#winner mafia au

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 6- Redemption Winner

We're almost to the end! I've had so much fun with this fic so far, and I'm really excited to get started with it. This was another one that I was surprised to have seen one, but that's the fun with polls! I hope you guys like the little snapshot I wrote into this world.

Chasing Dragons and Bedding Burglars

Rating: T

Warning(s): Dead Minor Character

Ship: Bagginshield

Summary: When Thorin Oakenshield transferred to Ered Luin PD, there was really only one thing on his mind: finally catch the monster that destroyed his family. However, he quickly learns Ered Luin lives under the rule of the local mafia and figures the only way to catch Smaug is to pretend to be a dirty cop and make nice with the supposed crime boss known only as “The Burglar”.

Thorin never noticed how horrendous the color of the ceiling tiles in the building were before today. Not even a true eggshell, but some awful hybrid of white and cream that was emphasized by the yellow and brown water stains that scattered the ceiling like the ugliest constellations to ever exist. Leaned back in his desk chair gently rotating himself back and forth, he found himself wishing for something, anything to take his attention away.

“You’re the one who put in the transfer, I’ll remind you. I just followed your ass to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”

Thorin turned his head just slightly to glare over at Dwalin who had his feet up on the desk, phone in front of his face as he wasted time with a mindless game. Thorin went back to his water stains, too depressed even to sigh. He had been in Ered Luin for three weeks now. He thought this was going to be his break. He thought between the sheer amount of organized crime in this backwater city, he would be able to avenge his father and grandfather more than he ever could working in Dale. However, the mafias had too strong a hold on the city. Nothing ever was brought to them, because the mafias took care of it first. If he was going to find his dragon to slay, he was going to have to get on the inside and make nice with one of these organizations. A fact that went against every fiber of his being of what it means to be a cop.

“Oakenshield! Fundinson! We’ve got an assignment for you.”

Thorin sat up so fast his neck popped. He reached up to massage it as Nori stood smirking from where he was leaning his hip against Thorin’s desk. 

“Yeah, what is it this time?” Dwalin grunted, glaring at the other cop. “Coffee run?”

Nori’s grin widened as he enjoyed nothing more than sending them out on meaningless tasks. Thorin knew it was just because they were the new kids in town. Dwalin had taken much more offense to it, but it might just be because it was Nori. He had admitted to Thorin more than once now that he didn’t trust the ginger at all.

“Suicide.” Nori chirped. “Just got a call about it. Down at Bag End.”

“Bag End?” Thorin repeated, quickly becoming more interested. “Isn’t that one of the biggest hotels in the city?”

Nori nodded. “Not only that, but Bilbo Baggins, who owns the place, is one of the richest men in Ered Luin. Has his hand in a lot of different pots, not just the hotel industry. Rumor on the street is that he’s The Burglar, but I wouldn’t say that to his face. So you two mind your p’s and q’s while you’re out and about.”

This was it. This was exactly the break Thorin had been looking for. Even if the case was pretty open and shut, just getting a chance to speak to Mr. Baggins might help him find his dragon. He turned to Dwalin, trying to assess what his partner thought about it. Dwalin glared back before rolling his eyes. 

“Fine. Like your eyes could get any bigger. We’ll look into it.”

“Great!” Nori declared. “I’ll call the hotel back and tell them that you’re coming.”

He started to walk away and Thorin wasted no time in pulling on his black leather jacket with the fur trim. A gift from his sister before he left.

“Please don’t get your hopes up.” Dwalin complained. “If this guy really is a crime boss, he’s not going to just come right out and talk to you.”

“Maybe he will be grateful after cleaning up a dead guy from his lobby.”

Dwalin snorted. “He’s going to be annoyed that he had to wait for our okay for that to happen.”

“Be negative if you would like, but I think this is the break we’ve been looking for.”

Dwalin merely rolled his eyes as he followed Thorin out to the car. They plugged Bag End into the GPS, and flew off down the road towards the hotel. 

It was in the swankier part of town. A borough known as the Shire. Where the streets were clean, the gardens were lush, and the buildings were brightly colored. Bag End rose like a beacon from the center, a tall highrise with a rounded green entryway at the front of the building. The inside was even more ridiculous. It was like they had stepped into a cosy cabin. Everything was covered in wooden panels and beams, the lights were low and warm. The lobby was large with several hallways veering off to different shops and attractions nearly overwhelming Thorin until a concierge approached.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Do you have a reservation?”

They both pulled out their badges.

“Detectives Thorin Oakenshield and Dwalin Fundinson.” Thorin introduced. “We’re here to see the body.”

The girl paled at the mention of the dead coworker, but wasted little time in pointing them in the right direction with a promise to inform Mr. Baggins of their arrival. Thorin and Dwalin took off down the hallway, past the restaurant, into an alcove that was roped off with a body covered by a sheet in the center. The forensics team was already there, taking pictures and samples, but they stepped aside to let them run their investigation.

Broken glass lay around the body, and when Thorin looked up, he could see the eighth floor window the guy must have jumped from. Thorin peeled back the sheet, trying not to grimace at the blood and brain matter staining the hardwood floors.

“Well…I think we can safely assume the cause of death.” Dwalin grunted.

Thorin nodded as he crouched beside the body, searching for anything that shouldn’t be there. It seemed like a pretty cut and dry suicide until something in his fist caught Thorin’s attention. 

“Do you have a pen on you?” Thorin asked Dwalin.

“No, but I can go up to the front desk and get one.” He offered.

Before Thorin could say one way or another, they were interrupted by another voice.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

Thorin spun around, completely caught off-guard by the men approaching him. One of them stood tall and stout. Built like a bodyguard, but easily twenty to thirty years older than Thorin himself. The second man was hunched, greasy looking with unnaturally big eyes that looked around nervously. However, it was the man in between that had spoken to them. He was the shortest of the three, but his presence demanded attention. His suit was neatly pressed and immaculate, his curls gently framing his soft, bare face, and his eyes lacking any outward emotion. Somehow Mr. Baggins was both exactly what Thorin expected from a mafia boss and yet not at all. 

“I’m Mr. Baggins, it’s a pleasure to meet you…”

“Thorin Oakenshield.” Thorin introduced, shaking his hand.

“Mr. Oakenshield.” Mr. Baggins nodded.

“Fundinson.” Dwalin grunted.

“Mr. Fundinson.” Mr. Baggins stated again. “I’ve done what I can to keep guests out of the area, but I trust we can have the medics clear the body out of here? Doesn’t leave a very inviting image, I’m afraid.”

“The man worked for you.” Dwalin scoffed. “You could at least pretend to be sympathetic.”

“And I am.” Mr. Baggins answered even as he checked his phone. “If he had any family, I would be sending flowers to them right now. I’ve also hired a grief counselor on site for any staff directly affected by his death. But if you feel I am lacking in my duties somewhere, please feel free to elaborate, Mr. Fundinson.”

“You said if he had any family?” Thorin stepped in before Dwalin could snark back.

“That’s right.” Mr. Baggins nodded. “Ferumbas had always been a bit of a loner at work. No close friends or acquaintances, and peeking into his file this morning he doesn’t even seem to have anyone listed as an emergency contact. I figured that meant no family to speak of.”

“So that means, there was no one there with him this morning?”

Mr. Baggins almost seemed to sigh as he gave Thorin a condescending look. “No. Not that the security cameras can pick up. Mr. Oakenshield, I know you are just trying to do your job, especially considering you are new to the force, but we both know this is a suicide. Can we just be done with this part of the investigation?”

Thorin tried not to act surprised that Baggins knew that much about him as he tightened his fists at his side.

“I wish we could, but I’m not so certain it is a suicide.”

Baggins glared at him. “You’re not? Are you that desperate for your delusions of grandeur?” 

“Do you have a pen on you, Mr. Baggins?” Thorin asked as sweetly as he could.

Baggins narrowed his eyes, cocking a brow at the seemingly change of subject before snapping his fingers. The shifty man behind him immediately produced a pen in Baggins’ outstretched hand which he handed over to Thorin. Thorin thanked him for it as he turned his back on Baggins to crouch down beside the body.

“And what exactly are you looking for?” Baggins asked as he bent over Thorin’s shoulder.

“Not looking for.” Thorin stated as he used the pen to open up Ferumbas’ hand. “Found.”

A torn piece of fabric lay in the dead man’s hand matching the uniform he was wearing.

“Seeing as there is no tear on him, he would have had to rip this off of someone else. But that would imply there was someone else in the room with him. If there was someone in the room with him, why did that person go through the trouble of making himself invisible to your cameras?”

Thorin raised an eyebrow back at Baggins who stared at him for a long moment before releasing a sigh. He turned back to the other two men with him.

“Ushmik, please make sure security works with these gentlemen to get them anything they need. Smeagol, I’m certain they will want staff records of who was on shift this morning. Anything else, Mr. Oakenshield?” 

Thorin felt a touch of irritation at having his moves anticipated, but decided to take the cooperation while it was offered.

“That’s all for now, Mr. Baggins. Thank you.”

“Have someone ring for me if you need me.” He stated as he walked away.

“What a little…” Dwalin grumbled under his breath before Thorin elbowed him in the stomach. After all, the taller man named Ushmik seemed to be watching him closely with narrowed eyes and probably wouldn’t tolerate poor opinions of his boss.

“Make sure forensics checks for fingerprints. Probably won’t get anything, but worth a shot.”

“Where are you going to be?” Dwalin demanded.

Thorin’s eyes turned up to the eighth floor window. “I’m going to do a little more investigating.”

[inkystaar]

there can only be one winner………….

[howdoyousleep3]

alsoooooo i’m making such lovely progress on my mth fic and i’m so hyped about it and I’m fighting all urges to share everything about it because i don’t want to jinx myself but it’s so hard to not share everything with you 😭 especially when i’m so excited and so proud so far 🥺

[sadwlwgooner]

WHY CANT I FIND LIKE A ‘ mafia boss fanfic ‘ but instead of a guy it’s a GIRL AAAAAAAAA I JUST WANNA BE SPOILEDDDDDD

[lepra-art]

💔Dramione x AU Mafia💔

— Who's the winner now, Malfoy?

