#mafia!141

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Idea | Previous Part

tw: future dom-sub relationship, sexually explicit content, pet names, age gap (early twenties - late thirties)

The moment your eyes connected, you felt the typical blush rise onto your cheeks. The blush that always seemed to come when Mister Riley was nearby. He smiled down at you, the lower half of his face hidden behind a surgical mask, as always, but the crinkle around his eyes betrayed him.

With a quiet mumble of your name and a hand on your lower back, he ushered you forward, until you stood at the other end of the counter, where you had to wait for your drink. Meanwhile, his hand didn’t move, only pulling you against him whenever other people got too close. You tried to tell yourself that this, his behavior, his…almost possessiveness, meant nothing. He was just being nice and polite as always. Just keeping you safe, even if there was no threat nearby.

When you finally received your drink, Mister Riley led you back to your table - you didn’t question how he knew where you were sitting. “How are you doing, love?” Mister Riley got comfortable, taking off his black wool coat and hanging it over the back of the chair next to his, before resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward. You on the other hand shifted nervously. All the hope that your little crush had faded in the last few years was gone.

The way he was looking at you sent your heart into a frenzy, beating as if you were running a marathon, when you were just sitting across from him in a cafe. Not even four years of not seeing him could stop the effect he had on you.

When he suddenly raised an eyebrow, you realized you never answered his question. “Oh, uhm…I’m good. A bit stressed, but that’s it.” You tried to smile but weren’t sure if it reached your eyes. By the look he gave you, you could tell that it didn’t. “What about you, sir?” He chuckled, the low sound reverberating in your heart. “How many times do I have to tell you to just call me Simon, huh?” Your face flushed again and you wished you could see his grin through his mask. A stammered answer fell from your lips, but he interrupted you, the joyful expression replaced by a frown.

“What’s stressing you, little one?” The look in his eyes was intense, as if he was ready to kill whatever dared to stress you and the nickname didn’t help the butterflies in your stomach. This means nothing. He’s not interested, goddamnit! Your eyes found a weird carved-in spot on the table in front of you. It was suddenly very interesting. “Oh, you know…just college.” You dared to glance up, just to see his frown deepen, clearly not believing a word you were saying. Suddenly, that one weird, carved spot on the table became incredibly interesting. As you were lightly tracing it with the tip of your right index finger, he reached across the table and gently tilted your head to look up at him. “What’s really going on?” A heavy sigh left your lips before everything just spilled out of you.

How your father just disappeared and stopped sending you the money you needed for the apartment and everything else. How you had to move into the worst part of town ever and how you’ve been looking for a job ever since. You tried to hide just how desperate you were, he didn’t have to know that you had a fantastic ten pounds left in your account right now. And you had already tapped into your savings. Sadly you needed your father’s permission to tap into the fund he had sat up for you.

Mister Ril- Simon listened quietly, concern evident on his face as you jumped from one issue to the next. And when you were done, he pulled out his wallet. Your eyes widened immediately and you started to shake your head as he held out what looked like a credit card. “No, no. Mister Riley, no, I can’t accept that, I-”, before you could continue your protests, his fingers closed around your chin again and held your mouth shut. “You’re going to be a good girl, take this card and say thank you, okay? And call me Simon.”

Heat immediately rushed to your core, the gravely tone doing something to you, as you swallowed the lump that formed in your throat. With the tight grip on you, you couldn’t move your head too much, but it was just enough for a slight nod. A grin formed under that mask again and he let go, pulling his hand back, but not without letting his fingers linger slightly. “Good girl.”

You swallowed again, noticing how his eyes immediately jumped to your throat. In the moment you weren’t sure if you imagined them turning darker for just a moment before he looked back into your eyes. The two of you held the eye contact for a few moments, before you broke it, once again looking down at that one spot. He cleared his throat, the awkwardness in the air disappearing when he started talking again.

“I want you to use that card for whatever you need, okay? You’re in college, I want you to concentrate on your studies, you hear me? And if you need more, just say the word.” You nodded again, already knowing that you’d continue with your job hunt as soon as he left. And that you would definitely not be using that card for, like, anything. As much as you appreciated him wanting to help, you knew that you could do it on your own.

“Also, about that apartment-” He was interrupted by the sound of heels clicking against the floor of the cafe. Both of you looked up as a gorgeous woman, similar age to his, walked up, smiling, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you almost done, dear? We still have that meeting with-”, she glanced at you and quickly corrected herself. “-that meeting we have to get to.” Your eyes immediately focused on the sparkling ring on her finger. It was beautiful, even if a little too sparkly for you. Simon looked up at her and smiled. “Of course, dear. I’ll be right out. Tell Johnny to keep the engine on.” The woman nodded and smiled one more time at you before she left.

She seemed kind, but the jealousy that bubbled in your veins wanted you to hate her. From what you had just witnessed, you doubted you could. “I’m sorry, but she’s right, I have to go. Give me your phone.” Too stunned to do anything but comply, you unlocked it and handed it to him. He quickly put something - his number you assumed - and rung himself, before handing it back. He stood up and put on his coat, looking at you one more time. “Ring me if you ever need something, okay? And be a good girl and do as you’re told.” He leaned over, grasping your chin one last time and making you look at him. You weakly nodded, your mind still hung up on the gorgeous wife of his.

His eyes narrowed, but after a second of hesitation, he too nodded, before pressing a gentle kiss against your cheek, through his mask. “Be good.” And with those words, he pulled back, turned around, and left the cafe, while you just sat there, staring at the door he walked through and thinking to yourself ‘the fuck was that’.

Next Part

A/N: Really enjoyed writing this part. I hope you like it!

@alilstressyandlotdepressy @brickwall035 @trampondemand @inarabee @blinca @rileys3dworld @msjaeger @oreojenni @starlightmoon2020 @piconico17 @l1lpip @originalsoulcollector

[bunny-jpeg]

trappin' (price's version)

capt. john price

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, baby trapping & pregnancy, dumb!reader, mafia don!price, rich!price, burly & hairy!price, tattoos, age gap (20s/40s)

bunny says: reblogs & comments are always appreciated! i have a few ideas in my head about maybe a simon version or a konig version! (please leave your suggestions!!!)

this was going to be so painfully easy. when you saw which shelf the older man ordered from, you saw dollar signs in your eyes. so with the front zipper of your dress pulled down a little to show off the 'goods', you went over to him at the bar.

you were flirty and sweet. your hand on his bicep, you didn't realize the toned muscles of his arms. oh, he was more than just a rich older man.

"well, aren't you just a sweet thing." he rubbed the top of your head. he said his name, "john price, love." like you should've known it. so you simply nodded when he told you it, and you gave your own name.

"how about we get out of here?" you asked with a cute smile, "i'm not really the best at bars, sadly." then dropped the smile into a small pout.

he hung over you like a shadow as he cupped your face, "aw, someone scared?"

you nodded, giving him the most innocent look, "can i go home with you tonight, mister price?" you saw his expression soften at the question. hook, line & sinker.

you had poked holes in the condom. happy to hand it over under the guise of you needing to 'protect' yourself. as if it didn't look like a strainer with all the holes in it.

price watched you get undressed slowly. he eyed you with a predator's gaze as he undid his tie and took off the jacket of his suit. price looked and smelled expensive, it would be perfect little paycheck. your thoughts were filled with stacks of sterling pounds, that you didn't even catch that price noticed the holes in the condom and chuckled.

silly girl, he thought. he knew exactly what you were doing. you weren't the first person to try and squeeze money out of him via a little price brat. but price got hard at the idea of such a gorgeous, conniving woman would fail so beautifully.

he did need a wife after all, and the ones the family were trying to pair him with were simply so boring. you, on the other hand, were a little firecracker who knew what she wanted. but as he pressed you into the bed, his lips on the back of your neck as he rubbed his cock up against his ass. he knew that he needed a ring on you fast.

"mmm, that feels good." he said, "see how hard ya made me, love?"

you'd do just fine as mrs. price. don't worry your little head though, you weren't going to get involved with the family business. just make sure that you make price lunch before he heads to the office and tuck the kids into bed before he comes home.

your stomach did somersaults when you felt the pressure of his tattooed hand against your throat. you saw all of his tattoos on his hairy body when he undressed. you had no idea what they represented, while the one of the dagger was a little more obvious (not to you), even the "gentler" ones, like the flag of his hometown on his shoulder or 141 on his collarbone painted a grim story of price's past.

you should've not poked those holes in that condom. silly girl.

he pushed you deep into the pillows of his hotel room. he had you bent at an awkward angle and polluted all of your space. leaving you little room to breathe as he sank his cock into your waiting hole.

price was a bad man, you should've ran when you had the chance. because when he got his cock wet in you, he felt a sense of euphoria that he never had with any other slag he had been with. you were different, it was like the heavens had opened and given him a gift.

a pretty young thing with a need to be bred.

oh yeah, he was keeping you. there were no questions asked. one hand on your throat, the other on your hip as he thrusted into you. he knew, he knew right then that you weren't getting too far after tonight. maybe he'd let you slip out think you got what you wanted, but that was all just to add a little fun to your game.

thinking that you were the top dog in this, but you were just a scrappy little thing. nothing like the pitbull that price was. he didn't manage an entire mafia family without getting a little... tough. and you may go back to your crummy little flat and wait anxiously for the pregnancy test to come back positive.

but come the end of tomorrow, he'd already know everything he needed to know about you. from where you lived and went to school to how many moles were on your back. hell, even if you were ovulating to begin with.

he pressed your head further into the bed and thrusted into you. your ass shook with each heavy stroke of his cock inside of you. and don't worry, if it doesn't take this time. there's always next time, and the time after, and the time after that.

ah, you silly little thing. this wasn't a one night stand. this was price prepping you for being his wife. you thought you were getting away with one kid? one kid in his world is rookie numbers, you'll be having your hands full for a good while.

he continued to rut into you, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. with each one you became some soft for him, you harsh moans because soft little mewls as each orgasm hit.

"such a good girl. aren't i lucky to have found ya." he got both hands on his hips and he battered your womb with his impressive size. he was big and hairy all over, covered in tattoos and an accent that melted your brain.

you fit him like a glove, it was a sign you two were meant to be together! he was still fucking you with the stamina of someone closer to your age, meanwhile you were laid out under him with your eyes barely open. poor girl's gone and got her brains fucked out for the night.

that was alright, meant that price could dump a few loads into you before you came to again. he'd of course never hurt you, not in that way. but you were the temptress that led him back to his room, he was just reaping his reward.

he panted against your ear, the filth in his words made your pussy clench around his aching cock. all it took was two little cells to mix together and you'd be a proper mama.

don't worry, price hasn't ruined all of his swimmers over the years.

with a few more thrusts, price found heaven. he shot his seed into your pussy. spat it right up against your womb, a promise of what was to come.

"john." you said with a loose tongue.

"didn't finish yet." he lied, "almost there. you just lie there for me, alright? i'll take good care of ya, baby girl."

he didn't even bother to pull out as he got you on your back. he wanted to see that blissed out expression while he put your knees to your ears and your puffy, wet cunt on display.

a proper mating press for the silly little girl who thought she was going to pull the rug out from under mister jonathan price.

-

you rubbed your lower back and huffed. you were only in your fifth month, but the baby was expected to be rather big. you couldn't complain only a fool would climb the mountain that was john price.

one of the most dangerous men in london.

what started out as a ploy to get enough money to pay for university ended with you dropping out to be price's full-time housewife. with the rock, the house and the baby to prove it. this was your second pregnancy in three years, with your daughter happily sitting in her high chair. her father sitting by her, keeping her busy while you cooked.

one of his tattooed fingers pointed to the pictures in the children's book he had open for her. he was determined to make sure that she could read a little bit before she went off to school in another two years.

"see that's a cow, baby girl." he said, "like the ones we see when we go drivin'." he was very attentive for a man who had snuffed the life out of people with his bare hands.

but he'd never hard a hair on you, your daughter or your future son's heads. he could barely be rough with you during sex nowadays!

it was summertime once more, the heat of july rolled through the old house you called him. you had kept the dress that caused this marriage and family, but with the mama chub on your hips you weren't fitting into it again anytime soon.

but price didn't mind, a good mother like you shouldn't be showing off what is his anyway. <3

[oceantornadoo]

something something you’re mafia!price’s younger sister, used to the comings and goings of your brother and his gang. in and out of your house at odd hours, always paying your respects before meeting with the man in charge. until one day where john’s hosting a very important dinner, something about making connections with the scottish. the man to impress meets you and john in the office before dinner, john pushing you gently towards the stranger with a hand to the back.

