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smallestchances · 4 years ago

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The Fourth Horseman (Thor x Reader)

synopsis: thor has done everything in his power to be seen as an actual powerhouse and threat to the mobs of new york, but the council of the horsemen are in the way. knowing they could lose everything they’ve built, mor goes to the people she knows can make things happen, and strikes a deal with the apocalypse wives.

word count: 4.9k

a/n: Welcome to the first installment of the Apocalypse wives!! Buckle up for a ride and send in asks when you’re ready for more :)

warnings: cursing, slight smut, mentions of abuse & murder

MASTERLIST /// WIVES!MASTERLIST

--------------------------

You were a lot of things to a lot of people. Some people knew you as a determined spitfire who was fierce, protective, and not afraid to get her hands dirty for the people she loved. They knew you were an amazing friend.

Others knew you were an even worse enemy.

They knew you as an unforgiving bitch who painted her nails with the blood of those who wronged her. You were an unbothered, spoiled witch who wouldn't know humility if it was beneath your red-bottomed heel.

Thor knew that you were all of those things on a good day.

You sat with him now, in the middle of SHIELD. It served as the hottest and the most dangerous club in the state, and therefore your meeting place. Thor's hand is fit snugly around your waist, the sheer panel of your body suit allowing you to feel a semblance of his touch.

He's happy at the moment--genuinely happy and it's something you haven't seen in a long time. You can only look at him fondly, the low light of the club highlighting his jaw and the laugh lines that appear. His eyes twinkle as he talks with Loki, their relationship finally repaired after the trickster was fatally wounded trying to save your husband’s life.

Though you're still skeptical of the mischief maker, you have yet to remember the last time you saw Thor this happy. Knowing this is the only reason you've allowed Loki to build his way back into your lives, you let him know that you have a dagger with his name on it should his loyalties change again.

As they talk, your eyes can’t help but linger to the exclusive third floor of the club — the circular balconies that complement the hollow interior of the building. The people up there sneer at those below, and you feel your jaw tick. Escorts, wannabes, and the closest inner circles of the underground world are found up there, and you knew that's where Thor belonged.

Three years. Three years, you and Thor had to fight and claw your way to get anywhere in the mafia world, and still you weren't at the top. Thor has already gained throes of power, influence, and support.

You just had to take him further.

"He won't be a problem."

Thor's words snap you back to the brothers' conversation, realizing the tone has taken a turn.

"You've only experienced Odin's grace," Loki replies. "He knows how to keep the appearance of kindness. Don't forget that I know his wrath more than anyone else.”

Thor swallows heavily at the reminder of his father's sins. "Loki—“

"No need for pity brother,” Loki interrupts, a genuine smile creeping on his face. "Despite my past, I've finally found a way to win against certain demons. I've gained you, a home, a psychotic sister-in-law—”

You wink at him.

"I'm in a better place than before," Loki concludes. "However, Father sees you taking me in as a personal slight. That, coupled with your growing success—“

"We've become his targets,” Thor finishes.

Those simple words cause the bass of the club music to become white noise. Blinking rapidly, you sit up quickly, leaning forward into Thor's space. "Your father now has you both on a hit list?” The disgust can’t help but drip from your voice. Loki only nods. Your eyes fall to the floor, tracing the patterned tiles as you process the information. "What does Frigga know about this?”

Thor makes a noise at the back of his throat. "Mother was the one who warned us."

You nod, chewing on your lip. "So we take him down first.”

Both men clear their throat sharply, Loki looking around cautiously. “Odin is the oldest living patriarch of the New York’s...companies. He has the support of the Horsemen— taking him down will not be simple."

"Nor should we announce it so blatantly my love," Thor shifts, pulling you onto his lap effortlessly, and his arms never leaving your sides.

"Your coward of a father wants to assassinate his sons because of the power they've gained,” is all you can grit out. “Something has to be done—”

“If we move too quickly, then we risk losing everything,” Loki interrupts. “Odin will declare us as enemies, and per his requests, he'll have the arsenal of Conquest, the men of Famine, and the tactics of Pestilence at his fingertips. Right now, we don't stand a chance.”

You bite the inside of your cheek harder, going through what you know of the Horsemen and their capabilities. You yourself have had little interaction with the infamous mobster, once before you married Thor and once to get Loki out of his clutches of abuse. He’s well known for being the first Horseman to retire instead of die, but his seat of War hasn’t been empty for long.

Frigga, his wife, was the one you knew well and respected. You knew her as a woman who did the best in every circumstance she found herself in, and fell in love with a man who changed too much before she realized what happened. Frigga had one of the largest hearts you knew, and you were certain she was the only reason the Asgardians were still standing as a viable threat.

"Without the council, we can defeat him," Thor mumbles.

Loki answers with a sarcastic laugh, downing the last shot on the table. "Turning the Council on a veteran member is impossible; especially since we don't have an insight into their ranks.” He gestures to the third floor of SHIELD. "We either lay low and build an army...or surrender while we still can."

You scoff at the two suggestions, rolling your eyes only to balk at the fact that Thor has yet to answer. "You can't seriously be considering this," you spit at him. At the answering silence, you slide off his lap to the far end of the couch. If we build an army, we’ll be forced to outsource outside of New York— and that means making the horseman an even bigger enemy for after the war. Don't even get me started on what these potential ‘allies’ will want.”

"And surrendering is not an option,” is all Thor mumbles, his jaw ticking as he rubs his palms together nervously. "Do we strike a deal?”

You stand abruptly, avoiding Thor’s sorrowful stare as you barely announce that you’re going to grab more drinks. You don’t want to hear another word of their conversation, but their words echo through your head as you descend the stairs to the first floor. Pushing past bodies, your mind barely registers that you pick up the pace when the bar is within eye-distance.

After ordering your drink of choice, you scrub a hand over your face in an attempt to clear all the thoughts in your head. You have half a mind to try to take out Odin yourself and with your bare hands, but you know everything Loki said was right.

Thor was so close to the finish line. He’d tried so hard to establish his reign separate from his father’s, trying to do better for the people and the misfits that found their way to him. Odin had started to spit on the values of being a Horseman, even towards the end of his reign. He allowed his community to fall and even hung Frigga out to deal with his coming consequences, and Thor got tired of it when it got too close to the people he loved.

Just thinking about the night everything came to a head, and how far you all have come, your eyes unconsciously float to the third floor.

There.

There, you find a glimpse of the very men Thor & Loki spoke about. Tony Stark, Conquest; Steve Rogers, Famine; & Bucky Barnes, Pestilence.To the left of them, you find another group that everyone else in the club seems to have looked over.

Stunning under the multicolored lights, their skin tones are radiant as their tailor made attire fit their body types marvelously. They seem to be keeping to themselves, talking to each other in low tones, while holding themselves differently than the escorts around them.

The Wives.

You take a thoughtful sip of your drink as a glimpse of a thought passes through your brain...and you lie in wait to prove your theory. You don’t have to wait long as a commotion brings your attention back to the Horsemen, and you find Conquest and Pestilence unusually close to each other, tempers flaring.

Pestilence gets shoved back by Famine, and just as things comes to a head, faster than lightning, the Wives are there. Sekhmet Stark’s arms have wrapped around Conquest, Hecate Barnes has the attention of Pestilence solely on her, and Kali Rogers has found Famine’s lips on hers.

And that’s the moment that you knew the solution to your problem--well Thor’s problem. You’re almost vibrating in joy as you down the rest of your drink before going back up to the stairs.

Its surprisingly easy to get up to the third floor--just until you make it to the glass doors that separate the landing from the exclusive section.

Straight ahead, on a raised dias, you see that the Wives have returned to their place, with Sekhmet in the center, Kali to her left, and Cate to her right.

Taking a deep breath, you hold your head high and push the glass doors aside--just to be stopped by a bouncer.

“No walk-ins. Exclusive VIP only.”

You simply raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Exclusive Personnel only,” he repeats.

You flash him a wicked smile and tilt your head to the side, trying to give him as much of a condescending look as you can muster. Satisfaction fills you as the bouncer deflates just slightly. You try your luck as you step forward again, but stopped again.

“Who are you,” he asks, but the waver in his voice gives him away.

You see your window, and cross your arms while pursing your lips. “I’m going to pretend you didn't ask that and let you go this time around.”

He doesn’t move. “I cant let you in.”

“Really? Fine,” you shrug. “Explain to the Wives why you’re keeping them waiting.”

When the bouncer looks back at the women you mentioned, you know he’s exactly where you want him. “I’m going to have to loop back to you--”

You snap your name impatiently, and he mumbles it back with a nod before walking away. You wait with baited breath, knowing that with this stunt you could either end up with a bullet in your skull or the world at your feet.

Your throat tightens when you catch Sekhmet’s gaze.

When the bouncer makes his way back to you, he looks pale and motions with his head for you to follow him. “I’m so sorry (Y/N),” he says. “Right this way.”

You don’t allow yourself to breathe, even as you walk the short path to where you want to be. You feel curious eyes on you, but you don’t shy away from either of them, and instead hold your head higher as if you’re meant to be there--because you were.

Sekhmet stands when you both reach the Wives, a sharp, gleeful smile on her face as she opens her arms up in expectation. “Darling! Hello, so nice to see you again!”

The pleasantries continue with all the wives until you’ve sat in the middle of them, and you know it’s the most dangerous place to be.

When the bouncer walks away, the smiles drop.

“Who the fuck are you?” Is what Sekhmet demands, her eyes focused solely on you.

You don’t put down your guard, but you cooly reach for one of the full glasses of drinks on the table before all of you. You take your time taking a sip. “I’m someone who knows who you all are,” you say when you’re ready.

Hecate simply hums in unamusement. “Are we supposed to be impressed?”

“As if the wives of the most powerful men in new york are a secret,” Kali giggles.

You don’t let their words phase you. You hum back in response. “See I know that you’re the very people who keep New York from burning to the ground.”

A surprised silence follow your statement, before Sekhmet picks up the next words quickly and carefully. “I don’t think I know what you mean,” she smiles.

You roll your eyes. “Mind you, this is coming from someone who understands just what you hold within your palms.”

The next silence stands longer. Hecate leans in, her hands gripping the couch beneath, her eyes intense as they pour into you. “How do you know you’re right?”

You let a small smile slip, and take another sip before gesturing down to where you can see your husband and Loki still speaking intensely. “Thor. I love him to death, I really do, and there’s not a heart out there that I wouldn’t rip out for him. He has power, a lot of it, and he's starting to develop quite a hold on New York.”

Kali nods. “Thor Odinson. I’ve heard of him.” She tilts her head to the side, looking out into space. “That New Jersey border deal was ingenious, I’m disappointed a Horseman didn’t execute it.”

Her words get grunts of agreement, and pride swells in your chest,

“You & I both know that Thor didn’t have a hand in that deal until he showed up the day he needed to,” you giggled, and they stare at you openly.

“Well shit,” Sekhmet laughs out loud, picking up her own glass.

Before you know it, you’re toasting with the most powerful women in New York, laughing with them and even exchanging high fives.

“I told y’all a man couldn’t pull that off!” Sekhmet cackles.

Hecate nods. “It was too good to be true.”

“We didn’t know he had a wife,” Kali winks.

Smiling with them, the anxiety in your chest lessens.

“So what do you need?”

Sekhmet’s words bring back the somber mood, and you laugh nervously. “What do you mean?

Kali speaks up seamlessly. “Thor is the eldest son of Odin. Odin, the retired horseman of War, who controls the upper parts of New York as the Asgardians. If Thor’s wife has enough pussy to show up uninvited to confront us, you can’t expect us to believe you don't want anything.”

Looking at them all, you decide to lay all your cards out on the table. “Odin is going after Thor.”

No one replies, so you continue.

“Loki & Thor have made amends and their father now sees them as a threat to his empire. He’s going to call on the Horsemen to wage War…” you trail off, cursing internally as they exchange looks. “But by the look on your faces I’m guessing he already has.”

Kali only nods. “He approached them with a meeting this morning. The old dick had the audacity to pull rank and get me thrown out of the room when I spoke against him.” She takes a deep gulp of her drink, her jaw clenching at the memory.

The hope that allowed you to strut your way into the third floor comes back tenfold. “So you aren’t on his side?”

“Fuck no,`” Hecate snorts. “I’ve unfortunately seen every side of that man when he and Brock were on the council together and…” she trails off, her eyes distant. “New York has never seen a darker time. How Frigga stays with him, I’ll never understand.”

“Even with all the power as she has, he won’t let her leave,” you mumble. The conversation comes at a standstill, but a tense once that allows all of you to look in upon your own relationships--and just how bad it could get. Clearing your throat, you go in. “Don’t support him.”

No one answers you, but you see curiosity glint within the eyes of the Wives.

“Talk to the Horsemen,” you continue, sliding to the edge of your seat. “I know you have more sway than I ever could if I talked to them. Don’t allow them to back Odin, let him hang to dry and I’ll take care of the rest with Thor & Loki.”

Kali is the one who answers you. “Unfortunately, they’re not allowed to just sit this one out. If The Horsemen stand aside when something as big as this happens we’ll look like we’re going soft.”

“And I swear to you,” you promise lowly. “That any retaliation you face will be borne by Thor & I. On the blood of my heart, I will do anything for you if you step back for this and let us take him down.”

Your heart has crawled into your throat, pulsing so strongly you don’t know if you can breathe. They haven’t said no outright, and you could practically taste the possibilities, taste exactly what you & your husband can achieve--

“On your heart?” Hecate repeats.

You nod sternly. “On my heart.”

Hecate and Kali merely look at Sekhmet. She gives you a thoughtful look, and blinks slowly, tipping her head down slightly. “Seems we have a lot to talk about. Will you give us some space?”

The last question is directed at you, and you can’t help but nod vehemently and stand up. “Of course,” you breathe, walking away.

You bite your lip hard enough to force yourself not to look back.

------------------------------

Sekhi’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she leans back heavily onto the bathroom mirror. Gripping the edge of the counter tightly, a strangled moan rips out of her throat as her husband’s lips wrapped around her clit, sucking at just the right pressure. Wetness drips down the junction of her thighs, and still Tony takes it all in stride, moaning vulgarly at her sounds. He lets up only slightly to grab Sekhi’s hand to shove it into his hair, and it gives her enough space to remember that she had another objective when she got him alone.

“We--” She moans when his lips reattach and tug his face away from her core. He lets her breath, only to lap at her cum on her inner thighs. “We have to drop Odin,” She finally breathes out.

He only sighs, pausing to give her a quick peck on the skin he was worshipping. “That is not the name I want on your lips right now.”

“We cant—Tony!--we can’t endorse him for his war.”