[f1crecs]

Fic Rec List - Action AUs (Giveaway Winner Post)

if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let me know and we will remove it immediately, no questions asked. we have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop us a message🤍

have a pairing you want us to do next? please read the faqs and then head to the inbox.

don’t forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments!

hi @onboardsorasora thank you SO MUCH for your request, and congratulations again for winning the giveaway ❤️ we are so sorry that this took such a long time to get to you... unfortunately the mod team have been rather busy with all sorts of things: wedding planning and driving lessons and travelling abroad and writing copious amounts of smut. we hope this was worth the wait ❤️

Daniel/Max

nsfw: I struck a match and blew your mind by @33max | Not Rated | 4.1k

Max is a getaway driver and starts to work with Daniel on jobs. I loved the pacing of this fic. There's so much detail and progress within this and the author really did a great job of picking which parts to highlight for the plot progression. I loved Max's commitment to Daniel.

“I am, I promise. I think it’s just a broken rib or two.” Daniel says, and his hand comes up to squeeze Max’s shoulder from the backseat. There is blood on his knuckles. “C’mon Maxy, be a good boy and get us out of here.” So Max does. He gets them out of there, but he feels sick. Not because they almost got caught, but because he knows that if Daniel really had needed to go to the hospital he would not have been able to leave him there. He would have let them both get caught over leaving Daniel alone and hurt on a hospital doorstep.

nsfw: strangers by bloodmoonforme | E | 37.9k

Daniel, a detective, is on a not-quite-dead-end murder case when they bring in Max from out of state to help him solve it. They have history and havent seen each other in four years. I loved the tone in this so much. The author has a very coherent narrative that build just right, its really intriguing. I also love how the reader almost solves the case too. Not only the murder case, but the /what happened to Max and Daniel/ case that gets revealed throughout. Its a truly well written fic with a lot of action and feelings!

He gets up, his stomach feeling heavier and colder by the second. There's something creeping all the way from his fingers, up his arms and to his belly, a prickly sick thing. Then he looks towards the center of the room, marked by a well-worn rug. Daniel stands there, alone in Esther’s bedroom, standing in the half-light. He's there, and suddenly he’s not.

nsfw: Bite Down and Taste Red by @mysticalbreadcollective | E | 46.5k

Max works in a bar, and Daniel is the Mafia Boss who keeps buying drinks. This story is absolutely captivating - from beginning to end, it is so beautifully written and paced, with just enough angst to make things truly delicious. Daniel is so much fun here - hot and charismatic and so very head over heels for his bartender!

He finds out that Max speaks several languages, and he’s from a place called Hasselt, which means absolutely nothing to Daniel. He’d looked it up later, on the map on his phone, squinting at it. Compared with the US, its miniscule. He can’t imagine Max being born in a place so small. When Max is so – much.

Carlos/Lando & Daniel/Max

i'll race you for pinks by @chubbydinosaur | M | 30k

Lando is brought on to a heist by professional criminal, Carlos. Sparks fly. This story is such a fun ride - as always, this author perfectly balances humour, emotion, and high stakes action, and it makes for a thrilling read. Lando is so disarmingly charming in this - I adored him!

Daniel/Lando

til the bone crush by @clementiaes | T | 19k

Pacific Rim is perfect for Formula 1 AUs, and this is one of my favourite examples. Daniel and Lando are paired as Jaeger pilots. Both are coming off of other drift partners with baggage - Daniel from Max after Max’s career ending injury, and Lando from something that could have been a relationship with Carlos, had Lando’s insecurities not buried it before it started. Lando is prickly, closed-off and miserable at the start of this story, convinced he is unlovable. This story is about him gently and gradually being opened up to the realisation that people love him, and that he deserves to be loved.

The point is, no one is getting tired of you any time soon,” Daniel says. “Seriously, who even told you that?” Lando looks down at his hands, picking at a hangnail. “No one. I just — I know I’m not easy to get along with.” Daniel frowns. “You deserve to be happy,” he says, finally. “You know that, right?” Lando looks down at his knees. “Look at me, Lando,” Daniel says, but Lando doesn’t. His shoulders are starting to creep back up near his ears again. Daniel’s moving before he quite knows what he’s doing. He gets one hand on Lando’s shoulder and one on his chin, turning his face so that he’ll look at him. Lando sucks in a sharp breath, eyes wide, but to Daniel’s surprise, he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t know how you got it into your head that you’re like, unlovable, or something, but it’s not true,” Daniel says. “Really. You think you can believe that for me?”

Charles/Sebastian

He Is All, And He Is More by @effervescentdragon | M | 15k

In this AU of The Old Guard, Sebastian and Charles are immortals that meet on the battlefield during the Crusades. They kill one another over and over, until they reach a tentative understanding. Their relationship deepens over the centuries. It can be difficult to write characters as ancient and make them feel ancient, and Akira really does. I love the tentative way they negotiate one another, and the understanding they gradually come to. Battlefield enemies to lovers is quite the relationship arc.

"And if we only met a thousand of years from now, you would still be wearing red.” “Why?” Sebastian shrugs, a grin evident in the dark. “Your red string dictates it. Fate, or something. Destiny. Red suits you. You look good in red.” Charles bites his tongue. “So do you.”

Lewis/Nico/Sebastian

on golden sands by sionisjaune | T | 6.2k

Lewis Hamilton is planning the heist of the century and he wants Sebastian Vettel on his team. The target - Baron Nico Rosbergs car collection. Sounds simple on paper but reality never is. Oceans Eleven heist!au. Who doesnt love a good heist!au? This author writes some of my favourite sebcedes, the characterisations are spot on and the vibes are at turns wholesome and rancid. Perfection in a fic!

Rosberg greets Seb at the gate, behind the windshield of a pale blue Bentley. The paint job sparkles in the golden sunlight, and the hood ornament gleams chrome. The gates roll open at his whim with an ear-splitting, metallic sound. Rosberg beckons animatedly from behind the wheel, and Seb gets the message that he should leave his car and join Rosberg in the Bentley for the ride up to the house. […] Before Seb can slide into the passenger's side of the Bentley, Rosberg has to shoo a pudgy English bulldog into the backseat. It clambers, ungainly, over the console and waddles into the back, collapsing in a happy, wrinkly lump on the leather seats. “Who’s this?” Seb asks, watching long strings of drool ooze from the dog’s flabby mouth onto the pristine interior of Rosberg’s classic Bentley. Seb once saw an R-type Bentley much like this one go for two and a half million at auction. “This is Roscoe,” says Rosberg, long-sufferingly. “The result of an unfortunate affair.”

Charles/Pierre

Hic Svnt Leones by @cerona10 | M | 32.6k

Charles is different to how Pierre remembers him. The world-building in this fic is second to none - it’s absolutely stunning! The world feels so full and alive, and it’s easy to get completely sucked in. The way they build in exposition is so clever and natural feeling, and the action is exhilirating and fun to read. Perfect!

His shadow isn’t his own, not anymore. It shakes and shimmers, fighting against its own shape. His shadow’s head twists and breaks before mending itself into that of a horse, neighing and trashing, a single horn jutting out from its forehead. Its jaw unhinges and it begins breathing heavily, drool escaping its mouth like a waterfall.

Fernando/Lance

nsfw: Venus Flytrap by @pitconfirm | E | 25.7k (wip)

Professional criminal Fernando Alonso is recruited for a job. His mission: seduce Lance Stroll. This fic is RED HOT. From the very first few sentences, Fernando exudes this confidence that is so much fun to read. Contrasted with Lance - pouty, privileged, and surprisingly vulnerable - the dynamics are gorgeous. This author is so fantastic at dialogue and pacing, and this fic flows so beautifully. I can't wait to read more!

Once they reach the games room, it’s easy to spot him among the crowd. For the past few days, Fernando has been memorising every freckle on Lance’s skin. He could recognise him from just the curl of hair on his tender nape, but the most striking thing about Lance is his demeanour—elbows rested on the roulette table while he boredly holds his head in his hands, huffing in disappointment when he loses again. His carelessness stands out starkly against the opulent golden trims and old paintings covering every wall. A boy like Lance doesn’t belong in a place like this, but money talks.

nsfw: green light, red wine (and i don't feel fine) by @vicsy | E | 18.8k (wip)

Fernando is the Mafia boss who owns the club that Lance Stroll - son of his biggest rival - wanders into. This story is SO HOT. The tension between them is palpable, and they bounce off each other so well. You get the feeling that both of them are underestimating each other, and it makes for so much delicious tension. Amazing!

There aren’t many opportunities Fernando deliberately missed in his life. He wouldn’t be on top if he did. Right next to him, clad in a tight white t-shirt, sits an opportunity for a power move, the one Fernando would take all the way.

[ericsprincess]

slow it down

nc-17, san/wooyoung/reader, boucy au, boxer!san, pimp!wooyoung (kinda), mafia leader!reader, f/m/m threesome, prostitution (technically), cunnilingus, vaginal sex, felching

~~~

“...3, 2, 1!” DING DING DING!

The audience roars as the referee raises the hand of the winner as the defeated lies motionless on the ground. The winner himself is wavering, having obvious trouble keeping himself standing straight. His face is bloody, his lip is busted and he has bruises everywhere. His white wifebeater is stained with blood and sweat. He drops his hand and looks like he’s about to faint, when his coach (?) comes running to him and catches him at the last moment, holding a water bottle to his mouth and making him drink. The boxer holds on to his coach like a lifeline, swallowing big gulps of water before straightening up and throwing his fist to the air, letting out a victorious yell.

He slumps back to his coach's embrace and lets himself be led off the ring, the coach supporting him carefully so he doesn’t trip. Your eyes are following them, as you are sitting at the bar, sipping your drink. 

They take a stop at the promoters booth where they collect their cash prize and bet money, the coach pocketing the hefty stack of dollars. They talk a little bit more, probably about the possibilities for future matches, before disappearing somewhere in the backstage dressing rooms.

You turn your head back to the stage. The host is already in the ring, trying to introduce the next match’s fighters, but the audience is still yelling the winner’s name like in a trance. San, and he’s obviously the star of tonight’s event. 

You finish your drink, hop off the bar stool and head to the backstage. 

~~~

It doesn’t take long to find the dressing room where they are at - there aren't that many and most of them are empty. You find them in the last one and you know it’s the one where they are immediately - the door is not completely closed and the lights are on. 