“sweetheart, this is johnny.” and you’re usually so confident, but something about those eyes and that grown out mohawk and that calloused hand does you in, all your experience with mafia men going straight out of the window. “hi johnny.” you smile at him shyly and he’s done for. knows what he wants when he mentions an arranged marriage at dinner later, something about forging connections that last. you give him that same smile in that same office hours later, shyly opening your silk robe to show him everything underneath. laid out on your brother’s desk, johnny fucking you with tongue while using his hand to finish his own job. and lastly you’re using that smile again walking down the aisle a month later, all doe eyes and sugar when it comes to your new mafia husband!johnny…

[vnards]

Mafia141 p.4

The boys react quickly, like they’re trained to do. You don't.

Ghost is able to tackle you to the ground before bullets start flying through the windows.

The sound of gunfire and glass shatters the peace, a familiar ringing to everyone but you. One moment you're focused on not spilling anything, now, with the mugs shattered on the floor, a heavy weight on top of you, and loud shots piercing in the air, you felt like you couldn't breathe.

The bullets seemed endless, embedding themselves in the walls and booths. Another body covered you, keeping your face pressed to the floor. There was crying. It’s coming from you.

After what felt like minutes, the shooting stopped.

Silence followed.

“Sit rep.”

The body above you finally lets you lift your head. You look around to see the diner in carnage. The plush in the booths were torn and shredded, some of the stuffing still hovering in the air. Everything glass on the counter were shattered. The cold wind came in through the broken windows.

“Good here.” A voice broke through the ringing in your ears.

“Johnny?”

“A'm right here.” He grumbled. There was a string of words that sounded like cursing.

Your heart is still pounding like a mallet as the boys around you began to get up.

You were being moved before you could even realize it. You were being lifted in the air and back on your feet like you weighed nothing before you could get your bearings. Simon’s eyes scanned you over as you were finally able to start moving your tongue again “W-what-“

“Gaz, secure the perimeter.” Movement followed his orders,  one of your “customers” move to Simon's order. Your confusion is hard to hide. “Go get your stuff. We’re leaving.” You look around at the two remaining men left in the diner; Simon, his hand on your back, keeping you steady and Johnny, the Scottish man with a Mohawk and his white dress shirt bleeding across his peck.

“You’re hurt.”

Both men looked to where you pointed, Johnny grumbled under his breath, “Fuckers ruined my new shirt.” He poked at the blood, some coming off his hand as he examined it.

Something about seeing him bleeding shocks you back to life, “T-the first aid kit is in the back. I can-" you move to go retrieve it.

Johnny caresses your shoulder “It’s alright, little bird, it’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine.” The vibrant blue in his eyes holds a boyish joy to them. “But I’ll never say no to you.” He winks.

The sudden flirtatious attitude from Johnny was whiplash compared to the carnage that surrounded you. “Not now, Johnny.” Simon scolded. It didn’t look like Johnny was sorry, “I gotta tell Price the meeting’s a bust.” He slides his phone out, trying how to not pissed the boss of about this. “Make sure she gets her stuff.” He was at least going to grant you that before bringing you into the mess that is tonight.

Johnny salutes, trying to break under the primal fear of the past few minutes that consumes you into being paralyzed in the moment. With Ghost and Gaz gone, it’s up to Johnny to keep you calm enough to not go into shock. His chest puffs up a bit, being given the opportunity to keep you safe and calm, but it’s not the time. “Actually, birdie,” Your eyes finally meet his, “I could use that first aid kit. Could you get it for me?”

A task. Something to help you move forward. You nod soundlessly and gave yourself a moment to calm your shaking hands, your barely controlled breathing.

First aid kit.

You enter the back of the room and head to the office where your stuff is. You’re mind is still a blank with static before you have a chance to realize you’re not alone.

Another weight, this time less gentle, slams you against the frozen storage and pins you there. The wind is knocked out of you as a body twice the size of you, unable to scream or cry in pain. “No one mentioned there would be a reward.” The stranger leered.

You try to speak again, but there’s a third body knocked into you. Your head is slammed against the door and everything hurts. You fall to the floor, no longer pinned against the cold door. Regardless, the world still spins.

You hear a struggle and the few moments of clarity you can get shows that Johnny is grappling with on the floor outside the office, his opponent in a headlock. The other man throws an elbow that connects and his grip falters, allowing him to get the upper hand.

The strange man swings again, this time an elbow to Johnny’s nose knocks off his balance, “You fucker!” He growls.

The larger man is able to tower over Johnny, taunting. You are so paralyzed in fear when you spot the shine of a barrel coming out.

A shot rings out. There’s yelling

When you open your eyes again,  the body that was towering over Soap was toppling over, dead weight. The blood pouring out of the hole in his skull a shocking horror to you. You finally start to scream.

The darker skinned man came forward in your field of view, “You’re okay, princess, you don’t need to be scared.” Too late. You slip out of consciousness.

masterlist

[msriri030]

Saving By Hare Pt2: The Love Doctor

Mafia!König x Doctor! Reader

Cw: mention torture and drugs. afab!reader but try most to be gn.

Part 3

Horangi was walking down the hall when his attention was caught by Hutch and Roze standing in front of a one-way mirror. Curiosity piqued, he asked, "What are you up to?"

"Watching the boss torture an enemy underling," Roze replied, her eyes glinting with amusement as Hutch chuckled happily at the scene unfolding before them. 

Raising an eyebrow, Horangi stepped closer to the window. He saw König pacing back and forth, visibly anxious, as he spoke to the enemy, who looked increasingly unsettled. Suddenly, König slammed his hand down on the table, causing the enemy to flinch.

"What’s the torture?" Horangi asked, confusion etched on his face. Hutch smirked, adjusting his shades. "The boss is asking for romantic advice from Deadman."

Horangi sighed, watching König slowly lower himself into the chair across from the captive, his hulking frame almost too large for the delicate wooden seat. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the table, a nervous habit uncharacteristic of the usually imposing man.

The captive, a wiry man with a bloodied nose, looked utterly bewildered. Sweat dripped from his brow as he stammered, “W-why are you asking me? I don’t—I don’t know anything about dating!”

König leaned forward, his icy blue eyes narrowing as he demanded, “Then what do you know about wooing someone? Surely you’ve liked someone before. Speak.”

The man fumbled, glancing toward the one-way mirror in silent desperation, as if pleading for a rescue that would never come.

Roze stifled a laugh, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. “I never thought I’d see the day. Our Big bad Boss, König,…asking a guy who can’t even keep his own teeth in his mouth for advice on romance. This is priceless.”

Hutch let out a low chuckle, pushing his sunglasses up. “The boss is down bad. I mean, look at him—he’s got the guy more scared of giving the wrong pickup line than getting shot.”

Inside the room, König pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly frustrated with the captive's nonsensical answers. The poor man was a stuttering mess, rattling off clichés like, ‘Buy them flowers,’ and ‘Compliment their eyes.’

König growled softly, not out of anger, but sheer exasperation. “This is useless.” He stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, causing the captive to flinch again. König loomed over him, arms crossed, his massive frame casting a shadow over the trembling man.

“I don’t need basic advice!” König barked, his voice deep and commanding. “I need something… meaningful. Specific. If you were trying to win someone over—someone kind, strong, and… special—what would you do?”

The captive blinked up at him, wide-eyed and utterly lost. “I—I don’t know! Cook for them? Write them a letter? Please, man, I don’t even have a girlfriend!”

Horangi, watching from the other side of the glass, finally sighed and turned to Hutch and Roze. “This is pathetic. Should we step in before he kills the guy with his awkwardness?”

“Nah,” Hutch replied with a grin. “This is better than TV. Besides, it’s not like the guy’s bleeding out or anything.”

Roze tilted her head, feigning innocence. “You think König will actually take advice from someone who’s tied to a chair?”

Before Horangi could respond, König’s voice boomed again, shaking the room with its intensity.

"Write what, exactly?" He leaned in closer to the captive, who was now shaking like a leaf. "Give me something better than 'flowers' or 'letters,' or I will personally—" He caught himself, exhaling sharply and stepping back, muttering under his breath in frustration.

The captive, desperate to avoid whatever fate his imagination was conjuring, blurted out, "S-surprise them! Do something unexpected! Something only you would do! Something that shows y-you’re thinking about them!"

König paused, straightening to his full height. His imposing shadow loomed even larger over the man as he stared down at him with piercing eyes. Slowly, a glimmer of realization crossed König’s face. He said nothing for a long moment, then gave a curt nod, muttering, “Hmm. Yes. That’s… something.”

The captive sagged in his chair, relief washing over him as König turned abruptly and made for the door.

From behind the glass, Roze covered her mouth to keep from laughing. “I swear to God, he’s going to come back tomorrow with a dozen roses and a poem, isn’t he?”

Hutch snorted, shaking his head. “If he writes a poem, I’m retiring. I’ve seen enough for one lifetime.”

Horangi groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is ridiculous. I’m going to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid… like kidnapping them instead of asking them on a date.”

The door to the interrogation room slammed open as König stepped out, his gaze distant, as if he were already lost in thought. He brushed past the group without a word, his broad shoulders rigid and his stride purposeful.

“Yup,” Roze said with a smirk, watching him disappear down the hall. “He’s definitely writing a poem.”

Hutch clapped Horangi on the back. “Good luck keeping him out of trouble. You’re going to need it.”

Horangi sighed again, glancing toward the interrogation room before reluctantly following after König. “This better not end with me having to talk him out of some overly dramatic romantic gesture…”

As the door clicked shut behind him, Roze and Hutch exchanged a look before bursting into laughter, their amusement echoing through the observation room.

It had been a couple of weeks since you last saw König. The memory of that night lingered in your mind, resurfacing at the most unexpected moments. You found yourself wondering—was his wound healing properly? Had he taken care of himself?

The thought gnawed at you as you went about your day, your hands busy with patients, but your mind elsewhere. You had done everything you could to stabilize him that night, yet the worry persisted. Men like him, with their dangerous lives and stoic fronts, weren’t the type to follow medical advice.

You sighed softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face as you closed your clinic for the evening to grab some lunch. The streets were quiet, the crisp winter air biting against your cheeks as you locked the door behind you. You paused for a moment, glancing down the empty street, the faint glow of streetlights casting long shadows.

Was he okay? The question echoed in your mind again, and you shook your head with a small, self-deprecating smile. Why do I even care so much?

But deep down, you knew the answer. There had been something in König’s eyes that night—something that stuck with you. A vulnerability beneath the ice, a fleeting glimpse of someone who, for all his sharp edges and danger, carried a burden far heavier than any physical wound.

And now, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was just okay in general. You groan in frustration kicking a discarded can. Why?! You just met the man. You sighed. You look at the sky a little bit to ground yourself before continuing along your way.  You entered your favorite dinner, Dash out.

The warm, familiar hum of Dash Out greeted you as you stepped inside. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, a sharp contrast to the biting chill outside. You waved to the staff behind the counter, giving them a tired but genuine smile.

Sliding into a booth near the window, you let out a long sigh and leaned back against the worn vinyl. This was your safe haven—a place where the stress of the day melted away with every sip of coffee or bite of a greasy burger.

A waitress approached, her name tag reading Lisa, her smile as warm as ever. “The usual?”

You nodded. “Please.”

Lisa scribbled on her notepad, her gaze flickering to your face with a touch of curiosity. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind. Long day?”

“Yeah,” you admitted with a small laugh. “Something like that.”

Lisa gave you a knowing nod before walking off, leaving you to your thoughts. You stared out the window, watching the soft, lazy flakes of snow drift down, the streetlights casting a warm, amber glow over the quiet street. Your reflection stared back at you, and for a moment, you barely recognized the furrowed brow and distant eyes.

Your food arrived swiftly, the plate settling in front of you with a soft clink. A classic burger, fries, and a steaming cup of hot cocoa—comfort food at its finest. Lisa let you know the pie was on the house. You took a bite, hoping the familiar taste would provide some distraction, but your thoughts kept drifting back to him.

The sound of the diner door opening pulled you from your reverie. You glanced up absently, expecting nothing more than another weary worker grabbing a late meal or perhaps a family seeking warmth from the biting cold outside.

But before you could focus on it, a pair of warm, calloused hands gently covered your eyes, halting your sip mid-air. A playful, familiar Scottish lilt followed. “Guess who it is, lass?”

You couldn’t suppress a smile, a soft laugh escaping as you tilted your head slightly. “Soap,” you said, the word slipping out with amused certainty.

The hands pulled away with a chuckle, and there he was—grinning like a kid who’d just pulled off the world’s greatest prank. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned casually against the booth.

Next to him, Ghost stood silently, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the cheerful exchange. He rolled his eyes and scoffed under his breath before turning toward the counter, his gait purposeful as he went to collect the protection money for their boss.

