Will mob Ari act on that jealousy for mafia wife reader or will he only be passive-agressive?
Hi babe<3
After a very detailed discussion with @biteofcherry, we agreed that should the situation occur (i.e. a visit from reader's ex), Ari would most definitely act on the jealousy. But we also think that he isn't the type to kick doors open or flip the table in front of reader's ex. He's a mob boss after all, and if there's one thing he's good at, it's demonstrating his control over people around him.
Carefully inserting himself into the conversation reader and her ex were having, dropping hints here and there over how well he knew reader's ex (as well as his pressure points). Rest assured, reader's ex would hastily excuse himself from the *pleasant* hospitality of the one and only Ari Levinson.
So I want to send in a request for Steve Rogers for the prompt 'ugly duckling'
So basically Steve meeting readers family and friends, and the running joke is how reader bagged an Greek god looking man like him despite being not so pretty. He soon understands why reader was first hesitant and a bit surprised when he asked them out. But Steve takes a stand for them in front of everyone and call them out on their behaviour and all the fluff! Please feel free to change anything you like or ignore the request if it's not worth it! Thank you so much! I love your fics💙
Hi hon <3
I feel so much about the "ugly duckling" so I added a little bit of "horrible family actions" that I've seen. I hope you'll enjoy this!
Make an Impression
Steve Rogers x You
Warning: Ugly Duckling, shaming from all aspects, bad language word(?)
Summary: Steve was nervous about meeting your family - your larger family, that is.
A/N: My eighth entry to the bingo challenge hosted by @the-slumberparty.
"What if they don't like me?" Steve whispered in horror as he looked at himself in the mirror.
"They will love you." You stood on the tip of your toes and kissed his cheek, "Seriously, my mom thought I'd be single for life. So she is already way beyond happy that I'd be taking someone home for this traditional festival."
Steve mumbled a "yeah", before turning to you, "I really want to make a good impression." He almost knotted his brows into a bun, "Any tips on how to be the best boyfriend?"
"You are the best boyfriend there is." You help flipping his collar in place. He was so nervous about meeting your family that he tried on five different ties for over a dozen times, leaving his collar a mess, "You'd be helping out... I think. And you definitely do not need a tie to suffocate yourself when you're helping out. They will love you." You emphasized the idea that your family would welcome him one more time, shrugging, "Just try not to answer any questions when my aunties and my grandma ask you about 'when are we having kids'."
"Kids?" Unfiltered panic filled his eyes.
"Um-hmm." You fiddled with the hem of his shirt, tucking it in place, "I know, we aren't even planning anything yet. Still, they love to do that. They'd be scheming when we're having our fifth kid with or without our help."
Steve swears he is sweating like a fountain.
"Smile. Tell them we're enjoying our solidarity. And you will be fine." You threw him a sympathetic look, "Tell them about your military stories. That would distract them enough."
You hoped your boyfriend would survive under your ruthless (or so you believe) aunties.
"C'mon. Mom said we should be there by 11 to help her cook lunch." You kissed his cheek again, "You'll do fine."
"Not quite sure about that." Steve muttered. If confidence could be measured from 1 to 10, he'd be negative a hundred by now.
You thought your aunties - your father's sisters - would be hogging Steve until he was going to have a panic attack, asking about your relationship or about his family three generations ago. But within an hour, you heard that he was able to make all of your aunties laugh with joy by telling some interesting stories in the barracks, while your mother kept you in the kitchen to help her around.
Help with cleaning. Not cooking.
After an hour and a half, your grandmother pulled an ancient photo book out of nowhere and started to show him your baby photos.
With pots of traditional dishes simmering over the stove, you were finally able to get a break from your mother's accusations of "not practicing homemaking" and escape to your boyfriend.
At which point, the photo album was only about one-quarter through, and your aunties had just started the chapter where you were 4 or 5.
"...now this." Your grandma chuckled and shook her head, "This was precious. She has always been the not-so-good-looking one among my grandkids. Hasn't changed about that. See her skin? And the hair? Her cousins tried almost everything to help her look better."
