in his hand. The ‘medicine’ was a deep brown color which swirled around as he handed it to you. Your fingers brushed against his thick ones as you took the glass. You lifted it up to your nose and took a deep breath in, gagging at the smell. “Um, I don’t think I should.” You had been warned about mixing alcohol with drugs and the dangers that came with it, but no one had ever told you not to mix drinks with cold medicine. Still, that couldn’t be right, right?

“Come on, it’s good for you,” he egged you on. “Besides, it’ll get that nasty taste out of your mouth.”

You had never tried whiskey before. You were used to lighter drinks, something bubbly with a shot of vodka or two in it. But this was almost too much. You lifted the glass up to your lips and tilted it back. Your lips stung as they made contact with the drink, but you didn’t want to seem weak to Katsuki. He’d taken care of you so far and seemed pleasant enough, albeit intimidating.

As you tipped it back further and took more of the drink into your mouth, Katsuki pushed his hand against the bottom of the glass so you couldn’t tear it away, making sure you would drink every last drop. It stung going down and the cubes pressing against your lip were colder than you expected. You gagged as a couple loose tears rolled down your face from the drink’s burning sensation. You bet you looked even more of a mess now.

“Good girl,” Katsuki said with a low demeanor. With his thumb, he wiped away a drop of whiskey that rolled down your chin.

“And this’ll make me feel better?” You didn’t think you were supposed to drink when you were sick, but you were far too tired to even think about what was wrong and what was right. If he said that it’d make you feel better, then that had to be a good thing. You’re sure of it.

“Sure will.” He placed a firm, calloused hand on your head and stroked down your hair. You nuzzled into his warmth.

It was such a nice sensation that it almost made you forget that you were supposed to be working. That there were people waiting on you to bring them their food and fetch their creamer, people who were ready to slap your ass and laugh as soon as you turned away.

“I have a,” you started, not really sure where that sentence was going. “I have to go back to work.”

As you began walking away, Katsuki stopped you, pulling you back over so your face was practically pressed up against his chest. “No you don’t. You’re sick, remember?”

Right, as if you hadn’t forgotten. But he was right. You were sick and your medicine hadn’t kicked in yet. You couldn’t risk spreading your germs and getting anyone else sick.

You watched the dinner guests from afar. You leaned in to hear conversations about hitmen and other rivaling mobs around town. Some were about money laundering and clients that needed to be taken out, whatever that meant.

At one point, someone asked to pull Katsuki aside and talk alone, but instead he just pulled you closer.

“The hell do you want, Yoarashi?”

Yoarashi was a big guy, bigger than Katsuki, but it was clear even to you that he was intimidated by the blonde in front of him.

“You owe me for what I let you borrow last month.”

“I don’t owe you shit.”

To you, they sounded like they were underwater and you weren’t sure what they were discussing, but you were curious to learn more.

“Come on, Bakugou. Work with me here.”

“I’m a busy man, Yoarashi. Now get out of my face before I have my men take care of you.”

Something about the raw power and the threatening tone behind Katsuki’s voice made you excited. You wanted to melt into his words, but you weren’t sure why.

“Busy man?” Yoarashi scoffed. “Come on, Bakugou. You’ve barely been seen all night. Where have you been, fucking this little lackey of yours?”

He didn’t mean you, did he? Before you could even comprehend what he just insinuated, Katsuki turned you around and pressed your face up against his chest. You could feel yourself growing even hotter as you were pushed into one of his pectorals. One of his hands cupped the back of your head. Was he protecting you?

“Listen here,” you heard him say. “Don’t contact us ever again unless you want to end up like your first boss did. I can make your life a living hell and I will, got that?”

“Don’t think I don’t have other contacts, all right? You aren’t the only one in this town with resources, Bakugou.”

You felt something jab into the other side of Katsuki’s chest. Did Yoarashi hit him? A few seconds went by before you heard the snapping of fingers and two men came over to drag Yoarashi away.

Katsuki released the hold he had on you, and you watched as the tall man struggled out of his hold. “You aren’t gonna tell anyone what you saw here tonight, right princess?”

You shook your head. You weren’t sure what exactly you felt when you saw that man being dragged away. You were scared, of course; scared for your own life and of the raw power that Katsuki seemed to hold. But on top of fear there was something else. There was a tingle between your thighs that wouldn’t seem to go away, and there was also a sense of excitement. Out of all the people here, this man was paying attention to you. You were far from Mafia material, but he clearly saw something in you and you wanted more of his gaze lingering on you.

Your mind felt hazy with Katsuki and you wanted even more. You didn’t know what to do when you felt him smooth his hand down your back. You didn’t know what to do when his usual smirk turned into something much more dangerous. And you didn’t know what to do when he leaned over and pressed his lips against your own.

His lips felt heavenly as they explored you. They were soft and welcoming despite his cold and dangerous exterior. His tongue probed its way into your mouth. He tasted like whiskey and something else which you assumed was just him. He bit your lip and it felt like he smiled when you let out a moan.

When he released, you felt as if the whole world was spinning with Katsuki. You wobbled around a bit and he chuckled. You tried asking if you could sit down, but the words refused to come out. The last thing you remember is seeing the world go black, the sound of the clients’ dinner fading out of earshot, and two strong arms carrying you away from reality.

You were in pain by the time you woke up. Your body, especially your head, ached tremendously and you wished the sun would stop shining so bright through your window. But wait, the window in your bedroom at your apartment faced another building. The sun never shined too bright in the morning when you were at home.

Slowly, you peaked your head out from under the covers and looked around. You weren’t in your bedroom, but you were in a bedroom. The bed you had been asleep in was enormous, but aside from that there was not much else furniture in the room or even any pictures to signify who the room could belong to.

It wasn’t until you sat up that you realized just how exposed you were under the covers. You couldn’t find your clothing anywhere. What were you even wearing last night? Where were you last night?

You remembered being sick and being called into work by Kirishima. You were stressed. You were nauseous. There was a beautiful woman who asked for someone in particular but you were too sick to remember what their name was, right?

And then you raced to the bathroom and met--

A groan from beside you shook you out of your thoughts, and as soon as you saw the person lying in bed next to you, all of your memories came flooding back.

“Morning, baby girl,” Katsuki said.

You didn’t know what to say. Your mouth hung open and you felt lightheaded.

Katsuki was shirtless under the covers and you were too scared to ask if he had anything on covering his lower half. “You put on quite the show last night.”

Last night. Where you met him. What did you do last night? “I...” You didn’t know what to say, and that made Katsuki let out a booming laugh.

“Come on, you remember at least a little of it don’t you?”

You shook your head. Then you shook your head again. You couldn’t stop shaking your head.

Katsuki put a hand on your shoulder and you stopped. He had a shit eating grin spread across his face that you wanted to both punch and kiss at the same time. “First throwing up at my party and then getting blackout drunk in front of all my guests.”

“What?” You could barely remember anything. What did he mean ‘his party’? The clients’ dinner was run by…

Your eyes widened as you realized just who you had found yourself naked in bed with. Who had found you puking on the bathroom floor. Who that stunningly gorgeous woman was asking for earlier.

You clamped a hand over your mouth and Katsuki let out another chuckle. “You really were the life of the party.” He grabbed your wrist and dragged you over to his side of the bed, and you let him. He dragged his hand up and down your exposed body and roughly cupped your sex. “I had a blast toying around with you last night, but now I want you to be able to remember what it feels like when I bury my cock inside of you, sweetheart.”

You hated the way he was grabbing you and the way he forced your legs to open up for him, but what you hated more than any of that was the way his words made your inner thighs ache and how they instinctively parted just for him.

You turned away as he leaned down to smother your chest with rough kisses, and as you looked over to your left hand, you couldn’t help but notice a diamond ring that wasn’t there the night before.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Objections: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you go to a wedding as the maid of honor for your best friend, so you have to keep things proper. But there's always room to have a little fun, right? (a piece for the Gangland Collab hosted by @semisgroupie)

wc: 2.5k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

Flustered.

That's one way to describe how you're feeling while everyone is running around and making demands. You're barely dressed when the bride - and your best friend - comes into your shared hotel room with a red face.

"Y/n, my shoes won't buckle!"

You stoop to help Mizuki silently, hoping she would calm down after your assistance. But then she begins to complain bout how awful the wedding rehearsal had gone the night before, where only two out of the four groomsmen had shown up. The best man had even sat the rehearsal dinner out, claiming to have a wicked hangover—a likely story.

"There," you state, standing up and pulling your blush-colored dress straps over your shoulders.

"Thanks, y/n. Don't know what I'd do without you."

And you carry Mizuki's flowers as she rushes across the courtyard to the church, her hands full of tulle skirt. And you adjust her veil when it slips off her hair a little. All the things her mother would have been there to do, you're there for instead. Because that's just who you are.

The groom and the groomsmen have already descended the aisle, and you hand Mizuki her flowers as her father approaches her in the church's lobby. His tattoos are covered by the long-sleeved suit and buttoned-up shirt, but you know Mr. Magahara would show his tattoos if he could.

"You're the best maid of honor," he mentions, and you smile, giving him a wink.

"Wouldn't give this up for the world."

As you walk down the aisle alone, you smile at all of the family members present on Mizuki's side, knowing each and every one of them by name and function. You take your place across from the groomsmen standing behind the groom and eye the best man - a tall, black-haired fellow - with curiosity. His black eyes flick to you for a moment, linger on your appearance in the blush silk, and then turn away just as quickly as if you no longer existed. But Mizuki is coming down the aisle, and you turn toward her, placing your best "I Want to Be Here" smile on your face.

The wedding vows and ceremony passes in a blur, and before you know it - she and her white-haired groom are wedded. As they leave, you walk back up the aisle beside the best man, secretly wondering why he couldn't just suck it up the night before, but you keep your thoughts to yourself as you wait for the golf carts purchased to take you all to the reception.

"Y/n, you and Geto will get in the next one," Mizuki claims and zips off, facing the crowd while her dress flies around her and Gojo. You turn to the man as he sits in the driver's seat of the white golf cart, and he pats the seat next to him. His cuffs roll up just a bit to reveal a red and black tattoo outline when he does so. You look back up at his face, and Geto raises a brow - noticing you noticing his tattoo.

"I don't bite..." he offers, shrugging. Other people are going past you and the stationary cart as you assess the Yakuza member, but after what feels like forever, you decide to get into the cart, and he starts it up before taking off at a crawl. "Often." Before you can respond, he floors the pedal down on the golf cart, and you scream, holding onto the side rails for dear life.

It would be just your luck. You're stuck in a golf cart with a bona fide crazy man who is in the Yakuza.

When he finally pulls up a the barn, you step off the cart, dizzy, but you feel no more inclined to throw up than you did before. However, Geto gets out of the vehicle and loops your arm through his, guiding you towards the repurposed barn like a gentleman.

"Wasn't so bad, was it? Maybe four-and-a-half stars out of five?"

"Out of ten," you mutter, earning you a hearty laugh.

_____________________________________________________________

You're six toasts in and a little unsteady on your feet when Geto turns to you, watching you eat the cupcake offered to you moments before. He places his hand on his chin, examining you in the dim lighting of the venue like he did at the church.

"What?" you wonder, mouth full of icing and cake.

"Just watching you eat that cupcake. Maybe I should've gotten one, yeah?"

"Yeah," you muse, sucking some icing off of your index finger. "They're fucking amazing."

"I bet..." You think you hear him groan in his throat, but you can't be sure, so your attention goes back to the people on the dance floor, and you thumb over to the crowd.

"You don't like dancing?"

"Eh," Geto shrugs, watching the groom sway to the slow song with his bride. "No one's ever asked me to dance with them before." You stand from your chair and offer Geto your hand, praying he wouldn't embarrass you by not taking it.

"Well, Mr. Geto, may I have this dance?"

The man looks at your hand, then back up at your face, as if you were joking. But you continue to stand there, palm up, until he finally takes it, leading you to the dance floor. He pulls you into a traditional slow dance hold - one hand against your waist, the other holding your hand out - and you look up at him, laughing.

"You can dance!"

"Never said I couldn't," he chuckles, smiling down at you. "Just said I hadn't." After a few moments of this, the song changes to something fast and exciting - definitely a song that makes you want to shake your ass a little. At first, the mafia member is caught off-guard by the song, but he dances along with you, mouthing the words to the song.

"You acted like you've never been to a party before," you mention, and he shakes his head, his banging flopping back and forth.

"Always rolled up in the back and watched the festivities."

Your entire perception begins to shift, and for some reason, your cheeks heat up under his gaze. It's the alcohol, you consider. It has to be.

But as you move closer to him and Geto takes your hips in his hands, you know you won't be able to escape this evening unscathed. The DJ changes the song to a sultry and seductive song, and you follow the beat, rolling your body under the firm grip of the hands on your body. Your fingers creep up Geto's suit and rest on his chest, eyes following and resting on his face. He leans down and exhales in your ear, and you tilt your head back, hair tickling the back of your neck.

"Fuck..." he breathes, and you stifle a moan when his hands creep up to the top of the back of your dress. "Y/n, I don't know if I can keep dancing with you like this... Makes me think about--"

"Don't," you whisper, feeling the need grow in your stomach. "Don't say it. We just met, and I can't... I shouldn't..."

"I'm renting a hotel room tonight and heading back into town in the morning," he adds, ignoring your plea. "Maybe we could..." Geto leaves the ending open, and you close your eyes, hissing as he grips your ass.

"You're making a scene."

The sound of Mizuki behind you is enough to startle the both of you into sobriety. You look back, and Gojo and Mizuki raise their brows at the two of you simultaneously.

"If you're going to fuck each other, don't do it here. Go on," Gojo smirks, jerking his chin at you. "Get out of here."

Neither of you needs any more permission to take off and go back to the hotel.

"Get your things and meet me on floor ten."

You fumble with the keycard as you stumble into the hotel room you shared with Mizuki. Nothing but the thoughts of being under Geto fill your mind as you throw your things into a bag and rush up to the tenth floor.

Geto is standing in front of the elevators and scrolling on his phone, his black jacket slung over his shoulder and tattoos on full display from his forearms to his elbows. Shit.

He notices you immediately and holds his hand out for your bag, then walks you to a room at the end of the hall. The plush carpet beneath you makes you a little unsteady on your feet, but you keep your composure and step into the room behind him. He sets your bag on the couch in the room, sighing and placing his jacket over it before walking over to where you are, still standing at the now-closed door in anticipation. He tilts your chin up and smiles, leaning in for a kiss without speaking.

And you give him exactly what he wants, pressing your back against the door as Geto runs his hands over your body slowly, deliberately. "You've been driving me crazy all night long," he muses, pulling away from you and tapping your nose with his index finger. "But now I've got you right where I want you."

"Wait," you murmur, head hazy, already drunk on his essence. "I don't even know your first name."

"Suguru," he whispers against your lips. "But I go by Su."

And before you know it, you're moaning that name over and over again, his head between your legs and hands on your thighs. You can see all of his tattoos from his back to his hips, and for a moment, you're lost in the intricate patterns and swirls and animals. Your hands are tangled in his hair, and he moans when you tug slightly on it, pushing him into your cunt a little more.

"Please, Su..." you beg, and he answers your request by sucking on your clit and flicking his eyes up to watch your face change. "Oh my god." Your rock your hips against his face, and he hums loudly, bordering on a growl while his tongue flicks back and forth. "Ah!" Your orgasm arrives faster than you thought it would, catching you off-guard and making your back arch.

Suguru grabs your hips and repositions you so he's still eating you out as you cum. And when you're done, he pulls away slowly, licking his lips and peeling his pants off.

"That's a good girl," he mutters, pushing your legs up and grasping his hard length. "You ready for me?"

"Yes, please," you whine, and Suguru slides his cock up and down your pussy before slapping it with his cock head a few times.

