#plu mafia au

[hellofanidea]

hi :)) PLEASE can you tell me a little of what the plu mafia au is about because those tags on your last post are insane and i am so intrigued

Ohohohohoho @lewis-winters may have been the better person to ask but by God I'm gonna give you the best run down I can.

PLU is our abbreviation for 'People Like Us', which is our OC verse centered around Natalie Morse and Arthur Foster, and the PLU Mafia AU is exactly what it says on the tin, a Mafia AU centered on them. We've built quite a bit of wider lore around them, especially for Winnix, Speirton, and Webgott, which all feature heavily.

With regards to @lewis-winters tags specifically, it's fair to say given the nature of the AU the relationships definitely take on a more... morally complicated?? Flavour??? Than normal??? The short version is that Speirs is a crime boss operating out of Boston, and Lip is his right hand, but also a corrupt cop, which breeds an interesting power dynamic. They could both sink the other whenever it's most convenient, and that's something that hangs over them. In a slightly more romantic sense Speirs knows he'd never have the heart to do anything to Lip, but he'd let Lip tear him to shreds if he chose to. Normally he's vicious, ruthless, but with Lip he leans his head back to give better access to his throat.

(There's also even more complications with an underlying past Speirs/Liebgott semi-unrequited dynamic, but I feel like that requires its own post.)

Winnix is, if you can believe, even darker. They head a prolific and long standing crime dynasty. They have killed for each other. They've also built a family and a respectable outward image. This includes Tab, Dick's protégé and their pseudo-son (they also have a daughter, Bea, who is another of @lewis-winters really wonderful OCs who I recommend checking out in all 'verses). Things start falling apart when Tab is sent to deal with Natalie's rising star in their world, but ends up getting involved with her. There's a long, uneasy, partnership that forms, but eventually the divided loyalties become too much of a risk, and Dick chooses to preserve his and Nix's life over keeping Tab around.

I feel like I've explained all of this very poorly, and I'm so sorry, but I hope that's explained at least some of it? Its been a minute since we've properly talked about it so some stuff I might have gotten wrong or missed. Please feel free to ask more if you want though!

[lewis-winters]

You don't have to answer if you'd rather not but I'm curious, so... 1 and 3 for Arthur and anybody you want? - Nathan

OOOOHHHWWWEEEEEE because you said this is plu mafia au coded now I'm like... yeah. I'm gonna be thinking about this for days.

I will do LuzFosToye of course, with each question being assigned to a boy.

1. Who would be first to to bite down and consume the flesh of the other, euphoric in the taste and the heft and the slide of the blood - Joe/Arthur

Arthur's hungry. He's always been hungry. He's been starving for most his life. He's sinking his teeth into Joe before he could even tell he got his mouth open. A kiss is a bite is a kiss is a bite. He can't tell the difference between love and consumption. For him, love IS consumption. And boy, does Joe love to be consumed. There's a certain kind of... possession, there. On his part. He's inside of Arthur, now. He's part of him. Doesn't matter who else Arthur takes from, nobody else can take up the space Joe does between his teeth.

3. who is the dog and who is the master? - George/Arthur

Now. You'd think Arthur was the master, and George the dog. And in some ways, that's true. But when George so much as whimpers, Arthur scoops him up. When George so much as runs back home, tail tucked between his legs, Arthur's up in arms. George shows belly, and Arthur's helpless to resist a scratch. Who's controlling who, here?

Seems like the pet's got his owner well trained.

Send me a ship, a number, and I'll answer

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Sympathy for the Devil ♡

♡ Pairings: mobster!boyfriend!jimin x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: mafia au/angst/smut

♡ Summary: After an arguement with your boyfriend, you set out to get back at him by bringing a date to the restaurant he frequents on a night you know he'll be there. It's a dangerous game, toying with another human life to get your way, but you do love danger, don't you? You wouldn't be looking to make a killer jealous if you didn't.

♡ Word Count: 3.2k

♡ Warnings: appearance of other members (non romantic), dom Jimin w/ switch vibes sprinkled in, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, rough sex, clit teasing, marking (hickeys), pet names (baby), you're feral for each other, fingering (f receiving), spanking, you give him a lil slap, choking, bathroom sex, possessiveness, jealousy, you're both kinda psychotic, implied murder, & that's it for the list of wholesome things in this fic.

♡ A/N: I'm such a sucker for mafia movies so I have the biggest soft spot for mafia fics. I want to thank @anyamaris for reading this first and encouraging me along the way when I was struggling with writer's block. Idk what I'd do without my #1 cheerleader for my dom Jimin agenda ❤️

Some of the prettiest animals in nature are simultaneously the deadliest. Park Jimin is no exception...

It’s impossible not to be enchanted by him. His face is a heavenly mixture of handsomeness and beauty. The cadence of his voice is like a song you can’t quite get out of your head and just when you think you have it’s back again. It’s all enough to make a girl blind to the blood on his hands.

Falling in love with him made the rest of the world all fuzzy. It blurred out everything. Not just the money laundering or the drug trafficking. To love him, to be loved by him, makes everything else feel like background noise. You've never touched a hard drug in your life but, the way he makes you feel, he must qualify as one. 

That’s why you’re here doing the dumbest shit you’ve ever done in your life.

Arguments are inevitable in relationships. But arguments when you’re dating a mob guy? They’re different beasts entirely and it’s a bitch to tame them. Your last argument with Jimin led to you packing a bag and running off to your best friend’s place. In the beginning you never had to question if you came before everything else. You were special to him—at least you thought you were—and he’d stop anything to be with you.

But lately that hasn’t been the case. He’s been replacing his presence in your life with gifts, thinking he can make up for missed dates and lonely nights with designer bags. Maybe the other girlfriends are content with cuddling up to some ugly mink coat in place of their man but you aren’t one of them. 

He just can’t seem to get that through his thick skull so you’ve set out to make him. If the death stare he’s giving you across this bustling restaurant is any indication of how your plan’s going, it’s working like a charm. You spent hours styling your hair just the way he likes it. Elegant and sleek, marrying beautifully with the softness of your face.

Your manicured nails are painted a translucent blue that deepens the slightest bit when the light hits it a certain way. The dress you’re wearing accentuates your curves in all the places he loves which, let’s be honest, is everywhere. And your heels, the heels, somehow makes your ass look more perfect than it already is. All of this and you’re sitting at a table having dinner with another man. 

You spot Namjoon throwing an arm around Jimin’s shoulder, no doubt leaning in to give him one of his infamous pep talks. "Don’t worry about her” he’s surely saying, “It’s not worth it, man. See, sometimes love is just…” Joon goes on, doing his best to keep his younger brother from doing something stupid but Jimin’s hardly listening. How can he when his blood’s boiling hot enough to eat its way through his flesh?

Every Sunday night the brothers and their girlfriends come here for dinner. The owners, a sweet elderly couple, love them as if they were their own and give them the biggest table no matter how packed it is. This is the one night they get to pretend they’re a normal family. It’s tradition and you don’t fuck with tradition. Everyone knows that. You know that. 

“The thing a lot of women don’t understand is that men by nature aren’t monogamous” your date rambles between messy bites of dinner. The man’s not ugly by any means but god is he a pig, in more ways than one. Not that you’re complaining. It’s why you had your best friend set you up with him. Whoever you bought here was no doubt being led to slaughter. Who better than a pig?

A chill runs through you at the ruthlessness of your own thoughts, wiping the smile from your face. Looking up, Jimin captures you in his gaze, the death glare replaced with a look of childlike amusement. It’s as if the smile had fled from your face to find its new home on his, taunting you from afar. What’s he smiling for? You’re not foolish enough to think it’s for anything good. 

“I was thinking, it’s kinda loud in here. Wanna go to my place?” your date asks, his poor attempt at getting laid tonight falling on deaf ears.

Jimin stands up, slipping out of his suit jacket as he does so. Rolling up the sleeves of his pressed dress shirt, he leans to whisper something in Yoongi’s ear. Yoongi pours him a shot and he knocks it back like it’s nothing. The rest of the table watches on, concerned but doing their best to carry on dinner as usual. Their collective heart rate increases but none more than yours.

Maybe you hadn’t really thought this one out. Noticing the color drain from your face, your date reaches out to touch your hand. “Don’t!” you snap, jumping up from your seat. “I’m sorry. I just need a second.”  Jimin’s halfway across the dining room when you flee toward the bathroom, nearly knocking into some poor innocent waiter in the process. 

Navigating your way through the halls, you scramble to find a way out. You’ll tell the guy you’re sick. That’s it. Say you’re not feeling too well, must be the food or something, and send him on his way. Pretend this never happened.

“Beautiful dress, darling” an older woman smiles as she leaves the bathroom. You dash in before the door closes behind her, peeking your head back out to avoid being rude. “Thank you!” you shout after her, quickly shutting the door and hurrying to the sink to splash some water on your face.

“Snap out of it” you whisper, flicking specks of icy water at the makeup you worked tirelessly to apply. “Maybe…maybe he won’t do anything, right? We’re in public. He wouldn’t—” You force a weak, pained smile at the girl staring back at you in the mirror. “Who are you kidding?” you groan, burying your face in your hands, “He’s gonna kill him.”

“But you knew that already, didn’t you?” sighs a voice that is distinctively not yours. Your hands drop from your face and there Jimin is, standing in the doorway with that same smile on. The one he’d so brutally ripped from your face. And here you are, shivering like a child too afraid of the monster under the bed to make a run for it. 

In all your panic you could’ve sworn you locked the door when, in fact, you’d done no such thing. If he’d knocked you would’ve had to open it anyway—you’ve never been great at saying no to him—but at least you would’ve given yourself a fighting chance. Nothing to stress your pretty little head about. Jimin steps in, easing the door closed, and you hear a sharp click. It’s locked now.

The heels of his black Louboutin shoes tap against the polished tile as he approaches the sink. Your heart jumps with each tap, the sound growing unbearably louder the closer he gets. Jimin brings his arms around your waist, holding you as only lovers do, “You want me to hurt him, don’t you? Want me to break every bone in his body to show you how much I love you?” His full lips brush against your neck, soft tongue running along the surface of your skin like the head of a match ready to light up with dazzling flames.

Your eyes are glued to the mirror, watching helplessly as his hands skate up and down your body, fingertips ghosting your most sensitive areas. His touch is a truth serum, forcing you to betray yourself and lay your motives bare. “You protect the things you love, Jimin. I only wanted to know if I was still one of them. Even if that meant…” you shudder at the thought. “We get what we want by any means. That’s what you taught me, isn’t it?” 

Jimin grins, locking eyes with your reflection as he inches your dress up to reveal your pillowy thighs. “Aah but you already have me. I let you throw your little tantrum but I’ll never let you go. You know that.” His fingers dip between the warmth of your thighs, teasing your clit through your panties.

“So why?” he whispers, his other hand coming up to lovingly stroke your neck, “Why would you try to embarrass me?”

You part your lips to speak but your words are forced back down by the sudden pressure applied to your windpipe by his hand. All that escapes are broken words and hushed gasps for air. The light abandons his eyes, that boyish charm he so effortlessly wields burning to ash as you squirm in his grip. You kick your legs to get free but it only serves to give him the room he needs to tear your panties to the side, the pads of his fingertips dripping with your arousal as they glide through your folds.

He loosens his grip on your neck and you manage to rasp out “Mmm…sorry…didn’t mean” before you’re plunged back into silence. Curling his fingers against your entrance, he sinks one into your core. A single digit pumping into needy walls that are already clenching in anticipation of the next one. Snatching your head back, he kisses you like he hates you. Hates you so much that he loves you. Loves you so much that he hates you. A cycle, endless and all consuming, that neither of you can break from.

“Prove it to me” he demands between your lips, plunging another finger into you, “Bend over and show me how sorry you are.” Your back arches, bringing your soft ass flush against his bulge. You press back into him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass each time his fingers slam into your core. Jimin sneaks a glimpse at the mirror to watch the way your body jiggles from the motion. Thighs trembling, tits rocking in sync with the harsh movements of his wrist.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.” Jimin slips his hand away from your neck, drenched fingers abandoning your pussy to apply sharp, wet slaps to your ass.

Spinning around to face him, you land an equally sharp slap across his face, “Choke me like that again and I’ll rip your head off.”

If the burning of your palm is any indication, you know you hit him hard but he’s unphased. He's actually smiling, licking his lips at you like you’re the most delicious thing in this restaurant. He sweeps you off of your feet, setting you down on the sink, “So. Fucking. Pretty.”

The marble’s even colder against your bottom than it was your hands but you don’t give a shit. Jimin’s tongue’s down your throat as he pushes your dress up, ripping away what was left of your panties. That’s the only thing you give a shit about. 

“Jimin!” you giggle, tugging at the zipper on his pants, “You’re gonna make me fall.”

Hooking his arms behind your knees, he spreads your legs, pushing them to your chest. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let you fall.”

“Promise?” you pout, fingertips tracing the veins along his length.

They pulse and twitch as he raises his hips, dragging the underside of his cock between your folds. “I promise. I won’t—aah, shit, baby” he moans, his cock glazed in your arousal without having even been inside of you yet. “I didn’t know you missed me that much.” 

You grab onto his shirt, the cotton knotted in your fists as you bask in the feeling of the head brushing your clit. “I did. Missed you so much” you mewl, guiding him to your entrance. Jimin peppers your cheeks with kisses, pushing into you. Filling you. Claiming you.  “I, mmphh, missed, fuck, missed you too” he confesses, each word emphasized by thrusts that have you wanting to climb every wall in this bathroom.

When it comes to women Jimin’s told more lies than he can remember but never with you. He misses you and he means it, misses you so much that it hurts. Not just because you take his cock so well, somehow managing to look majestic when you’re being fucked up against this mirror. But because he feels incomplete without you.

Before you all he knew was violence and greed, constantly chasing power that would never be enough. Always needing more. He often wondered how much money it would take, how many buried enemies, to fill the emptiness that’s haunted him for as long as he can remember. And then you came along—the girl whose eyes twinkle as she stares up at him, your entire body calling out his name—and he had his answer.

All he needed to cure that emptiness, rid him of the nagging feeling that something’s missing, was you. But men like him have an image to maintain. In this world people come to know you for things, fear you for them, and you can’t let them think you’re soft. Not for a second. Not if you want to get what you want. “We get what we want by any means”. That is what he told you but nothing’s worth having if it’s by way of losing you. 

Dragging you to the edge of the sink, heart thumping out of his chest from how tightly you’re clenching, he whispers into your open mouth, “Come home. I’m in hell without you. Everything’s so…so empty. Just say you’ll come back to me. Say it.”

“I-I’ll come back home. Fuck, I’ll go the moon if you want me to” you pant, watery eyes sending mascara streaming down your cheeks. You tug harder at his shirt, sending a button or two clinking into the mirror. He’s in you so deep, hitting every spot like only he knows how, that you’re ready to explode. Implode? One or the other. Maybe both.

Jimin laughs, his tongue grazing yours, “You wanna go to the moon, baby? Hold onto me. I’ll take you.”

Knowing better than to doubt him, you throw your arms over his shoulders and hold on like your life depends on it. The sink creaks beneath you as he fucks harder into a pussy that just won’t stop leaking for him. You lose control of your body. All of it belongs to him, as it should. You make no attempts at denying yourself the ultimate satisfaction when it hits. Your lips crash together as you climax, your moans, bordering on screams, pouring onto his tongue.

