hetalia_kink | Hetalia Kink meme part 15

In which Ivan Braginsky is the head of the Russian Mafia and falls in love with charismatic, naive Alfred F. Jones. What I would like to see is them falling in love and Vanya trying to hide his obsessive assassin sister, his life as a part of the mafia, and all of it getting in the way. Alfred is completely unknowing, though at times he suspects something is up, but falling in love with the on-the-surface rich, wonderful, amazing Ivan. Then I'd like to see his reaction to discovering that he is part of the mafia.

Bonus~
- He discovers he's part of the mafia because a rival mafia ::GERMANITALIANMAFIA:: discovers their relationship, kidnaps Alfred, and uses him as leverage for... something. I'm uncreative :P
- There's a wedding scene in there (I'm a sucker for weddings andifAlfredwasinadressforsomestrangereasonnoiwouldn'tbeadversetothateither.)
- Other Hetalia characters are thrown in there (the Baltics, yes, but I mean others, that I might not suspect, and Prussia xD).

Mafia Drama and Crime are musts, but no deaths for Ivan and Alfred. Close calls are okay though :3 Thanks anons!

Bratva means 'brotherhood', a word used for various Russian crime syndicates, like the Solntsevskaya Bratva in Moscow. It seemed like a nifty word for a title, anyway.

Ivan tensed when he heard his bedroom door open. He wasn't on edge because he didn't know who the intruder was. Quite the opposite. It was because he did know, and it creeped him out every time. And not much creeped him out.

Without any sound or warning, slender arms slipped around him. She moved on silent feet; she always did. It went with the job. “Brother...”

Ivan swallowed at the husky way she said that word. “You're back.”

“Yes.” Natalia stepped around him, dark smile marring her otherwise sweet appearance. With her slight figure, long flowing hair, and childish outfit, only those who already knew her would guess her true nature. “I finished what you asked of me.”

A smile spread across Ivan's face. “The snitch?”

“Taken care of.”

“Excellent. Good job, Nata.”

She gave him a pleased, slightly hopeful look.

“I have another job for you.”

“Tell me,” Natalia said promptly.

“From the owner of that gentleman's club. The Dollhouse.”

“The Dollhouse,” she repeated, eyes narrowing and smile dropping into a frown. “That strip club is owned by Mr. Beilschmidt.”

“Yes.”

“You know his brother is with the Italians!” Natalia hissed.

“I know that.” Ivan smirked. “Ludwig is with the Italians. And now his brother owes us a favor...”

“Ahh.” Natalia giggled. “Splendid. All right, who is it?”

“A gang of thugs. They call themselves the East Side Boys. They have apparently been causing trouble in Mr. Beilschmidt's establishment.”

“I see. A mob war, then?”

Ivan snorted. “Hardly. They are merely a gang of young punks. The world would be better off without them.”

“I will see to it.” Quick and silent, as her movements always were, Natalia simultaneously stood on tiptoe and tugged Ivan down by his scarf to kiss him. He suppressed a shudder.

After watching his sister leave, Ivan himself wandered out of his ornate bedroom. He had other things to attend to. He strolled through the vast hallways of his home, locating the men he was searching for seated in the game room playing poker, surrounded by alcohol and music.

“Toris,” Ivan said. “Eduard. You're needed.”

“What is it?” Toris said, tossing his cards aside.

“Go visit Wallingford Cleaners.”

Eduard, fan of cards still held before his face, raised an eyebrow. “Do you need some dry cleaning done?”

Ivan sighed, running a hand through his pale hair. “No. But they are quite late in their payment for our protection.”

“We're on our way.” The pair stood, and Ivan turned to leave. He was pretty sure that was all the business that needed taking care of for the time being. Satisfied, he walked down to the kitchen, to the bar, and poured himself a glass of vodka. The liquid burned its usual path down his throat and he smiled, content.

He had just started in on his second glass when the doorbell rang. Frowning, Ivan set the full glass down. He was the closest to the front door, so he approached it on silent feet and glanced out the peephole. He frowned when he was confronted by the sight of a friendly grin and cardboard box. “Yes?” he said, tugging the door open a crack. “Did somebody order a pizza?”

“Hey,” the delivery boy said, “that's my line, man. Are you Toris?”

“Ah. No.” Ivan noticed the logo on the box. It was an Italian place Toris had grown fond of. Not to mention one of the few Italian joints in town not under their jurisdiction. Ivan patted his pockets. “Come in, let me find my wallet.”

“Sure.” The boy stepped inside, shutting the front door with his foot. Ivan led the way. Uncomfortable with the silence—broken occasionally by the boy's humming—he tried making idle chitchat. “So. You have been in the pizza delivery business long?”

“Nah. Just started recently. It pays okay, though not as much as my night job. I also tend bar at The Hideout.”