With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly gets up and places both his hands on either side of his wife. He leans in and she automatically reciprocates, lips meeting to exchange tastes. When they finally pull away, Tony speaks. “Since you won’t let it go...why the sudden interest in Odin, and betraying him.”

His words unconsciously allow a memory to flash behind Sekhi’s eyes, and she shakes it away just as quickly as it’s come. “You don't…” She tries to find the words before restarting. “I know he welcomed you into the Horsemen and helped you build your empire...but that man who sat in as War is not the same man today. He’s an ass, too much of a risk, volatile—”

Tony shrugs. “People say the same about me.”

“Tony, you can’t imagine the things he’s done,” is all she snaps back. “Since he’s retired he’s—”

Her lips run dry as the memory scratches again. Warm palms cup her chin and bring her gaze to meet warm brown eyes flooded with concern. “He’s what? Baby, has he done something?”

Even though his words are soft, you hear the threat behind it. The underlying danger that follows Conquest. Sekhi reaches up and holds his hands in hers, kissing his palm softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me—”

“Tony.”

After a moment he backs down and nods solemnly. He drops his hands back to their previous position on the counter. “Okay. Say we don’t back him. You know we have to choose a side in this or we’ll look vulnerable.”

“So choose Thor’s.”

Tony stills in thought before stepping closer to his wife. “I’m listening.”

——-

“If we back Thor, Odin doesn’t stand a chance.”

Steve turns over Kali’s words in his head, rubbing her calf that’s been thrown over his lap. He ignores the bustle of the club around him, the quiet corner they’ve found the perfect setting for their conversation.

“He’d be decimated without too much of a fight,” he mumbles.

“Exactly.” Kali leans closer into him, lacing his fingers with hers at her ankles. “We support Thor, and gain his loyalty now...I’ve heard things. Things stirring in the air about him and how powerful he’s becoming. We show that he’s not a threat, that he's on our side—”

“And he immediately isn’t a threat any more. He becomes an ally.”

“Bingo,” Kali smiles brightly. “And, he’s just reconciled with Loki, meaning he’s got one of the biggest minds in the game on his team.”

Steve nods, turning his head to look her in the eyes. “So what you’re saying is we take him into one of our sectors.”

Kali shakes her head. “I’m saying more than that my love.”

——-

Bucky downs his shot before scrubbing a rough hand down his face. “You’re suggesting he becomes a Horseman.”

Hecate nods.

Bucky can only sigh while pointing his eyes to heaven. “Doll—”

His wife only groans, wrapping her arms around his waist so that he can’t help but absorb him into her. “You’ve never said no to me before, don’t you dare start now.”

Bucky laughs nervously. “I’m not. But think about it, if we turn against Odin, we’re deliberately breaking the laws that say he’s under our constant protection after he’s left the table. If we break them now, there’s no turning back.”

“You won’t be breaking it! You’ll be bending it.” Hecate shines an innocent smile at him, trying to press her nose into his as their foreheads lie together. “The title is merely passing down onto his son--as it should have, had Odin kept his actions honourable. Thor’ll have the loyalty of Asgard, Frigga, and the men he has now. No one will fault you.”

Bucky doesn’t answer.

“Bucky!”

He groans. “I get it doll, I do. I’m as fond of that man as you are, but we’d have to have hard evidence that he’s broken our bylaws before we do. And even if we did, swearing in a new horseman is not a decision only I get to make…” Bucky trails off, sighing with a short laugh. “By the look on your face I’m guessing the girls are already on it.”

“Maybe.” Hecate gives her husband a quick peck on his lips, once, twice, until he melts into her. “Just tell me you’re on my side. You’re with me, aren’t you Buck?”

“Yea doll...I’m with you.”

---------------------

When the bouncer comes down to meet you on the second floor, it takes everything in you to prevent yourself from smiling. You just know.

As he escorts the three of you onto the third floor of SHIELD, you feel the men beside you tense even as you relax. When the bouncer called you by name, Thor’s eyes haven’t left you.

“My love,” his deep timber resonates deep within you, caution in his voice. “What’ve you done.”

You meet his gaze levelly. “What needed to be done.”

Your husband doesn’t answer you before staring straight ahead again, the hallways you all turn becoming less and less populated until you find yourself within black marble halls.

“You work quickly,” Loki chuckles lowly in your ear.

“Enough to keep the title of psychotic sister in law?”

He smirks at you. “Seems so.”

The bouncer stops abruptly in front of a heavily bolted door, and after typing in a code it swings open. You lead the way in, but then hang back to grasp onto Thor’s forearm. He allows you to, but he’s tense and you bristle at the fact that he doesn’t respond immediately to your touch.

But the way he angles himself between you and the most powerful mobsters in the room, with the way his fingers flex towards his gun--you know he’s not directly angry at you.

Sekhmet, Kali and Hecate sit on the opposite side of the room, in a similar set up to the one you infiltrated merely half an hour before. Their faces are nonchalant, but when Sekhemet winks at you, no words can describe the relief and the pure joy that passes through you.

Tony, Steve, & Bucky stand between you and the Wives, and you know you all will fit perfectly.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Tony says cordially, gesturing towards the couches in front of them. Bucky goes off to the side to pour a drink, and Thor’s eyes trail him carefully. “How do you feel about hypotheticals?”

Loki takes it upon himself to sit first, and you follow, tugging your husband along. Only when you’re both sitting does he reply.

“I find them fun to indulge in…” He trails off, grasping the glass that Bucky hands him, not even bothering to take a sip before he sets it down.

“Then indulge with us.” Bucky smiles, and within a blink of an eye everyone has guns pulled out on you.

The tension in the room is palpable, and Thor stands defensively in front of both you and Loki. The latter presses a small knife into your hand, before standing beside his brother.

“Let’s say you come in here,” Steve smiles, shrugging casually, his grip on his weapon firm. “As an invited guest of the Horsemen. You have the audacity to not drink the wonderful poison Pestilence has poured for you, so things have to get a little messier than intended.”

Tony is the one who continues. “We’re feeling creative, so we shoot you in the kneecaps, to make you helpless. We shoot your wife between the eyes to make it quick. Your brother, however, we make it slow. “ Thor’s whole body clenches tightly. “We get all the information out of him, about your home base, your arsenal, your men--”

“And then we kill him,” Bucky takes it up. “We let you go. You’re no threat, your empire belongs to us, and the most important people in your life are dead.”

“What would you do about it?” Steve finishes.

Thor stays quiet for a really long time. No one takes their eyes off of him, and he takes his time to look Tony, Steve, and Bucky straight in the eye. You wait with baited breath on just exactly he might do, ready to fight your way out if needed--if he wanted you to.

It’s when he presses his chest directly against the barrel of Tony’s gun that your breath hitches, and you scoot slightly towards him.

“I’d leave, and thank you for sparing my life,” Thor answers. “A year down the road, I’d have enough physical therapy to start walking again, with a cane most likely. I’d make it a nice one, lightweight but made of vibranium to give it leverage, with the names of who I lost engraved on the stem. Two years down the road, I have all of your whereabouts, your routines, your dealings, your accounts, all under the sole of my shoe.

“Year three, I let you know I’m co ming. But I make it slow. I take out the men around you, so you know I’m on my way, and when I finally get to you?” Thor steps closer, but Tony keeps his gun steady. “I incapacitate you with the head of my cane, just in the right spots of your kneecaps to make it irreversible. I shoot your girls in between the eyes to make it quick, and I kill Rhodey, Sam & Natasha slowly. For them to give me information I already know. When I’m done with them, I kill you all myself, but make sure to watch the life leave your eyes as your blood pools around my feet. The last bullet I’ll leave for myself.”

The standstill is unbearable. Thor’s confessions hang heavily within the air, and it doesn’t dissipate when Tony puts his gun away, the others following suit.

“Gosh, you’re morbid,” he chuckles. “And three years? Seems a little tedious.”

Everyone goes back to casual stances around the room, but Thor stays clenched in the same spot. Loki looks at him warily, and you notice the way the others see that he hasn’t calmed down.

You get up from your spot on the couch, dragging your hand across the back of his waist leisurely. That simply action causes him to deflate, and he watches you walk over to the Wives, who have a drink ready for you.

“Personally, I think their smartest plan was getting rid of me,” you declare, and laughs that resonate through the room.

“Getting rid of you? I was the one that they kept around for information,” Loki challenges.

“Mmm, maybe. But obviously they killed the biggest threat first.”

Thor looks at you fondly as everyone laughs again, watching you toast with Sekhmet, Kali & Hecate.

“As pleasant as this exchange has been,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Is there a reason you brought me here besides to threaten my wife and my brother?”

Kali nudges you on the shoulder, and you take the sign to walk up to him slowly. He presses you into him immediately, and watches as Tony approaches him with a glass of gin.

When Thor gives it a side glance, he merely rolls his eyes and takes a sip before handing it over. Your husband takes it gladly, but just before he’s about to take a sip, Tony’s words stop him.

“How do you feel about becoming a Horseman?”

-----------------

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teenage-mutant-ninja-freak · 4 years ago

Text

wolf in sheep’s clothing

Mob! turtles au Turtles x fem! reader

Leo x reader

Summery: The turtles are 4 brothers who run the mob in New York and their territory is under threat since a serial killer (you) has taken up residence in the area. Bodies keep dropping and it’s being blamed on the turtles which is bad for business so they decide to do something about it.

Warnings: violence, mention of drugs and weapons, NSFW

((A/N I’m not a writer, I’m a dumbass with a dream to write some dark fiction so please save any nasty comments. Hope you enjoy))

__________________________

November in New York was always beautiful, the leaves become this vibrant burnt orange and scatter throughout the parks and roads, you can see your breath in the air and occasionally there’s fresh snow on the ground. Nothing quite tops that. You sit in your regular bar, Paddy’s, and take another swig of the beer sat in front of you. You’re sat close to the door so it gets a little chilly with the patrons walking in and out creating a cold breeze but you simply shrug your jacket on closer and ignore it.

The city is at a pivotal point with gang activity, the mob known as “the turtle boys” runs most of up town New York- selling guns and narcotics to lesser gangs. It’s a dangerous time you think to yourself as you shake off the four sets of eyes you can feel watching you from the corner. You finish your beer and stand to leave. Outside it’s dark and freezing, typical whether, you light up a cigarette, adjust your scarf and continue towards the ally that leads home leaving a swirling trail of smoke behind you; the end of the cigarette gleaming orange in the dim light.

You can hear the footsteps following you but you don’t quicken your pace. They’re free to do as they so please and have no idea who they’re messing with. Along with gang activity, New York has one other big problem at the moment: a serial killer. Their calling card? Strangulation. 7 bodies have washed up along the Hudson in the last 4 months all with the same abrasions around their necks from what the police suspect is barbed wire as well as stab wounds. You know it’s barbed wire, though. You’re the one who put them there.

The footsteps are gaining on you now and you stop in your tracks, take a deep inhale of your cigarette and turn to face them. You didn’t quite know what you were expecting to see but, the turtles boys wasn’t it. All adorned in beautiful, presumably expensive, suits they stare back at you with blank expressions but a slight look of worry in their eyes.

“Y/n L/n” the one in a blue suit calls to you. “you’re a hard girl to track down”

“laying low is my speciality. What can I do for you boys on this fine night?”

“cut the shit” the biggest one out of all of them cuts in. He’s wearing a black suit with a red handkerchief poking out of the pocket. Raphael you make a note to yourself. He’s going to be the hardest to take down. You smile sweetly.

“we can do this the easy way or the hard way” he finishes.

“do I look like an easy girl to you?” you turn on your heels and begin to run, if you can get them into the next ally way there’s a chance you can take at least one of the down before the others get to you, you think.

Out of breath and cursing never sticking to your resolution to do more cardio you make it to the next ally but the one you know as Michelangelo has gained on you and slams you into the brick wall on your right side.

“that’s no way to treat a lady” you say looking up at him, he grins, spits and decks you in the face. Everything goes black.

There’s a thumping in your head, you feel as though you have a concussion and your jaw aches like a motherfucker. Damn it you think to yourself, they’re more to handle than I thought. There’s some kind of sack over your head that has a sheer texture to it so you can sort of make out where you are. There are cupboards and you can hear the steady drip of water so a tap must be near by, you assume you’re in a kitchen. You try and move your hands but they’re bound behind your back, the same with your ankles. Motherfuckers. You reach into the back of your jeans, you knife is gone. They must have searched you, they’re more thorough than you gave them credit for. you shouldn’t have underestimated them, you’re the one who likes to be underestimated. Just a sweet little girl, wouldn’t hurt a fly; you’re a vegetarian for fucks sake, who would think of you as the ruthless killer that you are? you try and slide your arms under your butt to have them in front of you, maybe then you can get this bag off your head and see where you are. Suddenly, you hear movement

“She’s awake” one of them calls to the others. More footsteps and you know they’re all in the room with you. You feel the bag being removed from your head, some of your hair being pulled with it but you ignore the slight sting that it causes. You’re face to face with Leonardo who’s crouching in front of you

“Now” he begins “I think it’s time we get better acquainted, don’t you, y/n?”

“I thought mobsters were supposed to be sweet on women. They Cray twins, Al Capone, all real nice when it came to ladies. What gives?” you say to him.

“you’re no regular lady” he retorts. “We have sources that put you at the scene of 4 of the murders that have been going on recently and we just need to have a little chat about what you were doing there. We’d hate to have the wrong person”

you scoff. “Me? A killer?” you feign an innocent look. “Whatever are you talking about”

Leo stands up and you can really see his true height now. He’s an impressive man, about 6′4 and all muscle. That suit was really doing him some favours as well, you would water at the mouth but you had other priorities at this moment in time; staying alive being just one of them.

“what were you doing by the Hudson on September 6th when James Masters was killed” he asks

“Look, you’ve got the wrong girl. I wouldn’t kill anyone” you flash him your big doe eyes hoping that’ll score you some points with the big bad mobster. They wouldn’t really hurt a girl, would they? “I’m an art major at Columbia, I’ve got 2 brothers who need me” you try and summon tears but you just can’t do it so you settle for the odd sniffle instead “My mum calls me at 12 everyday and if I don’t pick up she’s gonna get worried”

A sharp smack flies across your face and you’re taken aback by the impact. You can feel liquid at the corner of your mouth and know that he hit you hard enough to draw blood

“Cut the act, what were you doing?” he repeated himself.

You take a moment to finally look around the room. There’s a table to your right with stacks of cash and guns on it as well as lots of tightly wrapped bags full of white power; cocaine you assume. The 4 turtles stand in front of you, Leo being closest, all with their arms folded doing their best to look intimidating. You laugh.