You push the door more open and lean in the doorway. San is half-sitting half-lying on a little dinky sofa and his coach is kneeling in front of him, cleaning his wounds. He seems to be talking to San in a calm, low voice, but you can’t make up the words. It feels very intimate. San’s eyes are closed and his coach is turned away from you so neither can see you standing there. It gives you a chance to observe them for a bit. 

San is really handsome. That’s obvious and it’s also the reason why you’re there. His face is naturally beautiful, even marred with scratches and wounds, his hair jet black with strands falling into his face in a charming way. His body is muscular and strong with broad arms, big chest and narrow waist. He’s the epitome of deadly power - silent, strong, but agile. 

His coach - well. You would lie if you said he’s not handsome. He’s nicely built, the pecs peeking from his unbuttoned shirt revealing that he’s more trained and strong than he looks at first sight. His face is also handsome, with his pretty cheekbones and beaky nose. But he looks so sleazy. He looks like he’s there to cause trouble and discussing anything with him is like handling a slimy snake, that’s twisting and turning and slipping out of your hands. He’s attractive, but in an infuriating way.

They haven’t noticed you yet so you clear your throat to get their attention. 

San’s coach turns his head and stands up. 

“Well hello,” he drawls. “I thought we’ve already gotten our reward. Did the bar owners send us a freebie? I’m Wooyoung, what’s your name, beautiful?” he grins and blatantly checks you out. His eyes run over you and he’s clearly enjoying what he sees. You’re dressed casually, in black skinny jeans, black shirt tucked into them and a leather jacket. Your long hair is flowing, as opposed to the conservative intricate bun you wear for your usual meetings. This one is not usual though. 

You shift your weight and subtly move the side of your leather jacket, so he can see the gun strapped on your waist. It wipes his grin out immediately. 

“I’m afraid not. I am Y/N Y/L/N,“  you turn to San. “I saw your match and I have heard a lot about you. I would have a business proposal, if you are interested.” He looks up at you from the sofa, but doesn’t say anything and closes his eyes again, as if he were too tired to even talk.

“That depends on what kind of business,” Wooyung cuts in.

“Excuse me, but I was talking to him, not you,” you frown. He’s already starting to get on your nerves. 

“All the business goes through me,” Wooyung grins dangerously and puts his hand on San’s shoulder, his intent is clearly to show you who’s in charge. 

“So, you’re his pimp,” you raise an eyebrow. 

“I prefer the term manager,” he smiles at you. “After all, he’s always free to refuse any job I get for him.” 

“Then let him hear me out and decide for himself.” you’re getting impatient. 

“Are you some kind of a mafia boss? Because we don’t kill people,” starts Wooyoung, nodding at your gun, but you interrupt him. 

“That’s not the nature of the job I want to offer.” you say. You don’t deny the mafia accusation. 

You wait for the inevitable interruption by Wooyoung, but he just waves his hand to prompt you to continue. 

“As I said, I saw your match and I was really impressed. I would like to buy your time tonight,” you say. 

“For how much?” asks Wooyoung.

“10 000 dollars,” you reply. “Cash, half upfront.” you pull out a wad of banknotes and hold them up, so they know you’re not bluffing. San opens his eyes from where he’s laying sprawled on the sofa. 

“Ooookay?” Wooyoung is obviously surprised. “And what would he do?”

“Well, I would like to make use of his…private time,” you’re not sure how to word it. You don’t want to imply you want him to prostitute himself to you, even though it’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re telling this to Wooyoung, but you’re looking at San. His eyes are intense and he seems fully awake and alerted, also measuring you up with his eyes. 

“I- I’m not sure we do this kind of jobs..” Wooyoung hesitates. 

San pulls on his sleeve. Wooyoung looks at him, and you’re sure there is some kind of telepathic connection going on, because after a few seconds of intense eye contact, Wooyoung turns back to you. “He agrees.” Wooyoung confirms, even though San hasn’t said a word. 

“Do you have anything specific in mind?” 

“Not really. Just, the usual,” you blush. You didn’t think that far, since you didn’t really expect San to agree. “Or anything that occurs in the moment. But, of course, it depends on how San feels about...performing. I’m not sure about the extent of his injuries.”    

“I’m not that injured,” San grumbles. It’s the first time he speaks out loud tonight and it catches you off guard. “I can perform.” He has a nice voice, you think. I wonder how he sounds when he cums.

“Well then, it’s settled,” Wooyoung claps his hands and reaches his palm towards you. You roll your eyes and put half of the money into his hands and he shoves it into his pocket immediately. 

“Do you want to move elsewhere?” he asks. 

“No, here is sufficient.” You would never admit it too Wooyoung, but fucking in dirty dressing room at the backstage of the boxer match, with the door that doesn’t lock well… it gives you the thrills already.

“Okay,” he replies and throws himself on an old armchair on the opposite side of the sofa. 

You’re perplexed. “Aren’t you going to leave?” you ask in disbelief. 

“No, of course not. I need to keep an eye on him. And you.” he smirks and reclines back to make himself more comfortable. 

“Bullshit. You just want to watch,” He’s so annoying. You’re almost fuming at the audacity of this guy. 

“Well, let’s say that’s a welcomed benefit.” he winks and you scoff, turning away from him. There is no point in arguing. 

You hesitate. Both of them are looking at you, awaiting your actions and it’s getting awkward. Ah, to hell with it, you decide, shrug off your jacket and with a few steps you come to the sofa and sit on San’s lap. He put his hands to your waist.

“Can I kiss you? Or does it hurt too much?” you nod at his busted lip.

“I don’t mind pain,” he shakes his head, putting his hand on your neck he pulls you for a kiss. The kiss is fierce and tastes of blood, he’s not hesitating to push his tongue into your mouth and fight you for dominance.

He’s trying to unbutton your blouse singlehandedly with his other hand and when he succeeds and takes it off you, he squeezes your tits hard. He breaks the kiss to move his mouth along your jawline to suck and lick on your neck. 

“You’re really pretty,” mumbles San into your neck. “I would have done it for free, you know,” he nuzzles.  “Don’t tell Wooyoung that.” That makes you laugh a little. 

You can feel him getting hard under you and you know you’re not doing much better yourself. You’re moving a little, rubbing your pussy over his cock, to get at least some stimulation for both of you, while he sucks and licks at your tits. You’re getting really into it and San’s hands on your waist help to guide your movement too. His breathing is getting heavier and he’s really hard under you.

“Do you want to make him come just from your dry humping? I thought you wanted to fuck,” Wooyoung’s voice interrupts your thoughts. 

Ugh.

You stop moving and look back over your shoulder to Wooyoung, sprawled on the armchair, as if he were watching a movie.  

“What’s your problem?” you frown. 

“If you make him come now, he’ll fall asleep in like 3 minutes and then what? Will you expect a refund?” Wooyoung shrugs. “Just thinking of business.” 

“Fine.” you stand up and unbutton your pants, but San bats your hands away and does it himself. He pulls them down together with your panties and you grab his shoulder for better balance while you step out of them. 

San pulls you for a kiss, running his hands over the backs of your thighs up to your ass, slightly pulling it apart, making you realize that you’re standing bent over right in front of Wooyoung who has the first row seat to your bare ass and wet pussy. You briefly wonder if San did this on purpose. 

San quickly unzips his own jeans and pulls out his cock. He’s already hard and leaking, the tip red and angry and you can’t wait to get it in you. 

“Do you have a condom?” you ask San impatiently. Yours are laying somewhere on the floor in the jacket pocket, and it seems way too far now. 

“He’s clean,” Wooyoung answers for him. 

“How do you know that?” you ask, your patience running thin. 

“Let’s say,” drawls Wooyoung with a smug smile. “I know about everyone he sleeps with.”

You frown, but you’re not going to argue with him. It’s hotter like this anyways. 

You take San’s cock in your hand and slowly sink on it. You can’t resist looking at Wooyoung over your shoulder. He’s watching intensely and it’s clear he’s not unaffected either - his boner is starting to show and while one of his hands is on the armrest, the other is getting dangerously close to his crotch. 

You slowly start to move and ride San’s cock. He’s a nice size and feels so nice and deep everytime you drop down. San’s hands are roaming all over your body, touching your ass, back, squeezing your tits while he’s sucking on your neck and collarbones, obviously trying to make up for the lack of his own movement in you. It’s not like you care much about that - he’s tired and injured and it’s not like you don’t prefer to just use a hot man like a toy. That’s actually why you’re even here. 

The room is resonating with the disgusting squelching sounds as both you and San are getting wetter, your bodily fluids mixing together with sweat. You’re riding him tirelessly, gasping and whimpering, trying to get you both close to finish, when San suddenly moans so loud it almost startles you.

“What..” you’re confused, but you’re not stopping. 

San is blushing. “He just licked my balls,” What. That makes you even more confused, but then you suddenly feel it. Wooyoung’s hot wet tongue on your asshole, his hands grabbing your asscheeks for better access. 

Oh fuck. You didn’t even hear him approach. It feels too good to ponder about it, and just the sheer audacity of Wooyoung to dare to join like that riles you up even more. Not to mention that he’s just casually eating your ass like that, with full enthusiasm, tongue moving down to lick around San’s cock at the point where he’s entering your pussy. It feels like his tongue is everywhere at the same time.

“Was this part of the deal?” you laugh, red, sweaty and out of breath, but not stopping. You’re so close.

“It’s on the house,” mumbles Wooyoung, getting back to eating your ass like it’s his last meal. 

He tries to push his tongue inside, and at the same moment San pinches your nipple just right, and that makes you come, so hard that San has to tighten his grip on your waist so you don’t fall off him as you move. He must be close too, the moment he senses that you have almost finished he grabs you by the waist with both hands and starts roughly thrusting up into you. It takes only a few thrusts though, and you can feel him coming in you. 

You slump against him, tired and out of breath and fucked out. San’s softening cock is slipping out of your pussy and you don’t know what Wooyoung is doing to him this time, but it makes San squirm. Wooyoung moves his attention to you, licking your pussy from behind, slurping San’s come straight out of it. It’s overstimulating and you can’t come again like that, not yet, but you can hear Wooyoung’s whimpers and moans as he’s licking inside of you, and you’re pretty sure he’s getting off on it - so you let him, holding onto San while catching your breath. 