"Wet as fuck," he groans, then slides into you, barely getting his cock past your entrance before easing up. "And tight as shit. Damn, Satoru owes me ten bucks."

You're about to ask what the hell that means, but he slides back into you, and the thought evaporates. "Oh, Su!" The man slides back out, then in, gaining a few inches each time. His hips meet yours with a slap of skin, a rhythm he maintains as your own personal initiation begins.

"Keep those hips still for me, kitten." You obey, moaning in time with his thrusts and watching his cock pump in and out of you with a milky, white ring of your cum forming at the base. "Look at that... You're creamin' all over my cock." All you can do is moan in response, feeling your body flush under his gaze. Lithe fingers dance around your collarbone before sliding back down to your breasts, toying with your nipples carefully.

"Can we..." You gasp as he leans down and swipes his tongue across your breast, the sound of your moans and groans cutting through the static in your head.

"What'd you say?"

"Can we--" Another gasp is pulled from you when Suguru tugs your right nipple with his teeth, delivering a shock of pain and pleasure.

"You keep stopping mid-sentence, kitten. Spit it out." All this time, he hasn't stopped thrusting into you, and you frown a little, trying to recall what you wanted to say.

"Su, can we please -- ah!" Suguru drives a hand toward your clit and rolls it between his fingers.

"Baby," he chastises, smirking playfully. "Didn't they teach you to finish your sentences in grade school?" You huff in response, and Suguru laughs, pulling his hand away and leaning over you. "No, really. What is it, y/n?"

"Can you fuck me from behind, please?" Suguru's brows raise, and you swallow hard, feeling him pull out slowly.

"Be my guest," he encourages you, and you flip over, scooting to the edge of the bed eagerly. Suguru slaps each ass cheek once before entering you again. "Go ahead," he murmurs, and you bounce back onto his cock, taking control. You look back at the Yakuza member and bite your bottom lip, feeling your climax build.

"Feels so fucking good, Su," you whisper, and his mouth parts at the way you look. "So damn sexy..."

He slides out of you almost instantly, pushing you onto the bed and mounting you from above. "Trying to make me cum, huh? I know your little tricks. I've got something for that." He doesn't sound displeased at all, just a little surprised, but his reaction no longer matters as he pounds into your little cunt as hard and fast as he can, pushing your hips into the bed over and over again. A hand crawls up to your neck, and Suguru latches his lips onto your earlobe, traveling lower while he fucks you so hard that the headboard begins to shake.

"The h-headboard," you cry out, but Suguru pays you no mind, keeping you in place while he thrusts into your abused cunt until you tip over the edge, choking out a sound between a wail and grunt.

"Good girl," he whispers in your ear as your hand scramble to find purchase among the silken sheets and pointless pillows. "Cum for me... just like that." A ragged inhale triggers his climax, but you're still riding your high as he rocks into your cunt, filling you with his cum. You both lay on the bed, recovering with deep inhales and exhales, and a soft moan or two.

"Shit," you breathe.

"That was fucking amazing." Suguru stays inside of you but pulls you onto your side so he's spooning your body carefully.

"You're in the Yakuza," you whisper. "Does this mean I can never tell anyone about what we did?" Suguru laughs loudly, shaking your body as he holds you.

"Everyone watched you and I leave, I don't think there's any confusion about what we're doing. And even if they didn't Gojo will tell them for sure." You groan, but Suguru pulls you in closer. "Don't worry, y/n. I won't let them embarrass you. I'll make sure to let them see you with me on dates, too."

[notchesandbullets]

Bakugou’s Birthday Bash Masterlist 2021 (My Works)

Fanart credit: @/t1k2h2r1 on Twitter

For Bakugou’s Birthday Bash Collab hosted by: @phasmwrites, @katsukikitten​, @bakugotrashpanda​, @lady-bakuhoe​, @jodrawssmut​, @ramen-rambles​. Ones that contain smut are marked properly, and those are 18+ only. 

Here’s the masterlist that has everyone else’s pieces!! 

A/N: @katsukis-sad-angel​, all of these are dedicated to you. i was driven to write these for you, partly because i know Bakugou’s your favorite and also because i wanted to show my appreciation for all your kind words and support ever since i started posting my stuff on here, so i figured a fic or two was in order to express my thanks but my ideas sort of got away from me. Bakugou’s really hard for me to write so he might be not the best written but! i hope you enjoy nonetheless 🥰!!

These were all written in the past month and edited rather quick to make the deadline for this, so I apologize for any spelling errors you may find.

[In the process of editing and proofreading as of May 17th; completed on May 31st].

complete word count in this collection: 127k

Vulnerability and Second Chances (Barbarian King!Bakugou x Omega!Reader) feat. Dragon!Kirishima

You are Bakugou’s birthday gift from the League of Outcasts given in spite to the Barbarian King. Instead of kicking you out when he finds out you’ve been lured here on purpose, he takes you in. He’s not supposed to fall in love with you. Love is weak. The war with the League is a long time coming, but when it finally comes time to put Shigaraki in the ground, will Bakugou’s strength be enough? Or will the king cobra’s forces overwhelm his own? (46.9k)

[18+] Red-Hot Jealousy (Bakugou x Reader) feat. Shinsou *SMUT*

Childhood friends separated in primary school, you and Bakugou are reunited at UA. But by then, he has a girlfriend and Shinsou is your best friend. Except... you’ve been misinformed. While Shinsou keeps trying to tell you that King Explosion Murder isn’t actually dating Pinky like you think, Bakugou has to get over his jealousy if he ever hopes to win you over and tell you how he really feels. (15.2k)

Wherever You Go, I Will Follow (Boxer!Metal Arm!Bakugou x Reader) Underground!AU

Bakugou doesn’t like to talk about what happened to his left arm. Years of fighting underground had made him harder than nails. Society was messed up. Children weren’t born, they were made and any who aren’t adopted are raised in mass orphanages. But you’re special. And you’ve chosen the light even though you’ve seen the darkness. Who else to get through to his heart other than someone like you? (7.8k)

A Soft Confession Draped in Ivory and Silk (Pro-Hero!Bakugou x Pro-Hero!Reader)

It’s been a few years since you’ve graduated UA. This was supposed to be a trouble-free reunion, except your reservations got screwed up and now you have to room with someone else while you're staying for the entirety of the trip. The weird thing is, everyone seems to have some kind of excuse as to why they can't let you sleepover in their room for the night. So, you decide on Bakugou's, the only person who can't say no because he hasn't arrived yet. But your actions have consequences and now you need to deal with all the feelings that you've been frantically suppressing as they resurface. (19.2k)

[18+] Guns and Roses (Mafia Boss!Bakugou x Escort!Dancer!Reader) *SMUT*

You’re just trying to make a living and get by. When Todoroki hooks you up with a job at Aizawa’s establishment to dance, you don’t hesitate to take it. But when a mysterious group of four men ask for your company one fine night, you can’t find it in yourself to say no to a particular ash-blond’s advances. (5.3k)

Ruined Plans (Boyfriend!Soft!Bakugou x Reader)

You get sick on the day of Bakugou’s birthday and he’s forced to take care of you. He has a hard time convincing you that it’s not a chore like you are led to believe but this circumstance opens up the window of opportunity for him to approach you with an issue he’s had a long time with your place. And it’s time to settle it once and for all. (2.2k)

Vintage Books and Midnight Promises (Tattooed!Bakugou x Bookworm!Reader) Modern!AU

Your days are brightened by the appearance of Eijirou and Izuku but you don’t recognize the tattooed man who accompanied the two children into your bookshop one day. But he finds his way into your heart and before you can stop it, you’re already in too deep for the man with tattoos that rippled like the purest form of water and smelled like blueberries hand-picked on the warmest day. (9.8k)

[18+] You Can’t Help Who You Love (Sub!Bakugou x Switch!Reader x Dom!Kirishima) *SMUT*

Bakugou’s birthday gift from you is a threesome with his best friend Kirishima when he lets it slip that he likes to be fucked in the ass. But something comes up and present a bigger problem than the one he’s currently got going on down there and with reassuring words and soothing touches, you pull the pieces together to understand what’s really going on. (5.9k)

Pure Affections Wrapped Up in a Dark Green Bow (Husband!Pro-Hero!Bakugou x Wife!Reader)

You had been married to Bakugou for a couple years now and you had a special present for him. But when he gets home, it’s clear that he hasn’t had the best day. You’re there, steady and strong for him to lean on for support and he does until he’s capable of standing on his own again. This is what love looks like. (6k)

[18+] Four is Better Than Two (TodoBakuDeku x Reader) *SMUT*

Due to your quirk, Bakugou’s stuck in the wall. Midoriya and Todoroki decide to fuck him to free him. (4.9k)

[18+] Birthday Cuckholding (Todoroki x Reader x Bakugou) *SMUT*

Bakugou expresses his interest in cuckholding one day when he’s drunk. It’s your job to make his fantasy come true when Todoroki agrees to fuck you in front of your boyfriend. (1.3k)

She’s Mine (Protective!Bakugou x Punk!Tattooed!Reader) feat. Erasermic

This is not the first time you’re seeing Bakugou’s family but it is the first time you’re meeting his grandmother, who is not the best company to be around. He comes to your defense after you stand up for yourself and he had no qualms about sticking his face in the old hag’s because he’d be damned if he lets anyone talk to you like that. You’re his. (3.2k)

[saitama-division]

Lola’s Thoughts on Shizuoka Division

Kanon Hojo

She rolls her eyes, “Great, another creepy ass scientist from the mental asylum called we call Chuuoku. I swear, their science department is cursed, once you go in, you won’t come out the same and this chick here is the prime fucking example. I wonder, if you put her, and the scientists from Shinagawa and Minato all together in the same room, who will come out alive?”

Reika Aichi

Her eyes widen at first but is soon replaced by a huge smile as she looks at the photo of the socialite. “Holy shit, Reika’s joining this thing too?! Damn, I never would have thought.” She laughed. “So, for those of you that are dying to know, Reika is a…really good friend of mine. I guess you can say childhood friend but we never really hung out that much until later on when we got older. Back during my….street days, it was hard to find and connect with kids my age which is understandable because it meant all kinds of messed up shit to find a kid in a brothel…until one day, I was just counting the money we made at the end of the day when some woman came in, it’s not uncommon to find women in brothels, in fact, a good percent of customers we had were women but I’m getting off topic, the woman, who’s name I later found out was Minako Aichi, was a friend of Maaya’s and was also a fellow ‘Lady of the Night’ but she wasn’t one of Maaya’s girls, instead she was an….let’s say ‘independent worker’. Apparently she was visiting to discuss with Maaya about something and had brought her daughter along, this was when I first met Reika and let me tell you, she was quite a 180 from the woman we all know now.” She laughs.

“I was around 12 and she was 15 back then, we both just sorta…clicked back then and that’s how we became friends.” She then frowned, a serious look in her irises. “I still remember the day Minako was killed, it wasn’t anything huge, in fact it didn’t even make the news, we had to hear it from the grapevine but…that was the last time I saw Reika until a few years later.” She sighed, twirling a lock of blonde hair with her finger. “It wasn’t until I had joined the mafia that I saw her again, in a cage fighting ring no less, Big Bear had brought me along to meet with a close friend of his, a man named “Beast”, he operated a huge cage fighting ring that was a popular hangout spot for mafia members, whether to fight, gamble, or just have a good time, I’ll admit, I had done a few fights back in the day but that was usually to blow off some steam after a mission and my fighting style is a bit more…organized than just mindlessly brawling.” She laughed. “That’s when I saw Reika, she had changed a lot, physically? Not so much but her demeanor, her personality….it had grown dark from what I remembered and I can’t blame her for that, I was just glad she was still breathing, it took longer for us to connect again, a lot had happened between the time from her mother’s death to…” she trailed off as she bit her lip, a dark look in her eyes before shaking her head and continuing.

“We hung out a lot since then, catching up and even had a few impromptu ‘sparring matches’,” She grinned, “I’ll admit, she kicked my ass more times than I can count but I always evened the score somehow, it was nice like that for a while but it didn’t last, as you all know by now, the mafia fell and those that weren’t killed or arrested, fled, myself included.” She sighed, “I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye but I made sure that someone would relay the message to her that I was fine and had to lay low for a couple of years, I couldn’t communicate with her after that, too risky but sure enough, those years passed and I was back in Japan with a brand new start, I was invited to a really fancy gala in Shizuoka and I thought, ‘why the hell not?’ so I went and imagine my absolute surprise when I found out that the host that invited me was Ms. Reika Aichi herself!” She smiled, “Turns out I wasn’t the only one who got a fresh coat of paint, imagine my surprise when I found out that she’s one of the most influential people in Shizuoka, I’m proud of her, really I am, I still remember back in the day when we were just a couple of slum rats trying to survive, now look at us, teenage us would be so happy right now.”

She shook her head with a smile, “We still go out together to this day, whether it’s to a party, a bar, or just chilling in one of her mansions, and look…I’m not stupid, I know she killed her husbands, after the third one—which I’ll admit, I was sad to see him passed, he was hot—it becomes glaringly obvious but I don’t dislike her for it, in fact, I gotta respect the hustle, not that I’m saying that killing your spouses is a good thing, I just…understand where she’s coming from, honestly, I’m grateful to Reika because it always reminds me that there was a very real chance that I would’ve become exactly like her had Big Bear not found me on that sidewalk.” She stared blankly ahead before closing her eyes and sighing, she reopened them to take one last photo at Reika’s picture, “At any rate, it’s gonna be interesting to see her at the D.R.B. and if we go against each other, it might bring back memories of her sparring matches, I wonder if she kept up with her skills?”

Sakura Kito

Her eyes flashed with recognition, “The Kito-gumi….one of Japan’s most infamous Yakuza gang if not the most, they’re no joke either, if you cross them then you’re about as good as dead, I’ve actually met their leader, Sakura before, being friends with Reika, she introduced the two of us, I’ll admit, she has a bit of my respect for being a female Yakuza but other than that, I can’t really see us hanging out without Reika being a buffer.” Her eyes narrowed a bit, “Just because I left the mafia doesn’t mean I can’t keep track of who’s causing a problem in the underground…or who’s running it, I haven’t had any run ins with them personally but I have seen a few of their members in Afterlife, Dolly said that having them there is fine as long as they don’t cause too much of a ruckus and both she and I are keeping an eye out anyways in case they decided to stir up trouble.” She sighed, “But that’s not all, apparently Kureha got in a fight with a few of their members, which set off a shitton of alarms because Kureha doesn’t just get into a fight, they must of said or done something really fucking bad if it made Kureha of all people resort to violence.” She glared. “It’s a fucking mess, now that they have taken over Shizuoka, the Kito-gumi thinks the rest of Japan is fair game but I don’t think they realize not everyone is going to give up their homes without a fight.”

Silent Tragedy

“I’m pretty sure 95% of my review of this Division was just me spilling my past with Reika but hey, might as well get it all out there now that there’s a chance we could go up against each other, is it bad that I’m hoping for that to happen? If only to go against Reika just for old times sake, I don’t know about the other two, I’m not keen on meeting another wacko scientist and I think Kureha should work out whatever beef she has with the Kito Yakuza for whatever happened in her art show.”

[aliypop]

Often  Mob Frank X POC F OC

Wordcount: 6,384

Warning: Language slight violence

A/N : So one this was supposed to be based off of Often by the Weekend and two this was inspired by @mrsswaino so I hope you  all enjoy it, it took me 3 days to write ! and It’s a DC Marvel Crossover

"Loving any of us is a death sentence, isn't it..." Ezra sighed, "Who was it this time..." Yonah asked. She could never stand her sister when she had to kill a "loved" one. "Sabella...Yonah .."