“I get the feeling begging isn’t going to work, huh?” you say

“Not today, sweetheart” the one who knocked you out, Michelangelo, replies.

“Well, would it please you to know that I was there to get rid of a body? That I’m the one who’s been ‘terrorising’ New York as the papers put it? or did I give that away too easily?”

“That’s not quite what we’re here about” the one in purple pipes up

“Oh no?”

“you see, James was an informant of ours and he had some…Information that could be very harmful to our organisation if it got out. And since he was tortured before he died, we want to know what he told you”

“let me see” you you paused for dramatic effect “I believe his last words were ‘no please stop, oh god no’. Does that have any significance to you?” you smile

Another slap. This one hurt worse and was making your already aching jaw hurt even more, you would definitely have a bruise if you made it out of this.

“looks like we’re gonna have to use the old school method” Leo states

“the old school method it is” Donatello agrees

He leaves the room for a moment and comes back in with a black bag which he opens on the counter. He takes out a white plastic sheet and some things that you can’t quite make out from the floor but they make a metallic twang on the counter when he puts them down. They’re going to torture me. Your heart sinks to your stomach. You aren’t a coward and you’re no stranger to pain, half of your victims put up a good fight and rough sex was prominent in your life, but you truly didn’t know any inside information about what the turtles operation held and there was no way they were going to believe you.

Donatello approached you, laying down the white sheet and shimmying it under your form so that it lay underneath you.

“look, guys…” you began “We don’t have to do it like this”

“A bit too late for that, don’t you think” Donatello replied as he pulled a scalpel from his pocket and pushes it down into your hand. You howl in pain and try and pull your arm away but his hand is already on your wrist keeping you in place.

“Just tell us what he told you” He states in an eerily calm voice

“He didn’t say an thing about you guys!” you bellow “I caught him tryna sneak date rape drugs into a girl’s drink and that’s why I killed him! It had nothing to do with you!”

They all look at each other and Donatello draws back.

“Even so” Leo began “He wasn’t the best at keeping secrets. I imagine he tried to make some kind of deal with you for his life”

“Yeah, that he would leave the city and never come back” They stare at you, unsure as to weather or not you’re lying. Mikey uses his arms to propel himself backwards to sit on the counter behind him; his legs swinging casually as he sits.

“So nothing about us?” he inquires.

Leo moves towards you, crouching down again so that he’s eye level with you; his suit hugging his muscles in all the right places. You decided to take a gamble.

“well…He did tell me one thing” you croon

“Go on” Leo almost whispers

Your hand was bleeding pretty badly at this point and a bead of bright scarlet blood dripped down between your fingers and on to the plastic sheet beneath you. If you wanted to live, you had to make them like you in some way. You lean in closer, almost nose to nose with the turtle’s leader.

“you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours” you say in your most seductive voice. He smiles at you, not quite sure what to make of your comment.

“I’m not following, little girl”

“Oh come on. Haven’t you heard that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar? Give me what I want, and I’ll tell you whatever you need to know”

He stays crouched in front of you, still staring into your eyes trying to gage weather or not you’re serious. “Leave the room” he commands without even looking back at his brothers. They do as they’re told, Mikey sighing slightly as he hops down from the counter and Donatello picking up his black bag of torture gear on the way out.

“what do you have in mind?” his eyes are locked on yours and you’re so close you can feel his body heat from where you’re sitting. He truly was an amazing creature, all muscle and strength. It made you wet just thinking about what he could do to you. You place one of your still tied up hands on his knee and run it down his thigh until you’re close to his crotch and look back into his deep blue eyes

“Oh, you know. A little bit of hair pulling here, some biting there. Just fuck me raw basically” your forwardness gets you a raise of his eyebrows and his mouth forms into a bigger smile. He looks down and then back up at you and begins to untie the restraints around your ankles but leaves your hands bound. This is going to be good.

He runs his hands down your thighs and begins to undo the button of your jeans to slide them down your legs, you kick off your shoes to help him get them over your feet. His hands go straight for your underwear. This guy doesn’t fuck around you think to yourself. Underwear off, he trails kisses down your inner thigh until he reaches your sex and parts your lips

“you’re wet already? Naughty girl” he jokes and you can’t help but blush.

He moves closer and takes one long lick between your folds exciting a moan from the back of your throat. He’s good at it, too, swirling his tongue in devilish ways over your small bead and occasionally sucking at it too. He places one thick finger inside your wet entrance and begins to curl it in pace with his tongue. you’re barely hanging on at this point as your orgasm is coming fast. He looks up from between your legs while still using his hand to draw circular motions over your clit

“It’s ok, babygirl. You can cum for me”

With one final stroke of his tongue and his permission your orgasm rips through you bringing tears to your eyes but he isn’t done yet. Moving up your body he lifts your top and undoes your bra taking his time to suck and kiss at your nipples. It’s as though he can’t decide which one he likes best but you don’t mind his indecision. You can feel his teeth pull the soft tissue of your left breast into his mouth as he sucks creating a small purple bruise and you humm in pleasure. He kisses your lips hungrily, inserting his tongue into your mouth just enough to taste the cigarette he must have been smoking before you woke up and you love the taste. It’s so manly. You take your still tied up hands to cup his chin as he does so and then move them down to feel his torso, His reptilian skin so rough yet smooth at the same time and you can feel his muscles twitch beneath the surface in anticipation.

He trails kisses and bites down your tummy before grabbing your hips and flipping you over, your face hits the floor but you don’t mind; you were guaranteed to be man handled and he did not disappoint. With your exposed ass in the air you can hear him behind you undoing his flies and you want to badly to look back and see him but the not knowing almost makes it hotter-that is until you feel him at your entrance. He’s thick. Almost too thick for you, he’s gonna stretch you open for sure and you can’t wait. Just as you think this you hear him spit and his fingers are at your entrance again making sure your wet enough for him. In one long slow motion he inserts himself inside you, filling you completely to the point where you don’t know if you can take any more. He bottoms out and you sigh in pleasure. He pulls out a little and then thrusts back into you hard over and over again at a punishing pace. His hands are on your hips but he removes one to smack your ass as he’s fucking you.

“harder” you almost beg

“that’s it baby, take all of me” he moans to you

the feel of the cold tile floor beneath your face is a nice contrast to the burning heat in your core and you know you can’t hold on much longer. He reaches around your body to play with your clit while he’s still pushing in and out of you at an astonishing rate while he takes his other hand and pulls at your hair forcing you to look up.

“Leo, I’m going to-I’m gonna” you practically scream before your second orgasm sends shock waves through your body. A few more thrusts and you hear him moan as he reaches his own ecstasy and cums deep inside of you. You almost collapse but his hands go back to your hips, steadying you. He pulls out and you can feel his seed and your own wetness leaking out of you and running down your inner thigh.

“wow, I haven’t been fucked like that in a while” you laugh

“I’m not done yet, baby” he taunts

flipping you back over onto your back you can see that he’s already hard again. Gods bless those mutant genes that turned him into whatever creature was kneeling before you. You don’t think you can take him a third time but before you have the chance to interject he’s inside you again and pumping in and out at an overwhelming pace. He runs his hand up over your breast to your neck and squeezes the sides of your throat, cutting off the blood supply to your head and you can feel your whole face redden with the pressure. He looks deep into your eyes, lost in his own pleasure. You’re mind is tingling with lack of oxygen and the force of his cock inside you and you’re close again. You slip your hands between your thighs and begin to play with yourself as he fucks you mercilessly, hand still at your throat. Suddenly your hands are pushed out of the way

“beg me to let you cum” he commands

you do as you’re told

“Please” you pleaded with him “I need this, I need it so bad please just let me cum”

He grunts as he thrusts harder, allowing your hands back at your pussy and you both cum at the same time. Bodies twitching in the afterglow of what had just happened.

He rolls to the floor beside you and lies on his back, both panting with exhaustion. He cups your sex with his hand.

“so, what did James tell you” he says as he catches his breath.

shit. you hadn’t thought this far ahead.

Fin.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #leo x reader #tmnt leo #tmnt leonardo #tmtn x reader #one shot #mob! au #mob au #mobster leo #wolf in sheep's clothing #My fic

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buckybarnesbingo · 4 years ago

Photo

BBB Week 38 Roundup, Part Two of Four

We’re halfway there! (Yes, I’m gonna have “Livin’ on a Prayer” stuck in my head all day.)

Go give these collaborators some love!

Title: Into the Fray (Voluntarily or Not) Collaborator: InTheShadows Link: AO3 Square Filled: K4 - phobias Ship: Bucky & Tony & Loki Rating: Gen Major Tags: Developing Friendships/Relationships, implied/referred triggers all around for the boys, but nothing too serious Summary: Bucky listens to Stark complain to himself as he settles himself down in the cave. Outside the blizzard blows on, as strong as ever. He has been complaining ever since they landed here. Jotunnhiem. Loki assured them he can get they back home, but for now they must wait for th storm to die down. And if Stark doesn't shut up it is going to be a long wait. Judging by the way Loki is snapping back at Stark, he agrees. A long wait. Word Count: 1405

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Title: Bean There, Brew That moodboard Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Y5 - AU: coffee shop Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard, coffee shop AU Summary: Clint owns a coffee shop made entirely of puns, and leaves Darcy in charge when he takes a vacation. The shop gets a new regular (clearly some kind of hobo/assassin) that likes to purr at his coffee. With a pack of snarky baristas and a whole lot of sugar, Bucky finds himself living just a little bit more.

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Title: No Question is a Good Question Collaborator: InTheShadows Link: AO3 Square Filled: U4 - waiting for extraction Ship: Bucky & Ava Starr Rating: Gen Major Tags: dehumanization Summary: The Asset cleans its weapons and waits for its handler to arrive. The mission is complete. The mission had been successful - anything else is unacceptable. Beside it is its partner for this mission, also waiting. But this partner is new. Does not know the rules. It talks and it takes off its mask. Doesn't it know that neither is allowed? The Asset is a weapon. That is what Ghost needs to be. Ghost still has much to learn. Word Count: 642

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Title: Through it all, you were there Collaborator: honestmischief Link: AO3 Square Filled: B5 - Pain Ship: WinterIron Rating: Mature Major Tags: Nightmares, drowning, blood and injury, torture Summary: Five times Tony felt like he was dying + one time he did not. Word Count: 607

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Title: The Strength that Now You Show Collaborator: starjargon Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y5 - Expendable Ship: Bucky & Steve Rating: Gen Major Tags: Self-esteem issues Summary: Bucky and Steve have a conversation before Steve takes the stones back. Word Count: 663

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Title: Sent to a different dimension Collaborator: Menatiera Link: Tumblr Square Filled: B5 - Sent to a different dimension Ship: Stuckony Rating: Gen Major Tags: dimensional travel, AU, magical creatures, mer!tony, dragon!steve, alien!bucky, soulmates, moodboard Summary: Bucky has been sent far away by a magical blast. He suspects it’s a different dimension at least, because things are… different. Steve, for example, has been turned into a dragon shapeshifter by the serum, and Tony is a merman. Bucky has no idea what’s the deal with his counterpart whose body he’s currently inhabiting, but he has both of his arms, and occasionally wings too, which is cool, but was quite disturbing to find out at first. Oh, and the three of them are in a relationship here. But regardless of that, Bucky has to find out what’s going on and how to get home, because the clock is always ticking in the background, not to mention the mysterious paths appearing in the forest in the mist that calls for Bucky. However, Steve and Tony don’t want to let him go.

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Title: Relevant Experience Collaborator: 27dragons Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y1 - Missing Scene Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: none Summary: The missing end-credits scene that they inexplicably left off of Endgame... Word Count: 519

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Title: What Lies They Told Us Collaborator: darter-blue Link: AO3 Square Filled: C1 - AU: Mobsters Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Minor Character Death, Mafia AU, Angst, Mutual Pining Summary: Steve Rogers might still see his ma every Sunday, but he isn’t the dutiful son. He gave up that life a long time ago. Bucky Barnes may be following in his fathers footsteps, but he wants to set a path to something more than where they’ll take him. Steve and Bucky’s lives have always intersected. There is something between them that exists, real and palpable. But they are opposite sides of a coin. Opposing families in a war for money and power. Blood and pain. And fate may bring them together, again and again, pulling them closer. But it always finds a way to rip them apart. What they need is a way to fight fate. To fight their families. To reach each other. To keep each other. Word Count: 4839

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Title: Occupational Hazard Collaborator: Ibelieveinturtles Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Y4 - Occupational hazard Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: Harry Potter AU, Quidditch, moodboard Summary: During the first Quidditch match of the Inaugural Wizarding Olympics, Bucky is involved in an accident.

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Title: He Did it Again, Didn't He? Collaborator: TheMadHale Link: AO3 Square Filled: C2 - Sunglasses Ship: Platonic Bucky/Reader Rating: Mature Major Tags: Domestic Violence Summary: When the reader turns up to see Bucky her eyes are covered by huge sunglasses. Word Count: 329

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Title: The Masseur and the Assassin Collaborator: buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Link: AO3 Square Filled: B5 - AU: Spy, Secret Agent, Assassin, or Hitman Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: assassin, guilt, massage, happy ending, poor life choices Summary: Bucky Barnes needed a vacation from his job. What he found was a happy ending. Word Count: 3293

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Title: Hiding The Present Collaborator: TheMadHale Link: AO3 Square Filled: U4 - Picture Square Ship: Bucky/OFC Rating: Gen Major Tags: none Summary: When it comes to protecting his family Bucky takes it very seriously. Word Count: 289

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Title: n/a (to be decided) Collaborator: ibelieveinturtles Link: Tumblr Square Filled: C2 - Diner/Restaurant Ship: Bucky/Darcy Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard, holiday romance, reunion, surprise baby, unplanned pregnancy Summary: 5 years after their summer holiday romance, Bucky and Darcy meet again. It’s a huge surprise for both of them.