It doesn’t take him long before you can hear him cumming into his own hand. After a moment, he breathes out and straightens. You look back and you see him offer his hand, dirtied with his own cum to San, for San to eat out off, like a dog getting a treat.

You drop down on the sofa. 

“Does he not mind..that?” 

San finishes licking Wooyoung’s hand clean. 

“He knows to never bite a hand that feeds him,” he says. It makes you feel something.

San lies down next to you on the cramped sofa. He closes his eyes and seems to be out as light immediately. 

“So…is that it?” 

“I do actually have a real job offer for you. Come work for me.” you suggest. 

“And do what?” scoffs Wooyoung. “Kill people? Or worse, die for you? Sorry, I don’t think either of us is interested in that.” 

“Not necessarily. Although you could work the usual jobs if you wanted - protection, deals, and such. But if you don’t, I’m sure we can use San’s skill as an instructor for our new recruits. He wouldn’t have to fight anymore” you shrug. For a man like San, there is always something to do in your organization.

“We’re a package deal.” replies Wooyoung. The real meaning of his sentence is clear - what would I do? What’s in there for me?

“I’m aware. I could use an assistant and you seem more than capable,” you reply nonchalantly, although you already know you will regret it. Wooyoung will definitely make annoying you his primary job. You’re looking forward to this. 

“Your lodging, food, salary, everything will be provided. You’ll live a more comfortable life. You don’t have to decide now, but I’m sure you would appreciate at least not having to live in a van, and- hmmppf” you get interrupted by San, who suddenly appears awake and surprises you with a kiss. He’s too passionate, tongue licking in your mouth, tasting of Wooyoung’s cum, and you don’t know if it’s desperation or gratitude, but you accept it. You wonder where he’s getting the energy for this though, but he’s almost mauling you with the fierceness of his kiss. 

“Well, I guess it’s decided,” Wooyoung pecks you on the cheek and his lips linger there for a moment until he whispers in your ear.

“Boss.”

You don’t need a better answer. 

[teewritessmth]

Can you do a ig thing with Harry Pinero or an headcanons with Darkest man ?? 😔🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

#Instagram Au (22)

(Harry Pinero x f! reader)

Liked by yungfilly, adeolapatrone and 421,109 others

y/n.y/l/n istg he looks WAYY too leng in a durag

ohnosharky durag gang ✋

---kingkennytv present ✋

---ajshabeel no way we spawned mr tight durag

---harrypinero nah jokes 💀

hi88888world since harry isn't active on youtube, we can now see him in y/n's posts

---chewbonic he doesn't have an amazing editor like me, that's why he's struggling

---darkestman the only thing he struggles with is that horror hairline

Liked by nikoomilana, calfreezy, mayajama and 886,216 others

harrypinero white never looked better on anyone else 🫶🩷

y/n.y/l/n 😘🩵🩷

y/n.y/l/n big shoutout to my day1 @nellarose for this beautiful dress

---nellarose you're so beautiful

adeolapatrone HOW DID YOU PULL Y/N?!?!?

---harrypinero I DON'T KNOW

---darkestman with that franchise on your head as well

Liked betasquad, y/n.y/l/n, ajshabeel and 765,100 others

y/n.y/l/n Big Beta want me and @harrypinero for their mafia series, which costume should we pull up in?

chunkz the Lego one is mental

ohnosharky wear the minecraft one for the tradition

---harrypinero I'm leaning towards the minecraft one too tbh

sideorbeta STEVEEEEEEEE

yungfilly Lego is a clear winner

[megsironthrone]

Never Fake-Date Your Savior

Based on this request: : glad you’re back!!! i hope you and your hubby get to finish HotD soon! 👀👀 a while ago you wrote a sandor x reader drabble where he’s in the mafia/gang and protecting reader from the boltons by holding their hand? i was wondering if you’d be interested in doing a continuation where they’ve kept up fake dating to keep reader safe but on one of their dates, they both highkey admit they’ve grown to genuinely like the other? 👉👈 if not that’s totally ok, you can ignore this!!! 💌 hope you have a great day

Here you are lovelies!! This is the fic that the 1st place winner of Game of Characters chose to be posted next! *Familiar Characters are NEVER mine!*

This fic is a continuation of a drabble I wrote for my 2200 follower celebration

Warnings: Mentions of mob violence? Modern/Mob AU. Fake Dating Trope. Angsty-ish. Fluff.

Pairings/Characters: Sandor Clegane x reader

How did this happen? That was the question you’d been asking yourself for the last several weeks. Ever since you figured out who the man who’d saved you from Roose Bolton’s men was. You’d managed to trade one mob family for another. However, Sandor Clegane was nothing like Roose Bolton or his son. He had saved you the night you met him and had even given you his number so you could contact him as often as you felt unsafe. 

You told him exactly how you’d gotten on the Bolton’s radar and he called you stupid. It wasn’t said to hurt you, but rather to stress just how poor your decision making in your dealings with the Boltons was. You realized that when the Bolton’s men would not leave you alone. It got to the point where you were calling or texting Sandor every other day. It was getting tiresome, but luckily for you, Sandor came up with a brilliant idea.

“What?” you asked in disbelief as you stared at the scarred man. “As often as I see you, we might as well.” You merely stared at him as your brain processed his words. “Let me get this straight,” you managed to say after a few minutes, “You want to fake-date me and make it obvious until Roose and his cronies finally decide to leave me alone?” He nodded. 

“Look, they leave you alone whenever I’m with you. We might as well make sure that’s as often as possible without you having to pull me from work. And I don’t have to listen to your whinging every time you see them.” You glared at him. “I don’t whinge,” you muttered, but he heard you anyway and arched his brow. With a loud sigh, you said, “Fine. I know it’s the best idea we’ve got. So, let’s do it. What could possibly go wrong?”

*time skip*

Feelings. That’s what could go wrong. You developed feelings for Sandor faster than you ever thought possible. Spending so much time with him, day in and day out lead to you falling head over heels in love with him. And you were doomed. Sandor was not a man who expressed feelings easily and he certainly had a very bleak outlook on love. There was no way he would ever, ever return your feelings. 

You hid your growing adoration as best as you could. You stopped seeing him as often, which didn’t help the whole Bolton situation. You kept conversations shorter unless you were out in public together. Anything you could do to avoid confronting your feelings, you tried. Eventually, however, you couldn’t any longer. 

One evening, you and Sandor planned a dinner “date” and for some reason it made you even more nervous than usual. You couldn’t help feeling like something was going to happen. Good or bad, you didn’t know. Just something. You just knew that your life was about to change again. 

Dinner was a soft-spoken affair. That was typical. Sandor didn’t talk much and when he did, it was either quiet enough so only you could hear or loud enough the entire restaurant could hear. No in between. After dinner, you were still feeling a bit antsy, so you asked Sandor to walk with you through a nearby park. He agreed, but was even more quiet than usual. 

“What’s up?” you asked when you were finally away from a crowd of people. Sandor didn’t reply so you stopped walking and looked up at him. “Sandor…” He met your gaze and those deep brown eyes nearly had you drowning in them. “Are you okay?” He nodded, but you didn’t believe him and asked again. “Sandor, I know something’s bothering you. What is-”

“You.” You blinked and your jaw dropped open in surprise. “Oh,” was all you managed as you felt your heart twist in your chest. “I see,” you croaked out, willing the tears not to come. You would not let that man see you cry over him. 

“Why can’t I get you out of my head?” he asked, almost too quietly for you to hear, “You’re always there. I can’t take it anymore. WHY? Why do I always see you staring at me with those (e/c) of yours? You don’t look at me like everyone else does. Like I’m dangerous, which I am. My entire family is. You look at me like…like I mean something. ” 

At that, you felt the tears you wanted to stay away come to your eyes. “Sandor, you do mean something. You mean so much. I-I think I might…” you trailed off, unable to put your feelings into words. Instead, you stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his unscarred cheek. You gently guided him down so you could meet his lips, kissing him softly.

When you pulled away, Sandor was gazing down at you in surprise. He clearly had not been expecting that. While the two of you had shared small pecks, mostly on the cheek, to sell the idea that you were together, you’d never kissed on the lips before that moment. You gave him a soft smile. 

Then, as suddenly as your happy moment came, it ended. Sandor glanced up and a frown made its way to his lips. “Oh,” was all he said before backing away and heading in the opposite direction. You took off after him, confused until you looked over your shoulder. Bolton’s men. 

“Sandor,” you panted, “Wait!” He stopped and whirled on you, fire blazing in his dark eyes. He was furious. “What was that about?” you managed to ask. He gave you a look that said, “Are you kidding me?” 

“I knew we were pretending, but that was lower than I ever thought you capable of,” he growled. Your brows knit together in confusion. “What?” 

“Kissing me like that just because Bolton’s men saw us again. I know I’m no prize, but you didn’t have to…to-” he trailed off as you realized that he wasn’t angry. He was hurt thinking that you only kissed him because you were pretending. You had to remind yourself that the man standing before you hadn’t been shown real love in his entire adult life. “Sandor, I didn’t even know they were there. Honestly. I kissed you because I wanted to. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.” 

Sandor was silent, hanging on your every word. You continued, “When we started this, I was just grateful to be protected. But then I got to know you and spend time with you. I don’t know when or even how it happened, but I fell and I fell hard. I love you, Sandor and nothing else matters. Not what people think, not the dangers from any other “families”, not the Boltons, not even your brother. The only thing that matters at this moment is whether or not you love me too.” You answer came in the form of the giant man pulling you to him and kissing you breathlessly. 

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @etherealpotter @smalltownbigheart @frozenhuntress67 @cd1242 @gruffle1 @supernatural4life2022 @asgards-princess-of-mischief

Sandor Clegane Tags: @songoficecreamandfireworks @nkjktk @silversprings98

[honey-minded-hivemind]

I just had a perfectly dark, perfectly creepy fluff idea, everyone... Creed Reader in a Helluva/Hazbin X-Men AU...

This can go a few ways:

Path One: Reader is a sinner or winner, who, in life, was related to a family of hitmen or a mafia family or serial killers and cannibals, and Reader was the token good member, who died a death they don't remember... But they end up in Heck or Heaven, and a few years later, their family ends up in Heck... They're repentant, sour, and unhappy, but rise in power fairly quickly... yet they can't help but wonder where their littlest one went...