You giggled, glancing back at Soap. “I see you brought Ghost with you on your rounds.”

“Yup, Doc,” Soap said, scratching the back of his neck with mock exasperation. “Didn’t want to, but you know—gangster life’s no walk in the park.” His grin widened, as if the admission didn’t carry the weight it should have.

Before you could respond, Lisa returned, balancing a tray with your pie. She set the plate in front of you with a warm smile. “Enjoy, honey,” she said before bustling off to tend to another table.

“Thanks, Lisa.” You glanced at Soap and tilted the plate slightly in his direction, your voice teasing. “Want some, Soap? Or is gangster life too glamorous for diner fries?”

“Never! That’s like forgetting the roots you came from!” Soap declared dramatically, as if you’d just suggested the unthinkable. “Plus, I love sharing fries with the person who’s saved our arses more times than I can count!”

Without waiting for an invitation, he plopped himself down in the seat across from you, stealing a fry with a triumphant grin.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his antics. As Soap munched happily, Ghost returned from the counter, his dark gaze flicking between the two of you before settling on Soap with a mix of amusement and quiet disapproval.

You looked up at Ghost with a smile, gesturing toward the plate of fries you were now sharing. “Want some?” you offered lightly.

He shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips under his mask as he slid into the booth beside you. “No thanks, Doll,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “I’ll leave the fry-stealing to him.”

Soap, mid-bite, pointed a fry at Ghost. “That’s because you’re no fun, mate.”

Ghost gave him a sidelong glance, muttering, “I’m plenty fun. Just not when it comes to your greasy fingers all over the food.”

The banter made you smile as you picked up another fry, savoring the rare moment of levity amid the chaos their lives seemed to attract. It was hard not to think back to when you first met them. Soap had stormed into your clinic, practically kicking the door down, with Ghost slung over his back and bleeding profusely.

You’d barely had time to process their arrival before Soap started barking orders—half panicked, half determined. Ghost, even in his weakened state, had muttered something about "not scaring the doc." It had been a whirlwind of blood, adrenaline, and sharp commands, but you’d patched Ghost up, and from that moment on, the two had made you an unspoken part of their world.

Since then, they’d drop by every so often—not just for patch-ups, though those were frequent—but also to walk you home after late nights at the clinic or during their rounds collecting protection money for their boss. You knew the line of work they were in was dangerous, but you couldn’t deny the strange sense of security you felt whenever they were around.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Soap said, snapping you out of your thoughts as he stole another fry. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just remembering how we met,” you said with a small smile, glancing between him and Ghost. “And how you two basically barged into my life like a hurricane.”

Soap grinned, unrepentant. “Aye, but a good hurricane, right?”

Ghost shook his head, muttering, “More like a bloody disaster.”

You laughed softly, their easy camaraderie a welcome reprieve from the weight of your own thoughts. Likewise, your presence seemed to brighten their otherwise cold and chaotic world, though they’d never outright admit it. Yet the way they smiled at you in that unspoken, rare softness said enough.

After finishing your meal, the three of you stepped outside into the biting cold. They insisted on walking you back to the clinic—something they’d done countless times before. As the chill seeped into your bones, you tugged your jacket tighter around yourself, but it wasn’t enough to keep the cold at bay.

Ghost noticed, his sharp eyes catching the subtle shiver you tried to hide. Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The material was heavy, smelling faintly of leather and a hint of something clean and woodsy.

“Here, Doll,” he murmured, his voice low but kind in its gruffness.

“No, I—It’s okay,” you stammered, feeling a bit flustered by the gesture. “We’re not far from the clinic. You’ll be cold.”

You tried to hand the jacket back, but Soap looped an arm around your shoulders with a grin, stopping you in your tracks.

“And let our favorite doc get sick?” he teased, his tone playful but firm. “Never! Ghost and I have seen enough blood for one lifetime, thank you very much. Now let’s get to the clinic, warm up with some tea, and then we’ll handle the rest of our business.”

You rolled your eyes with a fond smile but didn’t argue. Wrapped in Ghost’s jacket and flanked by the two men, you felt a sense of safety you didn’t often experience. As you walked, the quiet of the night was punctuated by the soft crunch of boots on snow and Soap’s endless chatter about everything and nothing.

For a moment, as the warm glow of the clinic’s lights came into view, you let yourself forget about the dangers that lurked in their world—and your own. The three of you entered the clinic, the familiar scent of antiseptic and faint lavender welcoming you like an old friend. Without hesitation, you all made your way to the break room, a cozy little space you had managed to make feel homier despite the sterile surroundings.

Soap, ever the ball of energy, immediately busied himself grabbing three mugs from the cupboard. “Tea’s on me!” he declared, his enthusiasm almost infectious as he examined the mismatched cups with mock seriousness.

Meanwhile, you filled the kettle, setting it to boil. You handed Ghost his jacket back, and he took it with a quiet nod, draping it over the back of a chair before sitting down. His tall frame seemed oddly at ease in the tiny space, though his ever-watchful gaze remained sharp, flicking from you to Soap and back again.

“Thanks for lending this,” you said softly, glancing at Ghost as you adjusted your sweater.

He gave a slight shrug, his mask concealing any hint of a smile, though his tone held the barest trace of warmth. “Didn’t want you catching cold. You’d be no use to anyone if you’re laid up sick.”

Soap turned around with a playful grin, balancing the mugs in one hand while gesturing dramatically with the other. “See, Doc? That’s as close to a love letter as Ghost will ever get. Cherish it!”

“Don’t push your luck, Soap,” Ghost muttered, though his voice lacked any real bite.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you set the tea bags into the mugs Soap had placed on the counter. Once the water was ready, you poured it carefully, the steam rising and curling in the air. The quiet hum of the kettle, the clink of ceramic, and the shared companionship filled the small room with a sense of peace that felt rare in their chaotic world

 The phone's shrill ring sliced through the comfortable quiet like a blade, cutting Soap off mid-sentence and making Ghost’s gaze sharpen instantly. Pulling the phone from your pocket, you glanced at the screen. The number was vaguely familiar, but as a doctor, you were accustomed to unexpected calls from patients in need.

With a soft sigh, you answered, balancing the phone between your shoulder and ear as you continued preparing the tea. “Hello, this is Dr. [Last Name]. How can I help you?”

A beat of silence stretched on the other end, broken only by faint, shallow breathing. A chill prickled at the back of your neck. Something about it felt wrong.

“Hello?” you repeated, this time with more authority.

The voice that finally responded was shaky, almost desperate. “Hase? Is this... is this you?”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. “König? Yes, it’s me.”

You didn’t notice Soap’s eyes widened or Ghost’s gaze turned cold as they recognized the name. König—the mob boss who controlled half the city and the territory just down the street from your clinic. A heavy silence hung in the air before the voice whispered, almost painfully, “Yes, it’s König, my Hase.”

You felt a warmth flush your cheeks, but you quickly brushed it aside, forcing your expression to remain neutral. “What can I do for you?”

There was a brief silence, the sound of steady breathing on the other end before König’s voice returned—tentative, yet edged with a quiet urgency. “I was wondering… if I could take you to dinner tonight at the Diamond Petals. Or tomorrow, if you’re not working. As a thank you… for everything.”  

The request hung in the air, unexpected. Dinner at such a fancy restaurant? You smiled, a soft giggle escaping. “Yeah… I’d love to have dinner with you. Maybe tomorrow, though—I’ll need to shop for new clothes. I don’t have anything good to wear.”  

“Nien,” he replied smoothly, his tone firm yet gentle. “Anything you wear looks like gold.”  

The words, simple yet laced with affection, sent warmth flooding to your cheeks. Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could recover, he added, “What about I pick you up and take you shopping for clothes?”  

His suggestion caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were speechless, your mind racing to process the unexpected offer. Meanwhile, Ghost and Soap, lingering nearby, exchanged knowing glances. The palpable tension in the air was broken only by the sound of their deliberate throat-clearing, an unsubtle reminder of their presence.  

“Sure,” you finally managed, your voice slightly flustered. “I’ll send you the location of my clinic then… see you later.”  

You ended the call, the phone still warm in your hand as you set it down on the counter. Ghost calmly lifted his mask just over his nose, sipping his tea with deliberate slowness. The corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly, a subtle sign of amusement, while Soap, never one to miss an opportunity, grinned widely.  

“So~ you’ve got yourself a boyfriend now, eh?” Soap teased, leaning against the counter with a cheeky tilt of his head.  

You blushed furiously, waving your hands in protest. “It’s not like that!”  

Soap’s grin widened as Ghost let out a low chuckle. “Aye, Doc. Whatever you say.”  

Meanwhile, König stood in the dimly lit expanse of one of his warehouses, the sharp tang of metal and oil lingering in the air. His broad shoulders were tense, his posture rigid as he turned to the scene behind him. Vega and Roze hovered over their latest victim—a poor drug shipper whose trembling form bore the tattooed mark of the 141 on his neck.  

The man's muffled gasps and splashes filled the room as Vega pressed his head underwater, his grip merciless, while Roze crouched beside them, her dark eyes glinting with cruel amusement. She glanced over her shoulder at König, an arched brow accompanying her mocking tone.  

“So~ what did she say?” Roze asked, her voice dripping with feigned curiosity as she twirled a blade in her hand, its edge catching the faint light.  

König’s gaze flickered to the struggling man for a moment, then back to Roze, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, though his voice, when he finally spoke, was calm, almost detached.  

“She said yes,” he murmured, the weight of the words carrying an edge that made even Vega glance up from her task.  

Roze grinned, sharp and predatory. “Look at you, big guy. Dinner at the Diamond Petals, huh? Gonna make it all romantic?”  

König’s towering frame shifted slightly as he took a step closer, his boots heavy against the concrete floor. “Focus,” he said, his voice cold enough to make the room feel even icier. “The questions are not for me.”  

Roze’s smirk faltered, and she shrugged, motioning to Vega, who yanked the man’s head back above water with a violent jerk. The shivering victim gasped for air, coughing and sputtering, as König loomed over him, his massive shadow swallowing the man whole.  

“Now,” König said softly, his tone deceptively calm but carrying an undercurrent of menace. “Let’s try this again. Who sent you?”  

After promising Soap and Ghost that you’d text them after your “date,” you closed up your clinic and waved them goodbye. Their knowing smirks lingered in your mind, but you brushed them off, focusing instead on the evening ahead.  

Standing outside in the cool night air, you waited patiently, smoothing down your outfit one more time to make sure everything was perfect.  

Moments later, a sleek, black BMW with tinted windows pulled up to the curb. Your breath caught when König stepped out. Even with his mask on, you could tell he had gone out of his way to prepare for this. His broad frame was wrapped in a perfectly tailored black button-up shirt and slacks, the subtle sheen of his polished shoes catching the light.  

The faint scent of musk and cedar drifted toward you, the unmistakable aroma of freshly applied cologne mingling with the lingering freshness of a recent shower. You couldn’t help but notice the effort he had put in—it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.  

You instinctively sniffed yourself, worried for a fleeting moment about how you smelled. A wave of relief washed over you when you realized you didn’t smell unpleasant—your perfume still lingered, light and floral.  

“Guten Abend,” König greeted, his voice deep and soft as he extended a hand toward you. “You look… breathtaking.”  

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, and you smiled shyly, taking his hand. “Thank you. You look great too.”  

He held your hand for a moment longer than necessary, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles before he released it and gestured toward the car. “Shall we?”  

You nodded, letting him open the car door for you. As you slid into the plush leather seat, your nerves began to settle, replaced by a growing excitement. Whatever tonight had in store, it was already starting to feel like something special.  

As the car cruised smoothly toward the eastern side of the city, you stole a glance at König. His focus was trained on the road ahead, his large hands gripping the steering wheel with a surprising gentleness. The soft hum of the car’s engine filled the silence between you, and you found yourself nervously fiddling with the ends of your sleeves, wracking your brain for something—anything—to say.

Your gaze drifted out the window in quiet defeat, watching as the snow fell in lazy flakes, blanketing the streets in a serene glow.

Little did you know, König was locked in a similar mental battle. Small talk had never been his strength. Socializing, in general, was a struggle, a deep-seated insecurity born from years of bullying and isolation. Even now, he could still hear the mocking laughter of his classmates, and feel the sting of their taunts. The only reason he’d entered the mafia world was because a mobster had seen him, bloodied but unyielding, defending himself against a particularly cruel bully.

König let out a heavy sigh, the sound breaking the quiet tension in the car and catching your attention.

“Sorry, Liebling,” he muttered, his voice low and tinged with self-consciousness. “I am not... how do you say? Good at starting conversations. Sorry.”