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Title: "Come On Alice!" Collaborator: TheMadHale Link: AO3 Square Filled: B4 - Alice in Wonderland AU Ship: Stucky Rating: Gen Major Tags: Bucky in a dress Summary: A bet between Ellie and Nat results in a shock at Tony Stark’s party Word Count:372

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Title: Bucky Barnes: Accidental Bondmate Collaborators: ABrighterDarkness & betheflame Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y3 - Alpha/Beta/Omega, ABrighterDarkness Ship: Stuckony Rating: Teen Major Tags: Reference to forced bonding Summary: He walked out to the yard to pull parts from an old car to use in a different one. He wound up back in his house with not one, but two, bondmates. Word Count:3545

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Title: The Ins and Outs of Family Collaborator: Starjargon Link: AO3 Square Filled: B1 - Labyrinth Ship: Bucky Barnes & Eliot Spencer, Bucky Barnes & Rebecca Barnes Proctor Rating: Gen Major Tags: Panic attack Summary: Bucky finds his family again. Or rather, they find him. And they're not letting him go this time. Word Count: 1394

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Title: The Midnight Fox – Chapter Two Collaborator: Minka Link: AO3 Square Filled: C3 - free space Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: bodyguard AU, royalty AU Summary: Amid the flashing lights, high fashion, and crystalline champagne flutes of the royal court of Estia, a deadly intrigue is brewing. There are whispers in the night; talk of a plot to assassinate the king and an uprising forged in blood and stolen art. With the bars of his gilded cage closing in, Crown Prince James Barnes faces his own struggles. Dealing with a city more enamoured with a masked vigilante than him is starting to get old fast, and his stuffy new bodyguard is as infuriating as he is potentially dangerous. As chaos threatens to rip the country apart and the list of Royal allies begins to run thin, the Prince is forced to face the demons lurking in his past. After all, no party can last indefinitely, and no secrets remain buried forever. Word Count: 15,858

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Title: Clint’s Big Secret Collaborator: pherryt Link: AO3 Square Filled: B4 - nerds Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Gen Major Tags: fluff, food Summary: Bucky can't believe that's what Clint is eating right now. What. The Fuck. How does Clint look like this when he eats like that? Word Count: 2535

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Title: The Ghosts of Me Collaborator: ibelieveinturtles Link: Tumblr Square Filled: C1 - Ghosting Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: art edit Summary: Is it possible to ghost yourself?

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Title: Barton-Barnes Family - Chapter 1: The Barnes/Barton Baby Collaborator: TheMadHale Link: AO3 Square Filled: C3 - Free Space Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Gen Major Tags: Bucky softness Summary: Bucky finds a baby in his room Word Count: 917

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Title: Recovery Collaborator: ibelieveinturtles Link: Tumblr Square Filled: U3 - Soft Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: another moodboard for the Harry Potter AU Summary: When Bucky wakes up after his quidditch accident the first thing he’s aware of is the soft murmur of his team’s worried voices, followed rapidly by the heavy, comforting weight of the blanket draped over his body.

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Title: Restoring the Shield - Chapter 1 Collaborator: Politzania Link: AO3 Square Filled: U5 - AU: A/B/O Ship: Stony, past Stucky, endgame Stuckony Rating: Mature Major Tags: a/b/o dynamics, semi-canon compliant, recovering!Bucky Summary: The man who was once the Winter Soldier (and before that, Bucky Barnes) is brought before the Avengers to face justice... just not the kind he had expected. Word Count: 1101

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Title: Approach With Care Collaborator: ibelieveinturtles Link: AO3 Squares Filled: Chapter 1, C3 - Free space Chapter 2, U1 - What doesn’t kill me makes me mad Chapter 3, K4 - Sensory overload Chapter 4, Y1 - Accidental feelings Chapter 5, C5 - pining Chapter 6, Y5 - Bed sharing Chapter 7, B3 - Enemies to lovers Ship: Bucky/Darcy Rating: Teen Major Tags: bad first meeting, violence towards innocent cars, sensory overload, accidental feelings, pining, bedsharing, enemies to lovers, description of a panic attack Summary: Bucky’s out for a quiet walk when he gets hit by a car. The car does not win. Darcy isn’t impressed. Word Count: 2233

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Title: The Asset Hates the Cold Collaborator: buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y2 - Survival in the Wild Ship: Steve & Bucky Rating: mature Major Tags: assassin, wilderness survival, missions, memory loss, canon compliant Summary: The Asset is forced to survive in the wilderness. He’s cold and alone, but he wasn’t always that way. There were once people who loved him. Word Count: 480

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Title: Brooklyn Barton-Barnes Collaborator: TheMadHale Link: AO3 Square Filled: U1 - Parenthood Ship: Father!Bucky Barnes and Child!OC Rating: Teen Major Tags: Non-Binary Character, Homophobia, Asshole character Summary: When Bucky gets a call from Brooklyn’s school his anger is directed the opposite way than the principal hoped. Word Count: 522

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Title: Pull the Guinness Collaborator: buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Link: Tumblr Square Filled: U1 - Dungeons & Dragons Ship: Stucky Rating: Teen Major Tags: bartender Bucky Barnes, nightclub, attraction, protective Steve Rogers, bouncer Bucky Barnes Summary: Bucky’s irritated he has to work on his night off, but there’s one patron who makes it worth it. Word Count: 1071

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Title: Check Collaborator: 27dragons Link: Tumblr Square Filled: C4 - Board Games Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: drabble Summary: What kind of weird alternate dimension is this, anyway? Bucky’s not sure he really wants to know. Word Count: 100

#buckybarnesbingo2020 #bbb2020 #bingo fill #bbb weekly roundup #bbb week 38 #week 38 part 2/4

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sinner-as-saint · 5 years ago

Text

Bad Guy.

Mafia! Bucky AU

Requested by @millennialdisaster a.k.a my Baseball Bat Anon who sent a cute request a while ago.

I’m sorry this took so long, love. I hope you liked it! ily

Run-through: The world is a bad place, cities and town alike are now filled with violence and bad people. And in the middle of it all, Bucky Barnes finds love where it wasn’t supposed to be.

Themes: smut, violence, slight gore elements, fluff

The night sky, an obsidian tapestry, acted as a witness to all the sin that went down in the city. At night time, all the sinners prowled, lurked in the shadows – hunting.

Deals sealed among gang members. Mobsters killing away anyone who opposed them – protecting what they swore to protect; be it family, or just pride.

Drugs. Money, sex and power were all people cared about. The world was a bad place.

During daytime, the city was somewhat safe. However, at night; it became a playground for all the devils who inhabited the city.

Among those devils, was Bucky Barnes. Powerful, filthy rich and feared – he was the ultimate King of the underworld.

A mob, mafia, gang leader – he had many titles.

Bucky had everything he ever wanted; wealth, power, loyalty from those who worked with and for him. Yet, the one thing he never got was the true love of a woman.

After all, the King needed his Queen to complete him.

However, his wish was soon granted.

---

It was a regular night for Bucky. Having sealed a promising deal with his ally – Wilson, and little bit of alcohol in his system; Bucky made his way home.

He would probably stop by some brothel and find a beautiful woman to warm his bed for the night. However, no matter how pretty, they could never fill the void he experienced.

He walked to his car, which was parked a little far away from the club he was stepping out of, surrounded by three of his guys, when he heard a few shouts – followed by the sound of metal crashing on the concrete ground.

At first, neither him nor his guys thought much of it. They thought that it was probably some drunkard being kicked out of one of the many shabby pubs.

However, Bucky stopped in his tracks when he heard the voice of a woman. A young one at that. It sounded like she was in pain, or in trouble.

Bucky couldn’t walk away knowing a woman was in danger, so he signaled his guys to follow him. Two of them cocked their guns and held it at the ready while one walked behind him.

Bucky’s hand lingered on the gun at his waist as him and his little crew approached the source of the voice.

“In that alley way, boss. Right by the dumpster,” one of his men spoke in a hushed voice.

A sound of something hard hitting the dumpster could be heard, followed by the grunting of a male voice. Whoever this woman was, she was surely being manhandled by a man.

Bucky sure was a practitioner of evil but he wasn’t entirely heartless. Having being raised in a family where his ruthless father used his mother as a punching bag; Bucky was not one to allow violence against women.

And whoever this man was, Bucky and his men would surely teach him a lesson of a lifetime.

As they neared the alley, they could hear the pants and groans of someone being in pain. One of his men ran to the dumpster and lowered his gun immediately – as if there was no need to shoot someone. He motioned for the others to march forward.

Bucky frowned at the weird gesture and walked towards him anyways.

Upon reaching where his guy stood, Bucky could not believe his eyes.

The situation was the opposite of what he thought it’d be. Being mercilessly beaten with what seemed to be a baseball bat, was a man – on the concrete ground, writhing in pain and groaning as he was being repeatedly hit on the head.

And the one standing above him, beating the shit out of the man, was you. Your hair fell around your face, so Bucky could not see who the badass chick was.

He studied your form. Legs clad in dark jeans, a simple white t-shirt – with a few drops of blood on it. Upon seeing the blood, Bucky was concerned.

He took a few steps towards you, but since you were busy beating someone with a baseball bat, you didn’t notice.

“…I swear if you ever steal from my pub again, I will shove this bat so far up your a-,”

“That’s enough, doll, he’s unconscious already,” Bucky cut you off, approaching your agitated frame with caution and watch how you slowly looked up at him.

Panting, you stared into his blue eyes with your e/c ones. And once you did, he could’ve sworn the world around him got a few shades brighter.

He noticed you didn’t recognize him right away. He wondered why.

“Fucking deserved it, this piece of shit walked in like he fucking owned it and took my entire day’s earning,” you panted as you complained to him.

While stepping away from the thief’s bleeding body, you kicked his side and his body laid limp on the ground.

Bucky held back a chuckled as his brain registered your colorful speech. You were something else. Most women he knew always pretended as though they needed to be protected and kept like a glass figurines, but you – you seemed like you were used to fighting your own fights.

And he liked that. Very much.

Bucky watched how you bent down and searched the thief’s pockets for the money that he took from you. He watched how you smiled in triumph once you found a thick bundle of notes in the inside pocket of his leather jacket.

Bucky was about to say something, but then a certain mark caught his eye. Right at the base of the thief’s neck was a tattoo. A skull, below which were six tentacles spread out.

Definitely not a random tattoo. This was a criminal mark – to show one’s loyalty towards HYDRA.

HYDRA; a notorious organization who only acquired power by snatching it and ruining lives of the innocent, and they were Bucky Barnes’ most flagrant rival.

Bucky didn’t know how to react. A girl just took on a HYDRA goon, alone; with just a baseball bat. Damn.

“Step away doll, this is no regular thief. This guy’s a HYDRA goon. You’re lucky we found you, if it were HYDRA, you would be in their dungeon by now,” Bucky spoke and watched how realization slowly hit you.

You looked at him for a moment then at his men. Your eyes slowly trailed down to where his metal was, at his side and he saw how fear flashed in your fiery eyes.

You clutched the bundle of money to your chest and started backing away, slowly, from him and his crew.

The dimmed lights of the streets allowed him to get a good look at you. You were pretty. Very pretty.

Then he noticed the blood trailing down your chin. He furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“You’re bleeding, doll. He hurt you?” Bucky asked, while his men grinned as they picked up the limp body of the goon off the ground. Of course, they had finally found a member belonging to the rivals – they were just happy that they would get to torture him and get every secret out of him.

You froze to the ground as Bucky approached you. He walked in your direction until he was standing right in front of you, not far from his men.

He extended his metal arm and touched your face, the cold metal against your warm skin felt oddly soothing, and you stuttered when you tried to talk.

“You’re B-Bucky Barnes, aren’t you? I-I’m sorry, you can have the money, sir. Please don’t hurt me, I-,” the flows of your weak words came to a halt as he traced the skin around the cut on your lip.

You watched how intently he observed the cut on the side of your lip, and how lazily his eyes roamed your face while he caressed your skin.

Dressed in a dark suit, tall and power flowing around him, wrapping him in an invisible cocoon – he sure as hell looked intimidating. Yet, his touch was gentle.

You had heard about him several times before. The city you lived in was more or less entirely a terrain for men like him. Rich, powerful men who only knew the language of violence.

There were stories about how he got his infamous, prosthetic metal arm. Some believed his lost his arm in an accident. Others said that he was once captured when he was young, and tortured in the basement of his enemies. Then when his family got him back, the arm was attached to him, and he had no recollection of what had happened to him.

And many more.

No one knew the truth. Few people ever saw him in person. And now, you were among the few.

The man chuckled at your words. It was the only audible sound apart from your heartbeats which rang in your ear.

“I don’t want the money, doll. You’re bleeding, you should get it cleaned before it gets infected. Come on, let me drop you home. You live around here?” he asked, lowering his hand back at his sides as he realized that he had been cradling your face for too long and it was beginning to get awkward and weird.

Your eyes widened at his suggestion.

“I- no, sir. There’s no need. I’ll manage, I-,”

“I wasn’t asking, doll. It’s not a safe area for a girl to be on her own. Although, you definitely are very capable of looking out for yourself but I insist, let me drop you home. Or your pub, whichever you prefer,” he spoke again, a faint smile on his face.

You dared to admit that the man the news called the ‘King of the underworld’, was rather handsome. With some of his long, dark locks pulled back into a little bun, and his perfect beard – he looked like every girl’s dream.

And his eyes… the darkness of the night and of his outfit complimented the ocean blue eyes he had.

You mentally scolded yourself for admiring such a man. But you couldn’t help yourself. He was, indeed, very dreamy.

But, still, you couldn’t accept his offer. People talked a lot in this city, and every girl who was seen with men of Bucky Barnes’ caliber, were often given labels. Bad labels.

“Really, I’ll be fine. I could walk home, I don’t live far from-,”

“What’s your name?” he abruptly cut your rambling off.

“Y/N,”

“Listen, Y/N. You just beat the hell out of a HYDRA goon. Who knows, maybe he was keeping an eye on me for a while now. You just saved me so much trouble, doll. Plus, you’re hurt. The least I can do it see to it that you reach home safely. Who knows, maybe HYDRA is even keeping an eye on you,”

Okay, he totally exaggerated the last part. But he only did it just so you would agree to his suggestion. Bucky was enchanted. You were beautiful, strong, kept your calm and were a total badass.

You were the kind of woman he hoped to have by his side. And he was not letting you go just yet.

Your eyes widened as he said the last words.

“So, please, let me escort you home,” you noticed that the three men turned their heads at the same time to look back at the two of you.

They were, shamelessly, eavesdropping.

You nodded. You feared HYDRA just like any other civilian of the city, and now, having injured one of them – you were very scared.

“He’s not dead, is he?” you asked as you watched how the men carried the limp body of the goon and walked in front of you and Bucky.

You held the baseball bat in your hand and the bundle of money in the other hand as you walked alongside Bucky on the pavement.

The night was getting a bit cold, and your t-shirt was barely keeping you warm.

He chuckled.

“He’s not, doll. Not yet. Thanks to you, I now have an enemy in my grasp. I should thank you,” he spoke, a playful tone lacing his words.

“Oh, well, you’re welcome, sir,” you spoke as you neared two black cars.

Bucky ordered two of his men to take the goon to his mansion and told them to have their ‘fun’ but keep him ‘alive’ until he got there. They walked away and threw the goon in the back and drove off in the first car.