Yes. By "help" she meant that your cousins, who were not that older than you, shoved you around like a doll, pinning all their least-favorite hair bands and hair pins onto your head, and giving you ridiculous "make-overs".
The kind of "make-over" some 6-year-olds could achieve.
While your male cousins ignored you.
Some of them still did.
You didn't mind.
Your family isn't exactly the tightest bun in the world. You tried avoiding them until important family-gathering activities such as this one. Because they would criticize everything from your clothing to your work. And probably also tell your boyfriend that you are not that good.
"And what are you wearing?" One of your aunties eyed you disapprovingly, gasping as if she had just seen you. Even though you have been helping cleaning and cooking for at least sixty minutes, "Sweetie, your ass is going to rip your jeans. Why not sportspants? They are definitely more comfy. Could help cover your thick thighs too. Honestly, how you are able to date... him-" She gestured at Steve, "is baffling."
"That hair..." Another auntie tutted as loud as she could, "So messy, my dear. Have you tried conditioner? My boy brought back a bottle of L'OREAL conditioner from Paris and it has been working wonders. "
Third auntie chirped up helpfully, "Must have been that awful job, cutie pie. I told you that you should be working closer to home, not driving three hours to see your family. That incompetent husband of mine recently opened up a factory and we'd be happy to arrange a desk job for you. Smaller pay, but closer to home. What could a ton of money do anyway if you can't see your family every week-"
That's enough bullshit for you for a day. You'd rather drown yourself with mud than listen to them criticize from head to toe.
"I think that's my phone." You forced a smile, getting up as fast as you could, "I'm gonna go check."
"See, I told you a busy job can do you no good..." One of your aunties yelled behind your back, before gossiping in a low voice with others.
What you didn't see (or hear, for that matter) is that Steve apologized swiftly, leaving the couch and following you.
Eight months ago
Steve accompanied Bucky to his graduation ceremony that day. Being around the same age, they chose a path in the military at the start, though Bucky had a severe injury to his left arm and had to leave the sergeant program after only a few months. After some rehabilitation and trying a handful of jobs, Bucky decided to head back to university and study criminal law in order to become a police officer, or a district attorney if he's not fit for police work anymore.
Steve, on the other hand, was luckier. He stayed in the sergeant program and got assigned to the States right before Bucky's graduation. After three tours and a surgery to collect bomb shells from his leg, the Army decided he could be a drill sergeant on the New Jersey Base, responsible for training new recruits before shipping them overseas.
Anyhow, Steve pulled Bucky into a big hug when the ceremony was over. He whistled and nearly clapped his hand numb as Bucky beamed at him in a black graduate gown.
"I guess I'm the smarter one of us now." Bucky smiled coyly, punching Steve in the chest, "And the luckier one too." As he fished a cute girl in gown by her wrist and introduced her, "This is my girlfriend Wendy. Wendy Stone. Wendy, Steve."
She reached out shyly to shake his hand, "Hi Steve. I've heard a lot about you."
And as if Bucky was the magnet, attaching people like coins in a line, you slipped through the crowd patting Wendy on her shoulder, "Your phone. You almost forgot - Hi Bucky, I'll be out of your hair in a minute."
Bucky's palm flew to his forehead, gasping out in shock, "Damn. I haven't introduced you two yet. Steve, this is Y/N, Wendy's cousin. Y/N, this is my best pal Steve."
Five months ago
You had hung out with Steve a couple of times, but only in the presence of Bucky and Wendy. Wendy and you shared the same apartment, so it was nearly inevitable for Steve to bump into you when looking for Bucky, or Bucky asking both of you to join Game Night for you four to know each other well.
Steve grew fonder of you, nonetheless. He loves the laughter whenever you hear a silly joke; he loves the way you make a face to him whenever Bucky and Wendy getting all gooey and clingy, making both of you feel like the third and fourth wheel; he loves your optimistic and can-do attitude, whether it was Wendy having a bad day at work, or when the pipe burst in your apartment.
Before he opened his mouth that day, sharing a pot of coffee with Bucky during the quiet morning of a Sunday. Bucky cut him off, saying Steve's line, "You should ask her out."