His admission was so earnest, so vulnerable, that it made your chest tighten. You smiled softly, shaking your head.

“Don’t be,” you said, your voice kind. “I’m not that great at it either.”

You hesitated for a moment, then, desperate to keep the conversation going, asked, “What about your wound? Is it healed?”

Your cheeks flushed as soon as the words left your mouth, and you inwardly cringed. Of all things to ask…

König’s head tilted slightly toward you, and even with the mask, you could tell he was surprised—and perhaps a little touched—by your concern.

“It’s much better now,” he said, his tone warming. “Thanks to you.”

You glanced at him, catching the faintest hint of a smile beneath the fabric of his mask. His hand briefly left the steering wheel to tap lightly at his side. “Your stitches—they hold perfectly. You are... very skilled.”

His compliment made your blush deepen, and you ducked your head to hide your smile. “I just did what anyone would do.”

“No,” he replied firmly, his voice softening again. “Not anyone. You cared.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and the comfortable silence between you both felt surprisingly warm. You realized something else now—König had called you Liebling instead of his usual Hase. You couldn’t help but wonder about the change, and the question bubbled up before you could stop it.

“König,” you asked, your curiosity piqued, “What does Hase mean? And... why do you call me that?”

The sudden question seemed to catch König off guard. His face, though still obscured by the mask, darkened in a deep flush. He cleared his throat, a nervous, almost sheepish sound, before turning his attention back to the road as he guided the car into the parking lot of a luxury store.

You watched him closely, waiting for him to speak, the soft hum of the engine accompanying the brief pause.

After a moment, he exhaled, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly as he parked the car. He took a slow breath, as if preparing himself. When he finally spoke, his voice was more measured, quieter than usual.

“It means... rabbit or hare,” he replied, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “I called you that because... when we first met, your doctor’s coat made you look like a white rabbit in winter.”

The words were simple, but the warmth in his tone made your heart flutter. You blinked, surprised, but then a small smile tugged at your lips. The idea of him thinking of you that way—fragile, maybe, but also somehow strong—was endearing.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your cheeks warming from his unexpected but sweet reasoning. “A white rabbit, huh? That’s... oddly fitting, I think.”

König shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a faint hint of embarrassment in his posture, but there was something soft in his eyes as he glanced over at you. "I think you were my... safe place. Like how a rabbit would always hide in the snow."

His words settled in the car with a quiet, tender weight that was almost too much to process. You didn’t quite know what to say in response, but the gesture—his quiet affection—spoke volumes.

You couldn’t help but rest your head on König’s arm, a soft giggle escaping your lips. “I’m grateful you see me that way,” you murmured, feeling the warmth of his presence. Then, with a playful smile, you added, “If I can say something... you remind me of a bear. You make me feel so safe, and yet, you’re so strong, but gentle too.”

König’s breath caught at your words, and a soft chuckle escaped him, a deep rumble that made your heart flutter. He gently tightened his arm around you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “A bear, huh?” he said, his voice warm and almost teasing. “I can live with that. As long as I’m your bear.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection, and smiled. The warmth between you felt unspoken, but it lingered in the air, like a silent promise. As the two of you shared a quiet moment, you stepped out of the car, his hand brushing against yours. Together, you walked towards the entrance of the store, the soft crunch of snow beneath your feet almost drowned out by the beating of your heart.  

You entered the store, the soft chime of the door marking your arrival. At first, the clerks seemed uninterested in you, going about their tasks as if you were just another customer. But when they noticed König holding your hand, their demeanor shifted instantly. Their attention focused on you, and suddenly, they began pulling out the most elegant, expensive dresses, each more beautiful than the last. Yet, despite their efforts, nothing felt quite right. You sighed, feeling a little discouraged.

"Why don’t you look around while I talk to the clerk?" König suggested, noticing the frustration in your expression. You nodded, giving him a small smile, and wandered off, leaving him to converse with the store manager.

As you walked through the store, you couldn’t shake the feeling of hopelessness. Nothing seemed to catch your eye. But then, in the corner of your vision, something shimmered—something that made your heart skip a beat. A black silk off-shoulder gown with a striking collar. The material looked luxurious, the color deep and alluring, and you felt drawn to it immediately.

Without thinking, you walked straight toward it, your fingers grazing the fabric.

A store clerk, noticing your interest, approached with a polite smile. "Would you like to try it on, Miss?"

"Yes, please," you replied, your voice filled with excitement and a touch of hope. You couldn’t wait to see how it would look on you.

When you slipped into the gown, it fit you like a glove. The silk hugged your curves in all the right places, the off-shoulder design showcasing your collarbones beautifully. You turned to face the mirror, admiring the way the gown shimmered under the lights. To complete the look, you added red heels, their bold color a perfect contrast to the black silk, and slipped on a pair of pearl earrings and a matching necklace that the clerk suggested.

As you turned to take in your reflection, you caught a glimpse of König in the mirror. His eyes were locked on you, a look of awe on his face. He stood there, frozen for a moment, his usual confident demeanor replaced with something softer. The intensity in his gaze made your heart race as you smiled shyly at him.

“You look... breathtaking, Hase,” König murmured, his voice low and full of admiration. His words seemed to hang in the air between you, and for a moment, the rest of the world disappeared, leaving only the two of you. 

You blushed, clasping your hands together. “Thank you, König. I think I’ll take it, but I can’t really let you pay for this. It’s… 2,500! Not to mention everything else–”

“It is a gift for saving my life, Meine Liebe,” König said softly, taking your hand and kissing it gently. His lips lingered for a moment before he pulled back to look at you, his eyes filled with sincerity.

You looked slightly puzzled. “But the dinner—”

“It was a way for me to try to confess my feelings. I’ve fallen in love with you, Meine Liebe. So now, I will properly say it. Will you go out with me, Hase?”

The words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you froze in shock. Your heart raced as the realization sank in. You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks, your mind spinning. He had fallen for you? The man you had admired from a distance, the one who had quietly made an impact on your life—he felt the same way?

You couldn’t help but smile, your voice soft but steady. “Yes,” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips, but it was everything. It was the answer you both had been waiting for.

König’s face broke into a smile, his eyes shining with warmth and affection. He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace. The world around you faded once again, and for the first time, you truly felt like you belonged with someone.

The car ride was quiet, the gentle hum of the engine filling the space as König drove you to your apartment. The soft glow of the streetlights passed by, casting fleeting shadows through the window. Neither of you spoke much, but there was a calm, unspoken understanding between you—comfort in each other's presence.

When the car finally came to a stop in front of your apartment building, König turned off the engine and met your gaze. The silence stretched for a moment, but there was no awkwardness, only a sense of warmth and connection.

"You sure you're okay?" König asked softly, his voice carrying that familiar concern.

You nodded with a smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Thank you for everything tonight. It was... perfect."

His eyes softened as he gave you a small smile. "I’m glad you think so."

You opened the door and stepped out, pausing as you turned back to face him. “König?”

“Yes–”

Before he could say anything else, you leaned in quickly, pressing a gentle kiss on top of his mask. The contact was brief, but the warmth of it lingered between you, and you felt your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected.

"Goodnight, König," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

"Goodnight, Liebling," he replied, his voice filled with something tender, as his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer. He smiled softly, his expression almost unreadable, but the warmth in his eyes was unmistakable.

As you watched him drive away, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. Tonight had felt like something out of a dream, and as you walked toward the entrance of your building, your thoughts swirled with everything that had happened. You were already looking forward to whatever came next.

Back in the car, König blushed deeply, his fingers gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. His heart was pounding, and he couldn’t believe what had just happened. He fumbled for his phone and quickly dialed Horangi, his voice nervous.

“Horangi... you won’t believe it... She kissed me...” König muttered, his words coming out in a rush.

Horangi's voice crackled on the other end, a knowing smirk evident in his tone. “Oh, really now? What did I tell you?”

König groaned, his face flushing even deeper. "Shut up... it was... it was on my mask, but still! She kissed me!"

The sound of Horangi laughing loudly was unmistakable, filling the quiet car. “Man, you’re blushing like crazy. Just wait till the others hear about this!”

König sighed, feeling embarrassed but also a little giddy, as his mind replayed the moment over and over.

Extra

Horangi hung up the phone with an amused look, his eyes scanning the group of mobsters who had been eagerly watching him. The tension in the room was palpable as they waited for his verdict. They had been betting on how König’s confession would go—whether it would scare the girl away, make things awkward, or perhaps be the perfect moment for romance.

Horangi glanced around at the eager faces, then with a dramatic pause, he delivered the news.

“She kissed him.”

The room erupted into chaos. Hutch and Roze both slammed their hands on the table, raging over their bet that it would make things awkward. “I knew it! I knew it was going to be awkward!” Roze grumbled, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Verge groaned from his corner, cursing under his breath. “Dammit! I bet it would scare her off. How did I get that so wrong?”

The only one who remained calm amidst the chaos was Oni, who was lounging comfortably on the couch, casually counting his winnings. A small smirk tugged at his lips as he observed the mayhem unfolding around him. He was the only one who had placed his bet on the doc not being scared away—and as the others argued, Oni leaned back, savoring his victory.

“Easy money,” he muttered to himself, not bothering to glance up at the group.

Part 1

Part 3

[flowerfreya]

A lowlevel mafia man took my baby!

All fics masterlist

This is really just for fun lol. CW:Kidnapping Reader is in debt to a mafia boss (not Price) and when the low level mafia men come in with Price's baby , the reader makes a decision

“You took who?”, you exclaim.

“James Puck”, the dumbasses say. They look over at you like you’re the one being annoying. They are holding what looks to be a three year old boy, dressed in a mini-suit, like they just took him from church service. He is the calmest baby you have ever seen. He’s just looking around, observing everything, and soon he’s going to figure out that his father is not here. And he’s going to throw a fit. 

“Why?” , you ask. Like who’s dumbass idea was this. Taking a mob boss's son in the middle of the day is not the smartest idea. At.all. 

“What the boss wanted”, they shrug. God you hate it here. 

You got dopped into being across this empire by accident and maybe by desperation. You really needed money,so you signed your life away. At least only for three years. You’ve been doing odd jobs at the house for the past two years, just cleaning up and picking up groceries. You haven’t been paid since you were because according to your “boss”, you’re paying off your debt, you know it’s bullshit but the way your credit was looking you wouldn’t have gotten a loan for the amount you needed. 

The baby starts crying an hour later , dumb and dumbass look flustered. The are holding it like they don’t know what to do with him. 

They look over to you, “you're a woman, you know what to do”, handing you the child, and then walking out.

You automatically feel that his diaper is wet and probably has been for a long time and he’s probably hungry too. Inside the kitchen , you look in the pantry to see if there is anything that he can eat , that hopefully won’t cause any allergic reaction if he has any. 

“Here comes the airplane”, the spoon coming from up high and a brmmmmm making James giggle. 

You’ve been trying to distract James for the past three hours and nothing is working. You’ve tried to hold in sitting on the couch, walking around with him, even giving him some warm milk. Nothing is working. 

From upstairs you hear your boss yell, “shut him up!”. 

You roll your eyes, “Oh, I’ll shut him up alright”. Then you come up with another idea. Maybe you could just return him.

~

Muttering to yourself as you try to sneak out of the compound is a bit of an issue. The kid won’t stop crying and it’s going to alert them if you can’t shut him up. 

You're not really a mothering type. You're probably holding the baby wrong and the diaper is on backwards. 

“What do I need to do for you to be quiet”, you say to the baby. Like it will talk to you when it cries in an answer, you nod to the baby, “I should have known that”. 

You just start moving as quickly as possible thinking …maybe if you move fast enough people will think it's an animal crossing in the night. 

Finally getting past the gate and getting on the main road , you start just walking along the road, hoping that the 141 gang is just driving around looking for the mob boss's baby. Hearing a car coming fast down the road and skrrrting next to you. 

“Oi!!”, you look over and see a man with a skull mask holding a gun and of course it's pointed at you. You mean you're not surprised, since you're the one walking around with James Puck Price. 

“Hi”, you lower yourself so you can see through the window and do a small wave, ”I think I have what your baby”, and then you lift up the baby, so he can see him. 

“Get in the fucking car”, he growls at you. 

“Yeah , of course”, you slide into the back of the car. Looking around, “Do you have a car seat or anything”, pointing to the child, “we do have a baby in here”. 

Looking at you through the rearview mirror, “that is the least of your worries” ,he says.