The third guy sat at the driver’s seat of the second car and waited for you two to get in.

You watched how Bucky opened the car door for you and you immediately rushed inside as the air got colder.

Once you settled against the leather seat, you dropped the baseball bat at your feet and tucked the bundle of money in the pocket of your jeans.

Bucky walked around the car and got inside as well. He sat beside you and you noticed how he very subtly inched closer to you.

“Where to, miss?” the guy in the driver’s seat asked.

“Uh, drive straight and take the next right. Then another left and my pub should be there,” you gave him the directions and he nodded in understanding.

Once the engine purred, you leaned against the leather seat and shivered. You were cold and the man beside you noticed.

Without a word said, he removed the dark jacket of his suit and held it in front of you.

“Oh no, I’m good, sir. I don’t-,”

“Okay one, call me Bucky. And two, I can tell you’re cold, doll. Just take it,” he watched the slight tremble in your lip as you hesitantly accepted it.

You leaned forward and slipped your arms through the sleeves and once it was around your body, you immediately snuggled into it.

Bucky watched you with a faint smile on his face. Seeing you in his clothes did things to him, and he didn’t know how to explain it.

It felt…right.

You subtly sniffed his jacket. It smelt nice. Fresh, strong and powerful. Exactly what you thought mob bosses smell like.

Soon, with a few turns, the car stopped right outside your pub. It was still lit, which meant that even after you took off running after the goon, your friend was still working.

You didn’t get out of the car immediately. You slowly removed the jacket and handed it back to him. You smiled politely as you did so.

He took it back and gave you a small smile.

“Go on, I’ll be waiting. I’m gonna drop you home after,”

You opened you mouth to tell him that it was fine and that he shouldn’t bother but he beat you to it.

“Again, I wasn’t asking, doll,” he spoke again, a smirk on his gorgeous face.

Good lord…

There was not a single flaw on the man’s face. Everything about him was perfect. The crinkles by his eyes, his beard, his tired yet dreamy eyes – he was beautiful. And equally as dangerous.

You shut up, and made your way out of his car. As you walked up the couple of steps and walked inside the pub, you felt a glare on your back. And surprisingly, you didn’t mind.

Walking inside the pub, you were immediately tackled by your co-worker. She held you tight in her arms and told you how worried she was after you took off running.

You narrated the entire story to her, while the two of you gathered your stuff and prepared to close down.

Through the glass windows, Bucky watched how you gracefully moved across the pub; securing your bag on your shoulder and your jacket in your hand.

In the dimmed golden lights, you looked divine. Bucky watched in awe how you hugged your friend goodbye.

“Never seen you look at a woman like that before, boss. She’s special, I believe,” commented his guy who was in the driver’s seat.

Bucky chuckled and lowered his eyes for a moment before looking at you again.

“She’s not like the rest,” he said, smiling and watched how you made you way towards his car again. Wind blowing through your hair and he caught the bruise which was forming around your soft lips.

Bucky sighed. And his heartbeat quickened when you got in beside him and gave him a polite smile.

That night, after he dropped you off. Bucky somehow managed to convince you to let him in so he could tend to the cut on your lips.

At that point, the two of you knew that he was doing all this to be close to you. And while his heart did a little victory dance when you agreed to let him help you; you wondered why a man like him would even want to be around an ordinary girl like you.

Bucky followed you to your bathroom, and stood in front of you while he examined the cut on your lip. Your lower back pressed against the counter as his body was merely a few centimeters away from yours.

He grabbed a cotton pad and wet it with water and cleaned the wound gently. Normally, you would wince at the sting but since all you could do was focus on how close he was, you didn’t make a sound.

“You live here alone, doll?” he asked, eyes on your mouth and face frowning in concentration. His warm hand was placed on your cheek while his metal hand cleaned the cut.

“Me and Colby,” you whispered as his eyes flicked to yours and then quickly back to the wound. His body inched forward. And suddenly, you had trouble breathing.

“That’s your guy? Boyfriend?” he asked again, placing the cotton pad down and picking up the antiseptic lotion from the kit. He picked up another cotton pad and squeezed some of the lotion onto it.

“No, that’s- Colby is my pit bull,” you watched how flustered Bucky got when you cleared his misunderstanding. Guess that’s what happens when you give your dog human names.

“Oh,” was all Bucky said before getting back at cleaning your wound. He leaned in closer to your face and applied the lotion very gently.

You tried to look away from his face because he was making you breathless. So, you stared downwards. Bad idea.

His lower body was merely inches away from yours and it might’ve been your brain messing with you but it seemed as though there was a bulge forming in there.

You found yourself fantasizing about him again.

Given his reputation, there’s no way that he enters people’s home and cleans their wounds often. Then why was he so concerned with you?

Would he ask for something in return? Like the other men in his profession did?

You were aware of how the society had become. You had heard the stories of how certain mobsters granted women favors; jobs, money, or save them from any trouble. But then in return, they would ask them to-

“…suck on it,” you heard his voice and your eyes immediately moved from staring at his lower region. He was now staring at you – his face just inches away. He was so close that you could see the flares of grey in his eyes. He must have noticed that you were staring at his- well, down there.

Did he just-

“Pardon?” you must have misheard him, right? Unless…

“I said, get an ice cube and suck on it. It’ll reduce the swelling,” he completed his sentence and had you feeling like a desperate idiot.

“Right. Yes, I will. Thank you, for everything,” you thanked him and he just smirked; but didn’t moved.

He leaned in and placed both of his hands on either side of you, leaning slightly against the counter behind you – trapping you between his muscular body and the counter.

You looked into his blue eyes and your thoughts were a hot mess. Jesus, why did he have to be so handsome?

“Take care, doll. I’ll have my people make sure nobody messes with your pub again. Good night,” he whispered, leaned in and kissed the other side of your mouth. Lips dangerously close to yours, your heartbeats shot up when he allowed his lips to linger on your skin. His beard stabbed your skin a little bit, but weirdly, you liked it.

He smirked when he saw how hot and bothered you got just by one simple touch of his. And he knew this wasn’t the last time his lips would be on you.

He bade you goodbye and walked out of the house. As soon as you heard his car driving away, you also heard your puppy finally coming out of his hiding spot. For a pit bull, he sure was shy.

He ran to you in the bathroom and you picked him up, kissing him carefully on top of his head.

“He’s so dreamy, isn’t he? Oh my God Colby, am I falling for the bad guy?” you asked your pup and he just stared at you.

Turned out, you were.

---

For the next few days, you couldn’t get Bucky out of your mind. He even stopped by a few times, at the pub. And one of his men were always keeping a watch over you.

It was weird in the beginning, but then you got used it. it made you feel safer.

He would order one pint of beer and spend the next hour talking to you. He was a big flirt, and he even told you about how they ‘handled’ the goon.

Then one day, while taking casually, he finally dropped the bomb.

“Can I take you out on a date, doll?”

You stared at him in disbelief. Then laughed. And agreed.

---

The date went by just fine. And as cliché as it was, you found yourself falling for the bad guy.

While casually talking about the recent activities in the city, Bucky made a suggestion.

“It’s a tough world out there, why don’t you let me teach you how to defend yourself? I mean, the baseball bat is not really that handy. Maybe guns, fighting techniques and all that,” he sipped on his glass of red wine and watched you intently.

You smiled.

“What makes you think I would want that?” you questioned, a spark in your eyes.

“Because I see who you truly are. You like danger, there’s this excitement in your eyes every time you stared at my revolver. Y/N, you weren’t afraid to take on a HYDRA goon in an alley way, all on your own. That’s pretty impressive. You have skills, you’re a natural,”

Seems like he was quite the observer.

Bucky noticed how your eyes would linger on the shiny metal of his gun each time he was around you.

You chuckled.

“I did that because I didn’t know he was one of HYDRA, believe me, all I did was hit him in the head repeatedly, until he passed out. How did you even know he was one of HYDRA’s goons?”

You liked his idea, but you were also a bit hesitant.

People normally tend to stay as far away as possible from men like Bucky. But here you were, on a date with him – in his kitchen; having dinner which he made for you.

“The mark, on his neck. The HYDRA mark. See, I could teach you all that. If you let me,” he spoke again, leaning onto the kitchen island.

You sat up straight in the stool and faced him with a smirk.

“Then? You teach me all that then, what? You’re gonna make me become a bounty hunter?” you asked, smirking still.

By now, it was probably the wine speaking.

Bucky chuckled and shook his head.

“No, of course not. But all that will help while you’re with me,” he raised an eyebrow at you.

You didn’t quite get what he meant.

“Okay you’re amazing, but the last thing I want, is to be part of your gang Mr. Barnes. I’m fine with bartending, really,”

Bucky smiled, and placed his metal hand over yours on the surface of the counter.

“Not part of my gang, sugar. Mine. I want you to be my girl,” he corrected your misunderstanding. There was a promise in his eyes as he spoke, along with a sense of playfulness.

He was serious, and he needed an answer.

You thought it over for a while.

Then agreed.

---

Initially, you were over at Bucky’s place every few days. Days filled with excessive flirting, lingering touches and training.

He taught you the basics; how to spot HYDRA goons, how to fire a gun, and self-defense moves.

You learnt all about his past, and how he was practically forced to become who he is. He initially wanted to become an artist, but his father crushed his dreams and handed him a shotgun when he was only 12.

Then later on, your training shifted to more intense stuff; handling blades and sparring. Your relationship with Bucky morphed into something much more stable as well. And the lingering touches turned into steamy make out sessions.

Then one day, Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. While training and sparring, he had you under him so many times that the hard on in his pants started to hurt.

So when you went upstairs to use his shower; he followed you.

---

You sighed as soon as the warm water fell on your skin, washing away the sweat and the dirt. You were worn out, and some of your muscles hurt and your body was sore. So, when you felt two large hands on your hips pulling you into a muscular torso, you allowed it with a smile.

Bucky’s hands wrapped around your waist and he pulled you into him, placing his chin on your shoulder and turning his head to the side to kiss your jaw.

You tilted your head back and relished the feeling of being in his arms.

“How classy of you, sneaking up on a woman while she’s in the shower,” you mumbled and he chuckled while he peppered your skin with kisses.

You sighed in comfort.

“My woman,” he corrected and turned your body so you faced him. And not an ounce of shame could be seen on his face as he allowed his eyes to roam around your bare chest.

You did blush for a moment, but the moment you felt his lips on yours; nothing else mattered.

Soon, your back hit the cold tiles of the shower and you moaned into Bucky’s mouth while he pulled you up and wrapped your legs around his waist; hands on the curve of your ass holding you firmly between him and the wall.

His lips moved against yours feverishly; eagerly.

Stealthily, one of his hands dipped in between the two of you and lazily rubbed your wet folds. You gasped at the sudden caress of his fingers.

His lips moved from your lips to your neck and he nibbled along the side of your throat while his fingers slipped past your entrance with ease.

Your arousal coated his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you. A series of moans, mewls and cuss words escaped your lips as you felt a familiar warmth wash over you.

You felt a certain firmness pressing against your thigh and excitement coursed through you at the mere thought of him being inside you.

“Don’t come yet, baby,” he whispered in your ear as he felt your walls pulsating around his fingers. You groaned at his words and just as you tried to grind against his hand, he abruptly removed his hand from you.

You whimpered and cursed again while he smirked against your skin. Your hand held on to his shoulder while the other cradled his face gently, guiding his lips over to yours.

Your dripping core throbbed as it rested against his lower abdomen, pressing against his pelvic area. His erected length stood proud and tall, lightly touching his Adonis belt.

He looked tempting, and the hunger in his eyes didn’t help at all. Your hand slowly left his face as you trailed down his torso.

His muscles tensed under your touch; abs tightening and his cock twitched as soon as you wrapped your hand around it.

You smiled into the kiss as your hand started stroking his velvety skin. Your thumb rubbed the slit at his tip lazily and he moaned into the kiss; tongue diving into your mouth while you pumped your hand up and down his length – taking your sweet time as you brought him on the edge.

He pulled away and tilted his head back, cussing as your quickened your pace around him; eyes shutting while his face frowned in pleasure. He moaned and bit his lip as you pumped him faster; watching how his tip started leaking. He was close, you could tell.

His fingers dug into your skin as he got closer and closer to his release. Subtly, he moved his hips forward, thrusting into your hand while he mumbled incoherent words in your ear.

You leaned in and kissed his neck, biting and teasing his skin while he slowly rocked his hips against your hand.

You felt his cock twitch again, while he moaned against your cheek; you internally admitted that it was the hottest sound you ever heard.

However, to give him a taste of his own medicine, just as he was about to come undone; you abruptly stopped stroking his length.

His eyes flew open and it was his turn to groan and look at you as if you had stabbed him in the back. You smirked as he stared at you in the eyes; his eyes so blue and clear that you felt like you were in a trance.

“Such a fucking tease,” he whispered and tugged on your lower lip.

If someone had told you a few weeks ago that you would find yourself in Bucky Barnes’ bathroom, in his arms, kissing him soon, you would never have believed them. But here you were now, and you wouldn’t change a thing.

You whimpered when Bucky filled you up with his cock, stretching you to your maximum and grunting occasionally while mumbling how good you felt.

Slow and steady at first, then gradually building up his pace; Bucky rocked into you, stroking your walls with his thick cock.

His thrust quickly grew rougher and with each one, your back slammed against the wall behind you. Your legs tightened around him as he bit down on your shoulder, muffling the sinful moan which escaped his lips.

The sound of the water falling down on the tile beneath you suppressed the obscene sounds of your skin slapping against one another and the moans which left both your mouths.

You felt his grip tightening on your hip and thigh; promising to leave behind a loving bruise.

Bucky fucked you against the wall relentlessly until your thoughts were a mess. The only things you could focus on while his length slipped in and out of you were the sounds which escaped his lips and the words he mumbled in your ear; accompanied by his ragged breaths.

You felt the pressure forming in between your legs, hot and fiery; a need flowed between the two of your connected bodies. You had spent most of your life on your own; fighting and struggling to get rid of the loneliness.

Yet, there in his arms, you felt a sense of belonging. A comfort which you had been craving for so long.

All it took was a few more strokes of his cock against your walls and you were a mess. Walls clenching around him, you came undone and felt the pleasure wash over you.

You whispered his name incessantly as he kept rocking into you until he reached his release. Warm seeds spilled in you as he leaned against you to catch his breath. Yours arms wrapped around his shoulders as you placed your forehead against his.

His warm breath fanned your face. And when he finally opened his eyes, he gave you a genuine smile. And suddenly, everything around you was a shade brighter.

You smiled back and stared into his oceans eyes.

“I could get used to this,” he whispered against your mouth; lips brushing against yours gently. He was still a little breathless.