He eagerly devours them, returning some of his own as your walls spasm wildly, milking the cum from his swollen tip. Your cunt wants every drop of it and he’s determined to give it to you. Fill you up until it’s dripping out of you, making your thighs warm and sticky with his seed. Your body gives out and he tucks an arm behind you, sticking to his promise not to let you fall.

Staring up at the ceiling, you’re sure you see space, stars twinkling before your eyes as you float there, completely weightless. Jimin’s lips meet your heaving chest, suckling at your silky skin to leave hickeys along your collarbone.

“Mine. All mine” he repeats, “Love you so much.” 

You run your fingers through his hair as he marks you, letting yourself get lost in the moment. “I love you too.” 

“Excuse me, sir. You’re holding up the bathroom” a comically high pitched voice says, tapping at the bathroom door. Jimin drags himself upright, knowing the voice too well. “You okay?” he asks, shuffling to make you both look presentable. He tries to fix your dress but there’s no use, he’s stretched it out more than he has you.

“Baby, it’s fine” you giggle, shooing him away, “I got it.” 

Jimin unlocks the door, snatching it open to reveal precisely who you both expected. “Thank god!” Jungkook cheers, rushing into the bathroom and over to the toilet. “Whose idea was it to have one bathroom here, man? I’ve had to piss for like—” Reading the look on Jimin’s face, he follows his gaze over to the sink where you sit buzzed off of the afterglow with your tattered panties at your feet.

Jungkook grins, looking you both up and down, “Safe to say you two are having a good night, huh?”

Jimin hits Jungkook in the back of the head, walking over to help you down from the sink. He holds you close to him, kissing you as he steers you towards the door. “Is it done?” Jimin asks over his shoulder but you don’t hear Jungkook’s response. It’s drowned out by the symphony of sounds that assault you as you venture back out into the restaurant, Jimin’s arms still holding you tight. Scanning the restaurant you spot the table you were at with your date but now there’s another couple there. 

“Long time no see!” Jin says, jumping up to hug you. His girlfriend follows behind, hugging you like she hasn’t seen you in years. “Come sit with me” she insists, noticing your disheveled appearance, “I’ll fix you right up. I have everything in my purse.” You settle into the chair beside her and she goes straight to work cleaning the mascara from your face.

Jimin sits beside you, an arm draped over the back of your chair, and watches attentively as you get your makeup done. “Nice to have you back” Taehyung smiles, pulling something from under the table and passing it to you. Jimin sets them down before you—your jacket and your purse. You’d forgotten them at the table when you fled to the bathroom.

“Uh, thanks, I—” you stutter, cut off by Hoseok’s sudden reappearance at the end of the table. You’d seen him earlier but hadn’t noticed his seat was empty when you returned. He tries to play it off, hide it behind a smile, but he’s out of breath, utterly exhausted from something. The men glance around the table at each other. It’s a silent conversation you know you shouldn’t be in on. 

“Jimin” you whisper, when you’re sure you aren’t interrupting, “Where’s…” 

Jimin casually pours you both a drink, presenting you with a glass of wine. “Where’s who?” 

“The guy that I was…”

“The guy that you were what, baby?” he asks, brow crinkling as he feigns ignorance. “You’ve been here with me all night, haven’t you?” He turns to the rest of the table who all seem to share his collective memory loss. “Hasn’t she?” 

“Absolutely.”

“Yeah.”

“Been here all night.”

“See? Now enjoy your drink and finish getting your makeup done” he coos, kissing you on the cheek.

Just like that, everyone resumes their conversations like it’s any other Sunday night dinner. You take a sip of your wine, the post-orgasm haze finally lifts from your brain, and all of the pieces come together in your mind. You shake the truth away, opting instead for the constructed reality necessary to pretend you just didn’t get a man killed.

What date? What guy? You’ve been here all night with Jimin. The man you came here with. The man you’ll leave here with. The man you love too much to ever run away from again. Unless, of course, you want to raise the homicide rate.

[kidvoodoo]

Jeest Mafia AU, snippet under the cut 💚💙

Joost tried not to make eye contact with anyone at the airport, though the stares he received at his battered face were inevitable. How many tall, blond, bandaged, bruised and bloody men were in a hurried rush to the terminal? Odds say: not many.

‘Not that I should be thinking about odds right now’ chided his conscience, ‘that’s how I got into this mess in the first place…’

His pace didn’t falter despite the looks from the other passengers lining up in their respective lines. All of them with bags and luggage alike underarm or trailing behind them, his own, suspiciously absent.

No time to pack, clothes on his back, phone, wallet and a little vial of two small white pills. Security checkpoint nearly put an end to those, but a desperate, puppy-eyed look and his disheveled state made the officer roll her eyes and wave him through, for all she knew, or anyone knew, it was aspirin.

‘Fix more than a headache’ his inner thoughts sneered, ‘steady on Joost, for emergencies only’.

He kept his eyes on the gate numbers, briefly glancing at the destinations. Cabo, Shanghai, Johannesburg, each a far flung place he could have potentially laid low in for months, relax on some resort beach or in a high class penthouse…

But that’s not where he’s headed.

He spies the glowing gate number, the destination? Helsinki, Finland. He got the ticket the same day he got the phone call telling him to leave as fast as possible, his usually calm and monotone source had an edge of panic to their voice, Joost trashed the burner after that and shredded the last of his books and burned them. He left his apartment as the ashes were still smoldering.

Finland eh? The only clue of what was happening next was the note in the ticket envelope, hurried scrawling in broken Dutch gave him simple instructions:

Taxi to the airport, pay in cash. Get on the plane. Make sure you are in the camera view the whole time, locate the Air Marshal and watch him. Once you are off the plane, head to the pick up zone in the parking lot and look for the black limo. Tap on the driver’s side window and give the password.

“Here for Tommy’s boy” he mutters under his breath. The magic words that’ll guarantee his safety and freedom, or will land him a bullet between the brows…

Better than the alternative.

He’s on time for the early boarding and hands the Steward his ticket, eyeing the Air Marshal at the doors to the plane’s walkway. He’s given a smile and some well wishes for his flight and finally, for the first time in several days, he feels a little sliver of calm wash over him.

‘Can’t cut me up on the plane you fuckers’

He finds his seat, window view and close to the front of the plane and plops down, the ache in his joints and back starting to flare up since the adrenaline begins to wear off.

Finland…he’s uncertain exactly what is waiting for him there, he regrets not grabbing a translation booklet at the terminal kiosk but there was simply no time. His new phone is IP hidden for the time being till he can get a VPN to bounce his signal, so no using Google’s underwhelming translation system…

He thinks back to a conversation he overheard at a conference last year. The big guys were all there, each of them with a meaty bodyguard in tow and a pistol or two brandished in plain sight.

He was there on happenstance, just finishing up the numbers to hand to his boss for the last fiscal year when his curiosity got the best of him.

“Baltic’s are at it again,” his boss sneers, tapping his cigar onto the floor, “think they’ll hide behind the Nordic cunts so they don’t have to play anymore”.

“Hm.” Another well dressed older man hums in response. He’s the police liaison, a former Captain who’s been working with the mob for 40 years. “Not much to be done about it Albert, the Fins have the advantage now, I hear they’ve even brought Estonia into the fold now.”

Albert snorts, getting to his feet and giving a couple other well-dressed people a farewell wave.

“Cuz of that little shit,” he grumbles, motioning his bodyguard to get a move on. “What’s his name? Kät-something? The Union fucker.”

“Käärijä,” the former Police Captain supplies, “his Union is very bold for an upstart, cutting off the trade in the Baltic’s disrupts everything. Heard he’s in talks of making a deal with the Norwegians as well. That’s the case? Say goodbye to the big money”.

Joost tried to linger as long as possible to catch the last bit of conversation, tucking himself against the wall and listening close.

“Damn idiot, Norway doesn’t play with the new players, even if the young lady is supposedly running things over there now. He’s a fucking lunatic to think the Baltic’s will stay loyal, he’ll be done by the end of the year, mark my words-“

A dinging noise jolts him awake from his daze, the Flight Attendants are doing their safety check. The doors to the plane are closed and for the first time in weeks, months even, Joost’s tense shoulders drop with exhaustion.

He is safe. For now.

<><><>

Roughly three hours later, he startles awake.

The voice over the intercom of the plane cabin announces in several languages that they have arrived at Helsinki Airport and will begin the landing process momentarily.

He spares a glance around the cabin out of paranoia, nothing out of the ordinary and no unwanted eyes in his direction.

Twenty minutes later and he’s heading out of the plane and into the airport terminal. The weather outside is gray and snowy, the sky a mass of colorless clouds and the sun choked somewhere behind. He shivers just looking at the weather, his cheap suit jacket will definitely not suffice.

He heads down the walkways and tried not to get too overwhelmed with the directions, mostly in Finnish but thankfully also in English.

He’s only a hundred feet from the parking lot when he feels eyes on his back. He tries subtly to peak behind and catch if he’s being followed.

Two men, both in dark blue suits and expensive leather shoes, each sporting a grim, intense expression. They have their hands in their pockets.

Joost picks up his pace, eyes focused on the automatic doors that swing open and shut.

He can hear them closing behind him, their shoes loud against the tiles. He starts to jog.

He doesn’t stop to apologize to the people he pushes past to get out of the door, ignoring the scowls and curses thrown his way. His heart is hammering in his chest, he has but a minute to locate the car before he’s dragged off and butchered in a dark corner…

A car horn blares loudly as he flinches and freezes, he had walked right out in front of a pair of high beams, his eyes don’t have time to adjust as he hurriedly runs around to look.

Black limousine, tinted windows with triple thick bulletproof glass and chrome trimming. The driver’s side window rolls down, a bald man with sunglasses and a mustache regards him blankly.

“P-please,” he stammers, eyes catching the two suited men finally breaching the threshold. “I-I’m being followed-“

“What is phrase?” The driver interrupts, not at all phased by the situation in the slightest.

“Th-the wha-oh yes yes, it’s uh…” he swallows takes a breath and speaks the words softly enough for the man to hear him.

“I’m here for Tommy’s boy.”

The door at the back of the limo clicks open, beckoning him inside.

He all but dives into the car and slams the door shut just as the two men make a dash towards the vehicle, only to stop dead in their tracks mere feet away.

Joost doesn’t have the time to take in his surroundings as he sees what has halted his stalkers. In the split second before the limo peels out with a loud screeching of tires, the window on the opposite side is down just enough to see the startled and blanched faces of the two men, who find themselves held in place by a man aiming a 45 caliber handgun at them.

Were it to fire at point blank range, one of the two men would have nearly had his torso blown open. More than a lethal shot, truly overkill at that point.

The car peels out of the lot and before he knows it, Joost is tossed back into he seat as the limo put some speedy distance between him and the danger.

A loud curse and sound of a window being rolled up. Joost finally levels his eyes behind his cracked glasses to see his savior.

Sitting across from him now with the gun held loosely in his grip is a dark haired man with pale skin. He sports a blunted bowl cut and his facial hair is trimmed and tidy. He wears a long black coat with a layered polo necked jumper and a couple silver chains around his neck. The jewelry matches his pierced ears and nose rings, the whole of his attire is expensive and modern looking.

Joost is drawn into the man’s piercing eyes, blue like his own but with an edge of silver steel, made more intimidating and entrancing by the heavy makeup that lines them.

The man is staring at him, Joost’s palms immediately start to sweat.

“I uh,”

“You are the Dutchman we take in?” The man interrupts, his voice has an hint of annoyance, Joost nods politely and holds out his hand to shake.

“Yes, I mean to say, thank you,” he tries to muster a charming smile but finds himself pinned under the man’s gaze like a deer being watched through a hunter’s scope.

“I’m sure this is a bit of trouble for you-“

“Trouble? I say it is bigger trouble for you and not me. You need a drink yes? I have gin and brandy here.” The man all but ignores whatever Joost was trying to say and busies himself with pouring a drink from a side bar containing glasses and some bottles. “Brandy since the gin is warm, I not have a lot of time to get it ready.”

Joost wants to say something, anything to this stranger but finds himself at an utter loss for words. The man looks at him expectantly, pushing the glass of amber liquor into his hands.

“There you drink that, feel better afterwards. You say you looking for Tommy’s boy? That is what he tell you to say? He think he is funny man, he gonna have to explain to me…” the man trails off, eyes now scanning and taking in Joost’s disheveled appearance. “You have injury? I have some bandage here and some other things uh,” the man stops and searches for a word. “you know, doctor supplies?”

“First aid kit?” Joost supplies.

“Ah yes yes! That is it,” the man grins and digs around a bit before huffing in annoyance and opening the little sliding window to the driver’s compartment. He asks for something in Finnish and the bald man replies. Information gathered, he opens a compartment and fishes out a nondescript black case.

“Okei here it is. Let me see your hand, you have blood on your palm.” He does? Joost was in such a mad dash to get away from the goons who had jumped him back in the Netherlands he didn’t have time to take stock of his injuries. He holds out his hand timidly and the man yanks it none too gently to inspect.

“No stitches I think,” he hums, grabbing supplies to clean and patch the gash on Joost’s palm.

The man’s grip is firm and steady, there is warm radiating from beneath the leather gloves he wears.

“You are Mr. Klein eh?” The man says absentmindedly as he cleans the wound. “I hear you screw your boss out two million euros, not bad.” The man smirks, eyes flickering up to Joost’s face. “I like someone who disrupts the status quo. When Tommy say you in trouble, I had to do something about it. Would be a waste for you ending up in concrete.”

Joost cringes a little at the mention of his dilemma, taking a long gulp of his drink and reveling in the burn.

“I don’t know about disruption, I just did what I thought was right is all. Didn’t think it would go this far…” he wishes he could be more proud, he did take a chunk of money from the hands of the worst men in Europe. Now, he’s a marked man, possibly forever.

The dark haired man seems to sense his discomfort and finishes dressing his hand, grabbing a gauze patch and passing it over.

“What is done is done, you think it is bad thing now, but you make a big move, and now you have a big advantage for the war that is coming.”

Joost finishes placing the gauze over the gash on his cheek, looking at the man puzzlingly.

“What war? And what advantage are you talking about?”

The man leans back against his seat and smiles, his sharp canines peak over his lips and his expression is one of amusement and vicious excitement.

“The war between the Union and the Old Men, tear down their ruined kingdom and make our own. The advantage? That’s easy,”

The man chuckles darkly.

“You have Käärijä in your corner now.”

[thezombieprostitute]

Dream Come True - Part 1

Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.

A/N: Reader is plus sized, femme. No other descriptors used.

Warnings: Shooting mentioned, not written. American healthcare system. Bullying with an emphasis on fat shaming. Please let me know if I miss any!

Part 2

Series Masterlist

Curtis stormed into the manor. Normally he didn’t care for visiting the higher ups, surrounded by their opulence but this wasn’t normal circumstances. He headed straight for Steve and Bucky’s office, the folder Jake compiled for him under his arm. As much as Curtis wanted to act on this he knew he had to get permission first, as Mace kept reminding him. 

As soon as he entered the office, the Bosses greeted him. 

“The nieces are okay?”

“Yes,” Curtis replied. “We did a priority background search on the would-be thief. Found no connections to other families so he was likely just an idiot trying to get some quick cash.”

“And the guy who took the bullet,” Bucky asked.