[coqwuette]

please 🙏🙏🙏

its absolutely insanely late for me right now but i HAVE to post this before I forget regardless whether its gonna be noticed or not

mafia cod aus. I am OBSESSED!! I’m specifically scrounging the internet for this kind of trope:

Civillian reader works at some sort of peaceful job in mafia!141’s territory and gets in the crossfire of their work. Love this especially if reader doesn’t know how dangerous it could be at their job!!

i am not a writer so all the scenarios i have in my head sadly cannot be made😿 i will be forever grateful and i will love you for all of eternity if anyone could find mafia!141 fics for me like OMG 🙏

Love you guys!! (Whoever finds this)

[honeypipin]

Merry Christmas Bankers!!

(I'm writing too many of these, i got borerd)

It's been getting close to the Christmas season, and whether you celebrate or not, many of your clients were just so insistent on their gifts to you! And well... who are you to say no to them?

The first with presents were mafia!price and and the rest of mafia!141.

You were ready for a deep analysis into their economy and their suspicious profits, but when you came over to their head office for a meeting with the team, you did not expect to be walking out with bags. You were quite shocked to be honest, the plan was not to have 4 handsome British men hand you hot drinks whilst discusing the amazing boost in their sales, not to mention being invited to England or Scotland for Christmas parties. With both mafia!Ghost and mafia!Soap so willing to have you there, even offering to let you sleep over at their houses back home (permanently please) , you were starting to consider it.

After Mafia!Gaz carrying your bags to your car (he won the rock paper scissors), a belly filled with the food and drinks they insisted on giving you, and a job well done in that meeting, it was a good day.

"You'll come over for Christmas, yeah?"

"Well I'm not too sure yet... depends on if I'm busy or not."

"What? You can't be working on the 23rd, can you?"

"I don't know, I might have a client again then, happened last year too."

"How about I be your client?"

"Are you trying to hire me for a Christmas party?"

"Anything to get you there."

He delighted on the smile that spread across your face, what kind of man was he if he couldn't make you happy? Stupid?

"I'll look forward to it."

You waved goodbye and drove off, and all Gaz could think about were the calls he was about to make.

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Idea | Previous Part

tw: future dom-sub relationship, sexually explicit content, pet names, age gap (early twenties - late thirties)

After staring at the door for a few more moments, you shook your head, shaking yourself out of your stupor. A quiet mumbled ‘the fuck’ was the last straw for you to focus back on the here and now. Quickly, you tugged the card away, vowing to never use it. And so, you continued on the job hunt, before leaving the cafe a few hours later, making your way home, feeling dejected, confused, and kind of jealous.

A few days later

It was getting tough. Yesterday, you had spent the last of the money in your account. You had managed to scratch up some cash, searching through the few bags you had, as well as everywhere in your apartment. If it continued like this, you’d have to move out again in a week, as well as go on a strict ‘only cafeteria food that’s included in the tuition’ diet.

You had once again spent most of your day sending out applications with no results to show. Dejected, you made your way back to your apartment, walking the dark streets with your head in the clouds, trying to think of ways to come up with money. Feet pics? Nah, you didn’t like your feet enough for that. Only Fans? Hell no! Maybe you could sell your virginity?

Being so lost in thought, you only noticed the car slowly tailing you when you were almost home. It was a black limousine, you couldn’t see the license plate but you got a creepy feeling from it. Trying to be inconspicuous, you started to walk a bit faster, slowly speeding up, especially when you heard the door open and close behind you. The moment you heard the crunch of footfall behind you, you broke into a sprint, but you didn’t get far before a firm hand wrapped around your upper arm and pulled you back.

“Running away when I just want to talk? Well, that’s kind of rude.” You breathed a sigh of relief when you recognized Simon’s voice and turned around glaring at him. “You scared the living shit out of me.” He just chuckled before gesturing in the direction of your apartment, his hand on the small of your back again. The protest died on the tip of your tongue as he fixed you with a look that told you he wouldn’t accept a ‘no’.

As soon as you closed the door behind yourself and Simon, you latched all the different locks, before you turned back to him. In the meantime, he had taken his coat and mask off and started to look around. Seeing him maskless wasn’t a first, so you weren’t surprised when you saw the scars. When he turned back, you could practically sense his frustration with what you called home. “You’re paying for this?” You hesitated because if you were honest, you weren’t for much longer. He seemed to read your thoughts as a frustrated sigh left his lips.

A little rougher than you expected, he grabbed your arm and dragged you to your bedroom, pushing you toward the bed until you were sitting on it. “Why haven’t you used the card yet?” A frown tugged at your face as you glanced up at him. “Because I didn’t need it, I have enough money for now, and-” The lie died on your tongue as he crossed the distance until he was towering over you. “Do not lie to me, okay?” You swallowed heavily at the edge of his voice but didn’t dare reply.

“I know you don’t have a single pound to your name.” You felt offended as you thought of the two pounds and 47 cents in your purse. “And I know that you have no job, trust me, I made sure of that.” He what? You pushed to your feet, glaring up at the man who was still towering over you. “You are why I haven’t heard back from a single job?” You poked his chest, trying not to show that you bent your finger a bit when it met the hard muscle hidden away under his dress shirt. “Why the fuck would you do that?” This time you used your whole palm to push him away. He took a step back, although you assumed it was just to humor you.

But as soon as you went to put your hands down, he grabbed your wrists. “Because you don’t listen. I told you, to focus on your studies. I told you to use the card. And you did neither. I saw you just a few days ago and yet I can tell that you’ve lost weight. I can tell that you’re not eating enough. Keep this up and I’ll put you over my lap and spank that attitude right out of you, understood?” You couldn’t tell if the last part was a threat or an invitation, but the memory of his wife pushed the excitement down as you pulled back. He let go, watching as you walked to the other side of the room.

“Look, I appreciate you looking out for me, but I am not your…your burden, okay? I know you’re a friend of my father, but I don’t want you to feel responsible for me? Because I’m not your responsibility. You-” You sighed before continuing. “You should go back to your wife.” You could see in Simon’s eyes that something clicked for him. He chuckled darkly, shaking his head while raking his hand through his blonde locks.

“Is that it? Why you’re throwing this…this temper tantrum? Because of my wife?” You glared at him, not wanting to answer. By then you knew he could look through your lies too easily, and if you were honest, yes, his wife was bothering you. You kept telling yourself that his attention, his - could you call it flirting - meant nothing, but it felt as if it meant something. Why would he do that if he had a wife?

While you were lost in thought, Simon apparently calmed down, as he slowly walked over to you, hands raised. “Look, my wife, she’s…fuck, how do I put this? She’s just for show. An alliance if you will. We are not in love, or anything. She actually prefers the company of the same gender if you understand what I’m trying to say.”

You stared, trying to read his expression, see if he was lying, but you could only see honesty. “Okay, even if, this is not…just…about you and your wife. I’m a grown woman and I want to make my own way in life. I don’t want to depend on you, or my father, I just…” Simon, by then, was close enough to gently cup your face. “I know. And I don’t want to treat you like a sugar babe or something like that, but I want to make sure that you’re okay. And you need help right now-” You rolled your eyes. “Not if someone hadn’t manipulated my hundreds of job applications.” He huffed, but you could sense a certain amount of amusement within that huff. “Fine. If your grades are good, I’m going to help you find a good job, okay?” You squinted at him, before nodding reluctantly.

“Good girl. Now, pack your stuff, I'm getting you out of this hell hole.” You were about to object, but one raise of his eyebrow stopped you and you did as you were told while trying to ignore the wet mess in your panties. I’m into dominance, good to know.

Next Part

A/N: ...I have no idea how half of this happened. This was certainly not planned, but the writing goddess or muse or whatever (or pure brain rot) took over and this happened...oops

@alilstressyandlotdepressy @brickwall035 @trampondemand @inarabee @blinca @rileys3dworld @msjaeger @oreojenni @starlightmoon2020 @piconico17 @l1lpip @originalsoulcollector @ig-you-idiot @corvusmorte @ohdrey89 @dreamland08 @dprmoon

[oceantornadoo]

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EVERYTHING IS FICTION don’t take it seriously 😙

welcome to the feral things that come from my brain :) feel free to request a trope! i use #tornadothoughts for all my drabbles and fics and #tornado speaks🙊 for random thoughts. do not repost my work as your own. all fics are f!reader unless specified

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[vnards]

MafiaAU pt 2

“Here you go!”

Ghost’s fingers stuttered.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Your attention stirred something in him. Your fingers began playing with your apron again. “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been watching the door since you’ve sat down.”

Ghost didn’t respond immediately, not used to having conversations with strangers as most thought he was too scary to even look at, “No. Pretty day outside.” He stated simply. He pulled his mask up to take a sip of coffee you had made for him.

You nod, almost eagerly, “I love spring. Sunny days are my favorite.” You look out the window to mourn your longing for outside. Ghost used the moment to soak in every inch of you. “Would you like a piece of pie? Fresh out the oven.” Your offer was so genuine, so polite.

He nods, “Please,” and you scamper back off behind the counter, a renewed pep. Ghost isn’t one for pie, prefers cake, but you asked so nicely. How could he refuse? Ghost’s phone dinged with a message. An all call from Price.

A shame.

You came back with the piece of pie, the light on your face dimmed as you see him place money on the table, “You're leaving?” you nearly sounded disappointed. It tugged on a string in his heart a bit.

“Enjoy it for me, doll.” The offer seemed to settle your sadness for something else.

“Oh, I-I can't. I'm still on the clock.”

“Sit.” The suggestion came out more of a command then anything. But you listened so well. And without question. “Eat my pie for me, darling.” He settle back into his booth, eyes scanning the room behind you for any potential threat. Ghost’s eyes lifted to the waiting at the till, over watching your interaction with him. His eyes held a suspicion he’s seen from other men before. Other men who want to dig his claws in a pretty thing like you.

The weight of the gun hidden against his chest whispers to him. Convincing him of a threat. His fingers being to tap again.

“What's your name?” the lithe in your voice breaking through the whispers. He gives you his full attention.

“Simon.” A name only those close to him use.

You smile and tell him your name. He repeats it, enjoying the feeling of it on his tongue. “I believe everyone has a story,” you eat his pie, just like he requested, “I think I'd like to know your story.”

Ghost’s fingers still. “I’m not a story you’d want to read, doll.”

You look up at him with those eyes of yours, a gentleness he knows he would ruin. The blood on his hands too stained to ever wash off.

He knows what he should do. He should walk away, let you go. Let you not be smeared by his meer presence. But Ghost was always a selfish man. Ghost tried to ignore the lick of fire at the thought of ruining you.

You slide a napkin across the table, a series of numbers written on it, your cheeks . Ghost cant help but smirk behind the mask. “Well, if you ever change your mind…”

The buzzing of his cell phone caught the table’s attention. Ghost grumbled, knowing only one person who would call him. You seem to know it’s a dismissal as well, seeming to slump further in the booth, the air of rejection about you. Ghost almost felt bad, but he hoped a few extra bills would make up for it.

The call continued to ring, Ghost was in no hurry to pick it up. You begin to protest at the extra cash on the table, but Ghost simply didn’t want to hear it. “Stay out of trouble, doll.”

He grabs the napkin as he goes.

next part ->

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[msriri030]

Save By Hare Pt 3: Mine to Hold

Mobster!Konig x Docter!Reader

Part 4 :Hasenpfeffer

That night, sleep was elusive. You tossed and turned, your mind racing with thoughts of what to wear, how to style your hair, and what to say after dinner. The anticipation made your cheeks flush, and you buried your face in your pillow, hoping to quiet your racing thoughts. Eventually, exhaustion overtook you, and you drifted off to sleep, but the flutter of nerves lingered even in slumber.

Meanwhile, in another room, Roche took a bite of his candy bar, focused on repairing his gear from the latest mission. The operation had involved a dangerous covert surveillance of a drug deal orchestrated by KorTac, a rival gang. The silence of the room was broken only by his quiet muttering as he worked, until he finally spoke, his voice casual, though his mind was elsewhere.

"I'm pretty sure she's asleep by now," Roche said, his tone unfazed.

Across from him, Soap sat fidgeting, his leg bouncing restlessly. His eyes flicked repeatedly to his phone, which remained stubbornly blank. He sighed heavily, the frustration evident in his voice. "Maybe you're right... but why König? I just—"

Before he could finish his thought, Roche choked on his candy bar, coughing violently. Soap immediately jumped to his feet, his concern evident.

"You alright?" Soap asked, his voice tinged with alarm.

Roche waved him off, clearing his throat, his eyes widening as he processed what Soap had just said. "König? KorTac's König? Why didn’t I know about this? You need to tell her! If Don Shepherd finds out—"

"He won’t," Soap cut in quickly, leaning back in his chair, his tone firm but edged with frustration. "Ghost and I decided not to tell her. It could put her in even more danger if we push her to reject him. Besides... who are we to make that decision for her?"