“Me too, actually,” you replied, caressing his cheek with your thumb. Bucky leaned into your touch and exhaled.

“Move in with me,”

Nothing more had to be said. You felt safe with him around, and he felt complete with you.

You agreed, because you were hopelessly falling for the bad guy.

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puckmeupfam · 5 years ago

Text

Consigliere | Kevin Hayes

Word Count: 3175 Note: The Mafia!Kevin Hayes AU that no one asked for. I’ve never seen the Godfather or any mob movies. It’s more lighthearted than it sounds, I swear. Brief mentions of past violence and mafia stuff so please don’t read if that will affect you.

Okay, so Kevin Hayes is kind of a screw-up. His father, Frank, had been mob boss ever since his father before him had died. And he was good at it. He knew when deals were being done. He knew when someone was thinking about snitching. He knew how to handle his allies. He knew how much money it took to get in the police chief’s blind spot. The Hayes family had been leading the mob before Prohibition even began which meant that Kevin had a heavy-weight on his shoulders ever since he could remember. Kevin was just four years old when his father started bringing him along to inner circle meetings. It was in the basement of a restaurant that seemed to always be closed at random times yet somehow still in business. The lights were low and cast large, ghostly shadows on the wall. The point was to get him to start seeing the guys as family. To see how his father commanded the room with his booming voice and wide shoulders. His father would speak confidently with a cigar placed casually in his mouth while the guys studiously listened. They knew to obey him because he had a habit of being… harsh. Kevin’s father wouldn’t take anyone’s shit. Kevin was in the fourth grade when he went along on his first “check-in” to one of the mobsters who wanted out. The guy was pretty high up in the hierarchy which made Kevin’s dad want to make the trip himself. There was nothing he hated more than a buddy who cried about wanting to stop for his “wife and newborn daughter,” to Kevin’s dad you were either in or six feet under.

Which is why it was always a bit of a sore spot that his heir was Kevin. Kevin whose voice was loud in an obnoxious way rather than a threatening way. Kevin who would much rather play street hockey than take a guy out in the street. Kevin who asked if he could “just have one of your fries” while his father was presenting his game plan. Kevin who tried to sneak his Nintendo on a stakeout.

Kevin’s mother, Jeannie, and his father had a significant age difference. When he was born his mom was twenty-six while his father was forty-one. Most women involved within the mob didn’t even have a high school diploma, but his mom was just three semesters short of a bachelor’s degree. Her father, Al Rogers, was a made man and an advisor to the boss. Frank had too much power to have friends, but he protected his mafia as if they were his own brothers. Which is why when a lower gang showed up at the Rogers home one fateful night as a very aggressive hint to Frank, he brought Jeannie back from college and hid her in his house until he could make the other gang scarce. Call it love or call it Stockholm Syndrome, but Frank and Jeannie got married just two years later. Kevin was born first and was followed by three younger sisters. Leaving Frank with no other choices but Kevin.

But it was when Frank Hayes died suddenly of a heart attack that Kevin’s life was officially fucked. He was now the leader, the boss, the king and that meant something to these people. It meant that he had to step his shit up which was a lot harder said than done. At his first meeting since his father’s death, he sat with his eyes glazed over for about forty-five minutes before someone jolted him out of his thoughts. “Sir, are you going to give your speech now,” a man he only knew as Buddy asked him in hushed tones. Kevin stood, drawing everyone’s attention. When the boss speaks you listen.

“Uh, yeah,” Kevin began, “um, go kill those guys I guess.”

This was… not the right thing to say. He was met with wide, dumbfounded eyes. Kevin honestly couldn’t tell you who he just told everyone to kill and he definitely wasn’t using the imposing form or gruff vocabulary that his father had.

Kevin honestly felt hopeless about his life and his new position. Until he met you. He was sitting in a bar that he knew no mafia members would go to. He ordered a piña colada, he had one once at a luau-themed high school party. His father was away on a mission leaving him with just his mother and the two mob members guarding his house to sneak past. In all likelihood, the security knew he was going probably even followed him to the party. But the point was that he got to enjoy himself. Got to wear a trashy Hawaiian shirt. Got to do a keg stand. Got to be a trashy kid instead of a mafia prince. And that’s where you came in.

You had gone with your friends for a night out, you were wearing shorts and a sparkly sequined shirt with black boots. It was entirely inappropriate for the Boston weather, but that didn’t stop you from drinking tequila shots and dancing in the middle of what seemed to be one of the quietest bars in the city. Your friends had left already, but you weren’t ready to go home. You always claimed that you weren’t a fan of going out and would much rather stay home, but once you got out of the house you couldn’t turn yourself off as easily as they could. Which left you alone sipping a vodka tonic at the bar while lip-synching to the song playing overhead.

The floor was sticky with spilled beer and the vinyl of the booths were tearing, leaving the foam and stuffing inside exposed. There happened to be a female bartender there tonight which allowed you to chat and laugh openly without worrying about giving the wrong signals. Kevin quickly spotted you across the room. With the bar being sparsely filled with drunks it wasn’t hard to miss you. But for Kevin is felt like a bit more than that. Like there was a ring of light surrounding you. Like a magnet pulling his gaze. Your mouth was wide in an uninhibited laugh, your sparkly pink lipgloss was smeared a bit, and you had a twinkle in your eyes. A sign of joy and happiness that Kevin envied.

There were some calls from a corner booth of inebriated men which lead the bartender to give you a reluctant smile before going to bring them more pitchers. Now, bored without stimuli, you spun your barstool around. That was when you spotted him staring at you. He looked sad and oafish and non-threatening with his head in his hand and his fruity drink at his side, twirling the little umbrella between his fingers. You felt pity and curiosity when you saw him and walked to his table as if a magnet were pulling your belly.

You sat on the other chair at his table without waiting for an acknowledgment or invitation. His back straightened as he gawked at you.

“I’m (Y/N),” you said reaching your hand out. He absently noted that you had a strong handshake as his hand flopped in yours. “Kevin,” he hollowly responded. “Kevin,” you repeated back to him with a smile, “what’s got you so down in the dumps?” It took him a second to realize two things 1.) he was just kind of staring at you without actually speaking like a normal human person and 2.) his hand was still robotically shaking yours even though you had stopped squeezing. “Oh, just troubles with…” he hesitated, he knew all the codewords that everyone else used, but for some reason none of them really made sense. “Work,” Kevin finally said. You hummed in response.

“What do you do,” you asked.

“What?”

“What do you do?” you repeated.

“I- I work in, like, the family business, I guess… taking over from my dad,” that made as much sense as anything else to him and it wasn’t technically a lie. But it made you smirk and lean back a little.

“That’s very one percent of you,” was your response. Kevin barked out a laugh. “I mean, it’s more shitty than fancy but I get what you mean,” he told you with a chuckle and shake of his head. Kevin wasn’t entirely sure how much money the mafia brought in for profit. They had to live under the radar to avoid suspicious so his house was never very grande. A lot of the money went as bribes, but there was surely some kind of underground stash.

“What do you do,” Kevin asked you once he snapped himself out of his thoughts. He came here to wallow, but focusing on his fucking mob when there was a gorgeous girl sitting right in front of him was a different level of buffoonery. His question elicited a very tired sigh from you that Kevin felt in his bones. “I’m in fucking law school,” you said as if it was stricken upon you rather than something that you chose for yourself. It was Kevin’s turn to lean back from the table and he observed you with wide eyes, impressed. He knew that even if he weren’t an actual mob boss, he wasn’t the type of person to have a big fancy office with framed degrees on the wall.

“Yeah…” you trailed off in response to his shocked face. Kevin didn’t respond and you had a habit of uncontrollably filling the silence. “I interned on a political campaign as an underclassman and I just realized that I wanted to, like, make the world a better place which is so cheesy, I know. And to do stuff like that… you know, stuff that actually matters and changes peoples and even attempt to make everything less terrible you have to-” he cut you off by lunging across the table and slamming your lips together.

You made a surprised sound but quickly leaned into the kiss. He was warm and his lips were surprisingly soft and he tasted like fruity cocktails. It felt like warming your body by the fireplace on a snowy night. While it wasn’t a habit of yours to make out with strangers, there was just something about this guy that made you an absolute fool. After what could have been ten seconds or ten minutes he pulled away. You were left hazy and stunned while he looked at you apologetically.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said quietly, avoiding your eyes.

“I’m not,” you replied without hesitation. Kevin’s eyes flickered back to yours. To show him that you were serious you reached across the table and grabbed his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his larger ones. Your mischievous grin grows once his bright smile begins.

The two of you talk until the bar shuts down. Not about anything in particular. Just movies he likes and the asshole in your Philosophy of Law class who always tries to correct you. When the two of you stumble out, not drunk just dizzy on the night. He reluctantly starts to say goodbye to you when you stop him.

“Not so fast,” you start with a toothy smile. Kevin’s eyebrow quirks in a silent question. “I have coffee at my apartment,” you tell him. This brings the grin back to his face so you tangle your fingers together over the gloves you haphazardly shoved onto your hands. Kevin came with a coat, a wallet, and nothing else while you brought gloves, a hat, a scarf, and your heavy winter coat to cover your outfit that had zero protection against the chill.

The two of you are mostly silent as you trek to your building. It was about a ten-minute walk and it hadn’t occurred to either of you that there were options other than walking. Kevin held the door open for you and you felt warmer as soon as you stepped into the lobby. You pushed the buttons on the elevator to bring you both to your apartment. This was another thing that you didn’t do often. Even though you didn’t plan to have sex tonight, it was almost dawn. Inviting some guy you just met into your apartment in the middle of the night went against everything Law & Order SVU had taught you.

You told Kevin to make himself at home while you got the mugs of steaming coffee ready. He noticed that your apartment, while small, was homey with framed pictures of your friends and your graduation. There were scented candles on the shelf and flowers on the table. You came back to sit next to him on the couch, handing him his drink. Your boots were unzipped but you were too lazy to take them all the way off.

“I can’t do this,” he announced suddenly standing up with a panicked expression. Your eyes bugged and your coffee splashed a bit with his sudden movement. “What,” you asked, confused. “I’m not fucking like you, (Y/N),” he said with a dramatic wave of his arms. “You’re actually a good fucking person and you have your shit together and you’ve accomplished things,” when he said this you stood and moved to hold him in place. “No, no, no, Kev, you’re amazing and I don’t have it all together. I mean, I have like tons of student loans and the other day all I had to eat were Doritos,” you were trying to calm him down, taking deep breaths hoping that he would follow your lead.

This only seemed to agitate him more. “Shit, (Y/N), I’m in the mob,” he finally said. This made you still. “Exactly,” he said and moved to grab his coat from the back of a chair. “No, don’t go,” you whimpered, suddenly jumping to follow him. “I just told you that I’m in the mob! Kick me out of your house, call the cops, don’t be an idiot,” he snapped. He knew he was being self-destructive, but he also knew that doing anything else was stupid. And the prospect of being killed or captured by the police didn’t scare him at this point. He was living through hell every day. Okay, he was a little bit scared of what kind of weird mob torture might come over him, but he couldn’t live like this anymore. Kevin knew he would be unhappy until he died so why not speed up the process. Maybe he would even turn himself in and just get it over with.

“Just sit for a sec, hold on,” you told him. While he didn’t sit as you asked, he did stop moving. “What do you mean,” you asked stupidly. Kevin groaned in response. “What it means is that my dad died and now I am the boss of a mafia. A mafia! And I’m shit at it and I hate it and my dad knew that I hated it, but this is just how it works because it’s the mob,” he said gesticulating wildly.

“But why did you tell me? I’m not a real lawyer yet or anything,” you responded calmly, but with a questioning tone. “I’m telling you because I fooled myself into thinking I was a nobody for the evening and I can’t do that to you,” Kevin responded. Your mind was going a mile a minute trying to understand everything he was telling you. “Wait… you hate it,” you asked, picking that statement over everything else.

“Of course I hate it, do I look like someone who would want to be a mob boss? I’m not even a little bit hardcore,” he said, “I can’t even get my blood drawn at the doctor’s office.” This made you giggle which lightened the mood a bit.

“So this is like a High School Musical situation,” you guessed. He looked back at you dumbly, obviously the connection between the mafia and a children’s movie didn’t make much sense to him. “Yeah, like, your dad pushed you to take on this whole operation,” you explain, “and then you’re like “no dad that’s your dream, not mine.”” You used an overly exaggerated voice to be Kevin and you weren’t sure if it was that or the analogy, but both of you erupted into laughter. This went on for a minute before you sobered and brought yourself back to reality. You had to figure this out, you had to decide what the two of you were doing.

“Are you asking me to get you out,” you asked in a whisper. He sighed and looked at his feet. “There is no way out for me, (Y/N), I either end up dead or in prison,” he confessed. You moved your hand to bring his chin up to make eye contact. “And I know it will be one of those two because I’m not good enough to keep everything afloat,” he finished.

“Well you should have said something, this could actually be a fun project for me,” you said with a tiny grin.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he started. You abruptly slapped him. “What the fuck was that for,” he shouted, clutching his cheek. You hadn’t hit him that hard, but it came as a major surprise for him.

“First of all, don’t call me an idiot,” you commanded, “and second, I’m studying to work in politics so don’t act like it’s not something I could help with.” He looked at you dumbly as you grinned. What kind of future-lawyer-slash-political-mastermind would you be if you couldn’t hold your own? From the beginning, you were aware that you had the ability to command a room. You had always demanded everyone’s focus and attention. It was easy for you to act naive and charming and then make a complete one-eighty and start telling people exactly what you wanted them to do. You were always branded as “manipulative” or “domineering,” and you were well aware that your personality in someone like Kevin would be unstoppable.

“Not to mention, I want to be a campaign manager so it might be good practice to puppeteer an idiot into an icon,” you looked devilish. It was an inescapable fact that this experience could allow you to be the most you that you’d ever been. Calculating and alluring and full of moxie. Kevin knew he should be offended by your honesty and crassness. But there was something about you, something about this night, that made everything coming out of your mouth sound completely rational.

“You know, in the mafia we would call that a consigliere,” he told you, reaching to extend his hand. His voice was raspy and his chin scruffy, though you were aware that you very likely had eyeliner and mascara under your eyes and a rats nest on your head. But you shook his hand. You shook his hand because you felt sympathy for his. You shook because there was just something about Kevin Hayes that intoxicated you. You shook it knowing that this whirlwind night was just the beginning.

#kevin hayes #kevin hayes imagine #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #Hockey Fanfiction #k.hayes #consigliere fic

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cyborgmagpie · 7 years ago

Text

Blind Faith in the Accused (Part 6)

"Thank you for driving us here Bim, much appreciated."