“She is currently in the hospital,” Curtis felt his fists tighten, thinking about her situation. “It wasn’t life threatening, just a quick surgery but she’s not gonna be allowed to walk for a few weeks.”

The bosses nodded their heads, “you made sure Beck is her doctor?”

“Yup. But there’s a hitch that I need permission to fix,” Curtis took the folder out from under his arm. “She got fired for missing some big meeting. First person she called was her boss, to explain what happened, and the asshole fired her over the phone. Now she’s trying to leave the hospital way too early because she’s scared of not being able to afford the care.”

Steve and Bucky looked astonished at this information. “Who the hell fires someone for that? Especially when she has the proof to back her story,” Bucky huffed. “You got that information, right?”

“We got it months ago when she first started tutoring the nieces,” Curtis affirmed. “Had to make sure she wasn’t someone playing the long game.” He handed the folder to Bucky who opened it. The men took a few seconds to find her boss’s name. Curtis was pleased to see Steve’s eyes go steely with anger. 

Steve looked at Curtis, “I’ll make sure he gets handled.”

Bucky cut in, “for now, work with Huffman to get the paperwork settled. Officially, she’s been employed by us, as a tutor, for months. We’ll make sure the backpay gets added to her account. Beck and Jensen can work to make sure her insurance goes back as well.”

Curtis nodded his thanks and left to go back to the hospital. Hopefully she hadn’t succeeded in leaving.

“Please,” you plead through tears, “please just let me go home.”

Dr. Beck shook his head, “that would be wildly irresponsible of me. You have no emergency contacts, which tells me you have no one to help you out at home. You need to stay off of your leg for at least a week and you need help to do that. If that means keeping you here for that week, so be it.”

“I can’t af-” 

Dr. Beck interrupts, “I’ve been in touch with some people, namely the family of those two girls you rescued. You’re not paying for anything and they insist you get your full rest here.”

“I…” you’re flabbergasted at the news. Jake and Jefferson had always been kind but you never got the impression they were so well off they could cover someone else’s medical bills. You can’t stop crying. It’s been a tumultuous day.

There was a knock outside the privacy curtain and a deep voice asking, “is it okay to come in?”

“Yeah, come on in,” Dr. Beck replied. “Been expecting you.” He turns to the source of the voice. Walking to your bed is a tall, muscular man with a buzz cut, beard and the most piercing blue eyes you’ve ever seen. You blink back tears and try to compose yourself. Crying around medical staff is one thing. Crying around strangers who might not be used to tears is something else.

“I’m Curtis,” he holds out his hand to you.

“Hi,” you shake his hand, confusion written all over your face.

“I’m here to inform you that you do, in fact, have medical insurance. You also have backpay.” Curtis starts putting paperwork on the patient table in front of you. “You’ve been tutoring my nieces for several months. The least we could do is make sure you’re being paid for your time, complete with benefits. Just need you to sign a few things.”

“What?” Far from answering your questions, you find yourself even more in the dark. “I…I don’t understand…”

“You helped my family,” Curtis replied. “Not only did you offer your time and patience, you’ve given your health and well-being. The least me and mine can do is take care of you.”

“I, uh,” you hesitate, trying not to insult, “are you sure you can afford this?”

“Yes.” There was no room for argument in Curtis’s tone. His face was stern and you discerned no cracks indicating he was lying in any way.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whisper.

“Don’t say anything,” Curtis tells you. “Just sign here, here and here.”

With a look to Dr. Beck, who gives you a reassuring smile and nod, you take the proffered pen and shakily sign where Curtis tells you to.

“And, with that,” Curtis gently smiles, “you were officially hired by us three months ago as a private tutor for two of our nieces. When you’ve recovered, you will return to your work and we may have more for you to do.”

Ransom was having a great day. His ugly assistant missed a big meeting and he finally had grounds to fire her. She'd been hired by his grandfather so he couldn't just get rid of her without a reason. He even encouraged her remote work so he wouldn't have to look at her. Now he could hire an assistant on his own and actually pick someone easy on the eyes.

It's not like the job was difficult. He needed someone who could research stuff he needed to know for his writing. Anyone could do that. He could, too, but he didn't want to and could afford to hire someone else to do it for him.

He was in the middle of writing up the job ad when the door to his office slammed open, making him jump. Steve Rogers was glaring at him as he strode into the room.

“Rogers,” Ransom smiled. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Did you hear what happened to the nieces today?”

“Jake and Jefferson's girls? No.” Ransom was genuinely concerned. Those girls were spoiled by everyone in the families but they still managed to be the sweetest people he knew.

“There was an attempted robbery at the shop,” Steve continued, walking closer and closer to Ransom. “They were nearly shot by the idiot. Thankfully, they were rescued and someone else took the bullet.”

As Steve sat down on the desk Ransom started putting some pieces together. He wasn't an idiot. The nieces almost being shot and his assistant actually being shot? It would also explain the rage emanating from Rogers.

“The woman who took the bullet requires a lot of medical care. But, of course, she can't afford it since her asshole of a boss fired her.”

Ransom gulped, “I can hire her back. Say it was a moment of anger, a mistake that never should've happened.”

Steve stood and pulled up Ransom by the front of his sweater, forcing him to stand on his toes. “Do you remember,” Steve growled, “why we had to send Lloyd into exile?”

“Too many casualties?”

“Close. He viewed people as expendable. This family got started by helping others. Helping the Unions. Supporting the communities. So when you treat someone like that, you disrespect all of us.”

Steve let go of Ransom’s sweater, setting him on his feet. Without warning, he punched Ransom in the stomach so hard he doubled over.

“You are on notice,” Steve told him. “You've been straddling the line for some time now. But one more slip, and you're gone. Understood?”

Ransom coughed, “yeah, I get it.”

“And you don't have to hire her back. We got her a much better boss.”

Part 2

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.

@dontbescaredtosingalong

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@texmexdarling

@veltana

@winter-soldier-101

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Protect & Respect

Title: Protect & Respect

Pairing: Mafia!Steve x Former FBI Agent!Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Language, kidnapping, non-consensual drug use, weapons, kissing

Summary: After Steve goes missing, Y/N meets up with a rival mob boss to organize his safe return.

A/N: This is the first time I’ve written Mafia!Steve! It was fun to write, so please let me know if you enjoyed it. As always, thank you for reading this story and supporting me in all the ways you do!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

The drive to their specified location is only a short distance from your Brooklyn apartment, but you get there in half the time. As you turn the corner, you realize you’re only half a block from your old apartment, the moldy one in Queens that Steve moved you out of as soon as you’d gotten together.

Once parked, you grab the bag Bucky had put together while you’d paced back and forth in Steve’s office, then climb out of the black SUV. You slam the driver’s side door shut and stalk across the empty street, ignoring the old man who watches you from the edge of the shadows with a greedy look in his eye. You have bigger fish to fry.

You toss the zipped duffel at Javier’s feet as soon as you’re close enough. A few feet behind him, his two buddies stand with Steve smack dab between them. He’s on his side in the gravel, his eyes closed. There are no visible wounds, but you don’t trust that he’s unharmed, like they’d said on the phone.

Slowly, casually, and taking great pleasure in your anger, Javier reaches down to pick up the bag. His rings glint in the yellowed security light on the nearby workshop. You’ve always thought he dressed too ostentatiously, but now you wish you could shove his rings down his throat, one by one, just so he could suffer.

“It’s all there,” you snap when he starts to unzip the bag, and you push past him to crouch near Steve’s head. “Steve, can you hear me?”

His hands are tied tightly behind his back with a thick black zip tie and you almost gag at the stench coming off of him. He’s been missing for several days now, and it’s clear that he’s been in their hands for just as long. You don’t need to search his clothing for humiliating stains to know that. Javier has never treated his prisoners well. As soon as you’re done exacting your revenge on his kidnapper, you’re going to make sure your husband gets a bath, a good meal, and a thorough examination from Dr. Banner.

Carefully, you place your hand on Steve’s head, stroking his hair with your thumb, but he doesn’t even stir under your attendance. Something clicks inside your brain and you slowly lift your eyes to glare at Javier, the anger inside of you rising to a head.

“What did you give him?” you grind out.

Javier clicks his tongue. “One would think the boss would be a little more careful. All I had to do was mention you, and he was ready to be at my beck and call. It was quite amusing, actually.” He shoves the bag towards the man to your right.

“What did you give him?” you repeat, your voice rising in pitch as your anger and desperation grows. Steve was strong, and thanks to the secret government programs he’d been subjected to during his time in the military, he was practically immune to every kind of drug. To render him unconscious, they would’ve had to either pump his system full of enough drugs to kill any mere mortal or give him something strong, something you couldn’t access on the street. If they had access to something like that, it means that they’d made a deal with HYDRA, and that would mean Steve’s kidnapping went deeper than just Javier’s meager show of power.

The man on the left steps closer, leaning down to grab your arm. You jerk away, slapping him across the face. Your voice has reached an unholy screech as you repeat the question, but Javier is unfazed. His fingers twitch and suddenly your arms are behind your back. You struggle against his lackey’s grip, but your anger does you no good. You suddenly wish you’d taken Steve’s offer of training more seriously. It’s been over a year and a half since you’d had to do any kind of fighting, and though your former FBI training is still ingrained deep into your bones, you’re rusty, and it’s too late by the time you’re ready to fight back. Why hadn’t you just told Bucky where you were going? Why hadn’t you let Clint or Natasha come with you, even though you’d vowed to come alone?

“You really believed that you could save him?” Javier mocks. The man holding you hostage chuckles in your ear and you shudder, attempting once again to wrench yourself away from him. The other man brusquely pats you down, but you’d stayed true to every term of the agreement. You’d come unarmed, even though you now severely regretted it.

“Let us both go and maybe you’ll live to see the end of the week,” you spit.

“You’re nothing but a whore to warm the Captain’s bed.”

A cold sense of dread fills you as you’re yanked to your feet. The man pushes you back towards the street and you stumble, craning your neck to see Steve’s still form on the ground.

“Let me go!”

Nobody answers you as you’re dragged to a black sedan tucked into the shadows of the warehouse. You catch a glimpse of the old man across the street as you struggle, and his eyes follow you as the lackey pushes you into the trunk, but he does nothing to help. The trunk is slammed shut and you narrowly avoid getting clipped as you fight to get out.

“Load him up into the backseat, and give him another dose,” Javier orders, his voice muffled by the metal around you. “We don’t need him waking up before we get there.” He pounds on the top of the trunk and you flinch at the banging. “Comfortable? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, sweetheart.”

You shout at him and struggle, making the car rock beneath you, but it’s no use. The trunk is locked shut, and when you scramble for the emergency release, you realize that it’s gone. They’ve somehow removed it, leaving you well and truly fucked. All you can do is sit tight and keep calm. The drive to wherever you’re headed will be an opportune time to think of a plan to fight back and get both you and Steve home where you belong.

The car starts with a grumble and a whine, and it lurches beneath you when the driver accelerates. It takes you twenty-five minutes of listening to the muffled crap radio they’re playing in the car before you remember the device Natasha had sewn into your bra.

You have to wiggle a little to get the right angle, but after several long moments, you press the button in the tracking device. A soft beep is the only response you get, but you let out a sigh of relief. Natasha would get the signal. You’d be rescued soon enough.

By the time the car slows to a stop and the trunk opens, the sun is rising. The inky black sky is starting to grow lighter, changing to dark blue, then to a paler shade the closer it gets to the ground. You’ve dozed off several times, and you open your eyes just as one of Javier’s henchmen opens the trunk. You glare up at him.

“Bring her inside,” Javier orders, somewhere on the driver’s side of the car. “Stick her in the guest room.”

You don’t have any time to wonder what he means by “the guest room” before the man is grabbing you and pulling you from the trunk. You stumble as he shoves you towards an imposing manor surrounded by nothing but tall, dark pine trees. They block the sunrise, though the lightness creeps up towards their tops with every passing minute.

Javier is climbing the wide marble steps to the front door. It’s braced with Grecian columns, and a black lantern hangs above the white marble entryway. 

“Your vacation home looks a little worse for wear,” you bite.

He only turns around and gives you a sickening grin before the front door is opened by a short woman in a traditional gray maid’s uniform. She gives him a small curtsy, and you hold back a groan of disgust. Of course Javier wanted to be curtised to.

Steve is nowhere in sight, and when you turn around to see if he’s still in the backseat of the sedan, the man leading you inside shoves his gun between your shoulder blades.

“Keep walking, whore,” he hisses, and you shudder at his hot breath in your ear.

You’re led inside the house, then down into the basement. After carefully descending the stairs, you enter a long hallway. The man shoves you through the first metal door you come to, and you fall onto your hands and knees. He slams the door behind you, and a light flickers on above as the lock engages.

Slowly, you sit back on your heels to inspect your hands. You’re not bleeding, but you flex them and wince at the sting from your fall. Once you’re sure that you’re not seriously injured, you take in your surroundings.

The room has four walls of gray concrete, with a steel door behind you. The ceiling and floor are also concrete, and there’s a prison-like toilet and sink combination in the corner next to the door. There are two cameras: one pointed at the door and the other pointed at the bed, which is just a twin-size metal bed frame with a chintzy mattress laid on top. There’s no pillow, but the blanket looks thin and scratchy. Clearly, Javier and whatever HYDRA operative he’s working with care very little for their assets.

Climbing to your feet, you take inventory of yourself. Your muscles are tense from the cramped drive from Queens. You quickly do the math in your head. If the sun is just rising and you’d gone to meet Javier at midnight, then you’d driven for at least six hours, which could put you in a number of states. You’d activated the tracking device less than an hour into the drive, so if you were lucky, Nat and the rest of the team would be here soon enough. You just had to hope that Steve was somewhere else in the manor, rather than the two of you being separated.

The blanket sends up a cloud of dust when you flip it over on the mattress, making you cough. When there’s no sign of bugs or suspicious stains, you settle yourself in the corner of the mattress. You can fully watch the door from your spot, so you sit back against the cool concrete and wait.

Finally, after what feels like hours, the door opens and you’re greeted by the muzzle of a silenced gun, then Bucky’s grim expression. Upon seeing you, however, he relaxes and smiles just a little.

“Took you long enough,” you tease, and he lets out an indignant huff.

“You’re the one who waited so long to turn on the tracker. Are you hurt, mo bhanríon?” he asks, and with the lilt of the familiar name comes the first hint of comfort you’ve had in a few days.

You shake your head and slide off the bed, then take the extra gun he pulls from his thigh holster. After looking it over, you also take the knife he pulls out from his boot. You slip it in your own. 

“Maybe I just wanted to test your skills. Have you found Steve yet?”

Bucky shakes his head. “We’re still looking.” He leads you out into the corridor and the two of you begin searching behind the other metal doors. All of them open into cells identical to your own, but they’re empty of prisoners. 

When you reach the end of the hall, he taps the comms unit in his ear. “Basement’s clear. I found an bhanríon, she’s unharmed. Any sign of Steve?” 

You hold your breath, waiting as Bucky listens to the rest of Steve’s men as they report back. Finally, his shoulders slump and he closes his eyes, muttering Irish curses under his breath.

“What? What is it?” You step closer and grab Bucky’s prosthetic with your free hand. “Did they find him?”

Much to your relief, Bucky nods. He turns and begins to steer you toward the stairs leading up to the main floor of the manor.