Roche raised an eyebrow, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the guys who want to turn a twosome into a threesome?"

Soap’s face turned bright red. He glared at Roche, but the man only grinned wider.

"What?" Roche teased, clearly enjoying the discomfort. "Your relationship isn’t exactly a secret, you know. You two aren’t exactly quiet during your ‘sleepovers.’"

Soap looked away, his ears burning. "We don’t... it’s not like that," he muttered, his voice softening as he avoided eye contact. "It’s more like... she’s a sister—the kind you’d do anything to protect."

Roche’s teasing expression softened, though his smirk remained. He decided to drop the subject, sensing Soap’s discomfort. Roche turned his attention back to his equipment, but Soap’s curiosity got the best of him.

"What about you?" Soap asked, his tone casual but the question clearly catching Roche off guard. "Do you... love someone?"

Roche paused, his hands stilling over his gear. A faint blush crept up his neck as he avoided Soap's gaze. After a moment, he sighed, setting the piece of equipment aside.

"Yeah," Roche admitted quietly, his voice low. "I love some people, but I don’t think they’ve noticed. So... I'll just leave it alone."

Soap nodded, understanding the sentiment but unsure how to respond. Roche cleared his throat, shifting the subject back to more pressing matters.

"Anyway," Roche said, his voice more focused. "What do you think about Don Shepherd? Ghost still thinks he's up to something big."

Soap’s expression darkened as he glanced at his phone one last time, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"Yeah," he said finally. "We all do."

It was finally time. You stood there, your heart fluttering in your chest as the anticipation of the evening settled over you. You paced the room, each step heavy with excitement and nerves. The soft click of your shoes on the floor was the only sound breaking the silence as you adjusted your clothes for the hundredth time, striving to get everything just right—the perfect fit, the perfect look.

What would you say? Would everything go as planned, or would it be awkward? The uncertainty gnawed at you, but there was no turning back now.

You ran your fingers through your hair, once again contemplating how to style it. The evening was important, and you wanted to feel ready, to look your best. You glanced at the clock—time was running out.

Catching your reflection in the mirror, you took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. There were so many things you wanted to say, so much you hoped would happen, but it all seemed too overwhelming at once.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and you froze.

Your heart skipped a beat. Was it him? Was it time?

You quickly made your way to the door, every step deliberate, every breath sharp with anticipation. When you opened it, you were met with a smile—a warm, familiar face..

There König, the mafia boss with a reputation that spanned the city’s darkest corners and its highest towers, stood at the door. His presence commanded attention without a single word spoken.

He wore a deep navy suit—almost black in its richness—crafted from a luxurious wool and silk blend. The suit’s understated elegance spoke of power, the kind only those who truly understood wealth could appreciate. It fit him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and strong frame. His trousers were sharply cut, breaking just above polished black shoes. The jacket was impeccably tailored, the lapels wide but not exaggerated. Satin accents caught the light as he moved, adding a quiet sheen to his commanding presence. His tie, a dark navy silk, was simple yet perfectly tied, and his crisp white shirt stood out sharply against the dark suit.

For a moment, you wondered if you were underdressed. But as your gaze met his, everything else faded into the background.

König, still wearing his signature mask, reached out and presented you with a bouquet—a stunning mix of red roses, lilies, baby’s breath, sunflowers, and delicate filler greens. The bouquet was as carefully curated as his entire appearance—elegant, bold, and striking.

“Guten Abend, Hase." I hope you like the flowers I picked out,” he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you as you took the bouquet. The vibrant colors and delicate petals were perfect, and it made your heart flutter. You brought the flowers to your nose, inhaling their sweet scent.

“They’re beautiful,” you replied, your voice soft but filled with appreciation. “Thank you, König.”

As you stepped aside to let him in, your heart raced. His presence was overwhelming, but in a way that made you feel safe, protected. The evening was just beginning, and you had no idea what it would bring, but for the first time in a long while, you felt certain that whatever happened next, you were ready.

You held König’s hand as he drove you to Diamond Petals, a high-end restaurant nestled on the outskirts of the wealthy part of town. The drive felt surreal, with every turn and mile heightening your anticipation. As the car approached the restaurant, your breath caught in your throat. The place was more breathtaking than you had imagined.

Floral plants cascaded over the exterior, their vibrant colors glowing against the soft, ambient lighting. The building itself was a masterpiece, the marble and stone walls catching the light in a way that made the entire place seem otherworldly. It felt as though you were about to step into a dream, where beauty and elegance existed at every corner.

The soft hum of music could be heard from inside, and as you entered, the first thing that struck you was the dance floor at the center of the space. The floor was polished to a mirror-like sheen, reflecting the twinkling lights above. It was the perfect setting for an evening filled with romance and charm.

As König pulled the car to a stop, he turned to you with a warm, almost teasing smile. “Ready, Liebling?”

You nodded, feeling a flutter in your chest, and took a deep breath before stepping out of the car. Together, you walked toward the entrance, where the scent of fresh flowers mixed with the soft notes of the music from within. It was a perfect evening in the making

The moment you moved toward the entrance, you couldn’t help but notice the eyes of the crowd. Whispers and curious glances followed you, some filled with intrigue, others tinged with disdain. The people around you were all too aware of König's rare presence, and perhaps even more curious about the person accompanying him tonight.

You blushed, instinctively shrinking into the shadow of König’s towering figure. His presence was enough to shield you, but you could feel the weight of the stares, the curiosity of those around you. It was clear that König was a figure few dared to approach, yet here he was, walking confidently at your side, unbothered by the attention.

The whispers quieted when König shot a cold, sharp glare in their direction. He leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur that only you could hear, “Don’t worry, Hase. They’re just jealous of me having someone so lovely by my side.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and the weight of the stares seemed to fade. His reassurance was enough to ease your nerves, and you stood taller, walking with him toward your table. The faint buzz of murmurs continued behind you, but all that mattered in that moment was the quiet strength and assurance that König exuded, and the way he made you feel—protected, cherished, and entirely his.

When you reached the table, König gently pulled out the chair for you, his actions so graceful and deliberate that you couldn’t help but feel like you were the only person in the room. His care and attention were impossible to ignore.

“Thank you, König,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “This is lovely.”

He gave you a small, satisfied smile, his eyes softening as he sat across from you. “Anything for you, Hase. That being said, order whatever you’d like. It’s on me.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, the warmth in his words making your heart flutter. Just as the moment settled, a waiter approached, ready to take your orders. You looked up, meeting König’s gaze before turning to the menu.

“I think I’ll have the steak,” you said, smiling as you felt a rush of excitement at being treated so thoughtfully.

König raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. “And what else, Hase? Do you want anything sweet… like you afterwards?”

You burned red at the comment, pausing for a moment before you added, “Maybe the chocolate mousse for dessert?”

The waiter jotted down your choices before turning to König, whose deep, steady voice carried authority as he placed his order. With a courteous nod, the waiter excused himself, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet intimacy of your table.

“You’re spoiling me,” you said, your lips curving into a playful smile. “You don’t have to do that.”

König leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you, warm and unyielding. “But I want to,” he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “I want this night to be perfect for you, Liebling. Because I hope you’ll enjoy having me around… next time, and the time after that.”

He leaned forward, resting his large hand gently over yours. The warmth of his touch made your heart race. His eyes flickered with a nervous energy, his thumb brushing softly against the top of your hand in a calming rhythm, though you suspected it was more for him than for you.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and unusually vulnerable, “I was terrified when I decided to pursue you. You’re… an angel compared to me.”

You tilted your head slightly, surprise evident in your expression. “What do you mean?”

A soft chuckle escaped him, though his eyes held a shadow of seriousness. “You know what I am, Hase. A mobster.” His gaze dropped momentarily to the table, his jaw tightening. “Perhaps more of a monster than a mobster.” He exhaled heavily, then looked up at you again, his gaze searching. “But I couldn’t stop myself. I hope you’ll still want this, want me, even knowing the dangers that come with it.”

He broke eye contact again, his gaze falling to where his hand rested over yours, as if bracing himself for rejection. The vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heart. For a man so strong and imposing, seeing him wrestle with his own insecurities was almost overwhelming.

“König…” you said softly, reaching across the table to cup his cheek, gently guiding his gaze back to yours. “Regardless of the danger, I want this. I want us, because I feel the same way.” You smiled tenderly, your voice steady with conviction. “I love you, König. These feelings… they consume me. You’ve given me a place to feel safe and loved like no one else ever has.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as though trying to process your words. Then, slowly, a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his eyes shone with an emotion so raw it made your chest tighten.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” he murmured, his voice thick with relief. He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing against your skin. “But I’m so glad I did.”

Before he could say anything more, a voice sliced through the air like a blade—smooth, deliberate, and unwelcome.

“Don König, I didn’t know you had such a beautiful woman at your side.”

König’s warmth disappeared in an instant, replaced by a cold, sharp edge. His eyes, once alive with affection, turned icy and detached. He knew that voice.

Don Shepard.

König’s jaw clenched as he slowly stood, his imposing frame radiating a quiet threat. Despite his clear disdain, he forced a tight, polite smile, walking toward the older man with a calculated ease that spoke of years of practice in dealing with people like him.

“Don Shepard,” König said, his tone measured but laced with an unmistakable tension. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The older man’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the discomfort he had stirred. “Ah, I have a knack for being where I’m least expected,” Shepard quipped, his gaze shifting briefly to you. His eyes lingered just a second too long before König subtly shifted to block his view, his posture protective. “But I must say, König, you’ve outdone yourself. A woman like her? Quite the catch.”

König’s expression remained calm, but the subtle tension in his shoulders betrayed his irritation. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business, Shepard,” he said evenly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

But Don Shepard wasn’t one to back down so easily. He leaned in slightly, his voice dripping with mock concern. “Oh, but it is my business. You’re playing in dangerous waters, König, bringing someone like her into our world.”

König’s smile was razor-thin, his patience clearly wearing thin. “I���m sure I don’t need you to remind me of the risks,” he replied, his voice sharp with finality. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have dinner to enjoy.”

There was a moment of unspoken tension, a silent battle of wills, before Shepard finally raised his hands in mock surrender. “Of course, of course,” he said, his tone light but his eyes glinting with something darker. “Just don’t forget, König—our world doesn’t forgive mistakes.”

König barely acknowledged the veiled threat, giving Shepard a curt nod before turning his back on him and returning to you.

As he sat down, his features softened once again, though a trace of tension lingered in his jaw. “I’m sorry about that,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with frustration. “He’s… difficult.”

You reached for his hand, your touch grounding him. “It’s okay,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

König’s gaze softened at your words, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Good,” he murmured, his tone resolute. “Because I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

König’s words hung in the air, a quiet promise wrapped in steel. His hand over yours was firm, steadying you in the aftermath of the brief but tense exchange. His gaze softened, a stark contrast to the cold, commanding presence he had wielded just moments ago with Don Shepard.

You smiled at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I know,” you said softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I trust you, König.”

His expression shifted, relief flickering in his eyes as his thumb traced slow circles over your knuckles. “You mean more to me than you’ll ever know, Liebling,” he murmured. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

After the warm moment, the waiter arrived quietly, placing your dishes in front of you with practiced precision before retreating with a polite nod. The aroma of your steak and König’s carefully chosen entrée filled the space between you, but neither of you moved to eat right away.

König cleared his throat, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Well,” he said, leaning back slightly, “I hope the food tastes as good as this evening feels.”

You chuckled softly, picking up your fork. “If it’s half as good as your company, I think we’re in for a treat.”

König chuckled too, the low rumble of his laugh warming you from the inside out. It was rare to see him so relaxed, so at ease.

As you both began to eat, the tension from Don Shepard’s interruption faded, replaced by lighthearted conversation. König told you small, guarded anecdotes about his life—safe stories that made you laugh or widened your eyes in fascination. In return, you shared moments from your own life, noticing the way he listened so intently, as if every word you said mattered.

The dinner unfolded like a dream, a blend of laughter, stolen glances, and the occasional touch of his hand brushing against yours. For the first time in what felt like forever, König allowed himself to hope—for a future, for something brighter, for you.

And as the evening progressed, you realized you weren’t just sitting across from a mobster or even the enigmatic König. You were sitting across from the man who had stolen your heart, and for the first time, you felt certain that you’d found something rare and unbreakable.

However there was someone watching beside Don Sherpard from the corner of his eye, Ghost sat down next to Consigliere Price while listening to Don's ideas. He was feared when the Don spoked to König, all he wanted was to keep you safe but it was too late. 

“Ghost? What do you think about capturing the west harbors?” Price asked him to clear his throat as the Don noticed where he was glimpsing at. He smirked devilishly with a plan in his head. 