"Its no problem really Doc, are you sure you two don't want picking up?"

"We can manage." Isaac responded, with that, the whirr of a car window rolling up signalled the conversation was over. Isaac turned away from the sound of passing cars and presumably towards the house that they had came to visit.

"This is the address of the person sending threats, although, they only ever signed off their letters with a 'C', any guesses doctor?"

Isaac smiled across as the other man linked arms with him, following what they had found on the laptop in Antisepticeye's home and the plan Isaac had told his doctor on how they could kill two birds with one stone, the Doctor no longer had it in his heart to be spiteful to the blind man.

Isaac let himself be led up hard, concrete steps that under his foot felt worn and smoothed with age and use, he heard a rap of knuckles on a wooden door, before they stood and waited. Footsteps, a muffled jingling of keys, and a few angry mutters later, the door was opened.

"Hello, can I help you?"

A young man, the inspector thought, or at least a well presented one.

"Yes, were conducting an investigation and some letters have lead us here, we're looking for someone by the initial 'C'."

"Well, come in, you'll be after my sister in that case." Doc lead them in, the carpet underfoot seemed to sink down too far to be inviting, it was definitely expensive, the inside of the building smelt of wood varnish and fresh flowers. The man closed the door behind them, before stepping back before them, "I'm Damien by the way, follow me."

Doc led them after a pair of barely audible footsteps, up steep stairs with the same heavy carpet, and stopped outside a room presumably. "Celine," Damien called, "you have visitors, An inspector and his blind accomplice."

"Actually Damien, Isaac here is the inspector, I'm the morgue doctor at the station, I'm merely here as his eyes."

At that moment a door opened and there was shrill laughter over Damien's stuttered apology, "Oh Dames, classic! Come in you two. And Damey dear, fix us some tea please."

"I'll be fine." Doc cut in.

"Okay, two teas then, do you have sugar Isaac?"

"Two heaped spoons, his dentist hates him."

If Isaac had the eyes to roll he would, he smiled slightly. "Thanks Edward," he said, both for the comment and hearing the click of the recording device, signifying he could start his interrogation right away. "Now, Celine was it? We have letters from yourself that we have seized into an investigation of murder involving Lucas McLaughlin."

"Go on." Celine responded, Isaac noticed the change in her voice, from rather relaxed to tense due to the mention of the letters.

"The letters, if I'm correct, you're threatening Lucas over something."

"Well excuse me if I'm not fond of the twink."

"Of course, care to explain why you were making the threats."

"He'd stolen something from me."

"Care to say what?"

"Its too far on to be added to an accusation list now, it was so by the time I'd noticed, thank you Dames." Isaac heard the clinking of China as a cup and saucer was set down next to him.

"You're welcome, if you need me I'll be downstairs, brother needs help with paperwork." He explained, and with that he left.

"It is a shame though, he dragged Wilford in with him." Celine said. Isaac frowned, how did Celine know of Wilford's arrest, it was only the day before.

"Why would you say that Celine?"

"Wilford, he's a respectable man, owns good business, and he gets dragged down by a punk."

Isaac frowned, wondering if Celine perhaps saw herself more appropriate to Lucas as a partner.

"Say, Celine, where were you on the night of the twenty seventh?"

"Oh that's easy, me and little brother dearest were at a social function and then we walked home."

"Little brother?"

"Me and Damey are twins, and we have our little brother Dark, he's upcoming in the world our Dark."

"May we talk to Dark?"

Celine hesitated, "follow me."

Isaac stood and linked arms with Edward, the weight of the recorder in Edwards coat pocket between them, before following her downstairs.

"Darky dearest, the inspector wants to talk to you."

"Just a moment Celine." Came the muffled reply.

There was almost no noise from within the room until the door opened.

"Come in, sit on the sofa."

Doc lead Isaac yet again and they did as such.

"Dark, can we talk."

"Make it quick Celine, I don't want to leave the inspector waiting."

The door closed, leaving Edward and Isaac in the room whilst a muffled muttering occurred outside. The sofa, like any of the furniture in the house, sunk too far to be comfortable, and the smell of lavender tickled the inspectors nose.

"Edward, could you do a quick visual description?"

"Of course, Celine is slim, wears a black dress and has black hair in a pixie cut, she's of average height, around 29 but has a rather demanding presence. Damien is the same age as Celine, He's clean shaven, his hair is black and pushed back and he wears a suit, however he seems to be the friendliest guy around. Dark, as they called him, is possibly 26, and an almost splitting image of Damien except his hair isn't pushed back and he's tense seeming. More official."

Luckily, the doctor finished talking just as the door opened again, someone stepped inside and the door was closed, someone sighed before walking to a spot before them and seemingly sitting down, Isaac could tell as the next words spoke were at sitting height rather than standing.

"I apologize for making you have to wait, Celine is very. . . well, I suppose protective should be the right word."

"No worries." Edward responded

"Now," Isaac sat forward, "Where were you on the night of the twenty seventh?"

Isaac could have sworn he had heard the other mans breath hitch but when he spoke it was smooth and casual. "Me and Celine were at a social function, we had a minimal amount of wine to be polite and then walked home via the quickest way possible."

"And the quickest way possible wouldn't happen to take you through the ally linking St Nicholas street and Moore brook road would it?"

"As it happens, it did. May I ask what this investigation is over?"

"We're investigating a murder, one in which the culprit has attempted to frame someone."

"To frame someone?!" This seemed to throw Dark off.

"Yes, would you happen to know anything?"

A pause.

"Dark, if you tell us now you could receive a pardon, whatever it is holding you back, leave it, we'll find a culprit eventually."

Isaac left Dark to think for a moment, let him have a mental turmoil and see what he would do. However, even though he had possible suspicions, Darks next lines surprised him."

"I didn't mean to kill."

"Was it in self defense?"

"Not quite, it was in defense of Celine, we were being followed, he tried to grab Celine and the next thing I know my hands are around his throat and he's gone limp." It was strange, earlier he had seemed so, smoothed over and collected, but his voice now exposed him to be on the verge of tears.

"What happened then?"

"Celine, she made me swear not to tell Damien, she told me everything would be ok, that the accusable fortnight was there for a reason."

"It is." Isaac said, "in the 30's this land was taken over by mobsters and declared an independent state, they wanted to rule and get away with crime but prevent others from committing crime, therefore they decided if someone can go uncaught for two weeks then they can walk free, this land is a breeding grounds for high criminals."

"I know." Dark replied.

"Do you have a history of anger management issues Dark?"

"Somewhat."

The inspector felt Edward lean closer to him, "Isaac, the injuries on the victims body happened the same night."

"Celine went back to frame him." He said back, however clearly not quietly enough.

"Frame who?"

"Dark, what was Celine's relationship with Wilford Warfstache?" Isaac diverted.

"He's a man of power, she's always looking for power, her late husband was one, and Wilford is another, she thought his casino would make her a few pennies."

"Rather blunt."

"That's how she works. When the Irish boy waltzed into Wilford's bed she was not happy."

Isaac smirked, everything was falling into place.

"Thank you for your help Dark."

"Yes, I'll see you out." He sounded stiff, as if unsure weather he had just made a mistake.

"Of course." They stood and the doctor linked there arms. "May we have your number?"

Dark listed his number off, before leading them to the door.

"We'll be in touch soon."

"Of course." Dark responded, before closing the door, possibly a little more harshly than intended.

The duo walked down the stairs of the house and despite the nature of their job, Isaac felt he had linked arms with a guardian angel who was radiating pride as they had just solved the case.

Isaac just heard the click of the recorder finally being switched off over the sound of a passing car.

"Say, Isaac, how about we go and get smoothies."

"Is ice cream too unhealthy for you?"

"Its a nuisance having to spoon feed you like the blind old man you are." Doc teased.

Isaac nudged him in the ribs back, he had missed this.

#wilford warfstache #antisepticeye #the host #darkiplier #dr iplier #antistache #wilford #anti #wkm celine #wkm damien #blind faith #undedicated writes

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robininthelabyrinth · 8 years ago

Text

Hole in the Fence (Coldwave with goats) - 3

Fic: Hole in the Fence (ao3 link) - chapter 3/4 Fandom: Flash, DC’s Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart

Summary: Mick Rory’s life was changed forever by the fire he didn’t escape.

(in which Mick Rory retires, raises goats, and saves the world more than a few times)

————————————————————————————

“So, did it work?” Mick asks when Len swans in. “I assume since you’re here and not in a secret prison somewhere, it couldn’t have gone that badly.”

“That was a delight,” Len says. He’s beaming like a maniac.

Mick shakes his head in amusement. It's been a while since he's seen Len all jumped-up on adrenaline and loving every last second; Len's heists have tended more towards cautious and controlled recently. This, though, this is classic Len: running on the very edge of danger with a smirk plastered on his face and his heart singing.

It's good to see.

“So, anyway, I lured him out, no problem,” Len says, throwing himself down on the couch next to Mick, utterly ignoring the papers Mick had been perusing a few minutes earlier. He just did a thing; now he tells Mick about it. It's a system - their system - and it works. “No, that’s not right; it was a problem. First he didn’t show up to the first time I set something up – the car job thing I told you about –”

“Yes,” Mick says dryly. “I know. You called me right after and complained about it for way too long.”

“Four minutes, twenty seconds!”

“As I said: way too long.”

“Shut up. Anyway. I got you that painting you liked –”

Mick does like it. Fire & Ice – it sits right in the living room, now. He's tested it out and he can see it from the kitchen when he cooks. He looks forward to cooking with it in view in the future.

“– but he still didn’t show up, though I did have a really nice fight with the cops.”

Mick nods. “And so you pinched his buddy?”

“Ramon,” Len confirms. “I thought Snow at first, but you're right; she’s a tough one. Your idea about kidnapping Ramon’s brother to intimidate him worked beautifully.”

Of course it did – it was Len’s own idea, tossed out in the brainstorming stage, which Mick had salvaged and fed back to him. All the best ideas are, really.

“Anyway, so I released a video challenging the Flash to show up, and he did. We had the – it was like the showdown at the OK Corral, Mick, it was amazing – the cops made up anti-ice shields, like we figured they would, but they didn’t have nothing that could stand against the heat gun –”

“Good,” Mick says. “Ramon try to change your name to Icy-Hot?”

Len snorts. “Nah, nothing of the sort. I think he hates changing names; or else he was concerned about copyright infringement or something. So I lured the Flash to a one-on-one, right in the middle of town, right out there in front of all the cameras and police and everything – but he was – damn, he was fast –”

“Got him to slip with the fire hydrant?”

“It was beautiful,” Len says dreamily.

“Then you hit him with the heat gun?”

“Oh yeah. Fried all the electronics in his suit – then I challenged him to a rematch, saying we ought to keep down the collateral damage –”

Len looks smug as a cat post-canary.

“You got his name first, right?”

“Ramon sang like a bird when his brother was threatened. Didn’t even have to do anything to either of them.”

“And the rematch?”

“He ran us out to middle of nowhere in the woods. We made a deal – no deaths in exchange for him not running me into that little prison of his. I keep his name safe and don’t fuck with his family and friends. Going forward, we go up one-to-one every time.”

Finally, Mick cracks a smile. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a nemesis.”

“I got myself a superhero nemesis,” Len crows.

“Mazel tov,” Mick says. Better a superhero than Charlie. Not that Len thinks of Charlie as a nemesis, that's more of a Mick thing. “Now sit; dinner’s almost ready, and I want you to try the new cheeses before we name ‘em and send ‘em to market.”

Len’s glowing like the face of the sun all evening. A superhero vs. supervillain fight – practically a dream come true for a drama queen like Len.

“What next?” Mick asks, serving up dinner and sitting down. He’s a bit sore – stress makes everything hurt, and worrying about Len is stressful – but Len will give him a massage and moisturizer later.

Len grins toothily. “I have some ideas.”

‘Some ideas’ turns out to be code for an all-out war with the Families and tricking the Flash into helping him take them down.

"Did you really just announced to all of Central City that there's a new Godfather in town?" Mick asks, squinting up from a letter one of his old buddies from prison had written him. It contained both gossip and a not-so-subtle request for him to figure out when Len had gone and lost his mind.

"Yep," Len says.

"This is still according to the plan?"

"Yep."

Mick puts down the letter. "I'll bite. Why?"

"Supervillainy," Len replies, like that explains everything.

Mick glares.

"Fine, fine. As a criminal, I had a good measure of respect, built up by my rep for competence but also for cold-hearted ruthlessness. People know to obey my rules, or else – but that only applied if they work with me. As a supervillain, though, I've got to work on a bigger scale if I'm gonna be feared like I need to be."

Mick's not quite getting the relevance between 'bigger scale' and 'declaring war on the Mob'.

"Besides," Len adds, "everyone wants to get rid of the Families. That means that the Flash has to team up with me about it, if he wants it to happen, and that's gonna drive him nuts."

Well, that explained everything.

Mick invests in enough comic books to confirm that Len is just indulging in childhood fantasies of superhero-supervillain team-ups, and writes back to his old buddy with reassurances.

Some reassurances.

Wouldn't do to be undercutting the supervillain's new reputation, now would it.

Of course, even with Mick putting his two cents in, Len's plans are still totally nuts.

Honestly, Mick is happy to stay out of that clusterfuck, though he does get a full rendition of it both in the initial planning stages and the final version when Len comes home.

The amended version apparently involved making the Flash think Len was breaking the deal when he was actually saving some girl named Iris’ life, and also a gigantic free-for-all against a team of mobster assassin thugs.

“We work surprisingly well together,” Len says happily when it's all over. “Though I did ice him and leave his feet stuck in ice while I made my escape.”

“Of course you did,” Mick says, rolling his eyes. “Wouldn’t be suitably dramatic any other way, would it?”

“Exactly!”

“So, was the goal of this to get the Santinis and Darbiniyans and the rest of 'em to be terrified of you as the new player in town, or was it to get the Flash more confused about your position on the good-bad scale than a teenager analyzing their sexuality?”

“Why not both?” Len asks. “I can multitask. Also, do we have more of that garlic chevre? That was something special.”

“Rolled it in garlic ash myself,” Mick says happily. He’d also nominated himself to be the one in charge of burning the garlic into ash, too, which he enjoyed. “Better lay claim now; we’re putting half of what’s left over for aging and selling the other half.”

“Consider claim laid,” Len says. “How are the goats doing?”

“Pretty good – Mickey’s gotten over her ear infection, so Boss will hopefully stop caterwauling his anxiety all over the place at all hours. Our neighbor may want to sue us over the roses, but Mab convinced him to settle for some cheesecake. Also, the geese are back.”