"Finally..." Yonah mumbled under her breath, looking at her nails, dried-up blood from an interrogation gone left, "Anyways, how's your day been." Ezra asked, "Well. If you must know, it was shit..." Yonah laughed, "Which is usual when you're an underboss..." walking through the mansion, Ezra looked over everyone and everything, from Damian's training to the family portrait on the wall. They were the Wayne family mob notorious for Wayne Tech and the first crime family in Gotham, New Jersey. "Well, we can't all do what you do." Ezra chuckled, 

"We can't all kiss dad's ass and handle his business for him..."

"Says his assassin." Yonah playfully pushed her, "Who's also what a Capos..." 

"I don't know what you mean..." Ezra mumbled,

"Sure ... so it wasn't the Alphabet Mafia that burned down Fisk's restaurant in Hell's kitchen..." she asked as Ezra blushed from embarrassment, "I..." 

"Word of advice, if you wanna get to where I am, be more discreet..." she whispered, walking away. 

"Aye, Tim!" Tim Drake was the consigliere to Bruce,

"He wants to see you..." 

"Tell him I'll-"

"Now it's important..." 

Bruce sat in his office, a glass of Scotch on his desk. Yazela, his wife, was on his lap. She was a dangerous little thing. If anyone crossed Bruce, they dealt with her, and when you crossed her, you disappeared. "Wilson, glad you could make it." Bruce sighed. He always hated these things the older he got,

 "It's been a while, old friend..." Fisk smirked,

"Why are you here..." Yazela rolled her eyes. She was getting bored, and when she got bored, she got antsy. "The Falcones left this on my doorstep..." setting a gift box on the desk, with a note attached, 

"What is it..." Yonah stepped in,

"A vendetta... And you're late..."

"I was handling business," she straightened her tie, standing next to her parents, "Fisk..." she deadpanned. Yonah wasn't fond of him or his rascal mini mob, especially his little hitman playing executioner. " A Vendetta... does he want out..." Yonah asked, sitting at the desk. Fisk laughed, "He wants a war... and it's because of what you did..." Yonah took a shaky breath. She knew what he was talking about,

 "Anything else we should know..." Yazela asked,

"Just one thing..." 

"What's that..." 

"The Falcones are hosting a little party if you want your vengeance..." Fisk looked at Yonah, "I'd start there..." 

"Then why aren't you going, Wilson..." Bruce asked, getting him to focus back on him.

 "Vanessa's out of town..." he said in a mopping tone,

"What's that got to do with me..." Yonah asked, reaching for her father's Scotch,  

"It's a couples-only party..."

"Lucky me, I can't go. I'm single, and I-"

"We'll see to it she's there." Yazela nodded.

Yonah sighed, flopping on her mattress, "Alfred, I'm gonna burn this fucking house down if he makes me go to that party, I swear..." she screamed into her pillow, 

"I assure you if you burn this house down, your father will get rid of you." he laughed. Alfred knew Yonah was dramatic since she was little. It was one of her entertaining traits. 

"I don't like parties, not since..." 

"Silk or lace."

"Silk, please. Not since h-"

"Tea or wine."

"Both. Not since the-"

"Anything else I can-"

"NOT SINCE THE FAILED ENGAGEMENT!" Alfred sighed. As much as he loved Yonah, and he did, he hated what parties did to her, which was usually bring up the memories of her failed engagement. He'd heard the story so much he could quote it. 

"I know,"

"Rough night Frankie..." Billy asked. Billy Russo, the underboss to Fisk and the leader of his small mob. Frank only grunted, covered in blood in his new Armani suit. He'd just come back from a hit gone challenging. "Always a rough night with Frank..." Matt laughed. Matthew Murdock, a catholic boy, went astray and turned to the mob much like his father did, "Shut up Red..." Frank glared at him, 

"Oh, and Frank, before you go..." 

"What..." Frank turned to face Billy,

"The boss wants to see you, says it's important."

"Of course he does..." 

"And where do you think you're going..." Yonah peered over the balcony, "Shit..." Ezra grumbled, 

"Get ya ass back to bed..." 

"But I was..." 

"Ah... You too, Cas..." the two groaned as they walked back to their rooms. She could feel a shift coming soon, a change she didn't want to face, but she'd do anything for her family. It was her job to protect them. But the Falcone family, she wasn't sure if she could face them again, 

"Something troubling you..." 

"I'm fine, Grayson..."

"That cup says you're not... you only mix your tea with wine and whiskey when you're upset or-," Dick Grayson adopted into the family business and her confidant.

"I'm fine..."

"Yonnie..." he sighed, "You can talk to me..." 

"I don't want to let the family down again, okay..." she took a deep breath, 

"You won't..." 

"How do you know that..."

"Have you failed us yet..." he asked as she shook her head, "Alright, then get some sleep, Ms. Boss..." he nudged her. 

Yonah stared in her mirror. She was nervous about what her father wanted to announce so early in the morning. Straightening out her three-piece suit, she took to the stairs as she then saw, "Him..." the insufferable bastard of a hitman. Why was he even here when Bruce knew that she hated his guts, his tactics were so annoying, and he always got in the way when they did a hit together. "Why on earth would you let him..." 

"Aye, look what the cat drug in..." 

"Says the one who looked like a cat fucked up his face..." she spat back at him, her words oozing like venom. Pushing him, Yonah walked towards the dining room table,

"Excuse her. She's not herself..." Bruce sighed, ushering him to where the rest of the family was. 

"That's not her bein herself..." Frank asked rhetorically. 

"Sorry I'm late, I'd like everyone to welcome our guest, and I mean everyone..." Bruce glanced at Yonah as her siblings let out a chuckle. Sitting across from her was Frank noticing the way she clutched onto her butterknife. 

"What're you gonna do with that sweetheart..." 

"Stab you with it if you call me sweetheart again..." she whispered, "Good luck with dat..." he shook his head, "Sweetheart..." he winked, the shitty smirk on his face made her want to jump over the table and strangle him until he couldn't do that shitty smirk again. Staring at him, all she could think about was the different ways she could kill this man and enjoy it. 

"You think I'm cute, don'tcha..." 

"I think you're a pain in my ass!" she nearly jumped across the table.

"And that's why Frank is here... Yonah and Frank will infiltrate the party as a newly wedded couple." Bruce glared at the two. The two froze as they then looked at each other,

"This is hell..." Frank mumbled,

"You think I'd marry him," she laughed, "You're joking, you gotta be joking-" she looked at her father's face. 

"I figured since you two had your personal conversation over there, you both could lead the mission together..." he glared as they both sat down,

"But!"

"Busted..." Duke mouthed as Yonah turned red in embarrassment. 

"You two will be staying in Coast City Los Angeles..."

"I can handle that..." Yazela chuckled at her daughter, "Tell them what else." 

"You two will leave after this morning. The party isn't until this upcoming Saturday, which should give you two enough time to perfect your disguise. " Bruce smirked.

"I would rather shoot myself with Jason's gun." she rolled her eyes. 

"Feelings mutual," Frank mumbled.

"What so ya not gonna talk to me, sweetheart." Frank taunted. the two sitting in the Wayne Family Private jet. Yonah sipped her spiked lemonade from her crystal champagne glass. "Ya wanna know something, Castle..." she glared at him, 

"What, Wayne..." 

"Do you ever think about how awesome it would've been If your father? Oh, I don't know, just pulled outta your mother," she asked as Frank laughed,

 "Good one. Hey Wayne, were you always this much of a jerk as a child..." he asked, "Worse, actually." she took another sip. This trip was going to be her last reason why, and she knew it. If the two couldn't get along on this flight, then they knew their fake marriage would be a failure. 

"Welcome to Coast City..."

She heard the pilot say, "Finally, I can get off this plane, we can go to our separate hotels and-" 

"Key to the penthouse..." the pilot handed Frank the key.

"Shit..." she groaned. Of course, her father would do that. After all, she would do that.

 "Thanks, uh..." 

"Hal Jordan." he winked. 

Sunday Night 

Sunday night in Coast City was busy with luxurious cars, nightclubs, and the most beautiful view from the balcony. Yonah wanted to explore a little after all. She hadn't gotten much vacation time in a while, and it could do her some good to get out of this penthouse with Frank Castle, her annoyance, and her fake husband. 

"Beautiful, ain't it..." Frank said, taking her concentration off the city. His suit was a bit tight. His pitch-black hair slicked back as her eyes focused on his disgusting muscles. 

"Where are you going, Castle..." 

"None of ya business Wayne..." 

"As your wife, it is..." she smirked, ah, the smirk, the type that made him want to shoot himself over and over again, "I'm going out." he stated, "I'm going out, too." she walked into the closet, rows, and rows of her mothers dress to choose. 

"Can you get out..." 

"Make me sweet-"

A red bottom shoe flew near his head, 

Hours later, she was ready, a low-cut pink club dress and the perfect clear diamond shoes to match. The color pink had always complimented her brown skin. It was like her signature color. 

"Are you ready..." Frank popped his head into the bedroom, "You look..."

"Beautiful radiant..." 

"Better in three-piece suits," he grumbled, his heart beating out of his chest. Yonah stood up and nodded, ignoring his comment. 

"So where are we going..." 

"I'm going to an old friend of mines club." she sassed, "You can find your own club." 

"I'm coming with you," he smirked,

"Do that again, and I'll shoot you." 

Lux night club was the hot spot for every desire, known to anyone wanting a good time, at least it was what she heard. "Yonnie, is that you..." a blush rising to her cheeks, "Luci baby." she got giddy as something deep in Frank became furious. "Who's your cute friend?" he asked as Yonah rolled her eyes, "He's an associate..." she mumbled as he took her hand, "It's nice when my little angel visits." he kissed her nose, spinning her into his arms. Frank's face was heating up the closer the other man was dancing with her in the middle of his own nightclub. But he didn't care. She was just Yonah, the annoying underboss that he couldn't stand. 

"Can I offer you a drink..." 

"Rosé..."

"I'm Maze..."

"Frank." he nodded. 

"So do I still have a chance with you, my angel..." Lucifer asked as Yonah chuckled, "Mmm... lets see how the night goes." she pressed against him. She could feel Frank's eyes on her. It was the perfect time to give that nuisance a show. Hands in his hair as she swayed her hips against him. She was a menace, and Frank knew it, but he knew he shouldn't care. After all, this was a mission, not an actual life-changing experience, but why did he feel this way looking at her dance with him. 

"Stop flirting with him." a gentle touch on her wrist, the wine on his breath giving her a chill,

"The acquaintance."

"Her husband, actually." Frank laughed. Lucifer had let her go, "I didn't know you were married..." he watched the other man walk off. 

"Paybacks a bitch sweetheart." 

"Is that so..." Yonah growled,

"It is... and you're sleeping on the couch..."

Monday

"Morning, father... " Yonah sighed, cooking breakfast, her phone standing in the corner of the counter, "How was your first night together." he asked as she groaned, "Well, I woke up on the couch..." Bruce chuckled, "Getting along I see." Yonah laughed, "Oh, not in that way, never in that way that's disgustin that you'd even think that..."

"Think what..." Frank said, standing behind her, shirtless and only in his sweatpants, skull tattoo on his bicep. The most disgusting view she'd ever seen in his life, "Yonah...Yonah, can you hear me."

"I got distracted looking at an idiot." she rolled her eyes.

"Well, Sionis is coming over with Natasha to drop off your next mission..." Yonah nearly choked when he said Sionis, as in Roman Sionis, as in the man who left her heartbroken on Valentine eating bonbons. 

"Why would you send him-" 

*Call Ended*

"Fuck!" Yonah shouted as Frank looked down at her, 

"What's wrong now. You burn somethin or..."

"Roman Sionis is coming over with his Assasin friend and my sister's ex Natasha..." she laughed, "What's so funny..." flipping over her sizzling pancake. 

"Well, he and I ended up rocky and... He broke up with me and-" she began to hyperventilate and pace; Frank grabbed her by the arms, "Breathe, shower... get dressed." Yonah nodded. As Yonah stepped out of the shower, on the bed was a pastel pink jumpsuit and the red bottom shoes he had caught the night before, he knew with working amongst Fisk that things had to be perfect appearances meant just as much as the deal itself. 

"Castle, long time no see..." Natasha winked as he laughed,

"Still killing people Nat." 

"Of course..." she smirked, clinging onto Roman's arm,

"Nice place you got here, all by your-"

"Sorry to keep you all waiting, sweetie." eck sweetie, she internally gagged if the random feeling in her stomach would calm down. "It's okay, baby girl." Frank kissed her knuckles, the knuckles of the self-observed arrogant woman that he couldn't stand. Roman looked between the two as Natasha smiled, 

"Dating?" 

"Married." Frank winked,

"Newly married." a forced smile, "My father said you wanted to see us... "

"Yeah... there's a client stealin from me..."

"What building, when, and Who?" Yonah sighed. The interrogation was her specialty. She got to get her hands dirty and create nightmares. 

"Agatha Harkness... Anaheim ." 

"I'll be-"

"We'll be there." Frank nodded, shaking his hand. Sure he didn't care for Yonah, but it was burning him up inside how Sionis would steal glances at her as if he wanted her back. As the two left, Frank's hand never left her side, "Let go of me..." 

"You're shakin..."

"I-I'm fine..."

"Did that jerk do something to ya?" 

"Frank, drop it." she walked off, the arrogant, pompous woman who wouldn't show her emotions. 

Guns strapped to her waist, garters full of knives in case the interrogation went south, "You know how to use that..." he teased as she rolled her eyes, "Trained in these weapons since I could hold a cup. She sighed, "If you need me to play the bad guy-"

"I got it, Castle..." 

Harkness Studios, A cover if you will, and the oldest in the business, she hadn't been paying Sionis his half of shares of her films, and he was pissed, pissed enough to hire Yonah and Frank to handle this. " So, you know I have nothing to apologize for." Agatha smirked as Yonah sat on the table, "The one you're looking for is Wanda..."

"Give us the money, and no one gets hurt," Frank said. 

"Or what..." 

"I'll shoot your brains out, send what's left to Sionis... and have no fucking remorse." she was emotionless solid Teflon, and it was doing something to Frank, "I'd like to see you try..." Agatha spat as Yonah lunged forward. Frank held her back, 

"Look, I try not to fight broads... but she won't hesitate to God Damn kill you." holding the short gremlin woman close to him, "So either pay or she stays." 

"Alright! Alright!" 

"Didn't think you had that in ya, Wayne..."

"There's a lot in me you don't..." she heard footsteps. "Know.. get down!" taking her pistol out, as she shot a few of her members. It was a setup between her and Sionis. She should've known, bullets blasting around as she reloaded her gun, Frank next to her as he shot his multiple guns. Where on earth was he keeping those. She thought to herself. Throwing a dagger, Yonah had a few of her women pinned up against the wall as Frank broke a few necks.

"He's good at this..."

"She's good at this..."

"That oughtta do it..." she grumbled, looking down at her leg, "Aw, there's blood of my Versace sui-"

"Aye, watch out!"

POW!

Tuesday

A gentle hand pressed against his forehead. It was soft, nurturing, and tender, and now landing on his cheek, he'd been out like a like since she'd carried him home last night, "Maria..." he rasped, "Not Maria, just the pain in ya ass named Yonah." she laughed, tracing her fingertips over his sweat-covered hair. "Though I'm sure you were a pain to Maria..." she mumbled as Frank chuckled. "Everyday..." he tried to position himself up. Yonah helped him readjust, "If you fuck up my stitchin, I'm gonna let you bleed out..." she growled as Frank rolled his eyes, 

"Not bad for someone like yourself."

"Shut up and take your meds." 

"Meds?"

"Yeah, meds, you got shot last night, asshole," she growled as he pointed a seat next to him on the bed. "You got a way with taking care of people, sweetheart," he mentioned. It was something he noticed. She'd always take care of others but never herself. 

"Yeah, my father wanted me to be a doctor..." she laughed, 

"I wanted to be a Lawyer...but..."