However, there was someone else watching the interaction from the shadows—beside Don Shepard, seated at a nearby table, was Ghost. Silent and observant, he sat next to Consigliere Price, his imposing figure blending into the dimly lit ambiance of the restaurant. While Price listened intently to Don Shepard's ideas, Ghost's attention was elsewhere. His sharp eyes flicked toward König, and then to you.

He felt a pit of unease settle in his stomach when Don Shepard engaged König. He knew the man’s reputation all too well. Whatever Shepard was planning, it was never good. Ghost clenched his jaw, his instincts screaming to act, but he knew it was already too late to intervene.

“Ghost?” Price’s gruff voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him back to the present. “What’s your take on securing the west harbors? Think it’s worth the resources?”

Ghost cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. “It’s a strong move,” he replied curtly, though his gaze flicked back toward König and Don Shepard for a brief second.

Price noticed, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing.

Don Shepard, however, caught the brief glimpse and smirked, a devilish glint in his eyes as if a new idea had just sparked in his mind. Whatever he had planned, it was clear that König—and now you—were a piece of his next move.

“She’s pretty—like an angel out of heaven, isn’t she?” Don Shepard’s voice dripped with venomous sweetness as he leaned slightly toward Ghost. His cold gaze locked onto Ghost’s eyes, sharp and unyielding, like a predator cornering its prey. “It would be... horrible... don’t you think? If someone were to use her as bait. Especially if it was someone she trusted. Imagine her being sent back to heaven earlier than expected…” He let the words hang in the air, his lips curling into a sinister smile. “Why don’t you go ask her for a dance?”

Ghost’s jaw tightened, his hand curling into a fist under the table as rage burned through him. His usual mask of stoicism wavered, a flicker of helplessness crossing his features. He hated how powerless he felt at that moment. To disobey Don Shepard was to invite chaos and bloodshed—not just for himself, but for those he cared about. Soap, Roach, and now you—all of you were in more danger than ever before.

Before Ghost could respond, Price interjected, his voice firm and composed, though there was an edge of warning in his tone. “Don, we shouldn’t involve the innocent. That woman has saved countless men, multiple times. She’s earned her place and respect.”

Don hummed, leaning back in his chair as if Price’s words were nothing more than idle noise. He stroked his chin thoughtfully before chuckling darkly. “I suppose... heaven can wait, then. For now. But the devil,” he said, his eyes narrowing as they flicked toward König, “still needs to be put in his place.”

Ghost’s grip on the edge of the table tightened. He didn’t flinch under Don’s gaze, but his blood ran cold. The implications of Shepard’s words were clear. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

The Don’s smile returned, almost cheerful now, as if the prior tension hadn’t happened. “Forget the dance, Ghost,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Let’s enjoy the night, hmm? And refocus on what matters—expanding your ‘supple’ house.”

Ghost gave a curt nod, his body still rigid with suppressed frustration. But his mind was already working. He would find a way to keep you safe, even if it meant going against Shepard in the shadows. He glanced briefly at Price, who gave him a subtle, knowing look.

The night had taken a darker turn, and the unspoken tension lingered in the air like a storm cloud. Whatever game Don Shepard was playing, Ghost knew one thing for certain—he needed to stay one step ahead if he was going to protect everyone who mattered to him.

König held the door open for you as you stepped out of the restaurant. The cool night air greeted you, carrying the faint hum of music and chatter from inside. You had hoped to dance with him on the floor earlier, to share an intimate moment swaying together under the soft glow of the chandeliers. But as the crowd thickened, you noticed how König’s posture stiffened, his shoulders tense despite his calm demeanor.

Though he insisted he was fine, you could see the flicker of anxiety in his eyes, subtle but unmistakable. It was enough for you to decide—leaving was the better choice. You didn’t want him to endure any more discomfort, not when tonight was meant to be perfect for both of you.

As you waited by the curb, Vault, König’s trusted driver, brought his car to the front. König moved with his usual grace, opening the passenger door for you. His towering frame shielded you from the outside noise as he gently motioned for you to step in.

Once you were settled into the seat, König closed the door with care, his eyes lingering on you for a moment as though he wanted to be certain you were comfortable. The way his gaze softened before he stepped away made your heart flutter. Without a word, he circled to the driver’s side, his movements calm and deliberate, though you could sense the tension lingering beneath his composed exterior.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, König exhaled a deep sigh, his hands gripping the wheel for a moment before he turned to you. “Thank you, Hase… I know you wanted to dance, and I’m sorry we weren’t able to.” His voice was low, edged with guilt.

You reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his arm, offering him a gentle smile. “It’s okay, love. I understand.”

At your words, König froze, his hands momentarily still on the wheel as his eyes widened. His reaction caught you off guard.

“König? What is it?” you asked softly, tilting your head to study him.

He blushed fiercely, the tips of his ears turning pink as he glanced away, unable to meet your gaze. “N-nothing,” he stammered, gripping the wheel again as he started the car. “I wasn’t expecting… that you’d call me ‘love.’”

A shy smile tugged at your lips as his voice trailed off. You could see how much the small term of endearment had affected him, and it warmed your heart.

Clearing his throat, he added hesitantly, “If… if you’re okay with it, I want to take you somewhere special to me. Somewhere we can be alone.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned back in your seat, your heart already full from his sincerity. “Sure, love,” you replied, the term slipping from your lips as naturally as breathing.

He glanced at you briefly, his blush deepening, but the way his lips curled into a small, bashful smile told you how much the word meant to him. The rest of the drive was silent, filled only with the soft hum of the engine and the quiet excitement that lingered between you both. Thought raced

When you arrived at your destination, you were greeted by a breathtaking sight—a sprawling sea of shimmering city lights stretching across the horizon, their vibrant colors twinkling against the stark contrast of the pristine white snow that blanketed the landscape.

You stepped out of the car, the crisp night air biting gently at your skin as you gazed in awe. The view was mesmerizing, almost surreal, like a painting brought to life. You’d never been this far from the city before, and seeing it from such a distance, framed by the quiet beauty of nature, left you speechless.

“König…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned to him.

He stood by the car, watching your reaction with quiet satisfaction, his tall frame silhouetted by the faint glow of the distant cityscape. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he said softly, his voice warm and steady.

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s… magical.”

König took a step closer, his presence grounding you amidst the overwhelming beauty of the view. “I used to come here when I needed to think or be alone,” he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “But tonight, I wanted to share it with you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “Thank you for bringing me here. It’s perfect.”

König’s lips curved into a soft smile as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. His gaze was tender, filled with an affection that seemed to melt the chilly air around you. “You make it perfect, Liebling,” he murmured, his deep voice carrying the warmth of his feelings.

Without another word, he shifted closer, his large hands carefully guiding you. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you gently into him, while he placed your hand on his broad shoulder, keeping the other clasped in his own. He began to hum a low, soothing tune as he swayed with you, his movements slow and unhurried.

You let out a soft giggle, your cheeks warming as you looked up at him. His towering frame felt safe and steady, his hum vibrating through your chest like a comforting lullaby. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you beneath the vast expanse of the stars.

Feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek, you leaned into him, resting your head on his chest. His scent—clean and woodsy, with a hint of something uniquely him—surrounded you, grounding you in the moment.

König’s hum deepened, the melody matching the quiet intimacy of the moment. He tilted his head slightly, resting his chin against the top of your head. “I could stay like this forever,” he whispered softly, his voice a low rumble that you felt more than heard.

You smiled, your eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself sink into the comfort of his embrace. “Me too,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the sound of the wind and his gentle hum.

In that moment, there was no danger, no worries—only the two of you, swaying together beneath the stars in a dance that felt as though it was meant to last forever. But then, a selfish thought slipped into your mind, one you couldn’t ignore.

“König,” you began softly, your voice hesitant as your fingers tightened slightly around him. “Can I ask you something… something kinda selfish?”

He tilted his head, curiosity lighting his eyes as he gazed down at you. A small chuckle escaped his lips. “When have you ever been selfish, Liebling? Go on, ask me.”

You hesitated, biting your lip, before finally speaking, your tone serious. “I… I want to see your face.” You paused, feeling suddenly shy under his intense gaze. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just— Forget it. I’m being stupid.”

König stilled for a moment, his large hand cupping your cheek as he gently tilted your face up to meet his. His expression softened, a tender warmth in his eyes as he whispered, “You’re not stupid.”

His thumb brushed across your cheek as he let out a soft sigh. “I understand why you’d want to know what your partner looks like… You deserve that much.” He rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and intimate as he added, “Let’s go to the car. I’ll show you there.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart fluttering as he gently took your hand and guided you toward the vehicle, an unspoken promise lingering in the air between you.

As you slid into the back seat, König carefully closed the door behind him, his sharp eyes darting around to ensure no one was watching. The air between you felt thick with anticipation, your heartbeat thrumming in your chest. You sat patiently, nervously toying with the ends of your hair, the gesture doing little to calm the fluttering in your stomach.

Your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink when König gently lifted you onto his lap, settling you so you were facing him. His massive hands, warm and reassuring, gripped your hips as his forehead rested lightly against yours. The steady rise and fall of his chest brushed against yours, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment.

His eyes, deep and piercing, locked onto yours, scanning your face with a quiet reverence. His arms wrapped securely around you, his thumbs tracing slow, nervous circles along your sides.

“König?” you whispered, your voice soft and filled with concern. “Are you sure about this? You don’t have to—”

“I’m fine,” he interrupted gently, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a quiver of vulnerability in his tone as he continued, “I’m just... nervous. Nervous about how you’ll react to my face, Hase.” The rare fragility in his voice tugged at your heart.

You smiled warmly, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you cupped his face, your fingers grazing the fabric of his mask. “König,” you began, your voice tender but firm, “I would love you no matter what you look like. The man I fell for isn’t just a face. He’s the one who holds me like I’m made of glass, even though I’m not. He’s the one who protects me, who cares for me so deeply it leaves me breathless.”

Your thumb brushed lightly over his masked cheek as you asked softly, “Ready?”

A beat of silence passed, and then he nodded, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “Yes, Hase,” he murmured. “Only for you.”

As you slid his mask off with trembling fingers, your movements slow and deliberate, you gave König every chance to stop you. But he didn’t. Instead, his gaze stayed locked on yours, steady yet vulnerable, as if baring his soul alongside his face.

When the fabric slipped away, your breath hitched. Your eyes widened, taking in the striking details of the man before you. His chiseled features, framed by a rugged jawline, were marred only by scars that seemed to tell stories of strength and survival. You found yourself captivated by his piercing blue eyes, which studied your reaction with a mix of apprehension and hope.

Your hand instinctively reached up, tracing the faint scar along his cheek with delicate fingers, marveling at the softness of his skin. He didn’t flinch; instead, his eyes softened under your touch. Your thumb moved to the prominent scar running across the bridge of his nose, your heart aching as you wondered what battles had left their mark on him. Finally, your hand rested on the small scar that kissed the corner of his lips.

Without thinking, you brushed your thumb gently against the edge of his lips before leaning in, your lips grazing his in a featherlight kiss. It was tender, almost shy, as if you were both learning to navigate this uncharted intimacy together.

König let out a low, rumbling chuckle, his hands exploring your clothed waist and back, his touch warm and deliberate. You let out a soft moan against his lips from his warm touch. But as much as he didn’t want to lose himself in the moment, he knew his restraint was hanging by a thread.

“Hase,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “Ich liebe dich.” He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Ich will dich.”

The heat in his voice sent shivers down your spine, your attention fully claimed by the man holding you as if he couldn’t bear to let go. Your breaths grew heavier, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with his as the air between you seemed to thrum with a charged intensity. The world outside the car melted away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate, all-consuming moment.

Leaning in closer, you whispered into his ear, your voice soft but laced with desire, “Ich will dich, mein Bärchen… Küss mich.”

The words sent a visible shudder through König’s massive frame. His hands gripped your hips a little tighter, his eyes darkening as he gazed at you, captivated. For a moment, he didn’t move, as if savoring the moment and letting your words settle deep into his soul. Then, with a growl low in his throat, he leaned forward, capturing your lips with his own.

The kiss was fiery, passionate, and all-encompassing, his lips moving against yours with both hunger and reverence. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The distant glow of the city lights painted the car’s interior in faint hues, casting the scene in a romantic glow as the two of you surrendered to the moment.

König’s kisses grew deeper, more desperate, as if he was pouring every ounce of his love and desire into them. His hands explored the curves of your body with a gentle yet possessive touch, making you feel like you were the center of his universe.

“Mein Hase,” he murmured against your lips between kisses, his voice thick with emotion and want. “You’re mine. Only mine.”