"You think I should?" He gulped nervously, counting the larger bubbles on his coffee.
"Dude, why do you think I've asked you on these game nights stuff?" Bucky snorted into his mug, "You practically glued your eyes to her the day you met. It's hard not to notice."
"Thanks...?"
"Don't thank me yet, punk. I've asked Wendy about her. She's one tough-" Bucky paused before continuing, mulling over the semantics, "Is it degrading to say son-of-a-bitch? Because Wendy said the exact same words. Anyway, according to Wendy, she doesn't really date a lot. And her work is crazy as hell. Plus, they came from the same family, cousins from their mother's side. They are a hard-to-please bunch of people, and Wendy heard that her father's side was even worse."
Steve didn't really take the last line into consideration back then. Still, asking you out was one hell of a mission, worse than the tour he had in the middle of some desert. It took some persuasion and some more coaxing ("good-measured coaxing", Bucky insisted) to get you on the first three dates. But from that point forth, everything has run smoothly, until now.
"You alright?" Steve closed the door behind him. Your tiny room seems smaller with his broad shoulders larger than the door frame.
"Yeah." That's a lie. "Another few hours and we'll be left alone." You swept away the invisible dust on your jeans, murmuring.
That's why you don't like your relatives. The smell of grease and tobacco rose from the backyard where the men were drinking and smoking, more revolting than the way you remembered.
Steve pursed his lips tightly into a line, "Are they always like this?"
You huffed out an unamused laugh, "At least we were related. You should have seen how they treated my mom."
"That's why she's in the kitchen?"
An unimpressed glare threw in his direction, "She enjoyed that, believe it or not. Cooking and cleaning and homemaking." Raising your chin towards the kitchen, "Blamed me about 'not doing my part' just now."
"Why don't you-"
"Stand up against them?" You knew what he meant. You did. You tried. But they would always accuse your mother of not "teaching you properly".
"They are bullies, Steve." You shrugged, pretending that it didn't bother you at all, "They'd do anything to make sure we get all those nasty comments. And the moment any one of us stand up against them, they'd ask my parents to force me to apologize."
Steve crossed his arms, furrowing his brows again.
"Look, my mom is ... old-school. So are all of them. She nags a lot but she'd be sad if I'm not here to support her during this family reunion. But reunion means all of them, so..." You held his wrist, resting your head on his shoulder, "family comes first."
He took you into his arms, landing a kiss on your forehead.
You craned your neck to smile sweetly at him, as if nothing had happened, "Let's get back to the living room before they mock me for being a baby about it."
Surprisingly, for one full hour, they weren't able to make a comment about you - plenty of comments about Steve since your three cousins had arrived. More comments about your cousins. Gossips about their neighbors. Judgements thrown around on their men and your mother's cooking.
"... your daughter better have clarity on herself." Your grandmother pointed at your mother, drunk on her third cup of wine, her words slurring, "Steven....s Steve, here, is way out of her league. And she needs to maaaarry him before some s... ska... skank butts in."
Your mother eyed you, mouthing silently, asking you to eat rather than reply, before coming up with a polite smile, "Of course. But young people have their own opinions on marriage, and I suppose it's only fair that they figure it out themselves."
One of your aunts waved her fork too hard, sending a piece of chicken into the air, "Oops. Ma's right. And you need to have a kid soon, sweetie. Marry him, and have a kid. Your body is a ticking clock. Don't turn deaf towards it."
"I'm surprised you were able to get a boyfriend, let alone... this." Another aunt gestured at Steve, "You've never been the pretty one, cutie pie, and you sure ain't now."
You put your hand on Steve's thigh to calm him. You could feel his muscles tensing and his jaw clenching, not so subtly. You shook your head lightly.
Don't give them what they want. You hoped you were able to convey the message.
"Oh my oh my," the last aunt chuckled, "we are not going to witness some cheesy scheme of renting a boyfriend here, are we? I heard from my daughter Jean that it's quite popular these days. You know, it's not that embarrassing not to have a boyfriend, I mean, we all thought that way-"
Jean, being one of your cousins sitting by the table, chose to munch her food in silence rather than responding to your aunt.