"But what..." Frank turned his head to face her. He'd never realized how pretty her eyes or soft her face was. Frank couldn't think about that. He hated her guts the way she, "I wanted to be an actress..." she smiled, "Being on Broadway, but instead I got a degree in medicine..." she sighed, "Oh uh your bandages..."

"Mmm... " Frank laughed, watching her. She was careful and kind, the things he didn't think she could be. Yonah's eyes began to wander a bit,

DING!

"Oh, dinners ready..." she began to move as Frank pulled her back down, 

"You cook?"

"And I bake, now if you excuse me..." she walked off. Something about Frank made her not want to leave his side, but she needed to get out of there. They were getting too close and-

"Hey, sis," Dick said on the other end of the phone, 

"Dickie, hey, I need advice..."

"Okay, shoot..."

Yonah took the lasagna out of the oven as she sighed, 

"It's Frank..."

"Oh, God..."

"He's so annoying like on Sunday we went to Lux, and he embarrasses me in front of Luci ... and then Monday we did an interrogation, and he thought I couldn't do it, and then he got shot saving me and-" 

"You're taking care of him, and you have feelings for him?"

"No," she lied, "I think he's annoying. and, lately, I want to punch his lips with my lips!"

"That's called kissing..." he chuckled,

"Yeah, and then she's takin care of me and..." 

"You like her..." Billy and Matt teased, 

"I don't like her." Frank rolled his eyes, "She's sweet, kind, doesn't know when enough is enough, considerate-"

"Those sound like you like her," Matt responded.

"Obsessed,"

"Infatuated." 

"In lo-"

"Don't say it..." Frank sighed, "Look, I'll be back Sunday." he hung up. Sitting on a serving tray was lasagna, a glass of wine, and a cheesecake. "All made from scratch," she added, watching him take a bite. His eyes went wide, "Why don'tcha open a restaurant..." he asked as she shrugged, "Kinda basic, mobsters and restaurants..." 

"Well, tomorrow I'll take ya somewhere nice, my treat."

"I must be dying..." 

"Oh, shut up..."

"Make me..." he watched her walk out, a dopey grin on his face.

Wednesday

Yonah sighed, "This isn't a date. It's just two enemies going out to appreciate each other for a mission gone right." she repeated to herself, pink diamond choker on her neck, a form-fitting black dress on her body. She had just finished her makeup. "Are you ready yet-" he walked in as she stood up, "Only dressed like this for the free food. " she smirked, taking her purse, "Are you coming or what, Frank." she turned to look at him, "Wait up for me." he turned to face her, "Yonah..." she held back a gasp, he never said her name, "Of course..." 

The restaurant had been nothing but high-class treatment, chandeliers, high-in staff, and the best pink lemonade she'd ever tasted. 

"Do you take all your girls to places like this..." she asked, enjoying her steak, 

"Last woman I took here was Maria. It was her favorite spot." he smiled, his face was melancholy now, and she felt as though she had shifted the mood, 

"I'm sorry about..."

"You wanna dance?"

"You dance?" Yonah snorted,

"Yeah, I do."

"Prove it..." 

"May I," Frank asked for her gloved hand. The two were in the middle of the dance floor, swaying themselves into a Waltz. He was good, graceful even. Not once had he stepped on her toes. But he could say the same for her, perfect form, elegant, light like a feather. 

"Everyone's staring at us..." 

"Keep your eyes on me..." he twirled her back into his arms, her eyes never leaving Frank's. Frank flashed a smile as her heart nearly leaped out of her chest. He was beautiful. He was perfect-

"I-I'll be right back," she picked up the dress from the skirt, running off like Cinderella. 

Yonah sat in the bathroom stall recalculating the past events, his smile, his smirk, the way that Frank looked at her, ever so softly. The way she suddenly wanted to kiss him more, or be near him, or the less they teased each other through the years.

"Oh fuck..." she groaned, "I'm in love with him..." 

Now she was between accepting this fact or completely letting this boil-over and dying out. Or perhaps she could use her new emotions for the mission. After all, they had to act as if they were in love anyways. 

"Are you okay?" his hand on her back,

 "Yeah, I'm fine... Sleeping on the couch is uh getting to me." she rubbed the back of her neck, 

"I told em to uh bring the car around if you wanna rest." 

"I'd like that..." 

"I could even sleep on the couch." he suggested, "We're adults... we can share the bed," she stated, "Unless, of course, women in lingerie bug you or you don't wanna share a California King." she teased,

 "Sharin a bed with you psh." he laughed, "Is that a challenge." 

"Depends on you, Frankie." 

Frank got under the covers, Yonah lying on top. the two had been in a deep conversation for the past couple of hours. "So why'd ya sound like that." Frank questioned, her voice had this proper sound to it like she was a part of the Carter Cartel, "Like what." she asked, "Like halow..." he tried to mock her accent as she snorted, "I raised by a British Butler dumbass." she playfully shoved his leg, "I don't actually tawk like that all da time." she hissed at him, "No sweetheart the word is tawlk." he teased, "That's what I said tawk..." she glared at him, "See ya missin the L, Jersey people..." he scoffed shaking his head, "Jersey people... whatta about you New Yorka's aye I'm walkin ere!" she poked,

 "I don't talk like dat..." 

"Yeah, you do. And ya pizza's and, and, look at me, I'm from Brooklyn !"

"I'm actually from Brooklyn." he shoved her a little as she fell off the bed. Frank looked over the bed. Yonah had been on the side of the bed crying. Did he shove too hard, did he break her, did he-

WHAM!

"Gotcha!"

"Real mature, Wayne, real mature."

WHAM!

"Oh, it's Castle," she leaped into his lap, looking into her eyes he couldn't hide from his emotions. He wanted to. Frank didn't think he deserved her at all. But she could take a hit and a joke. He could see a future with her in her eyes. Frank pulled her close, his breath feathering against her lips, leaning closer towards her. He was close. He was so -

Call From Dad

"Is that the GodFather theme..." 

Thursday

birds chirped, the shower was running, they had only three days left until the big mission, things were going smoothly, and they'd be believable enough to pretend to be married. "Morning, Yonah." Frank winked, "When's the last time you relaxed,"

"Why..." she asked, "We're going to see a musical." he smiled, he hated musicals, but he remembered she wanted to be on Broadway. "How'd ya get tickets..." she asked, "I knew a guy who knew a guy..."

"The truth..."

"I heard it on the radio when I went out to get more bandages and won tickets..." 

"Oh Frank, I could kiss you... Wait, what show is it..." 

"Some show named Wicked..."

"Oh, I could kiss you, but that would be gross." she laughed.

"Just shut up and get dressed." he laughed, shaking his head.

Sitting in the cold theatre, Frank had wanted this to be over. It had been going on for too long. But the look of pure joy on her face, if he could capture it in his memory all day, he would. He could see her beautiful smile if it was that one every day. 

Friday

"Where did you propose..." Yonah asked. They had one more day for this party. They had to be unbeatable in their details, " Ya parent's anniversary party in the rose garden." he smirked, "Under the full moon." he watched Yonah pace. They had just come back from doing a few hits for her father, the sweat still clinging to her brow. "Alright, good..." he pulled her into his lap. Frank had been flirty since they returned, pulling her close to him. Or holding onto her hand, 

"What's gotten into you, Castle." 

"You." he mumbled for only him to hear it, blood mixed in his sweat as she looked down at his lips, fingers digging in her sides, "Frank... I'm gonna take a bath..."

Ezra groaned, sitting in her room as she looked at Bruce, "I don't think your plan is going to work." sharping her sword. "I don't think you're gonna get those bickering idiots to confess to liking each other." she kept talking as Bruce checked his phone. Yonah hadn't called him all night. She was supposed to run a few simple errands for Bruce and send him to prove she completed the missions. "She isn't answering my calls..." Barbra groaned, 

"Did you track her?" 

"Did I track her... Duh!"

"What could she be doing." 

Yonah giggled, "Then what happened..." she asked, Frank's hands massaging her scalp with shampoo, "Ya sister joined the hit fucked it up, and we caught her with Russo..." 

"No!" she gasped, "She's been sneakin off to see him?" he nodded as she groaned, "Don't take this personal, but I despise him more than I despise you." she smirked, "Princess, you're in the bathtub with me..." he kissed her forehead. She looked up at him, 

"Princess, huh, no quippy comments or... An argument. Or-" 

"Can't remember what we were fighting about all this time, really..." he shrugged. No, this wasn't happening. Yonah wasn't in the tub with her enemy for several years letting Frank call her princess. 

It wasn't like her. She once shot Peter Quil in the leg for calling her babe and Bucky for calling her doll. Of course, he did try to steal the family diamond, but that wasn't the point. 

"I think tonight we should slow it down and prepare for tomorrow..."

"You afraid or something..."

"Terrified..." she got out of the tub,

"Shit... she isn't answerin..." Jason sighed, "If he hurt her, I can..." he made a throat-cutting motion. Damian only rolled his eyes, "You just want to a slit a throat Todd..." he groaned, watching Jason nod. 

"I say we all attend. We can protect our own."

" What about Fisk's guy..." Stephanie asked,

"He's a hitman. He can fend for himself..." Ezra shrugged, the rest of the family looking down at her, "What, I despise him... But his boss Billy." she winked, 

"Not now ..." 

Yonah sighed, sitting in the guest bedroom, knees pressed to her chest, taking in deep breaths. She wasn't ready for the Falcone family. Not after what happened last time. Not after what he did. She could feel the pressure of the blade coming to her neck, the blood they had spilled together. Her hands were shaking, much like when she had seen Sionis the other day. She couldn't face him alone. She wouldn't. 

"Made ya some dinner and..." 

Yonah looked at him. If Yonah hadn't been in the dark room, he would have sworn he saw tears coming down her face, 

"I'm not hungry..." she turned away from him. 

"Yonah..."

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Saturday The Final Day

"Remember Castle... we go in there, infiltrate the office, get what we need, and go..." her pink mermaid gown hugging her curves, "And keep your hands where I can see them." She had been cold towards him since this morning, really since last night, but Frank had let it slide. He knew that if she trusted him enough, she'd tell him what was wrong. "Of course," he pulled her close to him. The party was grand but not as massive as the Cobblepots or the Maroneees. 

"Yonah, good to see you. You've grown up to look like your mother." Oswald smiled, his husband Edward next to him. "Oh, and is this the husband of yours Bruce told me about."  

Shit, Bruce told everyone. Yonah thought to herself with a "fake" smile on her face. She had to keep her eyes out for Carmine. She had to focus, "Frank Castle." he shook Oswald's hand, and the lingering smell of his cologne flooded her senses. Yonah froze. She didn't hear much else from their conversation. She felt eyes on her, icy blue ones at that, ripping, tearing, and- 

"Babygirl, some uh drinks."

"Hmm..." Yonah snapped back into reality, 

"Thirsty?" 

"A little..." her mouth was dry, a bitter taste left from the anxiety medicine that she had from earlier, 

"Wine." 

"Can't..."

"Why can't you, You never turned down wine..." Yonah turned to face Selina and Felicia Hardy. They'd been a thing for a while, dealing in imported diamonds. "I..."  come on. Yonnie, think of something quick. "My husband and I are trying to start a family..." she nodded, "Speaking of which, I need to find ..." walking away from the conversation, she lost eyesight of Frank but not eyesight of, " You should tell him to stop touching you." a firm grasp on her waist, she knew those rings too well, "Carlo... you're..."

"Hurting you... bullshit, you hurt me, you know that la mia Piccola Stella." he squeezed harder, tilting her chin up. He stole a kiss from her, harsh horrid, and fast he could feel the other man's eyes on him, the jealousy, the rage. "I know why you're here." squeezing her cheeks.

"Vaffanculo Carlo..." she pushed him away from her. He'd take his vengeance. 

"Castle..." 

"Falcone..." he snarled at the guy.

"You seemed busy over there..."

"That wasn't..." Yonah rasped out.

"I can see he's into you..." he looked at her as if he didn't even see her in front of him, 

"Frank...Please..."

"If dats what you want then-" yanking Frank's arm, she took him into the office. She'd been in here many times. Fond memories and cursed ones, 

"Why are we in here..."

"Too many eyes for me to say what I need to say." she froze. In the corner was the knife and under it were the fraudulent papers Carlo made to rob the Waynes of their money. "What do you need to say, sweetheart... you're shaking." he pulled her close, 

"I'm scared this won't work out. It could end badly..."

"What could end badly..."

"This... us..." she placed her hand on his chest,

"What are you saying..." 

 she pulled him by his tie. She could taste the whiskey on his lips, the dried blood from earlier on his tongue, "I lo..." her hand on his cheek, foreheads pressed together, 

BANG!

"Fuck me..." Yonah growled, pulling her gun out, "Frank, you get the papers, meet me downstairs." as she walked off, he grabbed her by the wrist, "We're doing this together..." Yonah nodded, tearing away her dress, "Then let's go."

"Wayne..."

"Falcone..." Bruce eyed down Carmine. He had been a problem since his parents were alive. 

"You came to die, I see..." 

"More or less you did..." his gun pointed at his grandson.

"Shoot him, and I'll kill your family..." 

"Like you killed my parents... or like they've already killed your guards..." 

"Oh, excuse us... We're just a little..." Yonah giggled as Frank held her, "Drunk!" a high-heeled kick to the nose, "Didn't think that would work." 

"Watch and learn..." running towards the ballroom. Yonah saw two familiar faces, 

"Ez..."

"Russo..." 

"Give up..." Carlo had his foot on Bruce's head. He was bloodied and bruised with a few broken ribs. "I don't see that jewel of yours coming to save ya..." he bent down to Bruce's level, "She'll be -"

BANG!

Carmine was lying on the floor, lifeless. Blood seeping into the marble, "You're not a bad shot..." Yonah mumbled.

"You save him, I'll handle..."

Carlo had Yonah pinned up against him, the dagger she knew all too well at her neck,

 "Frankie boy, thank you for returning her to me..." 

"Let her go..."

"Mmm... See, I can't. Yonah has something I want..." The dagger was placed at her heart, "And if I don't get it. He dies..." adding pressure to Bruce's head, he felt Yonah jerk towards her father as he pushed her down. 

"My brothers won't let you kill him..." 

"You mean them..." he snapped his fingers as Jason, Dick, Tim, and Duke had been beaten and bloody, 

"Yeah, try again, sweetie..." he cut down the middle of her dress, 

"Who you gonna save Castiligone..." he asked, "This bitch here... the bastard by my foot, yourself..." he pulled his gun out to shoot, finger on the trigger. As he pulled, Carlo stabbed. As Carlo stabbed, Yonah shot. 

"Are you..."

"I'm fine, Castle..." Bruce stood up, straightening his suit, "Get her out of here before the gas system breaks." Frank ran towards her.

 She was bleeding out fast. Frank couldn't lose her, not as he lost Maria and his kids. She was all he'd have. His hand was pressed against her forehead, removing the loose strands of hair from her face. 

"Just stay with me..."

Sunday

"Here to see my daughter..." Yazela asked, escorting Frank towards the steps, "Something like that..." pink roses under his arm, "She's been asking for you." she glanced at him, "Which is odd..." Yazela laughed, her long robe trailing behind her, "Whys that..." he asked, 

"She hasn't liked anyone in years..." 

"What about that guy from the party... seemed pretty obsessed ..." 

"Carlo, her ex..." she sighed, "He's the reason she cut herself off from love until she met you." 

"Me?" he asked as Yazela covered her mouth, "Oh would you look at that... it's her bedroom" she smiled, "Alfred did you call?" 

Frank stood there as he opened the door. He had expected to see pink and the frilliest room known to man. Instead, it was more victorian, with velvet drapes, silk sheets, and extravagant paintings. 

Sitting on her mattress, he placed his hand on her forehead, feverish from the blood loss. She was beautiful, at peace, and was enjoying her much-needed rest. Kissing her forehead Yonah grabbed him by the arm. 