“Two jobs.” Hard work was something Ivan could appreciate. The boy looked young, though. Ivan imagined he would look even younger without his glasses. “Do you go to school around here?”

“Nah,” he said again. “My brother does, though. We graduated high school last year and he moved here to go to college, so I came with him. I was gonna join the Air Force right outta school, I've always wanted to, but y'know. Our parents—they're good parents! Don't get me wrong!—but they're the type of parents who are all 'You're an adult now, you're on your own!' So I decided to put off the Air Force for a year or two and work to help out my brother so he has more time to study.”

Ivan held up the wallet he had retrieved, blinking at the talkative boy. He hadn't really asked for his life story... “So you put off your dream to work two thankless jobs to help your brother.” He had to admit, that was somewhat impressive.

“Oh, I wouldn't say that,” the boy said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I get thanked sometimes! Oh, it's fifteen bucks.”

Ivan nodded, pulling a ten and a five out of his wallet. “What did you say your name was?”

“Me? I'm Alfred F. Jones!” He set the pizza on the table with a grin, eyes sparkling. They were pretty, Ivan realized. His bright blue eyes and golden hair reminded Ivan of wheat fields and sunny skies. The very type of imagery that had driven him to move to that country in the first place. “You?”

“Me?” Ivan blinked, before understanding dawned. “Ah, right. I am Ivan Braginsky.” He tugged another bill out for the tip, a hundred, and passed the money to Alfred.

“Thanks, man. Oh, hey...” Alfred's smile fell. “I can't make change for that.”

“I know. That is for you.”

“Wha—hey. I can't-”

“You will,” Ivan said, eyes narrowing.

Alfred swallowed, staring up into Ivan's eyes. “Oh. Y-yeah. Thanks, man! Damn...”

Ivan glanced down at the large pizza on the table, hoping Toris chose decent toppings. The delivery boy hadn't left yet. For some reason, Ivan didn't mind. “Your jacket is nice. Is it old?”

Alfred's face lit up. “My grandfather was a World War II fighter pilot. He gave it to me when he died.”

“Is that what led to your future career choice?”

“One of the reasons. What do you do? Something good I bet. Doctor? Lawyer?”

“I... run a business.”

To his relief, the boy did not press for details. “Cool. So hey, I guess I better get back to work.”

Ivan nodded. “Goodbye, Alfred.”

“Bye!” The boy waved cheerfully, and walked off in the general direction of the front door.

Ivan retrieved his second glass of vodka, and seated himself at the table, flipping open the box. Pepperoni and mushroom. Good enough. He helped himself to a couple slices, picking mushrooms off and setting them aside. He turned the television on, occasionally giggling at the news as they reported on acts of violence.

And all the while, he kept finding himself thinking of blue eyes.

This is great! I love Ivan in control and Alfred is so sweet! It's just so him to set aside his dream to help the people he loves!

Seconding anon already loves this! I love how there's so many characters in there already - so Toris and Eduard are in the mafia too? I wonder about Raivis~

Alfred is unbelievably cute! Natalia creepy as ever xD And Ivan is simply love <3 So looking forward to the next chapter!

*swoons* wonderful, anon!

This is off to an excellent start. I love menacing-but-not-evil Ivan <3

Woah, this is an amazing start! I love how you characterized Ivan - scary, but has a side to him that's willing to give out hundred dollar tips to delivery boys. Something tells me that Russia is going to order pizza a bit more often.

I am definitely following this!!

wooooooah...very badass start!!

Yes--your Natalia is terrific. The writing for her scene in the first few paragraphs was stunning, and terrifying--much like her.

Ivan is great. The making of a truly awesome crime lord--cold when it comes to cracking down and punishing deviants, but not unnecessarily cruel. And Alfred! Aww, I can't wait to see how their relationship pans out~

Ivan took a deep, shaky breath, struggling to keep his composure as he left the large sterile building. God, what a nightmare the last couple weeks had been.

First was Natalia. Oh, she had completed her job as efficiently as always, but the gang members had been surprisingly tough, leaving her injured enough to require a hospital stay. But they were dead, and she would be fine.

They were not so sure about Raivis. Their youngest member, still practically a kid, the son of a dear friend, had been shot while out the other night. They did not even know by whom, that would have to wait until he woke up. Assuming he did.

And because life just had to throw that cherry on top, Ivan's favorite horse, which he had a lot of money riding on, came in last.

Ivan threw one last dark look at the hospital, then turned to his waiting limo. The driver asked if they were to be heading home as Ivan passed, and he grunted an affirmative as he slipped inside. He helped himself to the limo's small bar as they pulled away, swirling the clear liquid around in its bottle, ready to lose himself in oblivion for the night.

On impulse, Ivan set the bottle away and gave the driver new instructions. He honestly had no idea why he did it. Probably, he reasoned, because it was a bar in town he knew the name of, but the owners did not know him. That was it. He wanted to drink in a bar atmosphere without being recognized by somebody who was aware of his activities.