Path Two: Reader is the first fallen angel, and their family (all of the mutants) basically cast them into Heck as punishment... Years later, they regret that choice, and hope to mend old bonds torn by pride and fear amd envy... Yet Reader isn't one to accept it...

Or even...

Path Three: Reader is a hellborn who ascended (opposite of fallen angel) and went to Heaven, after defying their family and their friends, and is forced to forget their life in Heck... But Reader becomes a higher up angel or an exorcist, and runs into the demons they forgot about... but they recognize Reader and their bright, wide eyes, and try to get them to remember them...

( @sugar-soda and @danni1323 and @vivid-bun and @opossumdaydreamz Well, what do y'all think? Which path is your favorite? But this just came to me, and I thought, "Oh, what a lovely new au for Creed Reader-")

[thehypotensivegrad]

The Adviser (27/45) | Bechloe Mafia AU

Synopsis:

Beca Bella, the consigliere and adoptive daughter of the former boss of a powerful Italian mafia, seeks to deliver her own personal brand of justice against a powerful and corrupt business conglomerate and their devilish counsel, while working on reclaiming her hidden wealth confined within the old Barden Tower. Thankfully, she has the help of her right-hand woman and bodyguard, and an old friend with secrets of his own. But things are easier said than done. Especially when she has to win over the trust of the tower’s quirky and colorful tenants, confront the ghosts of a past she left behind, as well as deal with her unexpected but ever-growing feelings for a fierce and determined lawyer she meets along the way.

Can Beca accomplish her goals, find her treasure, and keep the woman she loves in her life?

Or will something have to give for Beca to topple her enemies, climb the ranks of her world, and become the new boss of the Bella family?

Chapter 27: Paper Company Shake Up

All hands on deck as Beca, Chloe, and the rest of the Barden Tower residents work on getting the dirt that would bury Chicago for good.

Chapter preview below - Read the rest at ao3

"What?" Chloe asked rather innocently. Beca's response was to simply look her up and down before giving Chloe a sympathetic look. "You're dressed casually," Chloe pointed out. Beca was wearing a chic grey sweater, the materials it was made from and the tag on in probably cost more than Chloe's whole ensemble. In her arms, neatly folded, hung a cream-colored blazer that paired well with her cream-colored pants. Chloe wasn't sure what they were made off but they both looked sleek, stylish, and comfortable. The shoes Chloe already knew were expensive. It was a brand she didn't know off, but the insignia had caught her attention – Loro Piana – and it was enough to prompt Chloe to look it up before. Beca kept the make-up and accessories simple, with her hair styled back. This was casual for Beca. Not undercover, regular street clothes casual. But her own personal level of casual, one that screamed affluence over anything else.

Chloe on the other hand was wearing her favorite black suite and skirt ensemble that she wore to court a few times now. "I look good in this," Chloe insisted.

"I know, but… Look, Chloe. We're replacing a man and a woman, one of whom had the audacity to book the entire gallery for a private affair for two, I think it's safe to assume it's a date. And if one of them is rich enough to make private art gallery dates a thing…" Beca started to explain.

"This really won't pass?" Chloe asked.

Beca looked at her wristwatch. "We still have time, and I know just the place, come on."

"Just the place for what?" Chloe had asked. But Beca didn't answer.

Instead, they found themselves in Beca's car, with Beca driving silently to some chic, invitation only type of boutique Chloe didn't even know existed. Beca had a light smile on her lips, looking a little proud of herself. When they got there, she had explained that she called ahead of time – so she already planned this from the start, Chloe thought to herself – before Chloe found herself whisked off into a dressing room to try out a few pre-selected outfits for her.

Chloe tried very hard not to chuckle, every time she had to march out and gauge Beca's reaction, "modelling" the outfits she had picked out for her.

Beca was fairly easy to read in that instance. Chloe knew she wasn't convinced every time she pressed her lips together and quirked an eyebrow, and so Chloe would march back and try the next one. Meanwhile Beca was busy looking at whatever was in the black velvety boxes brought out to her by the shop's attendants.

When Chloe stepped out with the third to the last of her pre-selected outfits on – a she knew she had found a lovely black dress with a black blazer that hugged around her figure just right – she knew she found the winner. Beca looked speechless for a minute before she motioned for one of the sales attendants to come back with a big black velvet box. Beca gingerly picked up the necklace inside. The chains were made of gold and attached to the intricate design of the pendant. Beca walked up behind Chloe and placed the necklace around her neck, careful not to touch Chloe directly. Chloe could pick up the scent of Beca's perfume, a delicate mix of floral scents. There was a softness to it that Chloe paired with the elegant yet soft casual style that Beca had for the night. Chloe couldn't help herself blush a little. It almost felt like this fake date was real.

A part of her wished it was.

Beca hummed her approval as soon as she clasped it close, proud of her own choices. The sales attendant walked up to Beca, the box still open. That's how Chloe saw the pair of earrings that matched the pendant of the necklace. Chloe's fingers briefly brushed against Beca's own as she reached for one of the earrings inside the box, sending electricity from where they momentarily touched racing through her veins, down her pulse, throughout her own being.

"Are you sure about this?" Chloe asked with a gulp, trying to squash the butterflies that were starting to wake in stir inside of her. "You're spending quite a lot for one 'date.' This might be too much."

Beca shook her head. "Not at all," she replied before looking away. She watched as Chloe put the earrings on herself. "They were made you," Beca then said rather awkwardly, turning around and walking on away before urging Chloe to follow her out.

This was bad, they have a mission to complete, but Chloe couldn't help but notice how they were both acting like teenagers

Still, a part of Chloe's mind was indulging in maybes and fantasies. Of how things would have been if she had met Beca in a different circumstance.

Beca briefly smiled and let Chloe put the earrings on by herself. Chloe kept looking back at her through the mirror but Beca's expression had become unreadable in that moment. She couldn't help but wonder if her – well, their – beloved consigliere shared the same thoughts as her.

[morning-sun-brah]

Here's few ideas (typing aggressively on my phone):

- Mafia AU where Leo (40s or 50s) is the boss while reader (30 or 40s or any age you want to put) is the secretary while begin a huge simp of their boss Leo.

- Rockstar AU: Reader begin a pop star, idol or a singer who isn't in the rock genre but they and Leo are doing a collab or singing battle against each other (Leo vs reader the winner is the one who's getting votes from the audience online).

- tactical AU as reader is a doctor who's working on making a kraang virus cure and F!Leo is protecting them because his teammate and family passed away because of this virus.

- F!Leo begin reader's neighbor and started living in the apartment next door after a nasty divorce. Reader could be a single mother who's pregnant with her child. The two are growing from neighbors to friends to slowly falling for each other (something wholesome and fluff as it comfort and healing from previous wounds).

*drop on my knees/hj* i hope you like them master/hj

I might be under the weather, but I have this in my back pocket...

So, once upon a time, @starrcrossrose and I worked on a Mafia AU (so if you like this, make sure you throw a thank you at her head like a grenade). I have... quite a few more snippets I can share of these two- if anyone is interested, and I am not opposed to writing the occasional ask for this if it fits into the story (i.e.; Leo goes into the bank and x-y-z happens).

Also, @snipersiniora; THANK YOU FOR THE ASK AND THE PROMPTS. I'm keeping them all and I'll eyeball some of the other ones for ~later~. That said, the end game for this is exactly what your prompt was- the OC absolutely is supposed to end up as Leon's secretary/assistant.

Eventual smut, as an fyi, but nothing here other than set up. MINORS DNI, though! This is going to be shared in parts, and it will (eventually) be explicit. I should know, I've heard about a specific scene I've shared from the smut for ages, from friends who have seen it. (as an aside- I realize that Vivian is Julie coded, and that I've also used the name Vivian in a different fic. Shhhh....)

Gonna try out this whole sharing a fic on tumblr jazz. Definitely not nervous about it haha (a lie).

MAFIA AU UNDER THE CUT.

Summary; Leon has been in charge for a while now. Over a decade, actually. He's not really the same person anymore, not to the public and certainly not at a glance. He's... more. A mythos, almost. He's given a wide berth, talked about in hushed voices, and regarded with a healthy mix of fear and respect.

Too bad Vivian doesn't know who the fuck he is.

Marked mature for eventual smut. Ongoing. Leon x OC. OC uses she/her pronouns. Bank teller OC, Mafia Boss Leon. Aged up Ninja Turtles (an in, in their late 30's/pushing 40). Some violence and questionable activity on Leo's part. Where do you find your ride-or-die? In the bank, obviously. Don't like, don't read, you know the song and dance.

Next>

“I can help you, big guy.” 

To say Leon hadn’t already noticed her would be a lie. The pale blonde of her hair, down and straightened with a few frayed ends. The big white smile she kept painted on her face. The way her laughter carried through the high walls of the bank and echoed throughout. When he’d gotten close enough in the line- refusing to cut even when it was offered (and it was offered more than once)- he’d heard the way she spoke to each individual person. It was different with each new customer. Sometimes she was calm and to the point- talking quickly and keeping conversations short with patrons who clearly had further things to do and no interest in chatting. With others, it was casual and teasing, repeat customers or someone who she’d decided she could easily chat with, who would be comfortable with mild silliness.

At first, Leon had waited there in line annoyed, grouchy, and exhausted. He’d had a long night of strategizing with Donatello, and he’d only gotten a few hours of sleep on his office couch before peeling open his eyes and crawling to the bathroom to freshen up. He’d changed into one of his spare suites, glaring at his prosthetic arm and deciding it was a weight he didn’t want to carry today (and never mind that Donnie had started nagging him to wear it more often). 

By eight am he was ready for a pot of coffee and a day of phone calls. But there had been no coffee in the pot at reception, and there had been no receptionist, either. 

One glance at his phone told him why- and he’d answered the call (he’d missed six others) with a groan of irritation.

“Robert’s in the hospital!”  

His secretary, Betty, had half sobbed the words, the fifty-something-year-old woman in a panic because her eighty-something-year-old husband had collapsed in the middle of coitus (which- Leon had always thought was the point of Betty marrying an older man- but her worry over the phone made him wonder if she actually cared for the geriatric she called her husband. That, or his last will in testament hadn’t been settled). 