“Is he okay?” you ask, glancing over at him as you walk. “They gave him something—I don’t know what. Whatever it was, though, it was strong. He was totally out of it, Bucky. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

He passes by you to climb the steps first, his gun drawn. “He’s okay. Be quiet, Y/N. Main floor isn’t clear,” he murmurs.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you try to refocus yourself on the task at hand. Being distracted in enemy territory is a stupid way to go, and you need to get back to Steve in one piece, just like you always promised you would.

You follow Bucky in silence, letting him clear the rooms first before you do your own sweep. The entire manor feels like it’s holding its breath. There isn’t a single noise as you move from room to endless room. It makes your stomach twist—where had Javier and his men gone? Where is the maid in the gray uniform who had met you at the door?

You’re on the last hallway when you finally hear a soft clatter from one of the rooms. Bucky tenses, and you give him a little more space as you trail behind. 

Slowly, he approaches the door. He waits for a moment, listening, and then he pushes his way in with his gun drawn. There’s a feminine scream and you grip your gun a little tighter.

“Where are they?” Bucky demands. His voice is as cold as ice and you shiver. You’d hate to be on the receiving end of “The Sergeant’s” questioning. He’s known across New York first for his prosthetic, and then for his ruthless interrogation skills.

“I don’t know!” a woman cries. “Mr. Smith told me to come wait here for him, but it’s been two hours! I heard noises, so I hid!”

There’s a pause as Bucky stares her down to determine if she’s telling the truth or not. You use that time to step forward into the doorway behind him and inspect the room. It’s a broom closet, more or less, with a square wooden card table and two matching chairs in the middle of the room. The walls are covered with hanging cleaning supplies, and there are several shelving units holding various boxes and bottles against the far wall. A small microwave sits on the back of the table, and a clock hangs in the only empty space on the wall a few feet above the microwave. From the looks of things, Javier has made the large closet into the poorest excuse for a break room that you’ve ever seen. You feel even worse for the woman. Not only did she have to work for and curtsy to one of the most ridiculous mob bosses you’ve ever met, but she didn’t even have a good place to eat her lunch in peace.

“She’s an employee here, Bucky,” you quietly tell him from behind. “She curtsied when Javier walked in. I don’t think she knows much of anything. None of his other men treated him the same way.”

Bucky grunts a little at that information, then lowers his gun. The woman lets out a sigh of relief, but she still trembles as she watches you from her spot on the floor beneath the table.

“Did they hurt you?” she asks, her voice wavering as she fixes her eyes on you.

You shake your head and offer her a brief, polite smile. “I’m fine. We need you to stay here until we figure out what to do with this place. Can you do that?”

The woman nods. “Yes, ma’am.” She pauses, looking between you and Bucky for a moment. “Your friend is being held in the conservatory.”

“Thank you,” Bucky replies, though you know they’ve already found Steve.

You turn and head back into the hallway as he gives the woman one last warning to stay put. Bucky follows you back the way you’d come after closing the door to the closet-turned-break room.

“The conservatory?” you ask, and Bucky hums behind you.

“Turn left,” he instructs when you reach the main hall again. 

He gives you directions as you walk, leading you down several long hallways till you reach the northeastern corner of the mansion. It’s bigger than it had looked from the front.

The sun is fully up now, and you’re greeted with the last remnants of the sunrise when you step through the French doors and into the conservatory. The room is massive, with windows braced with white trim making up the majority of the three outer walls. The ceiling stretches up almost fifty feet, and the floor beneath you is black and white checkerboard tile. Each square is at least four feet across.

All around you, plants of every size and shape grow together, creating the feel of a small, indoor forest. The majority of the plants are tropical. Some of them have leaves as big as the fancy dinner plates Steve’s employees pull out for galas, and there are hidden water spigots spraying a fine mist over them. There are palms dotted around the room, as well as hibiscus trees. A fountain sits in the center of the conservatory. Two large, potted palms sit in front of it, and between them there’s a red velvet settee. 

Your eyes find Steve’s immediately, and it feels like your legs give out for a second. Bucky’s still beside you, however, and he manages to keep you upright with an arm around your waist.

“Mo grá,” Steve says from where he’s seated on the center of the settee, and his deep baritone is like a balm to your soul. You close your eyes and let out a breath. It feels like you’re breathing for the first time in days. It’s definitely the first time you’ve been this relaxed.

When you meet his gaze again, Steve smiles wearily and holds out a hand. You close the distance between you and stand between his outstretched legs. He looks up at you, and the two men who’d been standing guard behind the couch move so they’re no longer in your line of sight. 

“Did they hurt you?” he asks. There’s a glint of anger in his eyes as he speaks, but you know better. The glint is just a hint of what’s hiding inside of him. Steve is furious that they’ve taken him, but he’s even more angry that they took you. You know he’s probably beating himself up over it, too.

You lift your hands and run them through Steve’s hair. Instinctively, he closes his eyes and leans into your touch, just like he always does.

“No, my love,” you gently answer. “I’m okay. How are you feeling? They gave you something… I don’t know what. Whatever it was, it was strong.”

You can hear the fear and uncertainty in your voice, and you wish that you could hide it better, but all the willpower in the world wouldn’t help you right now. You’ve never been able to hide anything from Steve. It’s how he’d discovered your true identity so quickly, even if he hadn’t revealed that to you until your investigation had been completely foiled.

“I’m fine,” he soothes. “A little tired, maybe.”

Nodding, you let Steve take your hand and kiss your palm, then close your fingers into a fist. He does the same to your other hand, and then he pulls you down to kiss him properly. He pulls you so close that you’re forced to straddle him with your knees firmly planted on the cushions on either side of him.

Behind you, Natasha clears her throat. Your cheeks grow hot when you remember that there are others present for your reunion, and you sit back so you can look at her from over your shoulder. Steve supports your weight with his knees underneath you and with both hands on your ass. Your own hands rest on your thighs.

“As touching as this reunion is, I have news,” she says. There’s a small smirk on her face, and you have to resist the urge to throw the nearest pillow at her.

“What is it, Natasha?” Steve asks. He’s all business again.

“We’ve found Javier, Captaen,” Natasha replies. She bows her head a little when she says his title, the same way every one of the mobsters does. It was strange to you when you first joined them, but you’ve grown used to it. The action is comforting, in a way. You know it means a show of respect for Steve, and with that comes respect and protection for you, too.

“And?”

“He’s finished.”

Steve nods once. “Good. We’ll be leaving soon. Round up any remaining men and take them to the office. Bring Jim and Frenchie with you.”

You’ve never been to Steve’s “office”. You’d tried, once, when you were still an agent assigned to uncover the syndicate, but Steve had prevented that from happening. Now, you have no desire to see the evidence of his work. You have no interest in the grizzly details of the Rogers Crime Family, even if you’re now a part of that family.

“One of Javier’s employees is in a room down the hall. She’s not one of his men, she just works in the house. What do you want us to do with her?” Bucky asks.

Steve stays quiet for a minute, and you feel his thumbs brush against the waistband of your jeans as he thinks. Finally, he looks up at you.

“What do you think, mo grá?” 

“Let her go. Pay her off,” you instantly tell him. You bring one hand up to cradle his cheek. “She’s innocent, I can tell.”

Steve nods once, then tilts his head to look past you at his oldest, most trusted friend. “You hear that, Buck?”

There’s no response, but Steve leans against the back of the settee and smiles softly, pulling you down to lay on top of him. He wraps his arms around you in a gentle embrace, so you can only assume that Bucky and Natasha have gone off to do Steve’s bidding, along with the two guards that had been here when you arrived, leaving the two of you alone in the conservatory.

“I was so worried,” you murmur, and Steve hums. 

“I wasn’t.”

You lean back a little so you can look at him. Steve has his head tilted back with his eyes closed, and there’s a soft smile on his face. The early morning light that streams in through the massive conservatory windows makes his hair and face seem glowing and almost ethereal. Somewhere in the room, a bird chirps its morning song, adding to the heavenly illusion.

“You weren’t?”

“No. I knew we’d be reunited again. We always are, mo rúnsearc,” Steve replies. He opens his eyes and your breath catches in your throat, just like it always does when he looks at you this intensely. You’ve been together for years now and yet somehow, Steve still takes your breath away.

You brush his cheekbone with your thumb before you drop your hand. His hands have moved to your hips, and you gently pull one of them off so you can intertwine your fingers.

“You haven’t called me that since we first started dating,” you tell him.

Steve chuckles. “You hated that nickname.”

“I didn’t know what it meant!” you protest, and he laughs again, this time more earnestly.

“You were such a confused little bird back then,” he says, affection clear in his tone. “You had no idea what you’d gotten yourself into.”

Shaking your head, you lean down to give him a chaste kiss. “No, I definitely didn’t. Not even in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I’d fall in love with the mob boss.”

“Tell me then,” Steve replies.

His other hand finds your own and you shift your weight so you can sit more comfortably in his lap. He’s totally focused on you and your response. Your heart swoops a little at the attention. Steve always knows how to make you feel heard and important, even when it’s only the two of you in the room.

“What would have been your wildest dreams back then?”

“My wildest dreams?” you ask. He hums, his thumb rubbing over your hand as he waits for your answer. You tilt your head and consider him for a moment, then give him a slow, sly smile. “Probably falling in love with the mob boss’ second in command.”

Steve scoffs and pulls one hand from yours so he can smack your thigh, and you laugh loudly, tilting your head back.

“You’re a little shit, Y/N.”

“I learned from the best,” you tease.

“I’m never letting you sit next to Bucky at game night ever again,” Steve says. He’s holding back laughter—the corner of his lips twitches as he tries not to smile, and his chest heaves a little.

“Does this mean you and I can team up and win Monopoly together? I’m sick of losing against him and Nat, and it’s not fair that I have to be on my own team!”

“Is that what it’ll take to keep you in love with me?” he asks.

Grinning, you nod furiously, and Steve fakes a belabored sigh. “I suppose we can team up.”

You gather his hand again and lean forward until your forehead rests against his. You’re both smiling wide now, and you close your eyes as his nose bumps against yours. 

“I already love you, Steve Rogers,” you murmur. “I’d follow you anywhere. I’d go to war for you, you know.”

“I know you would, and if I have anything to do with it, you never will,” he replies. You smile a little when you feel his hand pull from yours, then slide up your neck to cradle the back of your head so he can guide you into another kiss. “I will always protect you.”

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

congrats on the 3,000 followers! I'm so excited for this!

My request is Rick Grimes x plus size reader "she fell first, he fell harder" + “That’s it, keep going. Such a good girl.”

Mafia au? If you do that sort of thing.

Belonging

Mob!Rick Grimes x plus size reader

He’s older, he’s dangerous and he’s all yours

Warnings: age-gap relationship (reader is implied to be in her mid-20s while Rick is 50), daddy kink, unprotected sex, smut, small references to Rick’s kids, some cockwarming

WC: 1.6k

Minors DNI

3000 Follower Celebration

Falling in love with your boss was never a good idea, especially when he was the leader of the most powerful mob in the south and a man that was almost double your age who had two kids, one of which was barely ten years younger than you. But when he would smile at you first thing in the morning as you delivered his coffee or when his blue eyes sparkled as you told him a dumb joke to brighten his day, you fell even deeper for him. 

“Mr Grimes?” You knocked gently on the door jamb to his office, unconsciously pressing your plump thighs together as you took in the sight of his unruly grey curls that had been loosened from his usual slicked back style through the day. His eyes met yours, his pink lips turning up into a smooth smile beneath his well-groomed beard.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes darlin’.” He cooed, leaning back from his desk so he could give you his full attention. “And I thought I told you ta call me Rick or daddy.” He winked. You rolled your eyes and strutted into the office, shutting the door behind you, mindful to lock it.

“And I thought I told you to keep it professional during work hours.” His eyes followed you as you moved to the other end of the office. You poured a glass of his very expensive brandy into a crystal tumbler, his heavy gaze burning into your back. “I’m still your secretary Mr Grimes.” You glanced back at him.

He clenched his jaw in annoyance but his eyes were still alight with amusement. “Well, you refused to let me give you a better position Mrs Grimes.” You scoffed and turned on the balls of your feet so you could lean against his drinks cabinet, taking a sip of the golden liquid.

“You offered me the job when your dick was down my throat, I don’t think that’s a brilliant qualifier. And I’m not Mrs Grimes yet, I don’t see a ring on either of our fingers.” You pointed out, tapping your empty ring finger against the glass. 

“And how is that my fault? I’ve asked ya ta marry me bout 50 times now.” The high-back leather seat rolled back from his desk, allowing Rick to stand to his full height. His black suit is now wrinkled from sitting at his desk all day but still gives him an air of power. You knew how dangerous he was but that made it all the more exciting. “If it had been up ta me, we would be married and with a couple of tykes around ya feet by now.”

You smiled and took another sip. “But no. Ya had ta say it was ‘too soon’.” He said with a mocking tone, slowly working his way over to you. Your gaze dropped down and caught sight of the tightness in his slacks around his growing bulge. 

“You proposed on our second date AFTER I had to beg you for the first one.” His huge palm cupped the swell of your hip as he plucked the glass from your hand, downing the rest of the brandy in one gulp. You were hypnotised by the way his Adam's apple bobbed and the urge to bite his deliciously thick throat became almost overwhelming.

“I am sorry bout that darlin. Ya see, I couldn’t believe such a sweet, plump, sexy little thang like you would want an old dangerous man like me.” That made you mad. Your fingers curled around his dark tie and yanked the mobster closer to you.

“Then you are a fool, Mr Grimes, to not see how much I utterly adore you.” You pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth in a delicate peck but when he whined, obviously wanting more, you kissed him properly. 

Rick’s arms wound around your thick waist as you held his jaw in your hands. Heat raced through you as he pulled you away from the wooden cabinet and towards the huge sofa in the corner of the room. “Guess you’ll hafta prove it ta me then.” He groaned against your lips, his fingers searching for the zipper to your skirt at the same time. 

“And how do you suppose I do that daddy?” You swore his knees buckled as you cooed into his ear. As the back of Rick’s legs hit the edge of the couch, he tumbled back, pulling you down on top of him. Your thick thighs were forced apart over his lap and your bare centre pushed against him. Wetness quickly soaked through the rough fabric of his pants.

A moan slipped through your throat as your clit brushed up on the metallic zipper. Rick smirked. “How bout you give me a ride darlin, show me with your purty little pussy.” He lifts your skirt just enough to expose your soaked folds to him. 

You chased his lips as you rocked forward onto your knees, your fingers fumbling with the clasp to his pants. Your tongues tangled in a lewd dance, your teeth clacking together as you become more desperate for him. Rick’s musky cologne washed over your senses, consuming your whole being. 

Finally, his trousers came undone and your hands flew into them, desperate for your prize. Rick hissed as you pulled him out. He was painfully hard and throbbing in your soft palm, his head now a deep purple, eager for release. “Is this all for me daddy?” You cooed, giving him a tentative pump and watching as a bead of pre-cum gathered at his tip.

His thin hips bucked into your hand. “Ya know it is. All yours darlin.” You kissed him again, this time it was sweeter as you tried to convey all your feelings for the older man with a single brush of your lips. As he kissed you back, his hands held your hips tightly, guiding you up so you could position him at your weeping entrance. 

