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Society Folklore
@societyfolklore
'Society' | She/Her | 30's
Safe space for feelings, chaos & thirsty writing
Adult (18+) fic writer (MDNI)
Marvel & more
Ask box open! Happy to chat, take request or scream together into the void
Most works are 18+/or aimed at that audience. Please take note of warnings within individual stories.
(Do not copy, translate, x-post onto other platforms)
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
PAIRING/STARRING: Mob boss!Steve Rogers x fem!reader x Mob boss!Loki Laufeyson.
WORD COUNT: 1120.
SUMMARY: Sometimes all that’s needed for two competing mob bosses to bring them together is a person. You.
CONTENT: Decisions and all that follows including the start of a plan. Nothing bad.
A/N: Alright, I’m trying to do this because I haven’t been able to get it out of my head: series Mobster AU time, here we come!
As per usual: please like, comment, and especially reblog – that’s the only way to make sure other people see it too. Here’s my TAGLIST and my MASTERLIST for more.
2.
Their gazes are heavy on you, like oil on your skin. You know, they want an answer now but it’s so hard to think straight with the shock of their request still echoing in your mind. Sure, they are attractive in each their own way and the promise of your own cafe is tempting, but it’s the idea of “the rest” that’s making you hesitate. What if they turn out to be horrible? They aren’t mobsters for nothing, after all. Then I can play them against one another, a little and absolutely devious voice comforts you.
Looking at them, both men are sitting as if relaxed, but you see the tension in their shoulders and the set of their jaws. Surely, refusing them would be worse than accepting your fate.
Inhale, exhale. Nice and slow to steady your nerves. You shift in the seat, hands now flat on the table before you. It’s only cool against your palms for a moment before the wood warms and the grain becomes evident.
“If I say no, it’ll turn ugly,” you summarize, hating how they both nod, “but if I say yes and I’m not happy with my new life?”
There’s a flicker of something soft in Rogers’ eyes as he reaches out to take out to take your hand. The gesture is repeated by Laufeyson and you’re astounded by how different their hands look and feel. Both big, one is more slender, soft, and cool, while the other is broader, warm, and calloused.
“We understand your trepidation,” Laufeyson assures you.
Rogers nods. “We’ll be good to you.”
Now, if only you knew what their definition of “good” was. Still, you find yourself nodding along.
“I cannot possibly make an educated choice between the two of you,” you hear yourself say, “so you’ll have to learn to live with each other.”
You hear Rogers’ nasal intake of breath, see Laufeyson’s free hand flex. They shoot each other a short glance but their attention is back on you in a heartbeat.
Everything that follows is a blur: they have you close up the cafe, barely allowing you to send a text to your boss to warn that you’ll be gone and that you are sorry. Then they walk with you to your home, both of them busy on their phones arranging for moving boxes to be delivered and for the best real estate agent to clear their schedule for the rest of the day.
At your little apartment, they allow you the privacy to change out of your work clothes before sweeping you into a taxi – seemingly the only neutral vehicle they could agree on rather than any one of the men having to accept a ride from the other.
Squished between the men on the backseat, you’re thankful that they keep their hands to themselves at least for a while longer – no, you have no hope that will last but for now it feels like you only have your own body left under your control and it makes the air scratch in your lungs as if wanting to escape on a scream. Still, you keep quiet.
The first place you drive to is on the edge of downtown and it isn’t hard to guess that it’s right on the border between Rogers’ and Laufeyson’s turfs, making it possible for both men to come and go without “trespassing”.
The apartment is a penthouse and the real estate agent that’s waiting for you is babbling about the view and the spaciousness as she shows it off. You have a hard time focusing on what she says even though you try. It doesn’t matter, though: you can’t see yourself living in a place like this because as fancy as the apartment is, it’s also devoid of any soul. So by the end of the tour, you just shake your head softly and the two mobsters sweep you out the door and on towards the next place.
A brownstone near a park. Three floors and a little garden out back. Kids that play in the street which makes you nauseous at the idea of bringing the mobsters into their neighbourhood and so you refuse to even finish the tour before you quietly ask to leave. You know you’ll have to chose something at some point but it can’t be this.
Another street in the liminal space between the men’s hunting grounds. Tall buildings with old facades and parisian roofs that hold yet another penthouse – this time with a roof top terrace – where a new real estate agent awaits, nervously wringing his hands until he spots the men whose presence reducing him to an ass-licking wimp. You don’t blame him.