“The murder twins?”

Mick sniggers. “They’re not murderous,” he says.

“To you maybe.”

“I think they’re the ones I fed when they were little,” Mick says. “Remember the first year, when I was depressed all the time? There were the eggs that just hatched in that awful rainstorm?”

“Yeah, and you fucking babied those geese. I distinctly remember refilling those goddamn eyedroppers and waking you up every two hours so you could feed ‘em.”

“Yeah, well. I think these are those ones.”

“So, Malice and Spite? Knew I named ‘em right.”

“Hey,” Mick says mildly. “They’re watching the goats for me.”

“What, really?”

“They fought off a poacher and a coyote so far.”

“We have guard geese? I thought we were training the goats as attack goats. Not geese.”

“Always good to a attack a problem from multiple angles. Go make friends, Lenny. They’ll like you, I swear. They’ll remember you.” He thinks for a second. “I think.”

Len sighs dramatically.

The geese do remember him, and come honking up to rub their faces in his pants like beloved dogs.

Len’s heart melts.

He always did like creatures that were large and loud and violent. Mick’s had the benefit of that fondness of Len’s for years.

The geese are what warn Mick that Len’s brought someone back home that he oughtn’t have.

“Holy crap!” a youthful voice shouts, followed by a flash of lightning that goes straight up a tree, the geese in hot pursuit, honking furiously the entire time.

“The Flash, I assume,” Mick says mildly from the porch.

“Malice! Spite! Down! He’s a friend! Well, an ally anyway. Mick, tell them to stop.”

Mick whistles.

It’s the same whistle he uses to announce dinner.

The geese abandon the tree – albeit with baleful glares – and waddle back over to Mick, who offers them some corn from his hand.

“Are the murder geese gone?” the boy in the tree asks.

“Yeah, you can get down now.”

“Why’d you bring the Flash here?” Mick asks. He squints at the kid. “You’re younger than I imagined. What’s your name?”

“You haven’t told him who I am?” the kid asks. “Really?”

“We agreed I wouldn’t tell anybody,” Len points out, eliding the fact that Mick does not even slightly care.

The kid looks impressed.

“In fact, if you hadn’t just demonstrated your powers, he wouldn’t have ever known it was you,” Len adds pointedly.

Now the kid looks sheepish. “Yeah. I’m – not always that good with discretion.” He turns to Mick and sticks out a hand. “Hi! My name’s Barry Allen.”

Mick looks at the hand in amusement. “Barry Allen. Any relation to Doc Allen, Iron Heights?”

“Uh. Yeah? I mean, that’s my dad.”

“Good man,” Mick says. “Why are you here?”

“I need help,” Barry says. “Getting the metas out of the pipeline. We have only 12 hours –”

“Plenty of time, then,” Mick says. “Sit.”

Barry climbs the porch, only to be earnestly headbutted by Mickey.

“Is that a goat?” Barry asks, taking a step back.

“This is a dairy farm,” Mick points out. “I sell cheese at the McFeeney Park Farmer’s Market every Monday, Thursday, and Saturday.”

“You – do?”

“I do,” Mick says. “Why the surprise?”

“When Snart said he had to go talk to his partner about whether or not he’d help me out, I kinda assumed he meant, uh, you know, a criminal partner.”

“He did,” Mick says dryly. “I’m retired.”

“I’m not,” Len says. “In case that wasn’t obvious.”

Mickey headbutts Barry again.

“Oh no!” Barry says, crouching down and pretending to fall over. “You’ve discovered the Flash’s one true weakness! Adorable goats!”

Mickey happily climbs on top of him and bleats her success to the world.

“Help me! I’ve been defeated!”

Even Mick has to crack a smile. The kid’s as cute as a button.

Mickey bleats a bit more then hops off and prances over to Len for her reward of scritches, which Len promptly provides. “Good goat,” Len says. “Best goat. There you go, defeating my enemies. Good goat.”

Mick snorts. “So what’s the problem?”

“Transport and destination,” Len says, looking up and falling back into business mode. “Barry here had a dumb suggestion, which I’ve taken the liberty of ignoring. We need to get them out of the city so they don’t start trouble, which for half that crowd is going to be an issue. And no, we are not handing them over to the Suicide Squad.”

“Yeah,” Barry says, gnawing at his lower lip. “I didn’t really realize that ARGUS had that sort of rep. Guess we ought to err on the side of letting them go, but, well, they really hate us. They might side with Wells against us.”

Mick frowns. “I thought you were buddies with Wells?”

“Turns out he’s evil. And, uh, from the future.”

“Right,” Mick says, deciding he doesn’t care. “Boss, what’s your plan?”

Len lays it out.

“Wow,” Mick says at the end. “That’s…dumb.”

Barry’s face falls.

“But salvageable,” Mick adds. “Answer me four questions and I’ll give you the okay to go ahead.”

Four questions later – all answered to Mick’s satisfaction, the plan being adjusted each time to take into account the failings Mick points out – Barry is literally vibrating in place with excitement. “This is a really good plan, guys,” he says.

“It’s all Len’s work,” Mick says. He used to call Len ‘Snart’ or ‘boss’ in public, keeping them at arms’ length to hide how well they knew each other, but he’s fallen out of the habit and he finds he can’t bring himself to start again now. “I just criticize until he comes up with something better.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’s the other half of the brain,” Len says. “Not to mention my back-up plan when it comes to being muscle.”

Mick hadn’t known that Len still thought of him that way. He’s pleased.

“And you’re the one with the heat gun, aren’t you?” Barry asks, nodding at where it sits by Mick’s side. “You’re the real Heatwave, not whatever Snart here was leaving as red herrings for us.”

Mick shakes his head. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “I don’t get a supervillain name; I’m retired.”

“Had enough of the criminal life?”

Mick pulls his collar out, revealing the top line of the scars that go all the way down his back. “Had an incident with a fire that didn’t stop in time.”

“…ouch.”

“Good luck with the evac,” Mick says, shrugging. Kid’s not wrong. Ouch is definitely the right word. “Oh, and Len – your sister’s in town.”

“I know,” Len says. “She seduced Ramon for her own gun. And a nickname.”

“You really need to stop collecting your little band of rogues,” Barry says. “Or you’ll start outnumbering Team Flash.”

“Rogues,” Len says. “Heh. Cute.”

“Oh, great,” Mick says. “Now you’ve gone and given him ideas.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At some point in the summer, Mick decides to dub one of his new goats – just purchased from a friendly merchant to help increase their flock – Zipper, because he’s always anxiously darting from side to side.

After watching a few more of the Flash’s behaviors, Mick starts wondering if Zipper ought to have been named Flash instead.

Still, when Barry shows up on Mick’s doorstep during an early summer rainstorm, looking miserable, Mick points him to a chair and shoves Zipper into his lap.

Zipper looks pretty shell-shocked by the experience.

Barry has a similar expression.

“Pet him,” Mick instructs, offering Barry a brush. “He’s got anxiety issues; he needs a lot of care.”

“Anxiety issues, huh?” Barry says, taking the brush and starting to gently run it through Zipper’s hair. “I can relate.”

“Is what you want urgent?” Mick asks. “I’ve got to finish a thing.”

“No, no. Not urgent at all.”

When Mick comes back outside with bowls piled high with dinner a half-hour later, both Barry and Zipper look much more relaxed.

Mick hands Barry the bowl.

“What’s this?”

“Pasta with goat cheese,” Mick says. “Eat.”

Barry obediently eats. “This is really good,” he says.

“I don’t do much else,” Mick points out.

“Sure you do,” Barry says. “You run a farm, you make cheese, you sell cheese…” He sighs. “That sounds nice. Productive. You’re doing good. Not hurting anybody.” His lips twist. “Wish I could say the same.”

Mick studies Barry, who looks thin and sad and like his battery is all out of charge. Mick remembers feeling like that.

“Right,” Mick says. “You come here on Saturday.”

“I…what?”

“This Saturday,” Mick says. “Len and I are having a barbeque. I can do your training at the same time.”

Barry blinks. “Uh,” he says. “Training?”

“You’re going to help me at the farmer’s market for the rest of the summer,” Mick says.

“I am?”

“I’m not good with heat,” Mick says. “The burns don’t sweat, and that means I can’t regulate temperature, which means I can’t exert myself too much. And that makes summer markets hard. You’re going to help me out.”

Barry opens his mouth to protest.

“No arguing,” Mick says sternly.

Barry closes his mouth.

“Now, did you come here for a reason, or did you just need some goat therapy?”

Barry looks down at the sleepy and happy Zipper in his lap. “I don’t – I don’t think I really had a reason to come,” he admits. “Not really. I’ve been working all night as the Flash to try to repair some of the damage from the black hole and I was running so much and I can’t seem to stop running because if I stop running then I have to think about things – and then I thought to myself, what about the farm and I thought about all the goats and everything being wrecked because of the black hole – because of what I did -” His breathing is coming harder and harder, his hands starting to vibrate as he moves them through the air. Not yet a panic attack, but well on its way.

Mick recognizes the signs from Len.

“Try this,” Mick says, and plops a spoonful of the chocolate-milk goat cheese mix he’s been working on perfecting (because Len is a literal infant at times) right into Barry’s mouth.

Barry swallows.

“That’s amazing,” he says after a moment of blissful good-food noises.

“Not too sweet?”

“It’s disgustingly sweet,” Barry says. “I need more. So much more.”

Mick nods, pleased. “Excellent. As you see, the farm’s doing fine – Boss leaped for the sky a few times, but Mab caught him. I think he wants to fly.”

Barry laughs, a shaky little sound. “Maybe I’ll take him for a run,” he says. “It’s almost like flying.”

“First rule of goats,” Mick says. “Do not listen to the goats. They are scoundrels and don't know what they want.”

Barry nods, smiling a little. Nothing like the megawatt smile he had before.

“Now, I need a taste tester for a few more rounds of –”

“Yes, please!” Barry’s stomach rumbled in agreement.

“Finish your dinner, first,” Mick says.

And that’s how he gets an assistant for the summer farmer’s market.

“Did you just adopt my superhero?” Len whines.

“He’s depressed,” Mick says. “He won’t make a very good superhero for you to fight if he’s all worn out and sad.”

“…stop making sense.”

Barry is ordered to show up for regular goat therapy, too, which is what Mick calls “sitting in the goat pen and letting them prance all around you” because all of his goats are drama queens. He never should’ve let Boss be the leader of the herd.

Not that he’s ever been able to stop any version of Len from doing anything.

Barry starts unwinding a bit and smiling more.

He also loves the farmer’s market, with its mix of smiling faces and cheerful cursing of customers and trades that happen behind the stalls – meat for drink, sweets for savory, vegetables for everyone because the zucchini went crazy again. It's people, the sort of people he hasn't really let himself get close to since he put on the cowl; the reason he does everything he does.

Of course, even they can’t sate a speedster’s stomach, but Mick pulls out the big barbeque he usually reserves for parties and spends a lot of time grilling, albeit with many breaks and Len (and within days, Barry, too) fussing over him potentially dehydrating himself.

Not that Len and Barry have entirely gotten along. The snark is endless. And rather pointed, at times. Not at all friendly.

More jabs at each other than anything else, really.

Well, that won't do. If Barry's going to keep coming around - and seeing the improvement in his mood since he started coming around, Mick is determined that he will - then they're going to have to get over this silly superhero-supervillain rivalry.

Mick decides to take matters into his own hands.

He starts with dinner.

“This is delicious,” Len says, halfway through the meal. “I don’t think you’ve made kebabs in a while.”

“Amazing,” Barry agrees.

“Thanks,” Mick says, pulling out his phone and setting it to camera mode. “It’s goat.”

He takes a picture of their betrayed and horrified faces before starting to laugh.

“So it’s not goat?” Barry asks hopefully.

“Oh, it’s goat all right,” Micks says. “but not our goats. We have dairy goats, not meat goats.”

Well, they have a few older males that maybe get traded for meat purposes, but he’s not going to tell them that.

“You’re evil,” Len says.

“Yes,” Mick says.

“And he says he’s not a supervillain,” Barry says, shaking his head.

“I know, right?” Len says.

Then they remember that they’re enemies and scoot away from each other.

Mick rolls his eyes.

The next step is even more dastardly.

“Okay,” Mick says, gesturing at the pen. “The new set of kids have been weaned and are ready to be named. I am, for a limited time only, taking suggestions.”

He locks the door behind them.

Barry and Len spends six hours sitting in a pen, surrounded by baby goats, going one by one and debating what name really fits each one.

There are certain inducements that not even superhero-supervillain rivalry can survive.

“How’d you guys end up with a farm?” Barry asks a few hours in, both of them exhausted from all the serious goat-petting and naming they've been doing.

“Panic, mostly,” Len replies with a shrug. “Mick got burned and the doc said he needed somewhere quiet and moderately temperate and accessible, and I bought the first one I saw. Which was this place.”

Barry nods. “I get that,” he says. “The black hole…Ronnie died. Eddie died. It’s ripping Iris and Caitlin apart, and it’s all my fault.”

“I planned the job that got Mick burned and didn’t pull him out in time,” Len says, nodding as well.

Mick would march in there and strangle Len, because it was not his fault, but at least they’re finally bonding.

He reminds himself to do it later.

“Doesn’t sound like the black hole was your fault,” Len says, after he hears the whole story. “Take it from someone who knows what he’s talking about. Abusive father figures – it’s always their fault, in the end.”

“I guess,” Barry says.

“Doesn’t help right now, does it?”

“Not really.”

“It will.”

Actual bonding. Mick is so pleased. Maybe this will make their future battles more lighthearted. Len needs more friends, anyway.

“What do your friends say about it?”

Barry picks at his jeans. “I haven’t really been talking to them...”

“Why not?”

“I’m just not up to it.”

“Fair enough,” Mick says, deciding now is a good time to step in. “Dinner?”

“Not goat!” they chorus, each one clutching at a baby kid protectively, like Mick’s going to rip one out of their hands and take it to the cookpot.

Mick shakes his head.

City boys. Babies, the whole lot of them. Do they think that the farm has a majority female herd by accident?

“I should probably go finish construction on Jitters,” Barry says, but reluctantly.

“Stay for the night,” Mick says, not for the first time.

For the first time, though, Barry agrees.

They end up watching a few movies.

Apparently, neither of them is quite as fond of ninja movies as Mick is, but it’s his farm damnit (okay, okay, co-farm, with Len, but those are details), and if they’re going to have movie nights, they’re going to damn well start with ninjas.

Besides, it'll be good for their friendship if Len and Barry have something mutual to complain about.

#dccoldwave #mick rory #leonard snart #barry allen #my fic

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