"That's enough." Steve placed his napkin on the table, folded it back into a triangle before he spoke, "All of you." His rigid tone from the military days seeped into his voice, having the conversations on the table stop for the moment. Taking your hand beneath the table, he watched every person on the table with a serious expression, "Our relationship is none of your business, and so is her appearance. I see a beautiful, strong, independent woman, and I pity you for none of you were able to see her the way I do. Because you were so focused on yourselves, comparing everything about you to make you feel less pathetic. "
A brief pause.
"You didn't say anything about your daughter owning a clothing store, inherited from you, that barely gets by." He looked at the aunt who called you "fat".
"No one said anything about your son stuffing potato chips in his mouth and being unemployed, still taking expensive trips with your pension, because he's the son in the family." He points at the aunt who called you "cheap".
"And finally, you know damn well that husband of yours is having his third secretary-mistress. Since that's all the rest of you could hint about this afternoon." He directed at the aunt who thought you weren't "homemaker" enough.
"I hope you'll have the day you deserve." He spat out, standing from the table, asking for your hand.
For the first time today, your eyes sparkled with light. Gladly taking his hand, your rose from the table. Not minding if you have shoved your chair backwards too hard or the sudden movement is not "lady" enough.
"Mom, I'll come visit next week. Promise." A big smile raised the corner of your lips, waving your mother goodbye while the rest of the table watched in silence.
You still had trouble believing this when you got in your car. Steve immediately pulled you into a hug, nudging your neck with his cheek.
"Not so scared about 'impressing' my family now, huh?" You joked, tugging the end of his blonde hair lightly.
"They're going to hate me and you after I dumped every scandal on them." He mumbled apologetically, "Sorry, I hate bullies."
"No." You signed, "I should've be braver and just ... cut them off."
"You did the best you could." He kissed your shoulder gently, looking into your eyes, "You are everything I've dreamed of, and I meant everything I said at the dining table. You are incredible."
"Hold your proposal, Rogers." You teased him, seeing his ears turn into beet-red as you mentioned "proposal", poking his chest with your index finger, "You aren't on your knees yet and I'm not having five babies without five carats."
Steve's face flushed with a shade of pink, looking like a total turnip if it wasn't for his blonde hair. "Five babies???" He gulped, and then, "Does that mean we're having ten babies if I buy a ten-carat now?"
It was your turn to be stunned speechless. Only when he was grinning madly did you realize he was messing with you too. Laughing with tears, you fell into his embrace, "Steven Grant Rogers, you are a horrible person."
A few laughs bubbled from his chest as you leaned back in your seat and buckled your seat belt, "You'll get used to it." He started the engine and changed the subject, "I didn't have much food in your house. Mind if we stop by at the new Burger joint and order something?"
"I almost forgot how awful my mom's cooking is." You set your phone on navigation mode and put it on Bluetooth speaker, chuckling, "I'm starving. Let's go."
Find my The Slumber Party Present Bingo Challenge here 👈
Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂
Match time! 🎉 Match what they do with the last slice of cake to a babe:
shares it with you
leaves it for you
makes puppy eyes at you so you give it to him
eats it in front of you with a smug smirk
with: Lloyd, Ransom, Ari, Steve
Hi Eva<3 ooohhhh this is interesting >:3
Lloyd: leaves it for you
"Cake? Pfft."
Leaves it on the dining table because he declares that he hates sugar and candy and everything nice in this world.
"But you like lollipops." You remind him, a mischevious smirk ghosting your lips.
"I'm tryna be nice here, woman." He growls.
Ransom: eats it in front of you with a smug smirk
This bloke is the type of guy who gets protective over his food.
Grabbing the last slice before you can make your move, Ransom shoves a large chunk into his mouth. Cream and crumbs over his chin, he mumbles with his mouth full, "Sorry."
In the least apologetic way.
Ari: shares it with you
Not only is he going to *share*, he is also going to give you the first bite.
Having it on his fork and offering it to your lips.
His eyes twinkle with amusement, "Open your mouth and say Ah."
-- also licking the crumbs on the fork when he knows you are looking.