"Hey, it's just me..."

" Frank..." she tried to reposition herself. Je helped her up. "You know that guy I met last night... he's no good for you, hell, I'd been a better boyfriend, and I'm your enemy."

"You're not my enemy..." she cleared her throat, voice groggy from the sleep and pain meds,

 "Yeah, I am clearly you..."

"Frank shut the hell up for one minute!" she flenched from her own pain. He was shocked, appalled even. 

"Last night I was trying to tell you I'm in lo-" he pulled her close kissing her, hand on the side of her cheek the other on her back, it was needy loving, and soft, 

"I've known since we first met."

"You're an asshole..." she stuck her tongue out.

"Mmm, but I'm your asshole." he kissed her again. 

"Oh Fuck!"

            "More!"

"Don't stop."

Bruce took a deep sigh eating his pancake Yazela smirked, "This is your fault, you know..." 

"I thought it was your idea..." he held her close,

"It was how we Often met..." 

[shirophantomvox]

Analyzing Illumi Zoldyck's Character

Chrollo Analysis | Hisoka Analysis | Killua Analysis

What’s up y’all! Sorry for being away for the last few days. I needed a break from social media because I am so tired of seeing toxic, self-righteous people on my TL. Anyway, quite a lot of you liked my posts about analyzing HxH characters and somehow comparing them to VLD characters. Today, I’ll be talking about Illumi Zoldyck and I’ll try to compare him to a Voltron character. I know many people have already analyzed this character before, but it wouldn’t hurt to add to the discussion some years later. If you want me to write about anything else, send me an ask! The formatting of this post may be different than the one I wrote about Hisoka Morrow (click his name to view that post).

HERE WE GO!

In the first season, all of the characters are contestants for the Hunter’s Exam. I say contestants because this is a contest to see who can win without any injuries and can keep up with each host. I forget what number stage they were at, but I do know they were at the stage where each opponent has to fight each other. They are declared the winner if their opponent forfeits or gives up mid-match. (Off-topic, but) I am going, to be honest; Gon was my favorite character but his flaws began to show, annoyed me, and later led to his horrific downfall (based from YouTube clips). He didn’t know when to stop and kept pushing himself over the limit. Anyway, Killua and Gittarackur are set to fight. This is when things take a turn for the worse.

Gittarackur is a form of a disguise for Illumi to mask his identity. His face is long; nearly (and reminds me of) in the shape of a Tiki. His face also reminds me of the Witch Doctor mask from Scooby-Doo and Hell-raiser. He has several pins stuck in his face to maintain the facial features of Gittarackur. On the flip side, if he removes the pins, his biological form is revealed. Once he does this, Killua is nearly paralyzed; he cannot believe his eyes and I’m sure the trauma he endured at home hit him like a sack of rocks. Illumi then tells Killua that he wants him to return home, that he cannot maintain a friendship with Gon, stated that he was going to kill Gon, but realizes that if he does so he will be disqualified and will not obtain his Hunter’s license.

I’m assuming the cops aren’t a thing in this reality and the only way for them to “destroy” under the law is by obtaining the license. What do you think? I rarely see police officers; all I see are the Mafia and every they suck compared to the Zoldyck's and the Phantom Troupe. Shit, it seems like they’re the police but have twisted motives.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a fictional character or not, first impressions matter and he bombed this one...even for a villain.

But you did this for what?

How can you hypnotize (by using Nen) your own brother into killing another opponent because he doesn’t want to become an emotionless zombie like you? At least, that’s my perception. Telling your brother to run every time he faces an opponent that he knows he cannot win against is the sickest shit I’ve ever seen. I know I’m jumping around but another thought popped into my head. As the seasons go on, Illumi expresses an odd way of loving his younger brother and to him, that means to make him suffer in the same way he had to. It seems like Illumi is jealous of Gon in a way. (I’ve seen clips on YouTube) Killua takes Alluka to the hospital to heal Gon. Illumi has stated several times to Hisoka that Killua was hiding rules from him and that he still wanted to get rid of Alluka. Although it is clearly stated why he wanted Alluka gone, I still think that Illumi was jealous of Gon simply because his younger brother preferred to be with a friend instead of him. This is why he emphasizes “You cannot have friends. Either they will betray you or you’ll betray them.”

As I read and watched as the seasons went on, I noticed something about Illumi and his family. We all know that the children were raised by their parents. Specifically, their dad is a trained assassin. I can’t remember but I think Zeno is their grandfather who is also an assassin.

I view him as a character that has suffered from abuse and trauma in order to mold him into an assassin. He is emotionless, doesn’t really care for others, has an odd relationship with Killua that he doesn’t have for his other siblings, and is a hypocrite. Killua can’t be friends with Gon but every time the show cuts to him, he’s with Hisoka? Something is fishy there. Are they more than friends? OK, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. Here's the physical analysis below.

Face

When masquerading as Gittarackur, his face has several pins in them and his hair is in a rock star form of Mohawk that is purple. I’ll give him 10/10 for uniqueness, yet it still reminded me of Hell Raiser.

I’ve noticed that when he is in public he is in costume. Why doesn’t he reveal himself in public? I’ve researched this and no one could answer this question. My guess is that he is a verified hunter and assassin. How can you carry out your missions if everyone knows what you look like? Without the pins in his face, it reverts back to his natural state. To me, his large eyes and long, shiny black hair are his distinguished features. Although he may be my least favorite character, he does have pretty eyes. Haven’t you all heard of “I got lost in his/her eyes”?

Yeah, that can be said about him. Most definitely. He rarely smiles and when he does, something BAD is going to happen. I saw him laugh crazily once Alluka began the healing process, the Nen (I guess) rose from the hospital and got on him. This scene reminds me of how Haggar reacted once the Komar’s quintessence bounced from Voltron and bounced onto her. Wow, these supernatural abilities make y’all feel that good?

Clothes

Gittarackur and Illumi wear the same clothes, which should be a clear giveaway that they are the same. Illumi wears a neural green short jacket that has yellow pins in them, a light green shirt underneath, and green pants. His shoes remind me of loafers with a heel on them, something my grandmother would wear.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say again, these bad-ass men in this show are very stylish and seem to be in shape more than I am. Although Illumi irks me, his fashion is great and this is why people prefer him to be their favorite character. Shows should always produce characters that are memorable; that is the key to a long-lasting fan base.

In conclusion, this anime (for the most part) has well-rounded characters that make the plot interesting and wanting more.

Illumi and Lotor are somewhat similar. They both grew up in abusive households and lost some sense of sensitivity, common sense, and were often “misguided” by their own selfishness. Illumi wants a better life for Killua by constantly brainwashing him into thinking that he cannot have friends and his can only find happiness through killing. Zarkon raises Lotor to be a prince that shouldn't work with planets and should destroy them. This explains why he used deceased Alteans from the colony, drained their quintessence, and didn't give them a proper burial. Lotor IS just like his father but Killua IS NOT like Illumi. Ironic, huh? As we all know by now, Lotor is the son of Honerva (Haggar) and Zarkon. After the rift accident, he became an emotionless, ruthless monster that colonized and destroyed planets just to gain their quintessence. He taught this to his son and once he was old enough to think for himself, he refused to act in such a way. Although he was exiled and said he wasn’t like Zarkon, he was; but worse. Lotor studied and gained knowledge about Altea and its people while using Allura to gain the secrets of Oriande. I say he used her because he knew from the moment he met her that he was harvesting Altean quintessence. While fighting the white lion, he yelled “Victory or Death” which is a common catchphrase the Galra use when they are in battle. In fact, the Galra have been victims of trauma from Zarkon. Zarkon’s ruthless ways of ruling had no other motive except for obtaining quintessence so he could live forever. Silva’s way of raising his children was done to mold them into assassins. Since he was taught this way he did the same thing to his children. Zarkon, Silva, and Zeno think that their ways of parenting are necessary for survive in life when it doesn’t have to be that way. Illumi and Lotor have experienced this horrific parenting and deal with it in different ways. Illumi is oddly obsessive of his younger brother and Lotor is a fucking liar.

This analysis was fun! Next, I’ll be analyzing Killua and Keith Kogane.

If you’d like to see more posts like this, send me an ASK!

[dinosaurtsukki]

[ it takes two to tango ]

pairing: chuuya nakahara x f!reader

word count: 2.4k words

contains: enemies but they flirt a lot basically, so much sexual tension and teasing, flirty!y/n, fight scenes and dance scenes basically carry the same amount of sexual tension and i will die on this hill

summary: chuuya runs into you, his arch-nemesis, again at a masquerade ball on a mission and reluctantly allies himself with you to fulfill the same goal

a/n: okay here’s ANOTHER chuuya fic from your resident chuuya fangirl. this is my first time writing an enemies to lovers-ish fic and i had so much fun with the setting and sexual tension here so i hope you guys like it 

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

chuuya was being watched, he could feel it ever since he walked into the large mansion on undercover mission that mori sent him out to do. at first, he didn’t think much of it since he was going to a masquerade ball, after all. of course there would be a few girls or two who’s eyes he managed to catch. 

except, when he went off on his own inside the mansion to search for info on the enemy faction’s leader, who also happened to be hosting the party, he could tell he was now being followed.  chuuya wasn’t particularly alarmed, he could handle anyone by himself. but he was pretty pissed off when he realized who those familiar footsteps, that grew nearer than ever, belonged to.

without hesitation, chuuya pulled out his knife and whirled around to face a pistol directed at his face. even with the black, feathered mask covering half your face, chuuya would recognize his arch-nemesis anywhere. 

he watched your red lips curl up in a smirk. “fancy seeing you here, nakahara,” you purred.

“fuck, you again?” chuuya growled, not lowering his knife. 

“try as you might, i’m afraid you just can’t avoid me,”  you said, lowering your gun. “so, you’re looking into boss tanaka too, huh? i’m afraid i already searched his office before you came in.” 

“that so?” chuuya snorted, mentally cursing himself for not coming earlier. but then, you were always just one step ahead of him.

you and chuuya had been arch-nemeses ever since you crossed paths at a mission a few years ago. he had never heard of you at all and knew very well that you weren’t part of any organization. rather, you worked alone as a paid criminal: assassinating anyone or stealing information all depending on who your boss was. if you were from an enemy organization, chuuya would have thought better of you. 

“unfortunately not,” you sighed, raising the skirt of your scarlet dress and tucking your gun away in the holster strapped to your thigh. chuuya tried not to let his eyes linger too long on this show off skin and realized, with a lot of discomfort, that you looked really good tonight. the dress you wore complimented the color of your lipstick and fit you like a glove, hugging your curves in all the perfect places. your hair was even done up too.

“like what you see?” you smirked at him, causing chuuya to blush and dart his eyes away, only for you to chuckle at his response. “don’t worry, you’re not the only one enjoying the view tonight,” you winked. unlike chuuya, you were a tad bit more, upfront, about your attraction to him. after all, he was an amazing fighter and ability user, a port mafia executive, and very good-looking to top it all off. and tonight, he was especially stunning in his dark gray suit and the white mask that covered his eyes and part of his left cheek.

oh, if only you two weren’t enemies. but then again, sometimes working together had its benefits.

“boss tanaka’s downstairs mingling with the guests. i recognized a few of his co-executives there with him,” chuuya said, walking ahead down the hallway and back to the dance floor.

“oho? are you suggesting we team up for a bit?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“only until we get what we need, l/n,” chuuya flashed you a look. “after that, it’s free for all, like always.”

���you got it,” you mused as the two of you entered the ballroom of the masquerade ball. you were thankful for the theme giving you an opportunity to look less inconspicuous after you snuck in uninvited. the two of you scanned the sea of masked guests before spotting the unmistakable large figure and bald head of your target in the middle of the dance floor, chatting with a few of his associates.

“alright, follow my lead,” you said, holding your hand out to chuuya. 

“your lead?” he said, looking at your hand with more than a hint of suspicion. you rolled your eyes at him.

“how do you expect us to get close and listen on him without drawing attention?”

chuuya looked from you to the dance floor and understood what you were talking about. still, “no way am i dancing with you.”

“how come? don’t know how?” you mocked, grinning at the infuriated look on chuuya’s face as he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him to the dance floor. 

“you’re following my lead,” he said lowly, placing a hand behind your back and pulling you close. you two were inches apart and up close, you could smell chuuya’s usual cologne and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke. then slowly, the two of you began to move with the music. 

chuuya had only happened to learn dancing, from koyou-san of course, when he realized it was useful for certain missions and mingling with a crowd. he was confident with his skill and maneuvered the two of you effortlessly through the dance floor and getting within earshot of boss tanaka. the whole point of dancing with you was to get in close and overhear his plans. 

except, chuuya was unbelievably distracted by how close you were to him. everything from your the intensity of your gaze as you listened into your target’s conversation, to the warmth of your bare arm against his, to the scent of your perfume, was enough to make him feel more than a little warm. damn it, was he attracted to you now?

“one a.m., tonight,” you suddenly leaned in to whisper in his ear. with a start, chuuya realized you were relaying the info you just heard. “they’ll leave for yokohama tower and conduct the trade there. they’ve got a buyer for the information we’re after. about no less than a billion yen, would you believe?” you chuckled.

“good,” chuuya nodded, leading you away to the middle of the dance floor when he felt your grip tighten.

“you’re not thinking of leaving me here, are you?” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“why? so that you can screw me over sooner?” 

“there’s still a few hours until one a.m, it would be strange for us to leave, don’t you think?” you said innocently, smiling when the live orchestra began to play a livelier music piece. “we’ve got time to kill.”

talking to you constantly felt like making deals with a devil. previous experience told chuuya to drop you here right here and now. but the need to be kept on his toes around you was terribly exciting. it was a different kind of rush that chuuya couldn’t get from fighting even the strongest of opponents.

and you were the only one who could give it to him.

chuuya noticed the shift in the music at the same time you did and without warning, moved his hand down to your lower back and dipped you close to the floor. reading his movements, you smirked and wrapped your leg around his as chuuya lowered you.

“good choice, nakahara,” you said, drawing out the syllables of his name and leaning in to whisper in his ear. “it takes two to tango, after all.”

...

years of running into each other in missions and having to fight only made you and chuuya familiar with each other’s movements. when you danced, you were in complete coordination that you didn’t even have to think about where to move your feet. the fact that your faces were partially hidden by masks did nothing to remove the intensity behind your gazes and by the end of the dance, both of you were breathless.

dancing was almost no different from fighting. of course there was movement involved, a whirlwind of limbs but this time with weapons in hand. and then, there was trust involved. but the trust you placed in your dance partner to lead was very different in the trust you placed with a rival who happened to be fighting for your side momentarily.

“well, well, guess we have no choice but to beat all these guys up,” chuuya smirked, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it carefully against the fire exit ladder. he wasn’t sure if he was going to get a chance to fight some people tonight but the chance presented itself when you two barged into the trade-off on top of yokohama tower. 

“i’m sure you enjoy that immensely,” you sighed, eyeing all the mafioso members surrounding boss tanaka that now had you and chuuya surrounded on all sides.

“why, tired?” he taunted you.

“no,” you snorted, taking out your pistol and loading a new magazine. “i just bought this fucking dress.” 

“do you two really think you could get out of this situation?” boss tanaka sneered. you and chuuya broke in right before the trade-off actually happened and he tucked the USB containing the information you two were after into his pocket. maybe he was right to think that, after all he had one of the largest organizations in yokohama second only to the port mafia itself. he dealt in the illegal weapons trade in the city and you could bet that your new client and the port mafia were hoping to take over that. 

but you were a highly-paid mercenary for a reason  and chuuya nakahara was the port mafia’s best fighter. this was child’s play at most.

chuuya rolled up his sleeves and got into his fighting stance beside you. “try not to drag me down, l/n.” 