“And I’m all yours.” You sunk down onto him slowly, his thick length prying you apart with a pleasurable burn. “F-fuck daddy. So big.” You moaned and dropped down another inch. His grip on you got even tighter, forcing you down so he was buried to the hilt. Your body struggled to take him, your walls rippling around him. 

Rick stopped breathing in a vain attempt to keep himself still. He wanted you to take what you needed from him in your own time, no matter how wild it drove him to have you wrapped so tightly around him and so wet that it was dripping onto his heavy balls.

Your body sagged as you finally relaxed enough for the stretch to lessen. “There ya go darlin. Doin so good.” He stroked the small of your back lovingly with his thumbs, encouraging you to take your time with him, even if it was borderline torture for the mobster.

Deciding to put him out of his misery, you rolled your hips in a figure-8 motion, your clit grinding against the sparse patch of hair at the base of his pelvis with each pass. But all-too soon, you realised it wasn’t enough. So planting your knees into the cousins, you started to bounce on top of your lover.

His reaction was immediate. 

Rick's eyes rolled back into his head as he bit his lip to prevent loud groans from escaping. The air was forced from your lungs every time your ass met his thighs

“That’s it, keep going. Such a good girl.” Your thighs began to burn with the strain of riding him but the pleasure was too great to stop. With each downward roll of your hips, the crown of his cock perfectly hitting the bundle of nerves deep inside of you that had you seeing stars.

Your nails dug painfully into his strong shoulders, almost slicing through his shirt. Rick’s hips bucked with the pain, sending him even deeper inside yourself. You gasped as he bashed against your cervix, inadvertently sending you higher and higher. The knot deep inside you began to tighten quickly and by the way Rick’s head had fallen into the crook of your neck, his lips desperately kissing and suckling your skin, he was getting close too.

“Daddy please. Need more.” You whined. His strong right hand skirted down your front, leaving goosebumps in its wake. For a moment he paused at the area around your hips, pressing his fingers to the soft flesh of your stomach almost reverently before continuing to the apex of your thighs. 

Calloused fingertips rubbed tight circles against your clit and you exploded. Colours burst behind your eyes as your jaw dropped open in a silent scream. His cock throbbed deep inside you and Rick gave two, three forceful thrusts up before holding you down and cumming inside you.

The office was silent save for the sounds of your breathing. Your body trembled with the force of your orgasm and you slumped into your partner. Rick chuckled breathlessly, holding you to his chest. “Guess ya really do love me.” He murmured into your hair.

“Yeah so deal with it Grimes.” You replied sleepily, exhaustion suddenly overcoming you. Rick just smiled and traced down the length of your spine as you fell asleep on top of him, his cock softening inside of you.

“Rick, we need ya down at the docks. Negan is causin some issues.” Daryl’s tentative voice called from outside the office door. Rick sighed. 

“I’ll be out in a minute.” Gently, he laid you down on the couch and pulled out. There was a rush of his release as it spilled from you. With a practised ease, he grabbed the small box of tissues from the side table to wipe away the last of his seed. You never even stirred as he laid his jacket over you and placed a kiss on your head. “Be good for me darlin. I’ll be back soon.”

And hopefully you wouldn’t take off the huge diamond ring he had delicately placed on your finger before he was able to beg you to keep it on. 

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[pennyellee]

So, we have 3 chapters left of Lacrimosa. I'm not okaaay 🥺🥺

Hmmmm, do we? I haven’t actually decided on the final amount of chapters yet, but I’m not done in the story just yet, and I don’t think I will be in 2 chapters so Lacrimosa will prolly have more than 10 chapters ∞ ☼｡𖦹 ° . ⋆♡

[biggirllifestyle]

The Red Wedding.

Summary: Weddings are times for Celebrations, but this wedding takes the cake.

Pairings: Mafia!Steve Rogers x OFC

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: Violence lots of violence, and Peggy Carter.

A/N: It's been a while and I'm super excited to post this. This is based on a scene from a movie I watched today that just made my jaw drop super different but has the same premise.

When one is young there is always that time when you picture the perfect wedding, the perfection in every detail from the large venue with the gorgeous view to the smallest ribbon that would be used. Everything was methodical. Yet here you stood blood splattering your beautiful pearl white dress, hair in disarray, mascara smudged and running, and a loaded gun in your hand.

  Guests were frantically running around trying to find some sense of what the hell had just happened. From across the room, you watched your husband face you taking a step forward and then another until he was only a few feet away, you raised the gun pointing it at him, but not once did he flinch at your action.

“Me chingastes Steve, por ultima ves me chingastes hijo de puta.”

Taking a deep breath, you pulled the trigger.

-         3 Hours Earlier       -

The ceremony had been beautiful, Steve had gone all out on expenses never once asking anything from your parents. This had brought much joy to your father as he acted like the cat that ate the canary, every time he showed a hint of smugness you couldn’t help but roll your eyes sharing some meaningful glances with Steve.

In a sense yes, your father was earning a lot with your marriage to Steve, by having his business be administered by the biggest mafia boss in Brooklyn and if his price was to let him have his only child that was a sacrifice, he was willing to make. Well, not much of a sacrifice since you and Steve had been together for quite some time joined to the hip since he was a sickly kid until he rose in ranks and his abrupt puberty where he grew three times his size and could plummet anybody who looked at you funny into the ground.

With how long you both had been together it was almost inevitable for your engagement to be announced, everybody knew and everybody important was invited. With Steve and you deciding to keep the ceremony private (much to the chagrin of your father), with your parents, Bucky Steve’s best friend and righthand man, and Sam Steve’s other best friend present everything went smoothly just like you had always pictured.

The ride over to the venue was filled with heated kisses and touches that made you lose your breath; you could feel his smug smile as he kissed your neck. Everything was going as planned your entrance was greeted with big cheers and applauses, at some point you and Steve were separated he was being taken by Sam and Bucky to join the other boys while you took the liberty of greeting your other guest trying to make time before the real festivities began.

Half an hour later, after removing yourself from a painful conversation with your Tia where she went on and on about her newly installed backyard grill, you were able to meet with Steve again who looked a little disheveled but otherwise unharmed. He was grinning a stupid smile marking his face as he pulled you close, giving you small kisses and finally bringing you into a big hug, burying his nose into your hair.

“You don’t know how happy you’ve made me by tying yourself to me indefinitely.”

You huffed out a laugh hitting his chest at his remark, “Menso, I married you because I love you don’t be calling our marriage me tying myself to you.”

You gave him a small smirk, “I mean I can still get rid of you at any time.”

Steve let out a deep growl pulling you flush against him; you give a small yelp at his roughness trying to look around and see if anybody noticed, noting that most people were avoiding looking or walking toward your area. Steve jostled you again forcing your attention back to him, you knew Steve like the back of your hand and at that moment, you knew that if it would have just been the two of you Steve wouldn’t have hesitated to throw you over this table and fuck you into oblivion.

“Baby you really do know how to get me going, I can’t wait until we get home so I can fuck you into every surface that I can get you on.”

Bucky, who was the only person who was brave enough to come near you cleared his throat, he motioned behind him where several people had congregated to talk. Steve’s face turned stormy pulling away from you fixing himself to a proper state, he gave Bucky a nod who turned back towards the group, Steve looked pissed, and this worried you because you knew Steve and he would never let his emotions show especially in such an open venue where most of his competitors were present.

Whatever this was it was serious.

You grabbed his hand giving him a brief squeeze to let him know that it was okay, he gave a soft huff giving you a brief kiss before heading over to Bucky and the other men. You didn’t want anybody to see you worried, raising a glass to the DJ a soft cumbia started that got many people to join the dance floor keeping many busy and others distracted.

You watched Steve and the men as they talked in hurried hushed tones, you could see the tension building as one of the men who you knew was Tony who was from the Manhattan district showed something to Steve that made him madder. The music drowned out most people and they left you alone, just as you were beginning to relax you hear the tell-tale sign of your ringtone you knew you should have kept it silent, but you were waiting on a particularly important phone call from your firm for a recent case.

You grabbed your phone ‘UNKOWN NUMBER’ displayed across the screen, it confused you, so you let it ring not bothering to pick it up. The ringing stopped but soon after it started again, you knew you couldn’t ignore it any longer if they were going to keep insisting.

“Hello?”

“Finally, I get ahold of you!” A deep feminine voice answered through the line, “Congratulations on the wedding! You’re a lucky girl today.”

“Who is this? What do you want?” You looked around the room trying to see if you could spot anybody with a phone.

“Calm down kid, I just wanted to give you a little information on the man you just married,” The lady on the line laughed and you couldn’t help the annoyance that brought on you.

“Look lady I don’t know who the fuck you are but you’re getting on my fucking nerves.”

“Oh, sweetie I was just trying to make conversation, I just wanted you to know what your husband was doing or who he was doing just a few days a few days ago or specifically last Thursday.”

That stopped you cold, you knew exactly what she was talking about. Last week Steve had gone out early in the morning saying that he had an important meeting with a buyer, and he stayed out late almost coming home until early the next morning. You remembered since you had stayed up to wait for him and to finish working on some case files before you had to head out on your honeymoon.

“He worked me out all night until early morning, it was an amazing goodbye gift he gave me before he tied himself to you.”

At this point you were shacking both in anger and in sorrow at what could be the truth, you looked to where Steve was still preoccupied with his friends at that moment he looked up and caught your eye his face melted into something lovingly and you couldn’t help the choked sobbed that worked its way out your throat. You heard the lady on the line laugh at your sob and you knew that she was a sadistic bitch who was enjoying your pain.

“Quien chingados eres? You fucking bitch if you have the balls to call me on my wedding day and tell me all of this you should also have the balls to tell me your fucking name.”

She laughed again loving the fact that she was able to get you to this state, “You should ask him who Peggy Carter is and you’ll know in an instant that I’m not lying to you.”

The line went dead after and all you could focus on was the dial tone, you were fuming not just at this Peggy lady but at Steve for making you a fool. At this point you weren’t in control of yourself everything seemed so loud and too quiet as you made your way to Steve and the other men, pushing past them not caring who they were until Steve was the only thing you could see.

“Who the fuck is Peggy Carter?” Steve’s eyes widened at the name and all the other men in the group began to murmur amongst each other, but your focus was only on Steve who seemed to have lost all color.

“Baby how do you know that name?” His answer was enough to set you off as you punched his chest slapping the phone onto his chest, your only goal was to get answers from him and hurt him as much as you were hurting. Bucky tried to grab your arm, but Steve shook his head no and that just made you madder.

“Te la cogiste verdad hijo de puta? You fucked her a week before our fucking wedding, how could you?”

Steve was holding onto your arms trying to stop you from hitting him but also from hurting yourself, he pulled you forward until you were squished against his chest but that just felt like you were suffocating so you pushed him away.

“Answer me you fucking coward, did you fuck her?”

“No baby I would never do that to you, you know how much I love you.”

“Don’t lie to me Rogers or I swear to god I’ll fucking kill you.”

Just as Steve was about to answer a few gunshots ranged out across the room, Steve pushed you down until he was covering around you, and people began to run around as glass shattered and screams went around the room. Steve pushed you towards Bucky telling him to get you out of there as more shots were fired Bucky handed Steve a gun as he began to pull you towards the exit.

“Bucky let me go,” You screeched as you fought against him, he ignored you keeping himself close as he walked you towards the exit. From your position you couldn’t see much, just people running from every exit that they could find. Just as you were reaching the door you spotted a brown-haired woman walking towards where Steve was, seeming to ignore the chaos around and strolling towards your husband as if there was no care in the world. Her lips were painted a deep red matching her dress and something in you just knew.

This fucking bitch was Peggy Carter.

“Bucky you have to go to Steve, you have to tell him that Peggy is here.”

Bucky seemed to have come to the same conclusion as he watched Peggy making her way to where Steve was fighting some goon oblivious to her presence.

“I’ll be fine just go to Steve, give me a gun,” He whipped his head towards a conflicted look until he reached into his inner pocket and removed a gun for you.

“You better not make me regret this,” Were his last words until he was sprinting towards Steve dodging men as much as he could. You turned to the exit running towards the kitchen where you knew you could lose someone or find someplace to hide. Just as you reached the doors to outs you were yanked back by a strong force, slamming you onto the floor stealing your breath away.

You knew you only had seconds to react, you shot up a few rounds hoping something would hit. A grunt, and then a thump as the man fell over. There was blood and a lot of it, most of it had missed you but there was still a rogue spray that hit you. You got up shakily, you knew how to shoot a gun, but never had you killed someone like this.

Your insides felt loose and firm and you couldn’t help but throw up everything from that day until you were dry heaving. You must have taken too long because as soon as you steadied yourself somebody was already grabbing you. You tried to struggle against your grabber but stopped as you felt the barrel of the gun being pressed against your head.

“Don’t try anything sweetheart, now you and I are gonna take a little trip back into the reception” he started shoving you forward, “Can’t have you leaving your own party early now, can we?”

You grunted as he pushed you hard enough that your foot gave out a little, it wasn’t extreme, but it did cause you to start limping much to the annoyance of your captor. He pushed you towards the doors leading to the reception, Steve was bound to a chair Peggy was on his lap Bucky and Sam were surrounded by men keeping them from doing anything without getting killed. The moment the doors had slammed open everybody turned to you, Steve’s eyes seemed to widen as he looked at all the blood and your limping state, he began to fight against his restraints jostling Peggy out of his lap.

The gun being pressed to your temple stops him from doing anything else. Peggy huffs motioning for the man holding you to bring you forward. You didn’t have your gun anymore; Steve was incapacitated, and Bucky and Sam had every gun on them you knew that this looked like you had lost. The moment that you were close Peggy drew you into a hug, you recoiled trying to get away from her but a gun to your back stopped you.

“After our heart-to-heart through the phone, this is how you’re going to repay me?” Peggy pouted at you, and this made it clear she was crazy.

“Yeah, well I just saw it as some crazy bitch trying to ruin my perfect day, how would you see it?” That must have been the wrong thing as Peggy’s face became enraged, she swung her hand at you a sting running from your cheek where she struck you.

“Get the fuck away from her Peggy or I swear,” Steve yelled at her fighting to get himself off the chair, Peggy ignored him tooting in disagreement.

“Baby if you don’t stop trying to get out of that chair, I’ll start hurting your little bitch.” Steve seemed to be having a fight with himself trying to find a way to get out of this and get you to safety. Peggy walked towards Steve leaning down to whisper something in his ear that made him mad but made no move to fight.

“Now baby, how about you tell your wife about the wonderful time we had, how you told me how much you loved me and how the only reason why we couldn’t be together was that you were getting much more from the deal.”

Bucky, who was still on the ground, whipped his head towards you ready to say something but was stopped as the man behind him pressed the barrel into the back of his head stopping him.

“Just let her know baby, tell her what we did, and I promise you I’ll let her go.” Steve seemed to contemplate before dropping his head in defeat.

“It’s true, we were together last Thursday,” Steve made a face as if he was in pain, almost as if the words he was spitting out hurt, “I was having second thoughts about getting married, I didn’t know if you were the right person for me.”

Steve’s words hit you hard, all the pain and rage that was inside you was brewing and at this point, you were unsure if you were about to scream or throw up.

“Peggy she was there, and I took my chance to figure it out if you were what I wanted.” He lamely finished, his face twisted into a grimace but all you could see was Peggy’s stupid grin and that just made you angry. You slammed your heel into your captor and threw your head back until it collided with his face, and he released you with a yelp. Bucky and Sam seemed to have taken advantage of the distraction as they flew back against their own captors wrestling them into the ground. Steve slammed himself back smashing the chair into pieces to free himself. Your captor tackled you down, slamming your head into the floor obscenities flying at you before Steve practically ripped him off from you.