"I can eat by myself, you know." You clear your throat, trying to keep the blood from rushing to your face.
Steve: makes puppy eyes at you so you give it to him
The definition of puppy eyes himself you can't deny that!
"Just one bite, please?" He blinks the most adorable puppy eyes and you - despite your unwillingness, because you bought a cake yesterday and it has miraculously disappeared by over two thirds last night while you were sound asleep - push the plate in his direction.
You swear you found sprinkles on his uniform this morning.
You sigh, banging your head onto the table, running a hand down your face. "Last time you said 'one bite' to my popsicle, you nearly bit my finger off and swallowed the whole thing."
"Wut?"
You lift your head to look at him, only realizing the slice is already gone.
AHHHH THIS ARI STANDING BY THE WINDOW REMINDS ME OF Pretty Distraction :3 Here's a little something I'm working on:
Warning: Adoptive brother!Ari x Sister!Reader (incest but not blood related), both are of age, Aftercare (sort of).
He showered and made himself a cup of coffee in the morning.
Black. No sugar. No milk. No nutmeg or pumpkin spice or whipped cream or hazelnut or the hundreds if not thousands of spices and all size and forms of lactose that you like to add to the mix.
No.
Just black.
He did all that and half surprised that you were still asleep on his bed.
He tried to make as little noise as possible. He practically sneaked out of his bed and closed the bathroom door before turning on the shower. And probably spent way too much time staring at the white tiles in front of him with the warm water pouring down from the showerhead from above than actually rinsing his body from traces of sex last night.
Sweat. Tears. Mixed bodily fluids. A hair pulled off or two.
Scratch marks. Bite marks. Bruise. The one bruise where you struggled too hard and kicked him on his shin.
He used twice the bodywash. Now he smells like peppermint and pine and cologne and whatever-the-heck successful businessman smells like. Dresses like decent suits and bleached white shirts and tailored hems and ... man. Much less the animal he was last night.
You mumble something in your sleep. Kick the sheet. Roll to the other side where he had slept in. The sheet over your body entangles with your legs, revealing the smooth skin, the arms, the breasts, and your back. And everything that turned him on and is still turning him on in the early morning after the wild fuck last night.
Scratch marks. Bite marks. Bruises.
He sighs. Places down his cup of bitter coffee on the nightstand. He frees the sheet from your legs and drapes it over your body. Your naked body. Move your calf from the original position where it could almost touch the floor - to the bed. Straightening the pillow. Tucking you in.
Not something he is familiar with. He was a teenager when he was adopted by your father. When you and your real brothers were more often raised by your mother.
And almost irresisitably, he caresses his knuckles over your cheek. Brushes over your neck. Where he might have bitten too many times last night.
He wishes everything could stay like this. With you in his room. Sound asleep. When he could do almost anything to you and you wouldn't say no, even if you wake up. When he doesn't have to go to work later this morning. When he could keep you. When he knows the secret of this relationship is strictly confidential apart from the two of you in this very room. In his room.
Ari placing his hands on both sides of your body, trapping you in
holy pony of cereleonie-
this man knows where his goddamn charm lies
Thinking about those very ancient MarySue literature where the guy would blocks the poor lil female character's way with his arm.
Thinking about the exact same thing with Ari.
Obnoxiously annoying. Arrogant. Cocky.
Reader ignores his presence and tries to get (walk) away from him and next thing you know, an arm is in front of your eyes. Blocking your way.
The almost laughable pose does nothing but has you rolling your eyes.
“Quite the attitude.” Ari cocks his head, “I would have asked you politely to behave but that ship has sailed...”
Sneaks a hand to lift your chin. Suggestive squeeze right above your hip bone. And the smirk. The devious smirk of him cooking up something borderlining on sinister.
“Get off.” You snap at him impatiently.
He pretends to mull over the request, before meeting your eyes with his - dark blue pool of swirling desire.
“Get o-”
Two fingers make their way to your lips. Tickling your tongue. Exploring the softness of your mouth. Scraping your teeth with his knuckles.
You bite down on instinct, but his fingers shove deeper, right at the edge of your throat.