“speak for yourself, nakahara.” 

and with that, the two of you sprung into action. chuuya, not letting his ability to give an unfair advantage, dodged bullets left and right before sending kick after kick, knocking opponents down to the ground. he easily dodged a punched aimed at his jaw and gripped a man’s arm before throwing him over his back. once he pulled out his knife to use it, he was even more deadly.

as much as he hated to admit it, you caught up with him with easily. you had both pistols out at ready, firing them at your opponents without missing a single shot. your movements were practically seamless, filling in for each other’s blind spots and hitting targets with just the briefest of signals.

at one point, chuuya whirled around to find one of your pistols pointed at him. without a second thought, he moved his head a fraction to the side as a bullet whizzed past his cheek to hit someone behind him.

“that was a bit too close, don’t you think?” he growled at you.

“you really think i’d be dumb enough to kill you with a bullet?” you snorted, walking past him to where boss tanaka now lay on the ground, bleeding from the gunshot wound. 

“im- impossible. those were my best fighters,” he coughed, staring up at you.

“well, rest assured, they did put up a fight,” you smiled sweetly before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out the USB you were after. “what do you think’s in here?” 

“trade routes, probably,” chuuya said, taking his jacket and slipping into it again before stuffing his hands in his pockets and addressing you. “so, how are we going to do this?” 

“well, i was the one who killed boss tanaka,” you raised your eyebrows at him, tossing the USB up and down in your hand. 

“yeah, but i killed more of his henchmen,” chuuya reasoned.

“those are henchmen. everyone knows it doesn’t end until you take the boss.” 

“any one of those henchmen could have killed you if i hadn’t taken them out first.” 

you sighed. “i really don’t feel like fighting you tonight, nakahara.” 

“let’s just get it over and done with then, l/n,” chuuya cracked his knuckles and before you knew it he had you bent over backwards against the railing of the rooftop with his hand wrapped around your neck. you tried to move but the red glow around chuuya’s body and the heaviness around you suggested that it was futile.

“no... fair... ability,” you choked out. now it was chuuya’s turn to smirk as he had you right where he wanted you.

“l/n, you’re the last person who gets to talk to me about what’s fair,” he said, plucking the USB out of your hand and tucking it into the pocket of his shirt before finally letting you go. you gasped for air, massaging your throat as you glared at chuuya. “that’s what you get for double-crossing me last time.” 

“guess i kinda deserve it after slashing your motorcycle tires,” you laughed. 

“go to hell, l/n.” 

“are you asking me out on a date, nakahara?” 

“you wish.” 

“one last thing,” you sauntered up to chuuya, your bodies as close as they were earlier while dancing. he braced himself for anything else you might pull. you raised a hand and for a moment, chuuya thought you were going to make another grab for the USB, only for you to lean in and plant a kiss on his cheek.

he was beyond surprised and it took all of chuuya’s willpower to appear uninterested when he could feel his cheeks burning from the contact. the amused smile playing on your lips only aggravated him more. 

“the hell was that for?” he scowled.

“just wanted to see how you’d react,” you shrugged nonchalantly, sliding your pistols back into their holsters. “until next time, nakahara,” you waved before stopping by the door that you two came in and looking at him over your shoulder. “maybe sooner than you think.” 

...

chuuya shrugged out of his jacket and took off his mask as soon as he got into his car. it had been a long night, especially after running into you, and he wanted nothing more than to get home, take a long, relaxing shower, and get as much sleep as he could before going to the office later that day. 

but before all of that, chuuya took out the USB that he had spent all night trying to get and opening his laptop to check its contents. however, when he finally opened it to find a single .txt file inside, he knew something was wrong.

“fucking bitch,” he cursed under his breath, realizing that you must have swapped out the actual USB for one that you brought with you when you kissed him earlier. it was even more frustrating when chuuya remembered that he was caught completely off-guard by it. 

after collecting himself, he finally opened the .txt file, even though he knew it would just contain a gloating message from you. but the message was just two words, typed beside what appeared to be your phone number.

chuuya could almost hear your voice as he read it: call me.

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @atsumu-brainrot​ @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo ​ @guardianangelswings @ah-kaashi @amberalisa @whootwhoot​ @liz-multifandom-hotel​ @kac-chowsballs​ @violentfarewll​

[lunaekalenda]

Hello! Congrats on your new milestone! For the movie event I am requesting 😣💕💰with either Gojo or Nanami. Thanks so much and congrats again!

hi! thanks sweet! i hope you like it and thanks for participating! 

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

action + couple + mafia feat. Satoru Gojo

cursing, blood, violence, kidnapping!

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

“Where?” He asks. The sunglasses he’s wearing make his looks even more intimidating. The man under his gaze is trembling, his hands tied up in both  sides of the chair. 

“i-I don’t know, Gojo.” The man says. Gojo clicks his tongue and looks at the man again, close, taking his sunglasses down. His clear blue eye looking directly to the man.

“I’ll ask one more time. Where?” his voice seems different. He’s angry. No, he’s definitely furious.

“I don’t know. Only my boss knows wh...” 

“Too much talking. Shut him up.” Nanami nods and Satoru walks around. He knows they kidnapped you, and he needs to know where you are. His hands impact against a near wall. “Fuck!”

It was just a moment. You where sleeping on his bed, all pretty and quiet. He got a call from Gakuganji, so he left the room. When he came back, after ten minutes, his bed was empty and the big window he closed yesterday to avoid your body getting cold was wide open. He called Nanami, who said that he didn’t saw you. After that, he worked hand to hand with Takuma , and he found a man in the security cams. It was easy for Nanami to search that one. Unfortunately, he appears alone, as if he was just a lure to cover the real crime: your kidnapping. Gojo revised all the security cams, he called you a hundred times and tried to search between his contacts someone that wouldn’t doubt to harm you to manipulate him. That night, Megumi came late home. He found Gojo sitting on a chair in the main salon, his white hair down and his glasses on the table. Also, he wasn’t wearing his blindfold. Megumi got closer to him, taking off his earbuds. 

“Everything fine?” He asks. Gojo looks at him, his eyes red because of the tiredness and the incansable search. Yuji enters behind him. 

“Hi, sensei!” he says, but his tone changes when he finds Gojo alone. “Where’s y/n?” he asks. It’s difficult to find Gojo without you, specially on this kind of lazy evenings when he usually is at home. Gojo looks up to them, the two boys inquiring with a curious gaze.

“I don’t know. Someone just took them away from me.” The adult says. Yuji looks concerned to Megumi, that is frozen. They took you away from him? From the most powerful man out there? They had the courage to do it? 

Since you and Gojo started your relationship, several years ago, Megumi always saw in you someone to rely on. He liked to talk to you and you liked to spend time with him. You also know how proud of him Gojo is. How he always smiles whenever Megumi’s name is heard. 

You know the two of them have a really close bond, as if they were family. Also, he’s really close to two new students of the dirty negotiations of the mafia: Nobara and Yuji, the boy with the tattoos. they are there to learn how to negotiate, how to make things really money-maker business. That’s his work, after all. He also shows them how to fight, how to take care of themselves in difficult operations.

“They kidnapped y/n?” Yuji asks, his eyes open with surprise. Megumi remains silent while Gojo nods, waiting to hear the story. Gojo tells them, without entering in too much details. Saying that you’re no longer next to him makes it even more real and painful. Megumi listens and analyzes every word he says. Yuji looks at his sensei, concerned. Megumi talks while he takes out his phone, calling Nobara.

“Call Nanami. I think we have to beat up a blue-haired bastard.”

Megumi’s brain worked as fast as ever while Gojo talked. His mind found one person capable of doing that thing: Mahito, the mafia leader that was behind you all this time. Since you have choose Gojo, Mahito never accepted that. So, he decided to kidnap you. It was crystal clear for him. Gojo calls Nanami as fast as he can, and Nanami agreed to take Nobara with him. That’s how the man and the girl arrived together.

“What’s the plan?” she asks, taking off her jacket. “I’m up to everything since that asshole took my best friend far from me.”

Nobara loved to take you with her and go shopping or to the cinema. She always complains that the only one who does that is Maki, and she needs to be in a good mood. So, finding you taking some tea for Gojo after his classes makes her pout to him if you can accompany her, having always the same response.

“That doesn’t depend on me, have you asked y/n if they want to go?” 

Gojo isn’t overprotective towards you, even tho he always tries to have an eye of you, because he knows how dangerous it can be for you to be the partner of a mafia head. But, even when he was praying to end early his classes to be with you, giving you a hundred cuddles and a lot of attention, Nobara was always behind you to ask permission. He couldn’t say no -after all, it was your decision, and you also needed to have a life apart of him.- but he was wiling on the inside to hear a no form your mouth.

It rarely happen, since you felt a lot of sympathy towards the only first-year girl.

Now, as Yuji and Megumi, she was ready to risk all to take you back. To them. To him.

Megumi has been to the Mahito’s place before, in another mission, when he was just eleven. Gojo thought that taking it with him could be a nice training for the boy, and it was. He learned how to pick doors and give side-kicks. 

“Yuji, Nobara and I will bother and, if necessary, kill the guards outside. Nanami can help you inside. I put an alarm in our group chat. When Gojo leaves the radio of 1 kilometer from the mansion, we all run. We’re faster than his guards, they’re big and less quick. They’re made for using strength, not for running.  We’ll reunite in the backyard.”

They all nod. Once they are there, Gojo enters quietly, using the balcony to go up fast, followed by Nanami.

“Search Y/N.” Nanami whispers once the two of them are up. Gojo is forcing the window. “I’ll make guard.”

Gojo nods and enters. Nanami takes out his short dage. Mahito’s room is in front of him. You’re inside, sitting on a corner, the blue haired man looking at you with a creepy smile.

“I’m not going to bite you. But I guess you like it, since Gojo likes to mark all his fucking toys.” The way he was talking, cursing and joking, with such a smile made things even more creepier. It’s true that Gojo liked to give you hickeys, and you thought that letting him mark you last night, in such a place like your neck, wasn’t a help now. Mahito let out a little laugh. “I guess someone came to help you. Should we receive him as he deserve, hm?”

Mahito takes a little knife he has on his desk. You know perfectly that Gojo doesn’t has weapons. He always fights only using his strength and known marcial arts techniques. You didn’t like that about him, how he was sure he didn’t need a weapon because “he’s the strongest.” But well, he won all the fights he has been into, so maybe he is the strongest.

Gojo opens the door quietly, without showing any hint that he’s nervous and desperate to have you between his arms again. Mahito lets out a little laugh.

“Here you are, Gojo Satoru.”

Gojo smiles quietly, a superior smile that was always followed by one of his kicks. This time wasn’t different. 

His long leg impacted against Mahito’s, taking him to the ground, and making him lose his knife. Gojo steps on his hand when he tries to reach the knife.

“Such a good weapon for a bad assassin.” Gojo says. The knife shines. Gojo looks at you.

“Love, could you look to another place? I have to teach him how we treat trash like him.”

You weren’t seeing, but you could hear the kicks and the spits of Mahito on the ground, probably taking blood out of his mouth. The fight ended sooner that you thought, and you felt a soft caress in your head. When you looked to the front, Gojo’s body covered Mahito. He looked at you in the eyes, taking his blindfold apart a little bit. You felt like home when your arms found his neck.

“Are you okay?” he asked. You nod, crying. He was there, and you where with him again. He kisses your head. 

“Yes.”

“Let’s go home, then.” Taking you on his arms, Gojo makes his way home. The rest appear not long after, all tired, but smiling just knowing you’re safe again.

Gojo invited all of them to have dinner, but you decided to go to bed. That’s how Nanami ended as a host of a dinner he didn’t organize and taking care of some teenagers. Gojo sits on his side of the bed, near you, and your body leans to find his.

“I was so scared. I thought I’ve lost you.” he says, his voice being even less than a whisper. “I didn’t kill him. You know that’s not my style. And my priority was having you back.” He looks at you again, how your eyes start to drop tears. He kisses you so sweetly and softly that you don’t want it to end. 

“I was also scared, but you saved me. Thanks.” he smiles, passing his thumb on your cheeks.

“I’ll save you the times you need it, my love”

[messwriting]

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

SCARRED HANDS

Iwaizumi Hajime (Older) x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings:  Mafia AU related plot, including drugs. gun traffic and homicide. Violence. SERIOUS TALK ABOUT GAMBLING, ADDICTION, DEBT AND FAMILY ISSUES/FORGIVENESS. Hajime is older, about early forties while Reader is in her twenties, so: Age gap.  Slow-burn (I think?). Presence of an OC named Rei in a side-ship with Mattsun. In this first part there’s no smut.

Part One | Part Two (soon) Word count: 7.5k

Note: This is my second contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel​, @pleasantanathema​ and @linestrider​. Thank you so much Claudia, @thisisthehardestthing​​​, for beta-ing this and all your amazing comments who have made me scream so much i’m pretty sure my neighbors are wary for my sanity. There’s a side OC/Mattsun here that is my small gift to @mixedhell​​ for everything she has always done for me and for being such a great beta, friend and enabler. <3

I was trying to not break this in two parts, but as it seems my brain keeps hellbent on putting more plot in this, it has become unavoidable. Uh, enjoy? This is my excuse of a fic to just love Iwaizumi at any and all given opportunity! Second part in the works but with no release date yet. <3

Iwaizumi never wanted this life. 

He thinks about it while cleaning his bloody knuckles with a wet cloth, taking care to surround the parts where the skin had broken, scars over scars to the point that he practically did not know what was old and what was recent. The pain didn't bother him anymore, a constant in his life to the point that he barely registered the new injuries. That was the life of the second-in-command of the Seijoh Mafia.

He lived a poor childhood, violent teenage years. At the time, he didn’t have much choice in resorting to crime. It was easy, even; he was good with his hands, fast and built broad and strong since he was young. When his only and best friend told him he wanted to be the Boss, he’d almost laughed before seeing that familiar glint in his friend's eyes – that pure, fierce determination Oikawa had been practically born with– and, void of a dream for himself, he pledged himself to that of his only family.

“Take him to the back,” Hajime tells his trusted duo, who watched over him and the man they’ve been working for the past hour. Matsukawa nods shortly and puts out the cigarette he was smoking, still in half, on the nearest surface, before addressing the bloody man tied to a chair.

“What are you going to do now?” Hanamaki asks from the entrance threshold, not looking at him but rather to the night sky above them outside the deposit in the outskirts of the town. His joint is ending, sweet smoke blowing out and swirling up. 

“I’ll tell Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says like it was obvious. “He’s gonna have to be more careful with his companies.”

Hanamaki snorts while smiling. “Not that he’ll listen.”

Hajime shrugs, throwing the blood-stained rag back without a care for where it’ll land. “That’s his problem.” Then he sighs, looking up at the smoke from Hanamaki’s joint swirling around the wind. “The mole is ours.”

--

Iwaizumi has a special place, if he could call it that. 

He discovered the owner had died with consternation, when he went to the place at his usual time and found it, for what was probably the first time in more than a decade, closed. The diner operated until the ignoble hours of the night, which is why, since Iwaizumi was still a soldier, he used to spend the last hours of his day or the early hours of his mornings there, in what he’d call his little break in between work; his moment of calm even on the most eventful nights of his violent life.

Since he had risen the ranks rather quickly, the habit had given way to certain care with the frequency in which he visited the place, although the time had little variation and was always after two in the morning. 

It was the moment when the night calmed down, the clubs and parties booming, the restaurants that opened at early hours already closed; the brave few passers-by running to their safe places on empty streets while the cars running through the streets lessened by the minute. This was the time when night-shift policemen were already tired of both the events of their shift and the long worked hours, nodding off in their cars.

The diner was on a street just a few blocks away from the heaviest area of ​​the city, where clubs and parties continued until the bright hours of the morning; the drug traffic in these places had been feeding the old mafia veins for decades, since before Iwaizumi, and he was certain he would meet his end way before it did. 