Peggy began to rush away but you took the chance from everybody’s distraction to go after her, you were unsteady, but she did not get far as you tackled her. She began to throw punches at you, one of them catching you in your cheek, the other splitting your lip, but you weren’t far off as you also landed your own blows.

“You fucking Perra, you ruined my wedding and I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Peggy reached around her trying to find a way to get you off her, her hands grazing the floor until she latched onto a shard of champagne glass from the earlier altercation. She lashed up cutting your arm and making you retreat as she tried to keep slashing at you. She rushed over trying to stab you screaming her head off at you as she did.

“He was mine; he was always mine and you fucking took him away you fucking bitch. He loves me not you.” She cried as she slashed your arms. You pushed her away as she stumbled back and fell just as she was going to get up, she was stopped by Bucky who had incapacitated everybody else.

Steve walked towards Bucky looking down at a struggling Peggy, “Take her somewhere else, we’ll deal with her later.”

You walked away, your leg was starting to hurt and the cuts from the glass were stinging, this wasn’t your fight anymore and you were done. People were rushing around, reinforcements from someone else, and at this point, you really didn’t care, you knew you would have to call your parents and check on them, you knew they had gotten out but still.

You reached down to collect a bottle of champagne that was still intact and an abandoned gun. You knew you still had one thing to deal with and you could finally head home and relax, but this would just have to be a priority. You turned back to the scene; your husband was still directing people trying to clear out as much as he could.

You watched your husband as he pointed at things around, he turned towards you, taking in your running mascara blood-covered dress, and messy hair, and all he felt was deep love at how strong you were in all this. He walked towards you trying to get as close as he could stopping short as he saw the gun in your hand, you raised it aiming at him but that didn’t scare him, the only thoughts that came into his mind were how beautiful you looked and how lucky he was to have you.

“Me chingastes Steve, por ultima ves me chingastes hijo de puta.”

Steve didn’t move and felt the bullet graze his arm, but he didn’t care as the rage melted off you, and concern was all he saw. You rushed forward discarding the gun and bottle, you grabbed at his arm trying to see the damage you caused but instead met a firm chest as Steve held you close.

“Chingate Steve, dejame ver, let me see your arm you fucking asshole.” You pushed away from him as you removed his suit to look at his arm, he began to caress your face you ignored him as you ripped away at his shirt.

“This doesn’t change anything you know, I’m fucking pissed at you asshole,” You looked up at Steve who only showed love in his eyes, “You’re lucky I don’t file for an annulment.”

Steve felt the breath being squeezed out of him, just the idea of you not being with him scared him.

“Baby, I promise you with all that I have and to my last breath that I was never with her, I’ve only ever loved you and I promise you that everything she said was a lie.” Steve was outright begging at this point trying to make you believe him, and you knew Steve you’ve always known Steve.

“Of course, I know, don’t be a pendejo about this I know you, Steve, I did doubt you, but I know that disrespecting me and us like that is not in you.”

You looked away seeing Bucky pick up the gun you had used on Steve as he pocketed away, he caught your eye and nodded at you and Steve as if to ask if you were okay. You knew he wasn’t asking about your injuries, so you nodded at him, he inclined his head and turned to Sam slapping him in the back which made the other man yelp and punches him back.

“Steve yo te amo, and I know you, I’ve always known what type of man you are,” You pushed up, your foot complained against it, but you brushed your lips against his which made him melt at your touch, “I love you.”

Steve let the tension out, kissing you passionately as if he were trying to engrave your memory into his brain.

“I love you too.”

[sebsgirl71479]

A King and His Queen

Mafia Sebastian Stan x Curvy Female Reader

Rating: 18+only No Minors

Word Count: 1,285k

A/N Once I saw the pictures of Sebastian at the LACMA Gala this story popped up in my head. I will have translations for anything that Sebastian says in romanian. Also if you have a problem with curvy/plus sized readers oh well. 

A/N 2: Ok finally here is part 2, its a little short and its kind of a filler part but hopefully you like it. Turns out this will have a 3rd part to this story. PLEASE DONT FORGET TO REBLOG THIS IT WILL MAKE ME VERY HAPPY 

Warnings: cursing, blood, guns, smut, virgin sex, unprotected sex, fluff,  nicknames If there is anything I missed sorry. 

The following day at the family fourth of july party, you both broke the news to your parents about your engagement. They were over the moon happy for you too, but did stress for the two of you to wait until after you graduated high school to start planning the wedding. You all agree and enjoy the rest of the party. Your whole senior year, the school was a buzz about you getting married. Everyone thought you were crazy but the majority of the students were on your side. Another thing happened that year during school. You both met a new student that transferred from Massachusetts, his name was Chirs Evans. Sebastian and Chris hit it off really quick and became the best of friends. They trusted each other wholeheartedly, as did you. 

6 months after graduation you were getting ready to marry your king. You were standing in front of a full length mirror assessing your look. You picked a beautiful lace off the shoulder mermaid style wedding dress. Your shoes were the same color as Sebastian's eyes and the crown on your head was fit for the queen he said you were. It was a pre wedding gift from Sebastian. You decided to go without a vail for the wedding, it felt like it was too much. There's a knock at the door. “Come in!” You see Chris’ head peek around the corner like he isn't supposed to see you. 

“Oh my god Y/N you look beautiful, Sebastian is going to combust.” You bow your head at his complement and let out a little giggle. “Do you really think he is going to like it?” “I may have only known you guys for a year but I feel like me and Seb were brothers separated at birth. And if he doesn't shed one tear I will smack him in the back of the head.” “Did you need something Chris?” “Oh yeah, um it's almost time, you ready?” “Chirs, I've been ready since I was 13 years old.”  With a big smile on his face he offers you his arm and leads you to the back of the venue where your mother and father are waiting for you. 

You had your wedding at Monteverde at oldstone, a beautiful outside venue with an old 18th century home. As you waited at the end of the aisle for your music to start you reflected on the first time you met Sebastian. He was such a sweet and shy boy and just wanted to get to know him better not knowing you were meeting the love of your life at such a young age. All of a sudden a string quartet starts playing I Can't Help Falling In Love by Elivs Presley, that's your cue to walk. As you walk you finally look up to see Sebastian practically sobbing. You try to hold back your tears as best you can. He is in a simple black suit white shirt and black necktie, so very handsome. You're halfway down the aisle when you mouths to you “I love you.” At that you quicken your pace you want to get to him as fast as possible. You make it to the front as your father takes your hand and gives it to Sebastian. “Son, I trust you to take care of my little girl.”  “Sir, I will protect her till my dying breath.” 

The ceremony was short but beautiful. As soon as the minister pronounced you man and wife Sebastian grabbed you waist, dipped you and kissed you with so much passion you thought you might pass out. He brings you back up and you hug each other so tightly. “I love you so much draga, I can't wait to start our lives together.” Lubirea mea, we are going to have a beautiful life together, my king.” 

During your first year of marriage Sebastian was learning everything about his step-fathers business and then some. By your 1st anniversary he had almost completely taken over his business. What most people didn't know was that his step-dad was a small-time mafia man, and Sebastian had big plans to make it bigger than ever. You and Sebastian wanted to have children but waited a few years to really start trying. With him taking over the mafia, you wanted to find a time where things started to level out. After 3 years of marriage you had a big surprise for him on his birthday. You were 8 weeks along already when you found out. You had dinner simmering on the stove while you set the table ready for him to come home. On his place setting you put a copy of the sonogram. You heard him coming through the front door. 

“Draga, I'm home!” “I’m in the kitchen lubirea mea.”  You turn  around just as he comes into the kitchen, giving you a soul stealing kiss. “Seb, what was that for?” “Just happy to see my beautiful wife after a hard day.”  “Well I hope you're hungry? Go wash up while I finish up here.” Giving you a peck on the cheek he runs up stairs to take off his suit jacket and head to the bathroom to wash up. While he’s doing that you are a ball of nerves waiting for him to come back down stairs to sit at the table and find your surprise. You hear him coming back down and ask him to go ahead and take his seat while you bring dinner. As you walk into the dinning room you see Sebastian standing by his chair holding the sonogram. You walk slowly over to him and place dinner on the table. 

“Sebastian, baby please say something.” He looks over at you with a few tears coming down his face. “Draga, is this for real? Are you pregnant?”  You nod your head afraid to speak. He fist pumps the air and scoops you up in his arms and spins you around peppering you with kisses. Once he stops he puts you down and holds your face in his large hands. “Y/N, i didn't think i could be any happier than i am at this moment. You are going to be an amazing mother.” “Seb, you are going to be a great dad, not to mention really sexy.” You both laugh and give each other a few more kisses before starting dinner. 

All through out your pregnancy, Sebastian was the most caring and attentive husband. Anything you needed he gave you, he even choose the décor of the nursery for you with your approval. At the 5 month mark you found out you were having twins a boy and a girl. You went into labor at 37 weeks, and Sebastian was with you through out everything. As soon as you were able to finally push the babies out that's when the real pain started. You soldiered through and when you heard the first cries are you baby girl you and Sebastian started crying. He cut the ambilocal cord and the nurse took her to clean her up. 5 mins later you start pushing again and out comes your son, he cuts his cord and is taken to be clean up as well. Two nurses bring over you son and daughter for you to hold. They give you your son and Sebastian your daughter. 

Y/N, draga mea have you thought of name for our son?”  “I have, do you have one for our daughter?” “I do, what do you think of Elena?” “I love it lubirea mea, what do you think about Luca for our son?” “Luca and Elena Stan, they both mean light in Romanian its beautiful.” 

TAG LIST: @buckyalpine @christycurlswrites @frostironfudge @peaches1958 @allandoflimbo @altagraye​

[ldysmfrst]

Reciprocal Synergy (4) - Fortune

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 4 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 3,859

Work count for Story: 10,354

Genre: Omegaverse Au based off KinnPorsche: Thai BL Drama

Each chapter starts with a definition.

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This chapter mentions guns, the presentation of the second gender, feral Alpha, and ownership.

Library of LdySmFrst / Reciprocal Synergy Master List

For·tune

/ˈfôrCHən/

Noun

arrival of something in a sudden or unexpected manner; chance; accident.

Making their way across the crowd of spectators, Kinn, and his crew come across other Miss Sha Den members who notice them passing. Each of them fluffed their scents in an attempt to gain Kinn’s attention. Unfortunately for them, Kinn already has his sights set on Y/n. 

The Omega that has maple and caramel scents, even though her back wounds should bend her natural scent into burnt sugar. What Y/n has done to gain such a nasty punishment is still a mystery. It is challenging to survive as the plaything of a feral Alpha, especially with the indication that y/n will be used again tonight for a potential feral Alpha.

Kinn finds it amazing that while he came here to collect one individual, he seems to be leaving with two. However, he doubts that Y/n or Porsche already know they are his. 

“Kinn,” Tay calls, setting his pace to match. “You can’t give Y/n to Phoenix. Her back isn’t fully healed. She will die if she gets chewed and clawed up again.”

“I have no intention to allow that to happen,” admits Kinn. 

Tay pauses, looking at his friend and over to the Omega in question as she waits at the entrance of the VIP area, kneeling with her head on a swivel, looking for them to arrive. “You are going to keep her, aren’t you?”

Glancing around, Kinn leans into Tay, making it look like he is allowing the Alpha to scent him, “Tay, keep it hushed, please. I don’t want anyone in Miss Sha’s Den to understand my intention. I worded the request hopefully in a way that will hold up if the Triads call me into question.”

“I thought so, but I didn’t want to question you in that little room,” comments Tay while playing into the action without actually scenting Kinn. “I will pull more of my men to line the outside so we can get out faster. Time has men near, too.”

Kinn pulls back with a flirty smile before continuing to the tank's east corner. 

Interestingly enough, the east corner has been made into a multilevel sloping edge, like it was at one time, the pool's shallow end leading to the depths of the other end. If only this pool's creator understood how it would be used in the future, maybe they wouldn’t have created such a metaphoric basin. 

Y/n stands when Kinn nears, tilting her head as expected. Kinn greets her again with a small but honest smile. Understanding the customs of the second gender while not having any of his own, Kinn traps Yn’s jaw in his hand and breathes in her maple scent. Only this time, the maple has more caramel than when she figured out who Kinn was. 

Releasing her jaw and stepping farther into the VIP section, Kinn watches as Y/n’s attention drifts to the awaiting competitors. Standing in all his tanned, lean-muscled glory is Porsche or, as they call him, Phoenix. 

His eyes are on the VIP area, and he watches Y/n’s movements like a predator hunting his prey. This action makes Kinn wonder if there is a history between the two. Was he the one to make the marks marring her back already??

Taking his seat, Kinn calls out, “Y/n, come here, please, and explain to me what you know of this main match.”

Quickly following the directions, Y/n kneels at Kinn’s feet as she watches for Tay and Time to take their seats. Once everyone is settled, she begins, “Well, Mr. Jay said it had been too long since the Phoenix had been shown that he wasn’t Invincible. The Alphas fighting against him will come out in various stages.”

“Are you telling me that the Phoenix has an ego, which is why there is a crowd?” Time smugly asks. 

“Well, Phoenix hasn’t lost a match in the last six months, and Mr. Jay doesn’t seem to like that the fans are starting to call him the Champion of the People,” Y/n clarifies. 

Kinn listens to her words but watches Phoenix start his warm-up. If he hadn’t read the fighter's file, his stretches alone would indicate extensive martial arts training. It takes years of training, or fucking, to be able to bend like that. 

Kinn’s inner ear beeps, startling him from his ogling before Mok is heard, “Khun Kinn, the little brother, is being taken ringside. They will be there in a few seconds.”

Tay and Time's eyes shoot over to Kinn and then to Phoenix, their bodies gaining tension, ready to react at the drop of a hat. Y/n seems to pick up on the tension and the slight change in the three’s scent. 

“Khun Kinn, Sir, is everything alright?” asks Y/n. Her eyes bounce between the three men in the VIP area and out to the ranks of Alpha’s, getting ready to fight. It’s then she takes a gasping breath, “Chay.”

“You know Chay?” Kinn’s eyes drop to the kneeling Omega.

Y/n’s eyes are no longer on the three men. Her eyes are only focused on the young man who looks like a twig version of his brother as he gets dragged up to the edge of the pool area. 

“Omega! Answer me. Do you know Chay?” Kinn demands, wishing he had an Alpha voice to pull an answer from the now burnt-smelling woman at his feet. 

“Yes, I do,” y/n whimpers. “He is the younger brother of Pors... Phoenix and shouldn’t be here. He has just become old enough to be allowed near the fights, but Phoenix has always pushed to keep him out since he hadn’t presented yet. That and he would never want this for his brother.”

A growl resounds in the pool, echoing off the walls as the crowd’s unruly banter mutes. It is the sound of an enraged Alpha. Moments later, the crowd gets hammered with the scent of a burning forest. 

Phoenix or Porsche, whoever he is right now, will go feral before the match even starts, thinks Kinn. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go, but now it’s out of hand. 

Behind Chay, Mr. Jay and Miss Sha walk up. “Phoenix, my men were stopping by your place to check on poor little Chay here to ensure he would be okay for the night when..” Mr. Jay makes a flabbergasted look on his face. “They found Chay collapsed on the floor and his body as hot as lava.”