“Now that I have your attention,” He presses the pad of his finger onto the roof of your mouth, “do you mind answering my question? Or would you rather be gagged so that we can continue this civilized conversation?”
(just gag me on his big fat c*ck already i mean i won't bite but no promises he's just gonna have to trust me on that... fuck the pms is messing with my hornymones again-
August has been kind, so far, to me, but unfortunately my muse not so much. I have a teaching job on the way but fingers crossed that my career doesn't stop there lol
Here's a little snippet of Ari from our favorite fake boyfriend trope (wild child) I've been working on:
Ari released a dramatically sad sigh, “You are being the worst girlfriend, not noticing the color of my eyes.”
“Worst fake girlfriend.” You corrected him, clearing your throat as you felt the blood rushing to your face, “Don’t tell me you are getting attached.”
“Attached to what? What attached?” He let out a sharp gasp, too sharp to be true.
“Baby-blue eyes are cute, Guy,” You brushed your hair from your face, turning to look at the streets, “Playing dumb? Not cute.”
“You like your men smart?”
“I like my -” You put a halt before giving his question a thorough analysis inside your head, “Oh, I like you better when you are not dumb.”
“Is that a compliment?” Ari quirked up his brow.
skdjfkhskjdkjgk I'm like 3/4 done on this chapter, a few hundred words to go! >:3
A bouquet for you! Featuring: Ari Levinson; Friends to Lovers; Bookstore; Fluff. Hope you enjoy!
Admittedly I kinda cheesed the "Friends to Lovers" aspect. 😬
++++++
Your heart leaps when you see it. You've scoured five different bookstores looking for this one book and you've finally found it! It's kinda high up so you have to stretch but you're not deterred.
Just as you're about to touch the book, someone else grabs it off the shelf. You can't hold back the whiny "no!" that forms.
The person who grabbed the book stops and turns to you. He's big, tall and has the deepest blue eyes you've ever seen. His long hair is complemented by his beard. He's giving you a quizzical look that, if you weren't so upset, you'd think was handsome.
"You were looking for this?" He waves the book in front of you. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak in your frustrated state. "It's been a pain in the ass to find."
"I know," you pout. "This is the fifth store I've checked."
He considers you for a moment and you give him the stink eye, making him laugh. "Let me buy you a coffee," he starts, "and I'll consider giving you the book."
"Just a coffee?" Your eyes are full of suspicion, making him smile wider.
"Just a coffee, at the cafe right next door. I'll buy the book and meet you there."
"I'll trust you. For now."
Months later Ari argued that the two of you were already dating because he'd taken you out for coffee that day. As you kissed him you argued it wasn't so much a date as it was a hostage situation because he had your book. By now Ari knows better than you argue with you but he does it anyways. You're always so cute when you argue.
AHHHH Thank you Zombie @thezombieprostitute<3
Just as you're about to touch the book, someone else grabs it off the shelf. You can't hold back the whiny "no!" that forms.
i thought for a second that Ari's going to pin you on the shelves and do nasty depraved things to you oops
Friends to loves prompt is so cute and fun! (most of the times) It would rank as the top three of my favorite fic prompts :3
i can totally imagine Ari holding your book (even he paid for it sdjkfjsdkjks) as hostage while having that cup of coffee. I imagine you exchanged numbers (because you promised to give the book back when you finish reading it) and one day when you are reading you get a google alert or twitter notification of the said writer posting or doing something. And you can't help but take a snapshot of the screen and send it to him
>You: CRAZY! She said she finished another one!
>Ari: no way the last book is just out only a month ago did her keyboard work on autopilot or something?
>You: ikr this book I'm reading now is sooooo goooood you can't even imagine
>You: Like, sooooooo goooood with the villians trio, Adam, Chutney, and William. Especially Chutney. I love chutney <3
>You: *villains
>Ari: Don't
>Ari: Do not spoil it for me
>Ari: Please I'm begging you
>Ari: But just a quick peek, did Adam die in the end?
And inviting Ari to a book read in your city, exchanging laughs and discussions over your shared love of books and novels. Going to the movies, having dinners together, visiting Ari's workplace,...