Leon had told her not to worry, to take as much time as she needed. He’d also promised to complete her errands himself- insisting on it even when she offered to send her nephew in her stead. Leo had scoffed; the last thing he wanted was Betty’s nephew in his office, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Instead, he’d made a list, listening to Betty as she rattled off everything that needed to be done before five. 

It was errands. How hard could errands be?

The morning had been a shitshow. 

The dry cleaners just down the street had misplaced two of his suits, and the owner had kept him much too long to apologize- nearly in tears even after Leon had insisted it was fine (it wasn’t- those were tailored Armani suits and he needed them back, goddamnit). Then he’d rescheduled all his appointments for the day- which was a hard thing to do when the person you don’t want to talk to was the one you were calling. Most of the calls had devolved into business, no matter how hard he tried to insist he didn’t have the time, and Leon had ended up just texting the last three and hoping that it wouldn’t reflect poorly on his business- unable to tolerate another voice saying “hey, while I have you on the phone,” and keeping his ear longer than he wanted. 

Still no coffee, and it had been nearing ten in the morning. 

Leon had nabbed his driver, Otto, from where he lounged in the lobby- snapping his fingers as he stalked passed and hearing the younger man scramble to get to the car before him. He’d slipped into the back of the black Rolls Royce and ignored his stomach when it growled loudly, resolved to get the last of the tasks off his list by noon- and when it was all done he was going to treat himself to a Ruben the size of his face and a bottle of whiskey. 

They’d gone to Queens to drop off a delivery, and again he’d been held up by the owner of the laundromat- who had nearly pissed himself when Leon walked in. Leon never walked in. Not unless there was a problem.

By early afternoon the list was only a third of the way to being completed, and he still hadn’t had coffee.

So he waited in line at the bank, the Royce and young Otto idling at the curb- right in front of a fire hydrant, too, because there wasn’t a cop on patrol who didn’t know to keep moving. Depositing a check shouldn’t be overly hard… Though, the last time he’d done it was in his early twenties. He didn’t think it was customary to actually head into the bank and do it in person anymore. In fact, he was sure he’d seen a commercial or two, when he had time for television, that exalted the benefits of snapping a picture and having it all done within a few moments. 

If that was the case, though, Betty was the one who knew how to do it. She ran his life, practically, and with her husband in the hospital she wasn’t in any situation to explain it to him. Certainly he wasn’t going to call her. 

“Hey, Bett’s. I know your old man is in critical condition, but mind explaining how this shit works? Thanks, Doll.”

He might be an asshole- but he wasn’t a monster. … Depending on who you asked, anyway. 

So he’d been annoyed, standing head over shoulders taller than any human in the bank and ignoring the wide berth he was given, jaw ticking as the line sluggishly moved along, half tempted to take up the offers to cut the line and be done with it. But she’d caught his eye, and with nothing better to do he’d just watched her, watched the way she spoke, the way she moved. Took in the loose cotton of her sage green top that stretched over an ample chest, the glint of gold in her jewelry- large hoops that swayed in her ears and chunky rings on every other finger. The way her eyes hardly left her computer screen as her fingers flew over the keyboard. The way her lips would occasionally wrap around the lid of a paper coffee cup that was stained mauve from her lipstick. 

Fall colors, Mikey had taught him. She was wearing fall colors. He wondered if she matched everything to the season. He wondered how high-maintenance she was, how fussy. He wondered how long she’d spent in the bathroom before she came to work, how carefully she’d painted her face. 

Not that he was complaining. 

Maybe other men weren’t into the look she presented. Certainly, she wore makeup, dyed her hair, and wore a shirt a little too revealing. He could already tell she was loud, with the way her voice carried through the bank, could tell that she’d have no qualms reading someone to filth if they were rude to her. But Leo was already half-smitten with her, even before she called him “big guy.” 

That had just sealed the deal, honestly. That, and every single word that had left her mouth from then on. 

He walked to her raised counter, her greeting lingering in the air. The woman who stood behind Leon in line sucked in a sharp breath at the address, as though she were steeling herself for an onslaught of profanity, maybe even violence. Which made sense, really. People knew Leon. He had a reputation. Casualness was a no-no. Calling him anything other than ‘Sir,’ or ‘Mr. Hamato’ was a good way to find yourself in trouble. Maybe Leon should be offended that he instilled such fear, such caution, but as it had been that way for over a decade, he decided that he still enjoyed the reaction- no matter what it said about him. But the teller didn’t know him, didn’t recognize him, and all at once he knew he wasn’t going to correct her. 

“Whatcha got for me?” The blonde asked, pushing her large framed glasses up the bridge of her nose. It gave her a slutty librarian look, Leo would later think- not bothering to feel bad about the assessment. 

He peered at her name tag. “Hello, Vivian.”

For a moment, her eyes held confusion, then she blew out a loud, punctuated breath. 

“I forget I have this thing on, half the time,” she expelled, a high little laugh on her lips and her hand on her chest, fingers fiddling with the plastic pin. “I was about to ask how the hell you knew my name.”

Leon shook his head, a little tsking sound on his lips as though to assure he wasn’t some derelict. “Need to deposit a check.” 

“Well, let's see the deposit slip. Come on, come on,” she rushed, grinning at him so wide he wondered if her cheeks hurt. He skated the slip across the laminate counter, which he’d filled out when he first entered the bank, all hunched over and muttering in irritation (something that was lost in the wind, now). The check he kept in his palm, understanding directions when he was given them, holding onto it until she asked for its production. 

“You new to New York?” he asked, leaning against the counter and watching her as she glanced at the slip he’d slid to her, her hands folded one on top of the other as she peered down at it.  

“What gave it away?”

“Your accent is very neutral.” 

“Is it? I guess it would be. You sound like you’ve lived here all your life.”

Leon gave an easy smile. “Midwest?” 

“Oh lord, are you a cop?”

“Hmm, not quite.” 

“Well, you got it right. Dead center of the Midwest. Iowa.” 

She still hadn’t picked up the bank slip, just eyed it with an arched brow, and she gave him an assessing gaze before asking, “How often do you make deposits, big man?”

God, he liked that. It fed his ego just the right way, having some pretty bank teller with long lashes and big doe-eyes calling him big man, big guy. Leon cocked his head to the side a bit, ignoring the little thrill that shot through him. “Why?” 

“I’m just wondering how much shit I need to give you for filling out a withdrawal slip, instead of a deposit.”

Leo bared his teeth in an apologetic cringe. “My secretary usually handles this,” he explained, nose all scrunched at the excuse. He sounded like an asshole, maybe, using the words my secretary, like he was incapable of doing anything on his own- coddled and babied.   

She cut him a look, glancing at him quickly as though to gauge his expression, his apology. Then her lips tipped into a paltry smile, her eyes rolling as she gave an exaggerated sigh.

“It’s alright,” she allowed, procuring the correct slip from a drawer, nails clicking over every surface as she moved. “I’ll fill it out… You know you can do all this over your phone, right? Just snap a picture of the check and move on with your day?” Then, with eyes that seemed to dance, she added, “Are you too old to know how to work the app?”

Leon raised a brow ridge (the audacity) and shook his head. 

“I’m old-school, not old.” 

She gave a non-committal hum, and Leo scoffed. 

“I’m not even forty!” He said in faux offense, heart jumping a little in his chest.

“The fact you said “I’m not even forty,” instead of “I’m in my thirties,” tells me exactly how close to being forty you are.”

At that, he barked a loud, surprised laugh. A laugh that took even himself by surprise. It had been… years, since someone talked to him like this. Decades, maybe. 

I was right. She doesn’t know who I am. She has no idea who I am…

“How long have you been here, Vivian?” He asked, amusement written all over his features, a light in his eyes that only his inner circle ever witnessed. 

“Oh, a couple months,” she answered from her bent forward position, using a blue ballpoint pen to handwrite his information on the correct bank slip. 

“You like it?”

She gave a little derisive snort of a laugh, then straightened to look over her shoulder. An older man with a Manager pin seemed to loom behind the counter, looking over her and Leon with a watchful gaze, and she said loudly, in a voice that carried, “I love it here!” 

She threw a cheery look at the slider and added, “This is honestly the best job I’ve ever had! I’ve only been here two months and I already feel like this is my second home, everyone here is so wonderful! It’s been such an amazing opportunity, and I love all the people and the atmosphere and-”

“He’s gone.”

“It’s awful,” she quickly transitioned, tone deadpan. “Are you kidding me? No one here is nice- except John,” she canted her chin to the man working the other window down the long counter- his long sandy blonde hair pulled back and gauges in his ears as he frowned at a harassed-looking woman who jabbered at him about late fees. “But he’s new too, so we’re in this together- like High School Musical.” 

Leon’s smile twisted higher at her honesty. “You’re telling me being a bank teller isn’t the American Dream?” 

Vivian snorted again. “Please. It is better than being in a secluded cubicle- at least I get to talk to people. But ugh, dealing with the public is terrible. No one wants to be at a bank, you know? It’s like the BMV. No one is happy to be here- and if you’re coming into the bank it’s usually because there is a problem. And then you get jokers who fill out all the wrong paperwork.”

She gave a belabored sigh before throwing him a wink, and Leo didn’t bother trying to smother his wide grin. 

“That must be terrible.” 

“It’s so terrible,” she agreed with a sage nod, crossing the ‘t’ in his last name with a flourish. “Alright, Mr. Fancy Pants, lemme see the check.”

Leo slid it to her with his thumb and didn't miss the way her eyes rounded just slightly before schooling into a neutral expression. 

“What’s that look?” He asked. 

“Just a lot of zeros,” she murmured casually.  

Like so many times now, since he’s entered the bank, Leon’s brow ridge raised high. “Are you allowed to comment on the amount someone is depositing?” he asked lightly. 

Vivian rolled her eyes. “Don’t start with me, big guy,” she began. “You’re the one who asked what the look was for.”

Leo chuckled and gave a half-shrug, “Not used to someone having such a terrible poker face.” 

She threw him a sour little scowl. “How dare you,” she quipped. “Just for that, I’m making you stand here longer.” 

Leon pressed his lips together, thought about his response, and then immediately unglued them. 

“I can live with that.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Views not so bad, at this window.”

Leon decided very quickly that, as pretty as she was, he liked the way she looked when she was blushing even more. It was a blotchy show of red and pink, from her cheeks all the way down her neck. He liked the little strangled hum she made, too, her eyes darting from his face to her computer screen, her whole body fidgeting. Nervous. Caught between preening and embarrassment, her hands twitching as though she’d like to hide her face in them. Either no one took the time to compliment her (unlikely), or she enjoyed it because it was him serving said adulation. 