Miss Sha leans into the neck of the terrified-looking young man before she says, “He has such a lovely, sweet smell, Phoenix. It is almost like mango sticky rice. Once he finishes presenting, I am sure he will make a lovely addition to my Den.”

“Hia, please! I don’t want to join her, Den,” pleads the poor boy, looking at his brother with tears. His body is visibly trembling as he tries to refrain from doubling over in pain that tends to come with anyone’s second gender presenting. 

“You are not joining any Den. You already have a family pack with me and the others. You won’t need a Den,” growls out Phoenix. 

Mr. Jay and Miss Sha laugh at his words. Pulling the crowd in to laugh with them.

“Oh, how you amaze me with thinking you have a choice in the matter, Phoenix,” deadpans Mr. Jay. “You forget that I own you, which means I also own him. If I say he belongs to Miss Sha when he is finished presenting, then so shall it be until you pay off your debts to me.”

Kinn knew there was a debt the family owed, but now they know who holds the leash. Pulling Y/n closer, Kinn leans down and whispers, “Why does he owe Mr. Jay $7.8 billion?”

The shocked look of y/n turns to Kinn. “How do you know about that? Did you come here for Phoenix?”

“I will explain later. Answer my question before this becomes a blood bath,” Kinn demands, meeting her eyes with all the power of his name behind him. 

“Ahh... umm… Porsche and Porchay, real names, their parents died in a car accident when Porsche was just barely a teen. It caused him to present early and feral. His Uncle took out loans to ‘pay’ for the house but lost it to gambling,” answers Y/n. 

“So what does he have to do with his Uncle’s debts?” questions Tay. 

“Well… not entirely sure, but I think his Uncle is dead now, so that might be why,” swallows Y/n. Turning, she looks into Kinn’s eyes. They are hopeful but shine with a plea, “Khun Kinn, please. I know you have something else going on. I can smell it in your scent. You are here for him. Save him from himself right now.”

Glancing at Tay, Time, Big, and Pete, Kinn swallows. This is a tricky situation. It can go wrong in so many different ways. 

“Kinn, if he is presenting as Omega, they must technically show him to the ruling family,” says Tay. “My family.”

A whimper comes from the Omega at their feet. “They live on the outskirts of Phu Khao Thong. It’s not in your region, Khun Tay.”

BINGO.

Kinn stands, pulling the attention of a few nearby spectators. Sauntering with an almost dismissive attitude, Kinn makes his way to the pool's center, just below where Chay, Mr. Jay, and Miss Sha are standing. By this point, Kinn can feel the eyes of everyone on him as his guard, and a few of Tay’s rush to his back. 

A growl comes from Porsche before Kinn looks at him and smiles almost softly, stuttering the growl to a stop when Porsche finally recognizes him.

Looking up at the trio with a look that clearly shows that Kinn is higher on the totem pole, Kinn says, “Mr. Jay and Miss Sha, I am hoping that I am not hearing a claim in the ownership of a newly presented Omega. Am I?”

“Khun Kinn,” Mr. Jay acknowledges him with gritted teeth. “We are not within Theerapanyakun territory. This is no concern of yours.”

A dry chuckle escapes Kinn. Turning slightly to Porsche, Kinn asks, “Phoenix, where is it that your pack resides?”

“We live around Phu Khao Thong, Khun,” responds the Alpha with narrowed eyes, not understanding why that would mean anything. Porsche then looks up to the two holding his brother captive to see their smug smiles drop. 

Paying the stupid people up on the edge of the tank no mind, Kinn continues, “Phu Khao Thong is under my rule. I would like to know why I was not made aware that there was a second-gender presentation underway.”

“He... He didn’t know, Khun, Sir,” Chay speaks up with a squeak as Miss Sha pulls on his arm to get him to shut up. 

Kinn raises his brow at the Alpha standing in the pool with him. Porsche nods, “I haven’t been home recently. With my two jobs and the ring, I am rarely home. Chay just turned of age last week. I took as much time off as possible to be there for when he presented, but then…”

“You got behind on your payments with me and are here to compensate for the loss,” interrupted Mr. Jay.  “You see, Khun Kinn, there is nothing amiss. If you remove yourself from my arena, I want to continue the night activities.”

“Big.” 

One word. One name, then a circle forms around Kinn and Porsche, another around Tay, Time, and Y/n, each with bodyguards ready and aiming for anyone to come close. The final circle is formed around Chay, Mr. Jay, and Miss Sha, but this time, all guns are pointed inward and trained on Mr. Jay and Miss Sha. 

“I am afraid that cannot happen,” Kinn says dismissively. “Phoenix and his kinship are now under my governance and stewardship.”

A small gasp comes from Miss Sha as her eyes dart toward Y/n. 

“That is right, Miss Sha. You have also given me stewardship over the Omega Y/n; she will also accompany me. Besides, the agreement was to ensure she was in the presence of a potentially feral Alpha by night's end.” Kinn looks over Porsche's shoulder to see Y/n’s eyes filled with something unknown. “I will take what is mine and be on our way.”

“Alpha,” Kinn says to Porsche, respectfully acknowledging his second gender, “Please call your Omega to you and we shall be on our way.”

Looking at Kinn, Porsche’s eyes flicker between worry, caution, hope, hate, and longing and settle on determination: “Chay, Omega, come.”

The crowd watches as the youngest present, without any hesitation, follows the order of his brother and Alpha. Pulling away from Miss Sha’s arms, and jumps down the side of the pool, landing gracefully. The fluidity of his movements only seems to be enhanced by the second-gender.

Following Chay is the entourage of guards, not one of them removing their sights from Mr. Jay or Miss Sha, who now stand uneasy at the pool's edge. Eyes around them cast disgust and betrayal. 

“Omega Y/n, please join us,” Kinn calls.

Y/n takes a hesitant step forward when the guards move with her; she continues. Each step grew in urgency to be at Kinn’s side. Tay and Time are following as well. Once they are in a singular circle of protection with Kinn, Tay, Time, Porsche, Chay, and Y/n in the center, Kinn slowly spins in a circle, taking in the gathered crowd. 

“For those of you who do not know who I am. I am Kinn Theerapanyakun, human, and Head of the Theerapanyakun Pack. To my right is Tay Akkarachotsopon, Alpha, heir to his clan, and his Alpha mate, Time Tantijibul,” Kinn introduces them.

“Within my right and with the utmost respect to any person despite their status or second gender, I have come here to settle a debt owed to the Alpha Phoenix. He provided me with protection as a service, and I protected him in return.” Kinn turns to Porsche and pulls out an envelope, handing it to him. “Here is your payment for the protection you provided in saving my life, Alpha.”

Taking the envelope, Porsche is at a loss for words. His mind is racing to the time he spent around the human. He lied to this human. He lied to the head of an entire pack… not just a pack but the Clan pack. It's the highest pack in the area—hell, he is sure it's the highest pack in all of Thailand. 

“Thank you for your show of respect and honor to the ways of your people, Khun Theerapanyakun,” says Chay. “My Alpha brother and I are humbled by your actions. We greatly apologize for failing to inform you of my presentation of my second-gender.”

Kinn nods once at the young man before returning to the crowd, “I am not here to cause trouble, but I cannot say that for Mr. Jay or Miss Sha. You see, Miss Sha has no jurisdiction here, and Mr. Jay was attempting to cause Alpha Phoenix to become feral.”

“Were you aware that the fight you agreed to was with a feral Alpha?” Kinn questions the other Alphas that are gathered in the pool. Many of them shake their heads with anger in their eyes. 

It is well known that it takes a tranquilizer, a strong pack bond, a mate, or the death of the attackers for a Feral Alpha to calm down. The feral Alpha would have been nearly impossible to control with a presenting packmate in the vicinity. 

Slowly, the murmurs of the crowd get louder as they are accompanied by the growls of fighters who would have lost their lives tonight. It’s only then that Mr. Jay and Miss Sha start to pale. It’s when the Alphas start their prowl towards the two, did they finally understand just how screwed they were.

“I think this is our cue to leave,” says Kinn.

As a unit, Kinn leads with Pete and Big walking point. 

Chay, grateful for what Kinn and his friends have done, pulls his brother along and follows close behind Kinn. 

Porsche is still in his mind because this human does not act like most would. First, he respects his Alpha; second, he acknowledges his feral status; and now, he gives his back to that same feral Alpha. 

Tay and Time nudge the Omega Y/n to join Chay and Porsche in the center. Primarily to ensure they remain in their sights and to provide safety. 

The rest of Kinn, Time, and Tay’s guards fall into strategic positions around the five of them. 

Once in the Aquatic Center parking lot, the group of 25 gathered between two large vans and a limo. The guards continued to protect the main five, with Pete and Big joining the inner circle.

“Alpha, Omegas, these are two of my personal guards. Big– Beta and head guard. Pete– Head Omega,” Kinn introduces the two. They all nod and greet respectfully, causing a sense of pride to fill Kinn and Porsche. 

The newly presented Omega, seemingly at peace with everything that has happened, speaks first, “Khun, I really am sorry about not informing you, but it started early this morning.”

This pulls Porsche out of his head. The Alpha looks over his brother, scenting him, purring, “You should have called me, Chay. This isn’t something that you should go through alone.”

“Hia, I am stronger than I look,” he says with a smile. His mango scent puffs out with happiness. “Besides, you are an Alpha. It’s not like you would have known what to do with a presenting Omega.”

Kinn clears his throat, “Speaking of presenting Omegas, you probably haven’t had your first heat. That is not the time to be left alone, Nong.”

A growl rips from Porsche, his eyes tinting amber with his Alpha as he steps between Kinn and Chay. His actions cause the guard to shift in stance, ready to take him down at a moment's notice. 

Kinn raises his hands in the universal gesture of peace while tilting his head slightly. It’s not quite a sign of submission from the human in the group, but it does its desired effect of confusing the now-posturing Alpha. 

“We have a heat room that you may use until you are finished presenting, Omega Chay,” offers Kinn. “You, exclusively, will be allowed to control whom you wish to enter the room. The room has a nesting bed, unscented nesting materials, an attached bath, and a dumb waiter to provide you with food and drink during the next few days.”

“What about my pack?” asks Chay from behind his brother. 

A frown graces Kinn’s face. “I would advise you to let them know of your Omgean presentation, but unfortunately, due to the line of business, I cannot allow them into the residence.”

A hint of sadness tints the mango scent in the air, which aches in Kinn’s chest as if Chay were his own. “What if we go now to your pack? I can contact the residence and have them meet us with some nesting material. Then they would be able to scent them for you. We would ensure they remain pure by having them bagged after scenting.”

“Reall?” Chay asks, with his head peeking around his brother’s shoulder. “You would go through all that for me?”

Kinn looks at Chay and hears a slight snicker from either Tay or Time: “Yes, Omega. I would do this to provide comfort and a safe place... for you.”

Whether it is the change in Chay's scent or Kinn’s words, Porsche relaxes his stance. His eyes are still drilling into Kinn as if he is trying to find the real reason why Kinn is taking such a liking to his brother. 

“Khun,” Big steps forward. “Mok says the area is getting dicey. I am pulling the undercovers, and we should relocate before it gets too much. “

“We will take that as our time to leave,” Tay speaks up as he leans against Time, who is nibbling at his neck. “I believe you will be responsible for the Alpha and both Omegas, correct?”

Kinn and Porsche both snap their eyes to Y/n. The two men had not forgotten her presence, but it felt so natural that they had no reason to make any moves or question its feel. Y/n is standing there, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

“Omega Y/n, my apologies,” Kinn starts. “I wish to offer you a place at the residence. I would also implore you to allow my doctors to tend to your back.”

“Your back? What happened?” Porsche questions quickly, moving to the omega and spinning her around to see for himself.

A whimper leaves Y/n when Porsche moves her hair out of the way. Simultaneously, a deep growl leaves the Alpha. “How long ago?”

“A few weeks,” she answers. 

Looking to the sky for some restraint, Porsche grinds his teeth. “They brought you tonight for me, right? In case I went feral?”

“Yes, Alpha,” confirms Y/n.

“Not to interrupt,” Kinn says. “Can we agree to at least move this discussion to the residence? By all rights, technically, you three are mine, and I would like to provide a safe space for all of you.” 

While walking to the limo, Kinn watches as Porsche takes in Y/n's slightly trembling form and Chay’s pained expression as his presentation approaches the peak. Opening the door, Kinn gestures for the three to get in. 

Porsche gets in first with a wordless agreement, followed by the two Omegas and Kinn. After a signal from Kinn, Pete sits in the front as Big drives to the Theerapanyakun mansion. 

The ride to the mansion is quiet– pregnant with so many possibilities. 

For Porsche, it’s the implication of what the human, Kinn, wants with his brother and himself, the reaction of his Alpha at seeing Kinn again, and the history he thought he buried with Y/n.

For Kinn, the yearning to have Porsche and the Omega Y/n as his is startling. The internal instinctual demand to provide and protect the three of them is unnerving, and the repercussions of following through on these two desires can be life-changing in many ways. 

On the other hand, Y/n knew what she was getting into, pretending to be healed enough to get Miss Sha to continue her punishment when she heard it was Phoenix. Her Omega responded to Kinn’s presence at the venue before she could see him, whining and begging for her to find the source of the mouthwatering scent of spices. However, learning that Kinn is human and seeing Porsche’s reaction has put Y/n into a landslide of possibilities, many of which end up with her back in the hands of Miss Sha.

One thing is for sure: The Theerapanyakun mansion will never be the same.

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[hellofanidea]

DON'T FORGET LIEB/SPEIRS/LIP(/WEB) BC THERE'S SOMETHING FUNDAMENTALLY WRONG WITH THEM also. for your consideration. esther/arthur/george as if joe/arthur/george isnt already enough

OH GOD YEAH the lieb/speirs/lip stuff is Messy I love it so much. There's pining, there's requited-unrequited love, there's emotional manipulation, there's betrayal, there's corruption, what more could you ask for? And then there's Web, who absolutely did not know the magnitude of Fucked Up he just walked into (even if he is enjoying himself).

Ohohohoho Esther/Arthur/George is just so... look its good everywhere but here especially there's Layers. There's History. There's Arthur's Weird Intimacy Problems. This reeks of a past one night stand that's come back to haunt them all now they're all in deeper water. Also I think it'd be cool if Esther and Joe never actually meet but sort of haunt each other, this Outsider who has pieces of their boys the other has never seen.

...now for your consideration. Nat/Tab/Lieb.

[genmaichafan]

Hey, could you write something in your RE Mafia au like how Miranda found and "hired" the Lords or how Alcina adopted her daughters ?

Story under the cut! Thank you for asking about my au :sob:

This kinda covers both but that was actuallly not the intention lol twin tier cakes.

Tw for guns, child death, violence, manipulation filicide

“How interesting. The lovers, major arcana. This is a big event, a major union is in the family’s future.”“How interesting. The lovers, major arcana. This is a big event, a major union is in the family’s future.”

Miranda flips the sixth card in the ten card spread, this card pertaining to the mostly inevitable close future. Miranda handling the card with delicate touch. Hands revealing it with the grace and slight of hand of a magician. Weaving a story of this poor fools' predatory desires.

“What type of union oracolo?”