And somehow, even if just for a moment, this place distracts you from your situation as you wander through the rooms. Despite the current emptiness, it’s easy to envision what it could end up being with furniture – even if you hesitate in the bedroom at the idea of the size of the bed needed. Will Laufeyson and Rogers be able to share a bed?
“Do you like it here?” Rogers asks softly under the real estate agent’s ramblings about flooring materials.
Do you? It’s not anything you had ever thought you’d achieve in your wildest dreams but...yes.
“I do,” you admit quietly.
Laufeyson has overheard your answer and with a nod he turns to the frazzled man trying to sell the place. “We’ll take it.”
“You...oh...lovely!”
---
They tell you that you can bring over whatever furniture from your old place you might want to keep but frankly, IKEA is not the provider of anything particularly sentimentally valuable and, you figure, you might as well get the most out of this situation as possible, so you opt for the exhaustive project of shopping for new furniture in the days to come. Sure, some of your things will be needed to tide the gap until the new stuff has been chosen and delivered but you will be in charge of decorating and furnishing the apartment as you want and you grab at that frail feeling of control.
Control.
What an absurd notion to long for when you’ve signed yourself over to your new fate, but it is what you want to regain nonetheless, and as you lie awake that night in your own bed – alone for the last time – you realize that you will have to learn to play their game if you want to remain sane. You will have to study the men, understand how things work in their world. Not to become them, but to beat them at their own game. You will have to be careful, subtle...but maybe one day you can thrive again.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
FRIENDS. READERS. BUCKY-COUNTRYMEN. We have had such a fantastic time the last two months writing and posting drabbles for you. We started with fifteen amazing anonymous authors, all of whom rose to the challenge we set of sticking to 100 words exactly, week in and week out, through drabble prompts silly and strange.
But now we're at the end, and it's time to reveal which author has won themselves a shiny new Cyrofreeze, and who wins the fabulous and coveted Winner's badge!
The winner of the last of our Cryofreezes--a fully air-conditioned, comfort-controlled chamber with WiFi, contoured seating, all the entertainment media at your fingertips, and preferred access to the all-you-can-eat omelet bar--is:
@societyfolklore, author of Written Between Hearts
Society, we are so glad you joined us for yet another WiaC Event! All of your drabbles have delighted and thrilled us, and it was an absolute pleasure having you amongst our number! We hope you love the privacy and quiet of your very own Cryofreeze, where you can remain until our next event.
And now, the announcement you've all been waiting for: the winner of the coveted WiaC winner badge... now a two-time winner of WiaC events....
@mrsbuckybarnes1917, author of Blazing
Skittle, our darling, our dearest, our delight! You have written us nine drabbles of absolute perfection, and we have loved every single word beyond measure. We are so glad you entered the challenge again, and we hope you enjoy the coveted WiaC Winner Badge below:
Badge made by @buckybarnesfic
Friends, it has been an absolute pleasure. We hope you enjoyed our Drabble Event, and that you've gained new (or renewed) appreciation for this 100-word craft.
We plan to return in September with an announcement for our Holiday Challenge (which we are currently planning for October through December). Until then, we hope you find reading material to inspire you, and prompts to enjoy writing!
PAIRING/STARRING: Mob boss!Steve Rogers x fem!reader x Mob boss!Loki Laufeyson.
WORD COUNT: 1120.
SUMMARY: Sometimes all that’s needed for two competing mob bosses to bring them together is a person. You.
CONTENT: Decisions and all that follows including the start of a plan. Nothing bad.
A/N: Alright, I’m trying to do this because I haven’t been able to get it out of my head: series Mobster AU time, here we come!
As per usual: please like, comment, and especially reblog – that’s the only way to make sure other people see it too. Here’s my TAGLIST and my MASTERLIST for more.
2.
Their gazes are heavy on you, like oil on your skin. You know, they want an answer now but it’s so hard to think straight with the shock of their request still echoing in your mind. Sure, they are attractive in each their own way and the promise of your own cafe is tempting, but it’s the idea of “the rest” that’s making you hesitate. What if they turn out to be horrible? They aren’t mobsters for nothing, after all. Then I can play them against one another, a little and absolutely devious voice comforts you.
Looking at them, both men are sitting as if relaxed, but you see the tension in their shoulders and the set of their jaws. Surely, refusing them would be worse than accepting your fate.
Inhale, exhale. Nice and slow to steady your nerves. You shift in the seat, hands now flat on the table before you. It’s only cool against your palms for a moment before the wood warms and the grain becomes evident.