She took a long sip of her coffee, clearing her throat as she did, and Leo eyed the cup and sighed loudly. Fuck. He still hadn’t had any coffee.

“What’s that about?” She asked, clearly trying to pivot without addressing what he’d said, her lips still over the lid of her cup. She wasn’t even looking at her computer screen, but one hand still tapped away on her keyboard. 

“Haven’t had coffee yet,” he admitted, some of the irritation from before, which had all fled the moment he’d looked at her, returning. “It’s been a long, long morning.” 

“I was wondering about those eye bags,” Vivian said with a smirk, laughing when he glared at her. She took another deliberately long sip of her coffee and smacked her lips. “Delicious,” she teased.

Leo shook his head. “I tell you I’m suffering and this is how you act? You’re a terrible person.” 

“Am I? And I was just about to offer you some…” 

Leo’s eyes widened, and he straightened from his leaned posture to reach out a hand. “Please,” he intoned, voice half beseeching, half in jest.

Vivian shook her head, amused, then did a double take. “Wait, really? What if I have cooties?” 

Leo scoffed. “What are you, five? I told you, I haven’t had any caffeine. I'm dying here.” He said it seriously, suddenly convinced that, with only a little pleading, he might get a taste. “Come on, sweetheart, I’ll bring you a cup if I ever have to come back into this hell hole.” 

The blush, which had begun to recede, flared back up the instant he uttered sweetheart. Still, Vivian passed him her cup after only a moment of deliberation- eyes dancing with amusement when he drank what was left in three large gulps- like some kind of parched animal. 

It was lukewarm and not nearly sweet enough- but as soon as the liquid hit his tongue, he felt more like himself. 

“What kind of man,” Vivian began with a breathy laugh, “drinks from the cup of a woman he doesn't know?” 

Leon gave a loud, pleased sigh, eyes closed and lips twitching. “The desperate kind,” he responded. 

“Yeah? Hope you don’t mind having my lipstick all over your mouth, either.” 

He looked down at the plastic lid, seeing immediately that her mauve lipstick stains were smeared across it. He gave her a toothy grin. “Is it my shade?”

“Of course it is.”

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Leo rubbed the back of his sleeve across his mouth, the white of his cuffs stained in an instant. 

“That’s a good way to get in trouble with the girlfriend,” Vivian remarked, taking the empty cup out of his hand and setting it to the side. 

“Lucky me, I don’t have one of those.” 

Leo didn’t miss the little upward tug of her lips, and a predatory glean filled in his eyes. He knew bait when he saw it- he was tempted to ask why she was fishing. Before he could say anything, though- deplorable flirting just on the tip of his tongue- Vivian gave a few loud final taps to her keyboard.

“You’re all set, Mr. Hamato,” she lilted. “Want a receipt?” Then, as though she heard her own question, added, “What am I saying of course you do. Otherwise, how will you know I didn’t skim a little off the top?”

“I wouldn’t even notice,” Leo said truthfully.

“Oh in that case.”

She printed his receipt and folded it, putting it in an envelope and sliding it across the counter. 

“Anything else, sir?” 

He was half tempted to have her tell her actually did want to make a withdrawal- just to keep talking to her. But his phone buzzed in his pocket, a reminder that someone else was counting on him, and he sighed. 

“Not a thing,” he said, all that irritation bleeding back into his body at the thought of walking away. 

“It’s been a pleasure,” she told him with a smile- a real one, too. One that reached her eyes, one that he returned, gray meeting green and holding for just a moment. “Or a nightmare, whichever you think is best.” 

Leo’s smile stretched across his face. “A pleasure, absolutely.” 

“You treated Mr. Hamato well, right?”

The question came from Vivan’s manager, William Taylor, and it had her pausing as she gathered her things at the end of the work day, her purse dangling from her shoulder, her hurried movements halted with a screech. That always happened when a superior had a question- one that was more an accusation than anything else.

“I’m sorry?” 

“Mr. Hamato,” he repeated, voice a little high, a little stressed. “Did he leave happy?” 

Vivian’s brow raised. Leonardo Hamato (and never mind that she’d remember his name, a flare of pink dusting her cheeks at the mention of him) had been inside the bank hours ago. It seemed a little odd to wait until they were closing to ask, especially if there had been a complaint. 

Had there been a complaint? Had her casual manner, which she’d thought he’d read as… charming, maybe, actually been ill-received? If that was the case, she needed to find the nearest manhole and swan dive right into it- just to escape the utter embarrassment she’d have for misreading the conversation. That, and she was definitely getting fired- no one but John even liked her (and sometimes she thought he only tolerated her).

“Uh… yeah? Yes. He left happy. He seemed happy, anyway.” She paused, bottom lip between her teeth, then added, “Did he call and complain about something…?”  

It was as though her answer was something that caused her manager great relief, because Mr. Taylor exhaled a whooshing of held breath. 

“No calls or complaints,” he replied, waving off her question. “But I wanted to be sure.” 

Before she could ask, he gave her a stern look- like a parent about to discipline their child for some perceived bad behavior. “If he comes in again, I want you to make sure he has everything he needs from us- that goes for both of you! Be nice. Accommodating. Whatever he wants, I mean it!” He barked the instruction to her co-worker, John, as well, and before Vivian could even give an affirmative he was leaving with a huff, office door slammed in his wake.

The moment it was shut, Vivian gave John a bewildered look. 

“What the fuck was that about?” 

John gave a large shrug, passive gaze conveying just how much he didn’t care. “I dunno, man. Maybe he’s a big client?” 

“Oh, he is. I saw all the zeros in his account.” Vivian glared at the closed door of the office Mr. Taylor had retreated to. “I’m always nice,” she muttered sourly. 

At that, John scoffed. “Are you?” 

“Oh fuck you! I’m so nice!” 

“You froze that lady's account the other day.”

“She called me a bimbo!”

John chuckled and shook his head. “Come on, I want a drink, and being here longer than I have to makes me depressed.”

She let it leave her mind, for a while. Let the words Mr. Taylor said to her float away as she and John played a few rounds of darts over beer and nachos- each of them refusing to talk about work when they were outside of it. Instead, they threatened to ping each other with darts and argued over the jukebox selections, and by the end of the night they giggled in a bathroom stall while using a Sharpie to add to the graffiti. Immature, maybe, but John seemed to bring out the worst in her, egging her on until she broke- hissing at her to “stop drawing the cocks so big, it’s more unsettling if they're flaccid.”

But later, in the relative quiet of her small apartment, Vivian thought about it, stewing over her manager's words as she drank down a glass of cold water and a handful of ibuprofen.

Mr. Hamato hadn’t complained, and that was a relief. She’d only been in New York City for just over two measly months, was only able to afford her questionably located apartment because of a payout she’d taken at her last job, back in Iowa, and she couldn’t afford to get fired. Not with how expensive everything was. 

God, everything was so expensive. Rent alone had her scraping to get by- even when she took a second job cleaning office buildings on the weekends. And never mind utilities and groceries and cab fare when she needed to get home from a night out with John. It left hardly any time at all to just enjoy herself, to enjoy this new lease on life. Her wings might be unclipped, but she hadn’t really been able to stretch them.

You always knew this was going to be hard. Moving to a new city, not knowing anyone. Suck it up. 

The pep talk was one she gave herself often. 

Still, Mr. Hamato hadn’t complained, and it was a relief. She might not love her job, might not even like it, but the bulk of what she earned came from the eight-to-five. She needed it, was lucky to have it, and teasing some good-looking mutant wasn’t worth the potential loss. 

So why had Mr. Taylor asked her about him? Why had he looked so worried, so nervous? Why had he seemed relieved when she’d said he’d left happy? And why oh why was he so special that she and John and everyone else who worked in the bank were told to be accommodating? Nice?

Not your circus, she thought to herself, frowning at her empty glass of water, head spinning a little from the cheap IPA still sloshing around in her stomach. Remember? Mind your business. Keep your head down. 

The thought wouldn’t leave, though. She stopped herself from searching his name on Google, showering as quickly as she could (the water heater afforded exactly three minutes of uninterrupted hot water), and crawled into bed with a loud yawn. She didn’t need to know, and she certainly didn’t need to care. He’d liked her, she thought. He’d liked the teasing, the banter. He’d flirted with her. 

Even under the covers, hours between herself and Leonardo telling her he liked the view, her cheeks blossomed pink. God, she needed to get laid, if that was all it took to get her worked up. 

Him being a literal fucking tank hadn’t hurt, though. Neither had the stormy gray eyes or the easy smile or the laugh lines. Which was stupid, probably. He looked tired and had a scar on his lip (and she shushed her mind when it tried to insist that those features made him hotter, somehow), and he exuded too much confidence. The kind of confidence that people only got when they weren’t used to being told no, she thought. He just screamed that he was the kind of man who didn’t know how to do anything but flirt, and she decided, too, that he must have a laundry list of bodies in and out of his bed. 

Be kind, you don’t know that.

Maybe not. But what she did know was that she hadn’t moved to New York just to get caught up in another man. Hell no. 

Still, Mr. Taylor’s words echoed in her mind as she drifted off to sleep, three alarms set for the morning so she wouldn’t miss her wake-up call.

Who the hell was Leonardo Hamato, that she had to tiptoe around him?

[queers-gambit]

The Main Character collection or the tropes collection

a collection of attempted exploration / practice of designated tropes, featuring varying Muses.

featured muses: Joel Miller, Aemond Targaryen

“And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good,” ― East of Eden by former WWII war correspondent, American method and social novelist, winner of the 1940's Pulitzer Prize, the 1961 Nobel Prize for Literature, and the 1964 Medal of Freedom, John Steinbeck

total fics: 2 featured collections: 3

status: active

-> will be updated accordingly

requests CLOSED requesting rules and masterlist

"Literature is a luxury; fiction is a necessity," ― G.K. Chesterton, English novelist, philosopher, historian, Catholic theologian and apologist. author of The Defendant

The Clingy Baby collection

varying muses labeling Reader as "clingy" in varying ways.