The place was small, nothing much, two big windows beyond the door showing the old, almost vintage interior, careless by the owner who never paid much attention to the decorative aspect of the place. Twenty years ago, when Iwaizumi went from being a simple associate to a soldier, just beginning his life as a man, the place was busier, almost famous - and even then the nights were always the quietest shift, the time where degenerates inherited the city.

Iwaizumi didn't know exactly what had disappointed him so much when he found out that old Lou had gone for the better. Lou wasn't even the old man’s real name - he just adopted it once the name of the diner -- Lou’s Diner -- ended up merging with his in the daily life of being the business owner. Iwaizumi was a constant presence in the place enough to know that Lou, in fact, was the name of the old man's wife, who had died young.

In fact, Iwaizumi spent the days following the discovery of the man’s passing trying to figure out where the place would end - Lou had never said anything about family, but there was always the possibility that the business had been pledged in warrant of some debt and if not, there was the bank. The old man wasn’t exactly what you’d call an exemplary business manager.

A surprise came again when Iwaizumi drove past the place during the day and for the first time in three weeks, there was movement inside the diner - and his first thought is theft. 

It wouldn’t be surprising, considering both the neighborhood and the fact that with the place closed three weeks before, every thug in the street knows that everything is still there.

Iwa sighs, then makes a u-turn so he can park close to the alley on the diner’s corner. He’s surprised, but he realizes it is, in fact, not the case. Unless the young woman holding a broom and looking around as she rolls up the sleeves of a loose oversized T-shirt over normal jeans shorts were, somehow, a phenomenal smuggler.

Against his better judgment, Iwaizumi gets out of his BMW and steps carefully onto the sidewalk, checking his surroundings with practiced ease. The glass doors of the diner are wide open, sidewalk wet and leaking soapy water into the street. Iwa crosses through it with little care, pausing for a moment while the oblivious girl inside keeps brushing away.

“Hello,” Iwaizumi salutes from the wide open doors, perhaps to also let the place breathe some air after the days closed. You startle, the broom in your hand flying to the floor with a loud crash. 

“Holy fuck!” you yelp, turning around with both hands in front of your body. “Are you trying to kill me, dude?” 

Iwaizumi almost chuckles, the corners of his lips turning up. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He takes his hands out of his pockets, showing them in front of his body as a sign of peace. And it isn’t like he can’t easily kill you and anyone you may have inside with just them.

“Oh god. My heart,” you murmur, clenching your shirt over your chest while sucking in a few breaths. Your eyes finally come up to his. “Sorry, I think I was just too distracted.”

Hajime nods. He isn’t a man to say sorry twice. “I was just passing by and noticed the diner open. It’s been closed for some weeks, so I was just checking.”

“Oh, sure.” Your mouth opens in a small ‘o’, and Iwaizumi is surprised at how it got his attention. Pretty lips on an even prettier face. “Yeah… I’m reopening it this week. I just need to fix some things around here.”

Iwaizumi gives you a once over. Discreetly. He leans against the doorframe, curiosity winning him over.  “So, you bought it?”

“What?” you laugh, hand coming to wipe the sweat from your brow. “No. I inherited it."

Iwaizumi assumes that he was unable to hide his surprise by the way your lips move to form an amused smile.

“Ha, yes, most people have the same reaction as you.” You bend to grab the broom in the ground and Iwaizumi’s eyes tread for a second too long along the spanse of your body while you’re not looking. “Which is funny, and also tells a whole tale about the old man.”

“I suppose it does,” Iwaizumi nods once while speaking.

He looks over the place, sees the few changes being done; the paint cans on the ground, the boxes by the corner, the shelfs being replaced and the new color of the upholstered sofas. You in the middle of it all -- the new and the old. 

“I’ll leave you to your cleaning, then. It’s good to know the place isn’t closing.” 

Before you can say anything else, he’s already taking his leave. 

You turn around to thank him but Iwaizumi is already far down the sidewalk, not sparing a glance at you once his back is turned. Your head bends sideways almost involuntary, eyes threading the expanse of his broad back, clad in a beautiful light blue social shirt, rolled sleeves over bulging forearms, with black slacks and expensive looking shoes. While you hoped you didn’t stare before, now you are free to do so and wow, that is a beautiful male specimen if you ever saw one. 

Your first thought is that he didn’t belong in here -- the scenario of a beaten up street and a mildly abandoned diner, in the middle of the day on the foul part of the city. Then again, he looks rather at ease, familiarized, and it isn’t like you can know someone from just one look. 

If anything, a good looking man like that always comes with a catch.

“Hey,” your friend comes through the kitchen doors, looking pretty much like you, tired and sweaty after the morning deep cleaning. “What's going on here? I heard something but I was on the phone”

“Oh,” you say, then grin mischievously at her. “A hot piece of man just passed by asking about the diner.”

“No!” your friend almost cried, lips pressing together in a pout. “See! This is why I keep being single! I never get to see any hotties from the fucking kitchen.”

“Hey, not my fault you decided to be a cook.”

--

Iwaizumi tells himself he’s just checking on the place he likes.

It’s out of a weird misplaced sentimentality, he reasons. He’s been going there for years after all. He’s checking out the new owner, that’s it. The young woman who somehow inherited Lou’s bar. The pretty young woman who was redecorating and cleaning the place that probably didn’t get any love for the last fifteen years. And that’s what Iwaizumi is telling himself when he crosses the city at late hours of the night because the first thing he needs to know is if you’re stupid enough to actually open the place until the ungodly hours of mornings like the old man used to.

And, sure enough, you are. 

It’s past three in the morning when Iwaizumi parks on the other side of the street, but the regulars pour in like clockwork at the sight of the open diner -- old fellas, mostly, and some passersby who work at night. The whores, and the tired workers, all mingling the later it gets. Iwaizumi counts five clients, which is a busy night, and somehow he struggles to find security in your arrangement. 

It’s a weird feeling to have for someone -- worry -- and for all the constant preoccupation he has going on in his life with Oikawa, he’s sure he hasn't felt that particular brand of it in some time. 

For that same reason, Hajime turns around and leaves.

A week later and he’s back. 

This time it’s earlier in the night, just past midnight and the diner is empty save for three regulars he knows well enough. Iwaizumi hates to admit it, but he’s curious; Matsukawa told him that the place had been closing at four and reopening at eleven, with not exactly lots of clients, but with enough patrons to not be discouraged. 

But it was the fact that the man depicted the place as “nice” that got Iwaizumi interested.  Mattsun is not the kind to throw empty comments like those and there was a glint in this man's eyes that made him suspicious. If a small hint of jealousy sparks on Iwa’s chest, he says it’s for the place.

He signals for Makki to turn a curve so he can get off on the other side of the street and tells him to park somewhere out of sight. He doesn’t like to have the BMW close, working as a beacon; the fact Iwa already dares to have a routine place is trouble enough. 

“Bring me a coffee when you come back.” The strawberry blonde tells him while perching himself over the car window, driving off before Iwaizumi can give him a nasty stare. Iwa takes his time on the pavement directly across the diner, lighting a cigarette while moving to cross the street. 

The bell that rings when he crosses the door threshold surprises him for a moment, bringing the stares of everyone inside to him. Some of the old regulars nod his way, and Iwaizumi nods in return, a stiff greeting but one they grew used to in the years of sharing the space.

You look eager, eyebrows shooting up as if you’re not expecting to see him standing in the middle of the place like that. Then, your lips turn up into a smile and Iwaizumi almost misses the sentiment behind it. It’s been far too long since someone looks this pleased into seeing him anywhere. 

Well, with the exception of Oikawa. But that’s because he normally shows up to save the man’s stupid ass.

Iwaizumi walks over to his usual spot, in the back, by the window and sits on the newer looking red sofa. The scratched old table looks bright with new polishing. He notes the changes, appreciates them even: the cleaner looking designs despite the vintage diner ambience, the cream walls, the new smell of good food and well brewed coffee. 

The ground is clean for the first time in a few years, the glass windows and doors looking good and there’s an overall different air around the small place. It feels good. Iwaizumi isn’t used to it. You come close to him, no uniform but jeans and a loose white shirt with a black apron tied around your middle, a coffee pot in one hand and a cup in the other.

“Hello there. Good night -- or day, depending on how your life works.” Your smile is disconcerting. You signal with your head to the coffee. “Want some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“No worries.” You pour some for him and ask if he wants milk or cream, which he doesn’t. Iwaizumi likes his coffee black. “Can I bring the menu?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say no. But he’s curious about what you’re doing with the place, so he nods. Again, you smile while nodding and leaving, and Iwaizumi is baffled by your disposition to be nice at this hour. The old mas was more of a fuck-it kinda person, so it’s a small whishplash to have actual service in here.

Before you leave, however, you turn back and smile at him in what Hajime can only define as playfully. 

“Glad you finally decided to come in and give us a shot.” Your eyes are bright with mirth, proud of yourself for being so observant, and in the late hours of night he feels charged. “I promise you it’s not so bad.”

Oh, Hajime thinks as his face feels slightly warm, a twitch on his fingertips while he looks at your pretty face. This can’t be good.

You wait a bit. Seeing as the whole movement inside the diner changes with the small addition of one man at the corner table. You realise people haven’t sat on that table during the late nights, even when Iwaizumi had yet to even enter the place before.

So, you brace yourself with all the courage you’ve been mustering, and pretend to offer him a refill of coffee while walking over. You’ve been conjuring up theories for him since you saw him the first time, perched on the doors while you were cleaning, and it didn’t help that you kept seeing his car passing around the place for some time before he finally decided to come to the diner.

“Are you an old regular or something?” you ask while refilling his cup with hot, freshly brewed coffee. You’d lie if anyone asked if you did a whole new coffee pot just to find an opening to talk to him.

“Why do you ask?” His eyes are always so deep, the musky green color seemingly pulling you in, black irises eating you up. Your pulse quickens but you hold his eyes on yours even as your face grows warm.

“It’s just that you’re always here.” The words tumble out of your mouth quickly as you deposit the coffee pot on the table, looking at him almost eagerly. “Most of my regulars seem to know you and leave you alone. So I thought that maybe, you know, you may come here for the old times sake.”

He holds your eyes with his for a moment, then looks down to the cup of coffee while he brings it to his lips. 

“I guess you could say that.” 

It feels like a period. Like he isn’t much for small talk, so you pat the apron in front of you, pick up the coffee pot from the table and nod while looking back to the counter to mask your disappointment with such a short conversation.

“Hmm, got’cha.”

“So, the old man was your father?” His voice picks up a tone higher and you turn with big eyes to him. He looks quiet, observant while he looks up at you and somehow, without nothing to hold on, you decide you want to talk to him some more.

“No, I never knew my dad. The stupid man was my grandpa.” 

“Hm,” Iwaizumi nods, his eyes still on you. For some reason you can’t stand the silence, so you keep talking.

“He’d left the business for me and if I'm honest things were not going great where I was so,” you shrug. “I thought about giving this a shot.”

“And your mom?” His eyes on yours make you feel pressured and also lacking, your mouth working before your mind can really think. “She’s been dead since I was a kid.”

He blinks, surprised, and when he speaks he sounds so genuine you smile, “sorry to hear that.” 

“No problem. It’s life, right?” you ask rhetorically, an unwavering smile on your face and bright eyes despite the forlorn subject. Hajime’s chest does something weird at the sight, eyes moving down to the coffee mug by his hands.

Is it? Hajime doesn’t know. But he also hasn't had parents or any kind of family besides Oikawa and the trouble duo, so he nods, murmuring agreement. You leave him alone for the rest of the night, but not without getting his name and introducing yourself; and you do it mostly because you’re still unsure about the man. He’s quiet, mostly keeps to himself while drinking his coffee and sometimes ordering something he never finishes, but other than that, he doesn’t do much. Which, despite that, doesn’t change the fact he sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of the place. 

His clothes are expensive even if they’re simple; his watch and rings glints under the diner lights, catching attention; and his eyes are like two black gunbarrels pointed straight at you in a face with a jawline sharp enough to cut. 

He makes you feel slightly unnerved and a whole lot interested. 

 Hajime wonders, as he exits the dinner and walks the short distance to where Makki has parked the car, if he has enough reasons to be worried about you. He enters the back of the expensive black BMW, gives the annoying blonde his promised coffee and nods so he can start driving. Iwaizumi settles on the backseat and turns to look at Hanamaki, eyeing him through the rearview mirror.

“Makki.” 

“Yes, Boss.” The answer comes immediately.

“Is this place in anyone's rotation?” Makki’s eyes thread to the mirror to look Hajime back.

“Old Lou’s dinner?”

“Yes.”

Makki’s brows furrow in thought while he seems to think it over. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.” His eyes lock on Hajime’s figure through the rearview mirror and Iwa counts the seconds until he asks, since his curiosity always wins. ”Why?”

“Check it for me.”  It’s the end of conversation, and Makki knows. He nods.

“‘kay, Iwa.”

Iwaizumi’s thoughts are brewing, his brows furrowing deeply while he thinks over the whole exchange from earlier.

In a short conversation of a few minutes, you already unsuspectingly told him that you had no family left, no one to miss you if you’re gone. From that he can infer the easy things -- that you probably live alone, seeing as he’s never seen a boyfriend in the restaurant or calling you while you’re working the counter; that you must either live in your grandpa’s house or a small apartment if you’re trying to make more money by renting the old man’s place; that you probably leave alone after closing the dinner -- and he got all that by an easy small talk over coffee. 

Iwa’s lips turn sour while he turns to watch over the streets late at night, the dangerous things that lie in the dark. He ignores that he, himself, is one of them. 

Yes, maybe he should check on you.

--

Iwaizumi observes with a frown while Oikawa waltzes inside his penthouse with his new friend. The woman is, much like all of Oikawa’s partners, beautiful. Luxurious hair and curves, all wrapped in an equally expensive package the color of bright fucking red. Tonight things are less busy in the place, with Iwaizumi and the duo in the living room, while Kunimi keeps watch on the door from his position bended over the counter. Like with everything in his life, the man looks bored and done at the same time.

“I have to give it to him, he does have taste.” Hanamaki points it out unemotionally, his eyes threading along the lady of the moment hanging off Oikawa’s arm. Mattsun looks up from his phone in time to catch a look, his arched brow doing an appearance.

“Yeah, but that’s not new.”

“The idiot blows through women as you do with joints.” Iwaizumi scoffs, twirling his cup of whisky and enjoys the moment to sip his drink. “Which is stupid, both of you.”

“Couldn’t hear your criticism over the sound of you downing that whisky.” Hanamaki pipes in and Mattsun laughs but quickly retrieves himself back to his phone once Iwaizumi gives both of them a nasty glare. 

On the other side of the room, Oikawa parts ways with his company, probably telling the woman to go somewhere inside his apartment while he handles business. His companion’s normally don’t ask much about what he does -- the less they know, the less they lie.

While Iwaizumi does understand the appeal of having someone to warm his bed at night like that, it just seems ridiculous to parade them around as Oikawa does; as if they’re a walking vitrine of his power and money, clad in so many brilliants, Hajime wonders if Oikawa can even see them through the shine.

Iwaizumi sighs when Oikawa finally moves in their direction, crossing his leg over his thigh as he stretches his back against the chair backrest. He drinks the rest of the whisky in one go.

 “I see you already treated yourself to some beverage, Iwa-chan.”

The ridiculous nickname stuck, even after all these years, no matter how many glares and curses Hajime threw his way– and Oikawa has seen Hajime kill men before. Still, the brunette stays unwavering in his teasing -- and Iwa has made arrangements to make sure no one but him feels free to use that denomination.

“Good whisky ain’t making me nicer, shittykawa.” There’s also the fact Iwaizumi maintains his mockery with his friend, even as most of the Mob now call him Boss. He supposes it’s good to have few good childhood memories, if one can.