“If I say no, it’ll turn ugly,” you summarize, hating how they both nod, “but if I say yes and I’m not happy with my new life?”
There’s a flicker of something soft in Rogers’ eyes as he reaches out to take out to take your hand. The gesture is repeated by Laufeyson and you’re astounded by how different their hands look and feel. Both big, one is more slender, soft, and cool, while the other is broader, warm, and calloused.
“We understand your trepidation,” Laufeyson assures you.
Rogers nods. “We’ll be good to you.”
Now, if only you knew what their definition of “good” was. Still, you find yourself nodding along.
“I cannot possibly make an educated choice between the two of you,” you hear yourself say, “so you’ll have to learn to live with each other.”
You hear Rogers’ nasal intake of breath, see Laufeyson’s free hand flex. They shoot each other a short glance but their attention is back on you in a heartbeat.
Everything that follows is a blur: they have you close up the cafe, barely allowing you to send a text to your boss to warn that you’ll be gone and that you are sorry. Then they walk with you to your home, both of them busy on their phones arranging for moving boxes to be delivered and for the best real estate agent to clear their schedule for the rest of the day.
At your little apartment, they allow you the privacy to change out of your work clothes before sweeping you into a taxi – seemingly the only neutral vehicle they could agree on rather than any one of the men having to accept a ride from the other.
Squished between the men on the backseat, you’re thankful that they keep their hands to themselves at least for a while longer – no, you have no hope that will last but for now it feels like you only have your own body left under your control and it makes the air scratch in your lungs as if wanting to escape on a scream. Still, you keep quiet.
The first place you drive to is on the edge of downtown and it isn’t hard to guess that it’s right on the border between Rogers’ and Laufeyson’s turfs, making it possible for both men to come and go without “trespassing”.
The apartment is a penthouse and the real estate agent that’s waiting for you is babbling about the view and the spaciousness as she shows it off. You have a hard time focusing on what she says even though you try. It doesn’t matter, though: you can’t see yourself living in a place like this because as fancy as the apartment is, it’s also devoid of any soul. So by the end of the tour, you just shake your head softly and the two mobsters sweep you out the door and on towards the next place.
A brownstone near a park. Three floors and a little garden out back. Kids that play in the street which makes you nauseous at the idea of bringing the mobsters into their neighbourhood and so you refuse to even finish the tour before you quietly ask to leave. You know you’ll have to chose something at some point but it can’t be this.
Another street in the liminal space between the men’s hunting grounds. Tall buildings with old facades and parisian roofs that hold yet another penthouse – this time with a roof top terrace – where a new real estate agent awaits, nervously wringing his hands until he spots the men whose presence reducing him to an ass-licking wimp. You don’t blame him.
And somehow, even if just for a moment, this place distracts you from your situation as you wander through the rooms. Despite the current emptiness, it’s easy to envision what it could end up being with furniture – even if you hesitate in the bedroom at the idea of the size of the bed needed. Will Laufeyson and Rogers be able to share a bed?
“Do you like it here?” Rogers asks softly under the real estate agent’s ramblings about flooring materials.
Do you? It’s not anything you had ever thought you’d achieve in your wildest dreams but...yes.
“I do,” you admit quietly.
Laufeyson has overheard your answer and with a nod he turns to the frazzled man trying to sell the place. “We’ll take it.”
“You...oh...lovely!”
---
They tell you that you can bring over whatever furniture from your old place you might want to keep but frankly, IKEA is not the provider of anything particularly sentimentally valuable and, you figure, you might as well get the most out of this situation as possible, so you opt for the exhaustive project of shopping for new furniture in the days to come. Sure, some of your things will be needed to tide the gap until the new stuff has been chosen and delivered but you will be in charge of decorating and furnishing the apartment as you want and you grab at that frail feeling of control.
Control.
What an absurd notion to long for when you’ve signed yourself over to your new fate, but it is what you want to regain nonetheless, and as you lie awake that night in your own bed – alone for the last time – you realize that you will have to learn to play their game if you want to remain sane. You will have to study the men, understand how things work in their world. Not to become them, but to beat them at their own game. You will have to be careful, subtle...but maybe one day you can thrive again.
Always watch out for individual chapter warnings/content.
Reader is per default female unless otherwise stated.
Empress *#
Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!reader x mobster!Loki Laufeyson.
Sometimes all that’s needed for two competing mob bosses to bring them together is a person. You.
PAIRING/STARRING: Mob boss!Steve Rogers x fem!reader x Mob boss!Loki Laufeyson.