-> multi-fandom and character; various word counts and warnings

trope: The Clingy Trope

🎭 drama 🥺 hurt 🚫 not alot comfort 🙊 general language and content warning 🍄 toxic relationship ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 💔 angst 🧸 small fluff ☠️ discussion of deceased family member 💣 relationship angst 🔏 barely edited 🦋 modern AU 💸 mafia AU 🥊 brief depiction of physical violence and / or aggression 🫠 description of self-destruction 🐝 stand alone 🐍 toxic family ⏳ AU timeline ⚠️ mild spoilers

read here

Hanahaki Disease collection

Japansese folklore - fictional disease where the victim coughs up flower petals when suffering from one-sided love; ends one of three ways.

-> multi-fandom and character; various word counts and warnings

trope: The Hanahaki Disease Trope doubles as The Unrequited Love Trope

read here

The Pumpkin Eater collection

varying muses cheating on or with Reader.

-> multi-fandom and character; various word counts and warnings

trope: The Cheating Trope

read here

🍒 pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen x female!reader fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

Dornish Wine, Weddings, and Bruised Knuckles

summary: your best friend's getting married and you've got a thing for her brother. during the bachelorette party, you learn maybe your affection wasn't so one-sided after all.

trope: The Best Friend's Brother Trope

word count: 11.1k+

🎭 drama 💔 small angst 🧸 small fluff 🥰 romance 💦 smut 🦋 modern AU 🙊 general language and content warning 🥊 depiction of physical violence or aggression 🧃 implied character age-up (legal to drink) 🔏 barely edited 1️⃣ written after season one

read here also part of the Designated Destination collection

🍒 pairing: Joel Miller x female!reader fandom masterlist: HBO's The Last of Us

When It Rains, It Pours

summary: ( requested ) after a long hike, you and Joel find a rundown motel, and after finding the cleanest room, there's only one bed.

trope: The One Bed Trope

word count: 4.4k+

🙊 general language and content warning 💦 mild smut 🔥 NSFW 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

requesting rules and masterlist

-> PLENTY planned, much drafted, more to come; will be updated accordingly!!

[best-fanfic-trope]

ROUND 1

(It's a little late but...) ROUND 1 IS HERE!!

The polls will go up soon, but here are the matchups! Since there are 24 matchups this round, they will be staggered, probably in the three groups. From there, the winners will be battle the winner next to them until each "bracket" has a winner, and then the finals will be a three-way battle. There could also be a losers bracket if anyone is interested lol.

We also had several submissions that included examples of fics depicting their favorite tropes, which you can find at this link! Feel free to tag me with any propaganda for your favorite tropes or send it through my asks!

Anyways, onto the brackets! (They are below the read more!)

Bracket 1

Enemies to Lovers vs. “I didn’t know I was gay until I met you”

Crack vs. Body swap

Idiots to Lovers vs. Angst and fluff

Mutual pining vs. Time Travel

Mafia AU vs. Chatfic

Hurt no comfort vs. Friends to enemies to lovers

(Temporary) Amnesia AU vs. Modern AU

Sickfic vs. Touch Starved

Bracket 2

Fake Dating vs. Redemption arc

Rivals to lovers vs. Turned into a child

Crossover vs. Fantasy AU

Soulmate AU vs. Pure angst

Hanahaki disease vs. 5 + 1

Identity Porn vs. Explicit consent

Domestic AU vs. Sold to one direction

Fix it fic vs. There Was Only One Bed

Bracket 3

Hurt/ Comfort vs. Best friends to lovers

Married Before Dating vs. Nobody dies AU

Secret relationship vs. High school AU

The Beach Episode vs. College AU

Slowburn vs. Roommates AU

Coffee shop AU vs. (Not actually) unrequited love

Found Family vs. Fluff

Time Loop vs. Whump

[quinloki]

Rules: make a 24 hour poll with the names of your WIPs, let it run, then write one sentence for every vote the winner receives.

Im going to make some adjustments, cause this is me, but I need a few days to do some pop up stuff (like the Crocodile x Reader size kink from @some-piece ‘s poll)

So I’m going to run this for a week, and write one sentence for each vote regardless of which one wins. The winner I’ll just make more of a priority going forward to try and complete faster.

Reblogs are appreciated 🥰

[just-some-random-blogger]

kpop masterlist

🍓 = fluff themes

❄️ = angst themes

🚧 = smut themes

🤸‍♀️ = slice of life / bish idek what theme this is

🚀 = crack fic themes

🎩 = dark and/or violent themes

🏩 = genre fic, i.e. mystery, horror, fantasy, etc

🍳 = slow burn

🦕 = personal favorite

back to main masterlist

A.C.E.

Memory | 🍓❄️🦕 Kim Byeongkwan x Reader + Park Junhee x Reader (University AU) [Blurb]

Ateez

Only One | 🍓❄️❄️❄️🍳🦕 CEO!Choi San x Reader

BigBang

It’s An Act [WBU I] | ❄️ Choi Seunghyun (TOP) x Reader

Smoke | 🍓🤸‍♀️ Choi Seunghyun (TOP) x Reader

BTS

Runaway | 🍓❄️🏩 Mafia!Kim Seokjin (Jin) x Reader (Mafia AU) Preview 1 2 3 4 x

Mah Boyfriend | 🍓🍓🤸‍♀️🦕 Jung Jungkook x Idol!Reader

BTOB

Hidden Heart | 🍓🍓🍓🤸‍♀️🚀🍳 Lee Minhyuk (HUTA) x Idol!Reader [Headcanon]

Day6

A University Dilemma | 🤸‍♀️ Kang Younghyun (Young-K) x Reader (Univeristy AU)

What A Joke | ❄️ Kang Younghyun (Young K) x Reader + Park Jaehyung x Reader (University AU) [Blurb]

So... Haha... I Like You | 🍓🦕 Park Jaehyung x Reader (Fake Dating AU)

EXO

Wheel Of Fortune | 🍓🍳🚀 Park Chanyeol x Reader [Headcanon]

Welcome To The Jungle | 🚀🚀🚀🏩 Park Chanyeol & Oh Sehun (Jungle AU)

Maybe We Still Have A Shot [WBU III] | 🍓🍓🏩 CatHybid!Oh Sehun x Reader (University AU)

Unrequited Attraction | 🚧🏩🍳🦕 Mafia!Kim Jongdae (Chen) x Retail Worker!Reader

Color Palette | 🍓 Byun Baekhyun x Reader [Blurb]

Brown Leaves | 🍓 Kim Jongin (Kai) x Reader (University AU)

GOT7

One Million In One Day | 🍓🍓❄️❄️🍳 Sugar Daddy!Jackson Wang x Reader Preview ~ Alternate Moodboard ~ Moodboard Teaser  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 

Car Rides | 🍓 Jackson Wang x Reader [Blurb]

Juice Box | 🍓🚀🏩🦕 Kunpimook Bhuwakul Bambam x Reader [Blurb] (Pre-Schooler AU)

Somewhere In Between | ❄️❄️Civil Engineer!Park Jinyoung x Reader + Architect!Henry Lau x Reader

Trading Secrets | 🍓🍓 Kim Yugyeom x WangSis!Reader

JYJ

Winning Losses | ❄️ Kim Jaejoong x Idol!Reader

Monsta X

Introspect | 🍓🤸‍♀️ Lee Jooheon x Reader [Blurb]

Letting Off Steam | 🤸‍♀️ Lee Hoseok (Wonho) x ArtStudent!Reader (University AU)

NCT

Seventeen

December Dates | 🍓🚀 bf!Seventeen x Reader [Headcanon]

The Stroke Of Midnight | 🍓❄️🏩🦕 Mafia!Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi) x Reader

Here's My Problem: I Can't Get You Out Of My Head | ❄️❄️❄️🎩🎩🎩🏩🍳🦕 Detective!Jeon Wonwoo x Actress!Reader

10 Ways To Get Over Gyu | 🍓❄️❄️❄️🍳🍳🦕 Kim Mingyu x Reader + others (Childhood AU)

Half Of My Heart | 🍓❄️🤸‍♀️🍳 Kim Mingyu x Reader + Jeon Wonwoo x Reader (CEO AU)

On A Thread | ❄️❄️ CEO!Joshua Hong (Hong Jisoo) x Nurse!Reader

SF9

A Final Offering | 🍓🍓❄️🏩🦕 Deity!Kim Inseong & Child!Reader + Baek Juho (Zuho) x Mom  

What Does It Mean? | 🍓❄️🤸‍♀️ Kim Inseong x Reader + Lee Jaeyoon x Reader (University AU) 

16th Floor | 🍓🤸‍♀️ Kim Seokwoo (Rowoon) x Reader (Office AU)

SHINee

Understand This |❄️ Choi Minho x Reader I Don’t Understand [Understand This II] | ❄️ Choi Minho x Reader

It’s All A Big Joke [WBU II] | ❄️ Lee Taemin x Reader

Th-that’s Not | ❄️❄️🚧🦕 Lee Taemin x Reader Regrets [Th-that’s Not II] | ❄️ Lee Taemin x Reader

Angel Bride | ❄️🚧🏩🦕 Pirate!Lee Taemin x Reader

Noona, You're So Pretty | 🍓 Lee Taemin x Noona!Reader

Stray Kids

Professional Boundaries | 🍓❄️🚧🦕 CEO!Bang Chan x Pre-School Teacher!Reader + CEO!Hwang Hyunjin x Pre-School Teacher!Reader 1 2 3 4 

Bootylicious | 🍓🚀 Bang Chan x Idol!Reader

Super Junior

The Soup | 🍓🍓🚀🚀 SuJu x SuJu Maknae!Reader [Headcanon]

Secrets Of A Maknae | 🍓🚀🚀 Kim Heechul x SuJuMaknae!Reader

The Boyz

Gentle With Me | 🍓🍓🤸‍♀️ Lee Sangyeon x Reader

TVXQ!

Pitter-Patter | 🍓 Jung Yunho (U-Know) x Reader (Pre-School Teacher AU)

The Art Of Deception | ❄️🎩🏩 Shim Changmin x Reader (Secret Agent/Spy AU)

TXT

Forget About It | 🍓❄️🤸‍♀️🍳🦕 Choi Soobin x Reader (University AU)  

WINNER

I’m Not Playing | 🍓❄️❄️ Gangster!Song Minho (Mino) x Reader 1 2 3