“At least it makes you less grumpy.” 

Iwaizumi wonders if people would believe him if he told them the Boss pokes his tongue out and flops on the sofa then again, Oikawa’s charm is in being unwavering himself. When Oikawa crosses his leg over his knee and blinks feral, focused eyes over Iwaizumi, it’s easy to see the beast that brought him into the position as the chief in command of the Seijoh Mafia. “So, what did you have to tell me that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“You’re being reckless,” Iwa starts, calm. “I’ve told you about being careful with your companion’s while I’m busy handling that subject.”

Oikawa pretends not to listen, falling back on his big chair without a care in the world. 

“She’s a friend!” His face turns smug, even while there’s a small whine in his voice. It’s a stark difference from the feral Oikawa Tooru that put fear in the hearts of every Mafia in the bordering neighborhoods where they acted and climbed the ranks so fast, he became the head of Seijoh mob while only closing in on his early thirties -- and that was ten years ago. Still, around Iwaizumi, Oikawa keeps being the same brat he ever was.

“You need to get laid, Iwa.” The brunette laughs a bit, pouring more whisky for both of them. “How long it’s been, huh? Two decades? That’s how long your frown has been etched onto your face.”

Makki and Mattsun try to hide their smiles, but it’s futile.

“Don’t worry about my love life.”

“Love life?” Now Oikawa laughs, hand smacking his knee in his amusement. “I’m talking fucking, Iwa. We don’t have time for love.”

“Another reason why you shouldn’t worry about what doesn’t pertain to you.”

“Ohh~” Iwaizumi hates that he saw the singsong coming, “such big words. Gosh, that must mean it’s been years without action down there.”

“Why the worry, Tooru?” Iwaizumi asks, voice turning deep, eyes threading over Oikawa’s face. That has happened -- and ended, but it didn’t mean the two men didn’t play around it sometimes.

“Is the sex you’ve been getting so bad, you’ve been worried about mine?” Iwa scoffs, drinks a full mouth of whisky and turns to look at Oikawa once again. 

“You look too old to be getting any action,” Oikawa mocks him, snickering behind his glass. “Look at those lines and wrinkles, oh gosh Iwa, we’re the same age, you’re making me look bad.”

“Shut up, trashykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “I’m just going to tell you this time: fucking behave. I’m looking into the mole, but you need to watch your back.”

“I thought that was your job, though.”

“Makes it a bit fucking hard when you bring home a diferent friend every night. Babysitting a toddler would be easier than you.” Iwaizumi grumbles and scoffs, finishing his drink in one go. “I’m doing my job. Now listen to me so that I can do it well.”

Iwaizumi slams his glass on the wooden coffee table and stands, the sound loud but not enough to disturb the rest of the men around the place. Maddog does look at Iwaizumi as if thinking what’s the cause for his distress, but the man has learned long ago that Oikawa rattles on everyone's nerves at some point -- Iwa just happens to be ticked more than the rest, a consequence of being friends with the man, he assumes.

Iwa pats his slacks, re-doing the button on his suit and walks away, moving a hand in the air as a way to say goodbye to Oikawa. “Your friend is waiting for you.” 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa are behind him before he stops in front of the elevator doors, Kunimi not even looking up as the three of them leave. “Try not to be dead by the morning.”

“I’ll do my best~” Oikawa singsongs back, a carefree smile on his face. 

Mattsun is driving tonight and that means Hanamaki is speaking the whole time, going on about how the Karasuno Mob is growing, potentially able to slip between Seijoh and Shiratorizawa’s territory if they’re not careful. Iwaizumi listens, but doesn’t really offer anything to the discussion; he’s too caught up in his head, wondering about what he’s going to do with Oikawa and how he can flush out the mole as fast as possible until something catches his ear, every thought in his mind freezing at the mention of the diner neighborhood.

“What did you say?”

“Huh?” Makki stops, looking back through the seat. “Oh, some of ours have been talking about seeing Shiratorizawa around downtown territory.” Makki turns serious, and it happens so rarely that the moment his demeanor shifts, Iwaizumi actually grasps his worries by the simple difference in the air surrounding the blonde. “Johzenji too.”

Now, that’s worrisome. While Seijoh and Shiratorizawa have some shared business in downtown and somewhat of a truce on those places, Johzenji is way too far from its limits, crossing borders they know they should not. Iwaizumi catches sight of how his frown actually caves lines on his forehead and Oikawa’s snickers pops in his mind as if the male was right there, he scoffs but his look is serious.

They can’t leave it that way.

Hajime tells himself that the fact that your face pops in his mind and the thought of a territorial war a few blocks away from the Diner makes his hands constrict into fists, has nothing to do with how fast he decided he must handle it. 

But it gets a little less believable as he orders Matsukawa to keep an eye out on your street, like if it wasn’t clear that by your street -- he meant you.

--

You notice the man staying around.

Actually, you doubt anyone hasn’t noticed the tall man who likes to linger just a bit too much around your diner as if he’s your hired security guard or something. He’s taller than most people, broad and built enough for you to see it in the way his clothes cling to his form, and has this fixation with metal, because both his ears are pierced and his knuckles are always adorned with thick rings. He looks bad, and has a cigarette pending from his lips to crown the look. Which, of course, prompts half the women population who enjoy your diner to look. It probably doesn’t help that despite his aloof behavior he can be quite the charmer.

And you’re suspecting your cook and friend is falling for it.

“If you light that cigarette right now after I’ve just told you to leave and smoke outside, I swear to god I’ll use the fire extinguisher on you, Matsukawa-san.” You always chastise him out of the Dinner once he starts smoking, since Issei has no respect for the very big, very red “no smoking” sign you had to purchase just because of him. He grins at you from his high seat on the counter and lifts his hands in a sign of rendition.

“Okay, honey. I’ll drop it.” 

You eye him very sharply until his fingers finally close around his cigar and he takes it out the clasp of his lips. You watch until he pockets it again in his metal case. Then, you finally blink and nod, turning to enter inside your kitchen. You’ve made the mistake of trusting him before, letting him out of your sight once he signaled defeat when you reprimanded him, just to come out and find him smoking anyway. So, now, you take the extra precautions with him, reason why you open the door without warning to check on him, finding him calmly studying the menu. 

He eyes you and blinks, a big grin splitting his face. 

“I’ll behave,” he crosses a finger over his heart like a scout. ”Promise.” 

You snort, but turn around and enter the kitchen space, yelling at your friend the newest orders, to which she just yells back a fine.

You grab the done plates– buttermilk pancakes and swiss omelette with orange juice and black coffee– and push the door outside with your hip, while calmly balancing everything on your tray. 

It’s a quiet late-morning, most of the regulars have already left for work and you’re dealing with the unusual clients, just three if you count Mattsun.

Once you’re back at the counter, Matsukawa is signaling with the menu for you to come over. 

“So, what’s your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“First, I’d like you to drop the san, it makes me feels fucking old.” 

You tease him just the bit by giving him a pointed look with a very arched eyebrow. 

“Stop it,” he hisses at you, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you fuckin-”

“You are old,” you tell him, pleased with yourself when he hisses as if burned, making you sport a big smile while on it. He’s glaring at you. “See, this is how I feel when I catch you smoking once I tell you not to.”

His lopsided grin is a panty-dropper; too bad you’re thinking about how it would be if someone else grinned at you like that. “Valid.” 

The seconds tick by while you wait for Matsukawa to say his order but he just stares at you as if you’re slowly losing your mind. You sigh, resist the urge to facepalm but do press two fingers into the middle of your forehead in an upwards motion to help with the stress, to look at him again and smile. 

“Your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“Again with the -san? Let me make a deal with you. You call me Issei and I’ll never smoke inside again.”

You eye him suspiciously but ultimately decide it’s a nice deal. 

“Deal,” you say, while jutting your lips out to hide a smile, still looking for hints he may be lying. “And if I catch you smoking inside again I’ll start calling you Jiji.”

Issei’s eyes go large, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline until he coughs and sputters, “you wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

The stare-down goes for a few seconds until you end it by saying, “I’ll get your regular,” and turning around to leave.

“This isn’t over!”

“Yeah, yeah, just behave.”

Once you’re in the kitchen, the clattering and noises are loud.

“You should chill a bit before you end up completely mutilating the pans, Rei. Half my money is in your kitchen.”

She throws you a nasty glare from across all the other way by her stove, doing God knows what but whatever it is smells heavenly.

“Do you believe the gall of this idiot outside?”

“Yep,” you chirp, but you eye her closely while she continues. You know her enough to know what’ll happen next.

“He had the fucking nerve to say my food was too salty.”

“Uh,” Escapes your lips, but you narrow your eyes at her, taking in the redness of her face, the way she looks overheated and the gesticulating arms while she walks around using too much strength while opening and closing the kitchen cabinets.

“SALTY!” She hollers to the emptiness of her kitchen, which pretty much makes it echo through the walls. You’re half certain you can hear Matsukawa chuckling outside. You wait for it, by now you know it’s coming. “I’ll show him what the fuck being too salty means.” She keeps going, cranky and beating the pans with that bit too much strength so that the clanks and tinkling sound loud even to you. You wait just a little bit more. “That handsome motherfucker, I’ll fucking deck him with my frying pan!”

And there it is.

You snicker just the tiniest bit, and put the order for his regular. She snatches it from your hand and points a paring knife at you.

“Don’t you dare say anything.” She does look fairly threatening, but the thing is that you’ve been on the other side of that knife one too many times to care now.

“Hey, if you like insufferable assholes, who am I to judge?”

“Fuck you.”

--

The movement is slow tonight, the cold weather with a drizzle makes your regulars stay home and the streets stay empty. It’s just a bit past midnight and you already know you’re closing early. Iwaizumi has been seated at his usual spot for a good twenty minutes already and, much like every other night, he’s just doing nothing -- looking over the street, reading the paper, sometimes a book or daring to look at his phone. Rei is still moving around in the kitchen and there’s only one other person in the diner -- an old man eating his soup calmly on the whole other side.

You feel restless; your eyes keep darting to him as if waiting to be caught, definitely not being the subtle person you hope to be, nothing catches your attention when Iwaizumi sits calmly by the window reading the paper and sipping on fresh coffee. Your eyes thread through his broad shoulders, poorly hidden under the fitted black social button up, rolled sleeves showing big, veiny forearms leading to strong, broad hands that seem even bigger when they engulf the coffee mug.

Hajime wears one ring, thick, black and a matching watch that probably costs as much as this whole place. You don’t need to see it to know his dark grey slacks are fitted; you’ve caught sight of it when he entered and you think there’ll be hell on earth before you forget how perfectly it hugs his frame, how delicious his ass is and how his waist is marked, beautifully, by the black belt. You thank the gods that he had already disposed of his suit jacket, or you’d be unable to survive so long.

 You’re probably drooling, so you tear your eyes from him to make yourself a hot cup of coffee and hope that you can pretend the flustered feeling in your insides is from the steaming caffeine quickening your heart. However, seeing as your eyes drag slowly back to him, you think that’s a lost battle. 

You drink a bit, breathe some more and decide to say fuck it. You’re not risking anything -- if he doesn’t want to talk, he can just say so. So you wash your hands, shed your apron and pick your coffee mug back up while walking to him. Before you even tread more than two steps, his deep, hard green eyes are already looking at you. They’re so impenetrable and focused, you wonder if he looks long enough, will he see your mind?

The thought makes your face heat up and you swallow the saliva pooling on your mouth before speaking,“mind if I sit?”

He nods no, but still answers, “go ahead.”

You slide on the seat in front of him, and for a second you regret your choice. Up close and with nowhere else to look, he’s even bigger -- his frame engulfs anything past his shoulders, his eyes demanding the sole focus of yours and you give it to him. But there’s a thought in your mind that helps you fight back the urge to let yourself slide and drown in the pool of deep green.

“So, I've been meaning to ask,” you tread carefully, knowing it’s a minefield ahead. You’ve been alone in this world with just your grandpa for a long time, and he was no saint. You’re no stranger to the fact that his diner has always been in mob-controlled territory. You’ve seen him bullied into paying back gambling loans too many times to not know how a bad man looks, and still, here you are, body warming and trembling just by the sight of what must be the baddest of them all.  “Were you friends with my grandpa or something?”

Iwaizumi looks at you, blinks and then hums a question, slightly furrowed brows his only sign of confusion. “Hm?”

“It’s just that I’ve noticed… that you seem like you’ve been taking care of this place… of me.” You speak while your eyes keep darting between his face and down, a warm feeling seeping from your eyes that makes his brain slow down, too caught up in watching you until he realizes he walked into a tricky question.

Fuck. Think fast, Hajime. 

“We weren’t exactly friends. But he was a mean card player and he got a lot of money out of me.” Iwaizumi speaks fondly, which is probably the only thing indicating that he isn’t here for some wicked king of payback. You nod while your brows slide up.

“I’m sure you also took a lot of money from him.”

“If I was lucky,” he pauses, “I don’t like to bet. But it was nice to play against him, even without betting.”

“I’m surprised he wanted to play without betting.”

“Rare occasions.” Iwa muses with a small smile in the corner of his lips.

Iwaizumi looks at you again, that deep stare as if he’s trying to catch your soul intent. “What I mean with that is… He never talked about you. Or having a family, for that matter.”

“Well… it’s like you put it. He was a gambler. And before he got good, he was bad. We struggled a lot with his debt while I was growing up. Once I left the house and I was working and got into college... he called me, asking for money.  He knew I had a college fund -- small, but you know, enough to get by for a few years. I gave some of it to him and I told him that if he was going to call me for money, it’d be better if he didn’t call at all, so… our relationship was pretty strained this last few years.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to say. So he tests around something he hasn't used in a long time, “sorry.”

“It’s fine. I just couldn’t possibly deal with his debt on top of mine, you know. And it was his choice not to call me for other reasons, so.” You shrug your shoulders, eyes downcast for a moment. If Iwaizumi ever knew how to console someone, he’d forgotten it a long time ago, but he’ll swear on his gun and every god above that he wishes he was sensible enough now to offer any kind of words that can resemble solace. He doesn’t know what you find in his face that makes you do a funny face, nose wrinkling, while smiling.

“It’s ok, I don’t hate him, you know. I just... He’s dead and I can’t help but think these things are in the past. Which may be fucked up but I’ve made my choice not to go through life with these demons.”

Iwaizumi nods, solemn. He knows a thing or twelve about going through life with demons and he wishes that you didn’t have to bear this even for the smallest of seconds. It gnaws inside your being, and the places where their claws sink usually fester. But, he doesn’t even risk thinking about what it’d be like for him to live without them -- they’re the closest to penitence for a whole life of sin he’s ever gonna get.

Talking to Hajime makes hours fly by like minutes. 

He’s not very talkative himself, but he’s a great listener and he gives you fair, honest answers so you try to do the same. You ask him about the old man, what he’d been doing, and Hajime doesn’t even blink while saying that he kept gambling until his death; tells you how he’d been worried that the diner had been offered as collateral to some debt and would fall victim of your grandpa’s addiction even after his death. You tell him about life after college, how disheartening and anxious it was, how you’ve struggled without finding a job and hustled your way together with Rei. You tell him how you’ve felt good to win the Diner -- the new ideas and purpose, the excitement and how fun it was to think about life like this -- a business owner. 

The one thing Hajime doesn’t tell you about is his job, which you feel is answer enough; and when you ask him about the late nights at the Diner, his lips quirk up and your heart quickens, whole body warming at how he tells you the diner has a special place in his life and that he doesn’t likes to sleep, only crashing once the sun come out.

He stays with you as you bid Rei farewell and close the restaurant, walks you to his car and drives you to your house. His car doesn’t move until you make it safe inside and only when your face comes to the window, does it starts to move away.

-

[to be continued]