WORD COUNT: 1120.
SUMMARY: Sometimes all that’s needed for two competing mob bosses to bring them together is a person. You.
CONTENT: Decisions and all that follows including the start of a plan. Nothing bad.
A/N: Alright, I’m trying to do this because I haven’t been able to get it out of my head: series Mobster AU time, here we come!
As per usual: please like, comment, and especially reblog – that’s the only way to make sure other people see it too. Here’s my TAGLIST and my MASTERLIST for more.
2.
Their gazes are heavy on you, like oil on your skin. You know, they want an answer now but it’s so hard to think straight with the shock of their request still echoing in your mind. Sure, they are attractive in each their own way and the promise of your own cafe is tempting, but it’s the idea of “the rest” that’s making you hesitate. What if they turn out to be horrible? They aren’t mobsters for nothing, after all. Then I can play them against one another, a little and absolutely devious voice comforts you.
Looking at them, both men are sitting as if relaxed, but you see the tension in their shoulders and the set of their jaws. Surely, refusing them would be worse than accepting your fate.
Inhale, exhale. Nice and slow to steady your nerves. You shift in the seat, hands now flat on the table before you. It’s only cool against your palms for a moment before the wood warms and the grain becomes evident.
“If I say no, it’ll turn ugly,” you summarize, hating how they both nod, “but if I say yes and I’m not happy with my new life?”
There’s a flicker of something soft in Rogers’ eyes as he reaches out to take out to take your hand. The gesture is repeated by Laufeyson and you’re astounded by how different their hands look and feel. Both big, one is more slender, soft, and cool, while the other is broader, warm, and calloused.
“We understand your trepidation,” Laufeyson assures you.
Rogers nods. “We’ll be good to you.”
Now, if only you knew what their definition of “good” was. Still, you find yourself nodding along.
“I cannot possibly make an educated choice between the two of you,” you hear yourself say, “so you’ll have to learn to live with each other.”
You hear Rogers’ nasal intake of breath, see Laufeyson’s free hand flex. They shoot each other a short glance but their attention is back on you in a heartbeat.
Everything that follows is a blur: they have you close up the cafe, barely allowing you to send a text to your boss to warn that you’ll be gone and that you are sorry. Then they walk with you to your home, both of them busy on their phones arranging for moving boxes to be delivered and for the best real estate agent to clear their schedule for the rest of the day.
At your little apartment, they allow you the privacy to change out of your work clothes before sweeping you into a taxi – seemingly the only neutral vehicle they could agree on rather than any one of the men having to accept a ride from the other.
Squished between the men on the backseat, you’re thankful that they keep their hands to themselves at least for a while longer – no, you have no hope that will last but for now it feels like you only have your own body left under your control and it makes the air scratch in your lungs as if wanting to escape on a scream. Still, you keep quiet.
The first place you drive to is on the edge of downtown and it isn’t hard to guess that it’s right on the border between Rogers’ and Laufeyson’s turfs, making it possible for both men to come and go without “trespassing”.
The apartment is a penthouse and the real estate agent that’s waiting for you is babbling about the view and the spaciousness as she shows it off. You have a hard time focusing on what she says even though you try. It doesn’t matter, though: you can’t see yourself living in a place like this because as fancy as the apartment is, it’s also devoid of any soul. So by the end of the tour, you just shake your head softly and the two mobsters sweep you out the door and on towards the next place.
A brownstone near a park. Three floors and a little garden out back. Kids that play in the street which makes you nauseous at the idea of bringing the mobsters into their neighbourhood and so you refuse to even finish the tour before you quietly ask to leave. You know you’ll have to chose something at some point but it can’t be this.
Another street in the liminal space between the men’s hunting grounds. Tall buildings with old facades and parisian roofs that hold yet another penthouse – this time with a roof top terrace – where a new real estate agent awaits, nervously wringing his hands until he spots the men whose presence reducing him to an ass-licking wimp. You don’t blame him.
And somehow, even if just for a moment, this place distracts you from your situation as you wander through the rooms. Despite the current emptiness, it’s easy to envision what it could end up being with furniture – even if you hesitate in the bedroom at the idea of the size of the bed needed. Will Laufeyson and Rogers be able to share a bed?
“Do you like it here?” Rogers asks softly under the real estate agent’s ramblings about flooring materials.
Do you? It’s not anything you had ever thought you’d achieve in your wildest dreams but...yes.
“I do,” you admit quietly.