Miranda draws another card from the top of her deck. The backs of which showed intricate imagery of crows and bones, the gold runes etched into the imagery here and there, the cards mostly donning black and white otherwise. They were Definitely custom, more than surely handmade by Miranda herself to increase the ‘connection’ between her and the cards.

”the Empress.” The man itching closer in his seat leaning forwards in attentive agony as Miranda voice trailed off, edging the moment for what it is worth.

”There will be a union in the family. I'm getting a message, yes, a pregnancy in the next six months will bind two people together.” Miranda looking at the utter sap, expression covering the weaving of threads she was orchestrating. Miranda could barely hold back a sharkish smile let alone stay grounded.

This reading was not accurate from the start, in fact the cards were planned months beforehand. Staged. Miranda had used swift sleight of hand to fudge the cards. The average person would call this taking advantage or manipulation, Miranda would call it telling her client what they wanted to hear.

Countless times Miranda has brought people closure. One of which was as young as her, ‘the poor thing’ she had thought at the time. How the girl's face had been burned and warped in her childhood, how she was not at fault and yet those nearest and dearest to her had to pay the price. The girl's father being one of them, nothing a little mediumship couldn’t salve.

Miranda gave her something she wanted and inreturn Donna was eating out of the palm of Miranda's cawthorne talons, Another silken string tangled to be collected.

Before Miranda could continue the reading something completely unexpectedly expected happened.

” Don- there’s some biz happening, we need you right now.”

the man, the don, cursed under his breath. leaving wordlessly.

Miranda felt pleased with how the pieces were played, becoming even more pleased as her admiried appeared from out the draped satin cloth.

”My beloved!” He said, taking his lips onto hers. feeling her slightly extended stomach which was obscured under the table.

”We are going to HAVE to tell my father sooner or later.” Giddiness adding a playful elongation to words.

“Soon frumos-“ pulling him close even though Miranda would actually prefer if he had never ever been touching her at all.

The Don never stood a chance. Never returning from trouble.

________

Marco becoming the new Don had little time to mourn the passing of his father. Giving the mare minimum respects when he was obligated to do so.

Although to Miranda this had been an unforeseen miracle. Hoisting her plans ahead months ahead of schedule.

Her partner seemily felt the same way. Marco impatiently rushed the wedding soon after, and if he had his way would be rushing their baby. When he wanted something he always got it ‘‘n quickly.’

Nature could not be stopped but humanity often tried. Miranda’s husband quickly sending her under the care of a midwife from France. A young virtuoso and black market “physician”.

Moreau was his name and though he was exceedingly smart; Miranda could feel him latch onto her like a neonatal kitten. Miranda could only attribute it to the fact she was the ONLY one that didn't treat him where he stood on the family's food chain. If she was asked to put that spot into words she would just say “grass.” Miranda just wished that her husband had not asked Moreau to do every old wives trick to speed up the process as much as he could.

anyhow the more twigs in her nest the better.

‘Speaking of twigs’ The woman whom she had helped, now to be revealed as Donna of the chemical and botanical branch of the ‘family’, was becoming closer and closer to her. Going on with the theme of cats Miranda would describe her as a neurotic tuxedo. Having to go through such an unfortunate path at a young age had caused her personality to fracture into two.

The white fur represents Donna: who was smart but introverted. Spending most of her time making new strains and variants of marijuana. Her garden was most precious to her.

The black fur on the other hand was a persona called Angie. Choosing the fewest words Miranda could Angie was “rabid, crass and unpredictable.”

Miranda otherwise easily wrapped Donna and Angie around her fingers.

_______

Cioara was born a few months later. Having been a week earlier than expected was small and frail.

Unexpectedly something in her plan changed in that moment she first held her newborn daughter. She could not help but care for Cioara being aptly named Miranda’s crown jewel in coming years.

What Miranda didn’t expect is that Cioara was not the only newcomer.

Three daughters in the business and of the Family. Three daughters adopted from the previous owner of an establishment they had “liberated”. luckily all too young to remember or have even an inkling of what could've been. The youngest of which being neonatal as well. In order their names were as told from youngest to oldest: Daniela, Cassandra, and Bela.

Their adopted mother, who took them in as her own, first found them hiding in the safe room of their original house. Cassandra attempting to beat on Alcina with tiny fists. Bela left to hold their baby sister.

Quick lies and some treats tricked their attitude to change.

Now they stood smiling at the edge of the crib watching their soon to be cousin be mystified by their very presence. Daniela going as far as reaching out in Cioara's direction, almost to say as if “hey she’s like me!” Looking back and forth confused wonder.

Miranda and Alcina having something in common: Shared time together with or without the kids. Often over glasses of wine with Moreau being appointed official babysitter. Moreau did not complain because he was often treated like the big brother and in tandem a the eldest son of Miranda. (Marco often hated this).

Miranda and alcina were like butter and bread these years. Alcina becoming a confidant to Miranda’s growing boldness in her machinations. Even backing her up when some of the ‘family’ came to her instead of her husband. (Mostly in the form of card readings where the meaning of cards were just often made up).

Marco being “the biggest little man” (-Miranda) sensed something wrong in his corner of his pond. The ripples of power Miranda was wading was finally stirring the attentiveness he lacked in the previous years.

confronting his own wife for treason they landed the first of many arguments that would lead to his fall. Using “YOUR daughter” (- Don Marco ) as a shield from the inevitable.

This had been an unexpected problem. Miranda had not expecting to care for her daughter more than a foot into the mafia's door.

Years passed and while Miranda did not grow in power she did gain loyalty in the ones that were already under her foot. Miranda having a finger in each of the other branches of the ‘family’ with one exception being the automotive.

_____

time passed and each fight escalated with the next.

Marco became more and more agitated with even his own loyalists. the biggest warning being the closest companion, the right hand of the don, daring to speak to him in a way that made Marco feel littler than he ever did before.

”where your fucking respect!”

”You don't got anymore little man!” The white haired man bellowed, in sneerful laughter.

”Heisenberg you WILL listen to me.”

”like i gotta! You need me more than I need you!”

This was the drop in Marco’s bucket. He grabbed Heisenberg by the collar, throwing him aside causing Heisenberg to continue hysterics louder.

Then Marco did something. Something vile and rancid. Deranged thoughts scattering him rationality. He only thought she needs to die.

He was going to commit a grand act of filicide.

“Surely that would break her spirit.”

“Put her in her place.”

”I can take away anything from anyone.”

” I am this ‘families’ ‘father’, I am the Don.”

_____

miranda remembers this part all too well. A day that still haunts her.

knowing something was wrong even before tragedy struck.

how she could hear Cioaras cries getting louder and louder.

The yelling, the screaming, the pleading.

They met each other halfway; Miranda meeting the setting sun, and Don Marco walking out of the evening darkness with their daughter in one hand and a gun in the other.

”abscond your power la Lupa Strega, you’ve played your fiddles and spells long enough.”

Miranda did not know what to do for the first time in her life. Nearly forgetting the knife she held on her at all times.

”Mamica!! Help i don't understand what I did wrong!” Cioara could only sob occasional begging ‘tati’.

”lets trade places ok fiica!- Please Marco!” Taking a thoughtless step forward. Marco only pointed the gun to the girls head.

”PLEASE MARCO” he considered her offer.

”come here Strega. Guess you do have a heart.” Not taking in the irony he spat.

Quickly swapping places Miranda loses herself to the adrenaline. making a quick maneuver: one Marco taught her when he still thought she was the love of his life. twisting his arm agonizingly in one hand and pulling out her knife with the other, she quickly spearing him through the heart.

He drops to the floor. Knife still embedded in his chest. Wheezing.

Cioara desperately scuttling to her mother they spend their final moment together

As with Marco spending the last of his life to make one final shot did what he set out to do.

_______

Miranda hobbled to the only person who could save her; now that both the Don and the Heir is gone. Miranda needed his support. The one man that was smart enough to listen to her in a sea of old blood. Heisenberg.

If she could get him, She would finally had a finger in all the branches or the organization.

All the other blood who didn't agree could suck on her for all she cared. They’ll all come back groveling or in body bags either way it was all the same to her now.

she opened the door to the office.

”wow you look like shit!” He puffed on the cigar boisterously.

Miranda's soulless eyes bared into the reflection behind him. she saw herself, the reflection of a broken woman: darkness on the other side taking hold of the sky. Fluorescent lights making it hard to see what was out there and showing what was in instead. Miranda could not recognize the woman in front of her; she was covered in blood looking freyed, frail and powerless.

Heisenburg took another puff. Giving Miranda her sweet time.

”i need you- to join me.”

”why should i do that”

fury bringing back some of what got her here in the first place.

“because this place is coming down with me. The organization needs me. The family needs- a father- a mother, someone. Or the power vacuum will kill us all.”

”why should i care” tickled by her words and conviction.

“Because they wont just accept you- you’ll have to fight but.. theyll take me.“

she paused. she needed to sweeten the deal knowing him.

”and if i were to die ill justly hand the throne to you. Only then are you guaranteed a place as Don.”

”THAT WHAT I LIKE TO HEAR.” He howled.

Heidengurg handed Miranda his phone. It didnt have a lock, only containing a few contacts.

Donna

alcina.

moreau

And heisenberg himself.

Miranda knew what she had to do next.

_____

It has been years after the “purge”

old blood replaced with the young.

More powerful than when even Marcos' father owned the organization.

Miranda takes out her tarot deck and begins to shuffle. Her question comes to mind.

its been a while since she's done a real reading for anyone, let alone herself. Almost forgetting that the cards are for more than tricking others.

Miranda begins to shuffle fingers swiftly letting cards go between her hands and repeating till she feels it is ready.

“What will the future bring”

a card jumps out of the deck.

Imagery of people falling out of their long slender house, a long fall ahead of them, the ground beneath said house crumbling away. Fire and lightning. Disaster.

“all thing that aren’t built on solid ground are bound to fall”

XVI THE TOWER.

[aurawrawr]

Fidelio

A Mafia AU fanfiction for Erwin Smith's lovers

Summary:

Niji has always viewed herself as boring and mediocre, with a body she labels to be hideous. She looks at life through the lens of a skeptic and has learned to trust as less people as possible. Living in an apartment left to her by her Grampa, all she wants is to find out what she wants. Her whole life changes when a beautiful man with hair like gold and a bleeding arm appears mysteriously in her bathroom, looking for a mutual friend. She tends to his wound while he tells her about his connection to her family. His sassy associate briefs her about what they do but it's all so mysterious for her. In the morning, they're gone. She hopes to move on and never see him again but fate has different plans. Soon, she finds herself thrown into a new life - the fast paced, crime filled life of Erwin Smith, CEO with a dark touch. His ragtag found family welcomes her as one of their own. But she loses him as quickly as she falls for him. And if anything can rescue Erwin, it's her love.

Follow the link:

[solunest]

You’re seeing that chicken scratch right, that’s they’re signature. They probably tried to deteriorate their handwriting to excuse their lack of a consistent name on their shaky records that not even they can recover. Since you guys are gonna be reacquainted with this character again very soon, thought I’d start making some character sheets of everyone. It’s also a great excuse to show off what they’re design’s supposed to look like ;v;

[thezombieprostitute]

Nightmares - Part 4

Summary: You and Curtis are having to deal with literal and figurative nightmares while working to make sure the Garbage Men operation runs smoothly.

A/N: Reader is plus sized female. No other descriptors used.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and violence, PTSD. Please let me know if I missed any!

Part 3 -- Part 5

Series Masterlist

The stench of blood fills his senses, accompanied by the screams of agony. He's colder, more exhausted than he's ever been before, but he has to keep moving. The weight of the axe is heavy in his hand but he is unable to drop it. His vision is foggy, he can't get enough air, but he has to keep swinging, keep fighting.

There's a dark chuckle behind him. Gilliam's voice, "such a good fighter."

Wilford's voice, "he'd do wonders in Snowpiercer's backrooms."

Curtis wants to stop. His limbs are so heavy. He feels his mind breaking more and more with each swing of the axe. But he has to keep moving, keep fighting. It's not just about him.

Wilford's voice, "we'll let the kid live, for now."

Gilliam's voice, "you just keep doing as your told, keep fighting, keep killing, and Edgar will live."

Curtis drops to his knees. His body is too heavy to move. He can't breathe. He knows he has to keep moving but his body won't listen. Desperation sets in but his limbs won't respond.

"Curtis," a quiet voice reaches him.

He feels a gentle weight on his stomach. It's soothing.

"Curtis," he hears the voice again. "Please wake up."

He starts to look around, but his vision is too cloudy. The smells and sounds of violence start to fade.

"It's me, Curtis," the voice tells him. "Please wake up."

Curtis wakes up gasping for air. He feels your hand on his stomach and hears your voice in his ear, both soothing him, helping him to catch his breath. He grabs you and holds you tight, breathing in your scent to help calm himself as he starts to cry. You keep talking and gently touching him, knowing that the combination helps him.

It takes longer than usual for him to calm down, making you even more worried. But you continue doing what you know helps. Continue to assure him you're here, that it was a nightmare, that no one is hurt. You don't protest when he rolls so that you're on top of him. Every time he apologizes you caress him and tell him it's okay.

"I think I'm awake for the day," Curtis grumbles.

"Me too. You wanna go out for breakfast or cook something up?"

"Don't want to be around people right now."

"Okay, I'll cook us up something." You head to the kitchen, not surprised at Curtis following you. You're going to have to make something simple because as soon as you're standing still, he's got his arms wrapped around you and you know he won't let go until it's time to eat. It's kind of pleasant, though, as he regularly gives you kisses, nuzzles your neck, and other loving gestures.

Knowing Curtis needs to still keep touching you, the two of you cuddle up on the couch to eat the breakfast sandwiches you made. Curtis doesn't eat his sandwich so much as swallow it whole so he has both hands free to hold you close again. This latest nightmare really did a number on him.

"So, any more thoughts on some kind of service or memorial for Edgar?" You'd had to drop the subject for a bit because of work and your mother's visit but given the intensity of his latest nightmare, you think it's worth bringing up again. You feel Curtis nod and give an affirmative growl. "Is it anything you're up for talking about?"

He nuzzles the crook of your neck for a moment before saying, "I've been thinking that Edgar wouldn't want other kids following in his footsteps, getting involved with all the wrong people. I thought I'd been doing enough, supporting the Family's endeavors at keeping drugs controlled, and school programs funded but..."

"Maybe it's because you've been dealing Franco the Elder so much," you gently say. Curtis stiffens at the name. Franco, Edgar's killer, is always a touchy subject for Curtis so you have to be careful.

"That makes sense," he grumpily admits.

"Want me to work with the higher ups to ramp up priority on finding him? One of his buddies did approach DC recently."

Curtis shakes his head, "not gonna happen until Dragonfly is found. Can't say I blame Steve on this one."

He nuzzles your neck again and you smile sadly at the memory of Curtis killing Lloyd to protect you. You can't say you don't have your own nightmares from that. They're nothing compared to Curtis's but he still takes care of you as if they are. Every time you have them he's scared you'll wake up afraid of him. It means the world that you find comfort in him, even after he caused such scarring memories for you.

"Let me know if you change your mind," you snuggle up to him. "Because I'd be willing to cuss some people out for your sake."

Curtis chuckles, making you smile. "I needed that. Thank you, beautiful."

Part 3 -- Part 5

Series Masterlist

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@hisredheadedgoddess28; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82;

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