The night stretched on, the cool glass of the car windows fogging up from the heat radiating between you. In that moment, nothing else mattered—only König, only you, and the unspoken promise of a love that would burn brighter than any star in the night sky.

Part 1: Save by a Hare

Part 2: The Love Doctor

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[Ghost crashed into a car before he parked ours] - Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

To your surprise, Kyle, or Gaz – the model-like man introduced himself as – is such a considerate person with a nice sense of humor, at least compared to Soap or Ghost. 

That day you trapped yourself in the predicament with John, he seemed to sense your embarrassment, hence he just handed his boss a backup shirt without making fun of you like his boss, so you have a lot of time for the man. 

Like now, he’s sitting and sharing a plate of biscuits with you, enjoying a tranquil tea time accompanied by the pleasant smell of Earl Grey.

“You don’t have jobs to do today?” You raise your cup and ask, before taking another sip and watch Kyle finish his bite and reply.

 “Ghost’s in charge of dealing with the enemy today.” 

“Ehmm, okay” You refuse to figure out what ‘dealing’ means “What about others?"

"I killed mine yesterday.” 

Okay, you truly don’t mean this, but let’s just end this topic and move on. With a few biscuits down to your stomach, brainwashing yourself to forget what you heard seconds before with the sweetness, and buying you some time to come up with a better subject, you open your mouth again.

“Every time one of you comes here, you just scare all my customers away.”

“Isn’t that better?” 

“I need customers to earn money, Kyle.”

“You have us to pay you.” He points at the badge pasted on your wall. Of course, you’re not the one who put it on, you rather read the military smut out in front of all British than do it, but if you try to take it off, Soap will put a new one back, so in the end you just compromised and let him claim your shop publicly.

“This place isn’t only served for you guys.”

“It isn’t?” 

Is it possible to refute when Kyle flashes you a smile that you almost get blind and start wondering if he can replace himself as your lights and save you the electricity bill? Maybe counting this as one of Kyle’s humor will be better than explaining. All required is to ignore the evil glints in his majestic brown eyes while he questions you.

But even though Kyle said he doesn’t have work today, he doesn’t stay long after he finishes his tea.

“Gotta head back to help the boss.” He grins as he turns the knob and waves you goodbye.

What’s weird is that   after Kyle leaves your shop, customers start flooding back. Many of them are familiars of the shop, as you’re sure they’re 141’s lackeys too.

You remember them see you as one of the henchmen… Although they're not as afraid as when they first visit the shop because of your hospitable attitude, you can still sense the attentiveness in their demeanor.

No matter what, you’re going to figure out what’s  actually  happening.

“Hey, you.” You walk to one of the minions' sides. “Mind to tell me about why you guys always disappear when Gaz or Ghost or others come here?”

“We…” The guy’s eyes avert, shooting his friend a glance for help “It’s just a coincidence.”

“Coincidence?” Raising your eyebrow, you lower your voice to make it  menacing 

“It  really  is, ma’am, nothing to bother with the Sirs.”

“Show me, they must have sent some messages to inform you guys, right? Let me take a look, or I will…” You will what?  Actually,  you have no idea what you can do to these guys that can lift you  up  and throw you into a trash bin like a shot “Wait a second.”

Quickly running back to your kitchen, you come back with your most intimidating weapon – 

“Or I will hit you with my pan!” You wiggle your arm as a threat.

“…” 

They don’t look scared of the pan for a tiny bit. Wait, you should take your kitchen knife instead, who the fuck will pick a pan? You idiot.

yet to your satisfaction, they still fish out their phone and let you have it, and you don’t waste any time as you open the texting app.

‘Announcement: Boss will arrive at the tea shop in 10 minutes, clear the shop immediately.’

So they  really  are scaring your customers off. Give the phone back to the poor guy with pity in your eyes, you bring him a few more biscuits.

You’re strolling through the aisles in the shop. You’re out of flour and sugar, and every Wednesday the groceries are on sale. You never miss these chances to build up savings.

What a nice shopping trip. Quiet, leisure, just enjoying your own time, picking up different brands of cereal and calculating which is cheaper like a competent broken adult. Things never go wrong when you’re alone.

“Hey lass!”

Well, you’re kidding, things go south too quickly. The voice’s too familiar. It must be a hallucination.

“Lass? Bonnie?”

 Don’t look back, keep walking. It’s not the detergent man with a stupid chicken crest yelling at you.

“HEY!” A hand pats you on your shoulder and makes you jump. Sighing internally and prey there won’t be any trouble caused by the man, you turn around and face him.

“Oh, Soap, Hi.” Shit, looks like you just can’t have a break from these men. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Even though the nan outside tells me te shut the fok up?”

“Yes.” you shamelessly admit, pro tip to confront people without shame “Why are you here by the way, Soap?”

“Oh, we’re in need of some things, so Ghost pulled off during our way home.”

You take a glimpse at his basket. A rope, a roll of duct tape, and a knife. 

They must be going on a picnic. Yes, don’t overthink. The rope is for securing the tent, the duct tape is for concealing the holes on it. Knife? they surely will need it when cutting apples.

The image of Ghost slaughtering… peeling apple you mean, with Soap and Gaz playing red light green light and John napping in the tent is so vivid in your mind that you need to restrain the laugh with a clear of your throat before you grunt in affirmation and restart your steps.

With Soap depriving you of your last respite, you choose to grab what you need and head to the counter. All you want is to get home, have a nice shower, and lie on the bed reading the new fic you found last night.

“Do ye need help?” He watches you shove the products in your bag, but 5 huge cartons of milk are too heavy for your weak limbs, you can feel your arms trembling under your attempt.

“It’s okay, my car’s near the door. I can carry this myself.” Again, cheekiness works every time. You don’t care about strangers staring at you struggling with the bag and exit the supermarket in a crab way, as long as it can bring you back into peace faster, and you almost tear up when you see your car, the white of it is like the lighthouse in the atramentous night.

Hey, but you don’t remember your car has a goddamn huge dent at its boot.

“Oh yeah, forgot to tell ye. Ghost crashed into a car before he parked ours, and he’s contemplating whether he should kidnap the driver when they come back and make them shut up, or just kill them.” Soap looks at you stopping in despair as he recognizes what you’re looking at. “So it’s your car aye?”

You don’t answer him, you just watch Ghost materialize from the Shadow beside your car and give you a nod.

Fuck your life.

a/n: ty for reading :D have a nice day/night!

Car -1, Peaceful night -1

tag list :D - @blackhawkfanatic @nexthyperfix @danielle143 @goodbyegh0st @reaperxxxxzz @kaoyamamegami @imyprice @cod-z @poppingaround @live-for-fluff @masterstr0ke @mall0ww

[homeofthelonelywriter]

"Are you sure you don’t want to move in with me?”

A smile spread on your lips, though it quickly shifted into a frown as you gently set down the heavy cardboard box, holding the rest of your belongings. It had been two months since your father’s monthly payments stopped. Two months since, no matter what you tried, you couldn’t reach your dad or anyone close to him. Two months since you’ve been trying to find a job, but no luck so far. In the end, you decided to move out of the apartment your dad had insisted on you renting, and moved into a smaller and cheaper one.

“Nah, I’ll be fine, I promise.” Your best friend frowned, concern painted across her face. For someone who was usually so carefree, she now looked like she was about to suffer a breakdown.

“I know you don’t like my roommates, but they aren’t so bad once you get to know them. And I’m really worried about leaving you here. This part of town just isn’t safe.” You chuckled and nodded. She was right after all.

The only place you could afford with the rest of your savings was in the part of town everyone was warned to stay away from. The part with the highest crime rate in the entire city. The part where just a few weeks ago, a dead college student had been found. But what were you to do? As much as you loved your friend, her male roommate was creepy and you didn’t like the way he looked at you. No way you’d survive moving in with them. So, the cheap apartment in the creepy part of town it was.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. I have pepper spray and my dad had me learn self-defense. If anyone tries something funny, you’ll have to worry about him, not me!” A grin spread across your lips as you gave her a thumbs up, trying to look as confident as possible. In response, she just rolled her eyes.

“Fine, but…you better facetime me whenever you’re walking home. And have your location on at all times, you hear me?” You nodded and pulled out your phone, quickly turning the location share on, so she would stop worrying. As much as you loved her, it was starting to get repetitive.

Your friend continued to help you, before you ushered her out, telling her to get home safely and before it got dark out. Then you continued to move in, unpacking and slowly getting comfortable. Well…as comfortable as you could get when there were what felt like constant sirens and other noises you weren’t too happy to hear. Banging and moans from your next-door neighbors, screams and crashing from upstairs, and weird gurgling from the hallway. Good thing you had some noise-cancelling headphones, sounded like you would need them.

You had to admit, the first few nights, you didn’t sleep much. The noises and the general paranoia were enough to keep you up, but after a week or so, you got used to it. You put a knife on your nightstand, put a chair against the door, and glasses against the windows. To be honest, you developed your own little routine, which you quite enjoyed. And if you added the job hunt - which had still not been successful - and the work for college, you rarely had the energy to truly care about your situation at the end of the day.

Another week or so went by and you found yourself in the cafe on the campus, sending out more job applications, but it seemed like no one wanted to hire a college student who could only work odd hours. Frustration wafted through you, so you decided to grab another drink and quickly got in line, not paying attention to your surroundings. You promptly gave your order and went to pay, but before you could, the person behind you spoke up, “I got it.”, and before you could interject, they placed tapped their card, and your order was paid for.

When you turned around to thank the kind stranger, you quickly realized it wasn’t a stranger. “Mister Riley?”

Next Part

A/N: Since it's been almost a year since I posted the idea, let's try this. Let me know what you think!

@alilstressyandlotdepressy @brickwall035 @trampondemand @inarabee @blinca @rileys3dworld

[oceantornadoo]

mafia au!

simon riley masterlist

series that is *somewhat* in order

COMPLETE BUT TAKING REQUESTS

headcanons

the wedding ceremony

homecoming

honeymoon

kidnapped

back by sunrise

bloody valentine's day (tw: blood kink)

———————————————

141 drabble

[cs-fox]

mafia 141 x reader your highness x enjoy

Working at a bakery in one of Manchester’s tiny suburbs could only be considered peaceful - at least, so you thought.

It was just another Sunday morning, quiet at its busiest, when four guys walked in. This wouldn’t be notable if the were your usual blue-collared workers coming in for a croissant or sandwich, but these were four muscular, brooding, dangerous looking guys.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the tallest, a filthy blonde with eyes that reminded you of caramel, pale skin and wearing a black mask that obscured his features.

They approached the counter and the clearly oldest one leant over the counter, biceps bulging.

‘Can we get two o’ your coffees, make ‘em strong, a black tea, and -‘ he turned to the second-shortest (a dark haired man with a Mohawk and strikingly blue eyes) with a raised brow, ‘Whatever he wants.’

‘Jus’ a cappuccino, bonnie.’ he had a thick Scottish accent.

You nodded, trying to appear not at all shaken by this encounter - especially since you’d noticed the blonde fingering the hilt of a nasty looking knife, eyes sliding over the whole cafe area as if he expected to be jumped by a police officer something.

‘Cheers,’ the Scotsman said with a wink.

You scurried out back to prepare their drinks, wondering what the hell had just happened.

***

Their appearance in your cafe had soon become a regular experience. You learned not to pay too much mind to their weapons, rarely concealed, or the popular cameo of blood on their hands and clothes…

Despite their tough looks, though, they were extra nice to you, always tipping you and even though the Scot (who’d you learned was called “Soap”) was borderline flirting, you almost… enjoyed their visits.

Until they dragged in a dead body.

At least, you’d thought the man was dead, until John (the oldest) dragged him to his feet roughly and politely asked you if they could “borrow your cold room” so they could “conduct some business.”

You nodded, hands shaking, and led them to the large freezer room out the back.

An hour later, they emerged, and left such a hefty tip you didn’t even mind scrubbing the blood off the tiled floor.

literally wrote this in the KFC drive thru. not proofread lmao

please 🙏🙏🙏

its absolutely insanely late for me right now but i HAVE to post this before I forget regardless whether its gonna be noticed or not

mafia cod aus. I am OBSESSED!! I’m specifically scrounging the internet for this kind of trope:

Civillian reader works at some sort of peaceful job in mafia!141’s territory and gets in the crossfire of their work. Love this especially if reader doesn’t know how dangerous it could be at their job!!

i am not a writer so all the scenarios i have in my head sadly cannot be made😿 i will be forever grateful and i will love you for all of eternity if anyone could find mafia!141 fics for me like OMG 🙏

Love you guys!! (Whoever finds this)