Laufeyson has overheard your answer and with a nod he turns to the frazzled man trying to sell the place. “We’ll take it.”
“You...oh...lovely!”
---
They tell you that you can bring over whatever furniture from your old place you might want to keep but frankly, IKEA is not the provider of anything particularly sentimentally valuable and, you figure, you might as well get the most out of this situation as possible, so you opt for the exhaustive project of shopping for new furniture in the days to come. Sure, some of your things will be needed to tide the gap until the new stuff has been chosen and delivered but you will be in charge of decorating and furnishing the apartment as you want and you grab at that frail feeling of control.
Control.
What an absurd notion to long for when you’ve signed yourself over to your new fate, but it is what you want to regain nonetheless, and as you lie awake that night in your own bed – alone for the last time – you realize that you will have to learn to play their game if you want to remain sane. You will have to study the men, understand how things work in their world. Not to become them, but to beat them at their own game. You will have to be careful, subtle...but maybe one day you can thrive again.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Warnings: Angst, toxic relationship, possessive Nick, confrontation
Words: 300 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles
Prompt: June 10th - “Every night’s another reason why I left it all.”
You should have known Nick would find you.
A rented room two towns over, cash payment, false name at the desk. It had felt clever for almost six hours.
Then the knock came.
Not loud. Not frantic.
Certain.
You opened the door with your bag already in your hand, and there he stood in the hallway, coat dark with rain, jaw tight.
“You ran.” his eyes fixed on you as they narrowed down with the one betrayal.
You swallowed hard “I left.” Correcting.
“Without a word.”
“I wrote a note.”
His mouth hardened. “That was a coward’s exit.”
The sting landed, but you were too tired to bleed for him anymore.
“You don’t get to call me a coward when staying with you meant disappearing piece by piece.”
Nick stepped inside before you could stop him, presence filling the cheap little room until it felt smaller than it had any right to be.
“You think this is freedom?” His eyes swept the peeling wallpaper, the single bed, the bag clutched in your fist. “This?”
“I think it’s a start.”
Something shifted in his face. You’d really wounded him.
“You were not unhappy every night.” His gaze burned.
“No,” you agreed, voice breaking despite yourself. “Some nights I loved you so much it scared me.” You didn’t stop the words “But every night’s another reason why I left it all. Every secret. Every lie. Every time I woke up beside you and wondered what part of me I had traded to stay.”
Nick went still. For one breath, you thought he understood. Then he reached for your bag taking it from you.
“No.” You pleaded “Nick.”
“You can hate me in the car.”
“I’m not going with you.” You wouldn’t go back
His smile was ruined and beautiful. “Yes, you are.”
Warnings: Married fluff, interrupted intimacy, parenting chaos
Words: 300 words
A/N: Entry for June Jukebox Scribbles over @societynsoelsscribbles connected to this and this
Prompt: June 9th - “Like when you said you felt so happy you could die.”
Bucky kissed you like the morning would go on forever. Slow. Warm. With just that little bit of hunger behind it, his hand holding your cheek and the other curled around your hip, dragging you closer under the blankets. His hair was sleep-mussed, his jaw rough against your cheek. But when he made that low, pleased sound when your fingers slipped into it, you almost moaned.
“Door’s locked?” he murmured against your mouth.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Kids still asleep?”
“Should be.” That was as far as hope got.
Something crashed down the hall. A small voice shouted, “I didn’t do it!”
A second voice immediately yelled, “YES YOU DID!”
You and Bucky froze, mouths still touching.
Then came a thump.
Silence….The terrible kind.
Bucky exhaled slowly through his nose. “Nope.”
“Nope,” you agreed, already laughing into his shoulder.
He rolled onto his back with the long-suffering sigh of a man denied by his own offspring far too many times. “Remember how excited we were when they were on the way?”
You propped yourself up on one elbow, grinning. “Like when you said you felt so happy you could die?”
“Yeah.” He stared at the ceiling. “Turns out that feeling isn’t infinite...” he joked
You smacked his chest, laughing. “Bucky.”
“What? I love them. I would die for them.” Another suspicious bang sounded. His eyes closed. “I just didn’t think it’d hoping death would be before breakfast.”
You kissed his shoulder. “We’ll be sorry when they’re older and don’t need us.”
His expression softened at that, even as another shout echoed down the hall.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “We will.”
Then something shattered.
Bucky sat up quickly. “But today ain’t that day.”
You watched him grab sweatpants, grumbling as he went.
“Remember we love them!” You called as he went out the door.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
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