That was the reason, exactly.

Ivan made sure his money was safely tucked away as the limo rolled to a halt. He checked the mirror to make sure his appearance was up to par. Not bad. Suitable for public. Satisfied, he stepped out to face the brick building, a sign above the green awning declaring it The Hideout. Not a high class joint, but not a dive, either. Hoping it wasn't too crowded, Ivan tugged the door open and stepped in.

The place had a mellow, homey feel to it, all wooden floors and paneling, sparkling bottles lining the wall, patrons seated at the long bar or chatting together on chairs or booths.

Ivan stepped closer to the bar, immediately recognizing the bartender—in the middle of muddling mint at the bottom of a glass—as the delivery boy from a couple weeks ago. “Excuse me.”

“Just a moment.” The boy—Alfred—set the glass down and grabbed a bottle of rum to add to the drink. “There we go.” A bit of ice, a sprig of mint, and Alfred handed the drink to its waiting owner. “Okay. What can I do—oh!” His face broke into a grin. “Hey, I remember you. Igor?”

“Ivan.”

“Yeah! I'm Alfred. Remember me? Well, sure you do, if you remember me telling you about this place. You do, don't you? Or is it a coincidence?”

“I remember,” Ivan said. “I wanted to see what it was like here.”

“Pretty nice, huh?” Alfred made a sweeping gesture.

“It is. Are you even old enough to drink?”

“Hey, I'm old enough to tend bar. I'm just not supposed to sample the goods.” Alfred winked. “So what can I get ya? Mojito? Cosmo? Daiquiri?”

Ivan grimaced. “Just vodka, please.”

“Just vodka?”

“Please.”

“You're the boss.”

Ivan grimaced again at that particular phrasing. He watched the boy work, fetching a bottle and glass, pouring, setting it down... Ivan picked the glass up with a smile. Chilled, no ice. Perfect.

“So how's the business?” Alfred said, leaning against the bar.

“There has... been some trouble lately.”

“Ahh. That's why you're here, huh?”

“Yes.”

“I don't think I could handle owning my own business.” Alfred wrinkled his nose. “The worst I have to deal with now is the occasional fat guy answering the door naked. Or drunk cougars hitting on me.”

Ivan smiled again. “That would be troubling.” He fought down the urge to offer... assistance... if Alfred's jobs were causing him trouble.

“Hey, y'know. That's life.” There were a few shouted orders, and Alfred set to work mixing some more drinks.

“How is your brother?” Ivan said after a few sips of his vodka.

“Oh, hey, he's cool.” Alfred gave him a grin. “Thanks for asking. He's doing good in school. Always has. I did good, too, but I was more of a B student.”

“I see.”

“Nothin' wrong with that! Here, try this.”

“What?” Ivan turned his gaze to the drink being held out to him. It was toilet bowl cleaner blue, with a skewered pineapple slice and cherry sticking out. “Oh, no th-”

“C'mon, try it!” Alfred held the drink closer to Ivan.

It didn't seem he would be able to convince the boy otherwise. Ivan took the glass and sipped through the straw. It was... fruity and... to be honest, it was kind of good.

“Well?”

He made a noncommittal grunt, handing the drink back. Ivan Braginsky did not consume girly cocktails.

“Well, at least you tried it.” Alfred then winked at a nearby girl and handed the drink to her. She giggled and accepted it, apparently not realizing it had already been sipped from.

Ivan waited until there was another lull in orders, then tried to strike up conversation again. “So, Alfred-”

“Al,” the boy interrupted. “Al is good. Alfred, it's such an old man name, don'tcha think?”

Ivan shook his head. “I had not thought-”

“Well, it is an old man name.” Alfred laughed. He had a pleasant laugh, full of life and happiness. “I was named after my grandfather.”

“Ah yes, you mentioned him before.”

“Yeah, him!” Alfred seemed pleased that his grandfather had been remembered. “D'you have any nicknames? Iv?”

Ivan winced. “I do, but... Ivan is fine.”

“Aww, okay. No Iv?”

“Definitely not.” It sounded like he was calling him 'Eve'. He would never live that down if anybody heard them.

“Well, your name is cool, at least. There's lots of cool Ivans. What do I have? The old butler in Batman.”

“Hitchcock?” Ivan suggested.

“Oh, yeah, him. He's cool.” Alfred sighed. “Also old. And dead. Seriously, I would need a stage name to become famous.”

“I think it is a nice name.”

“You're sweet to say that.” With a grin, Alfred turned to a new customer.

Sweet. When was the last time somebody had called Ivan sweet?

Hell, when was the last time somebody had talked to Ivan like a normal human being? It was refreshing, chatting like one of the guys. He hadn't realized how nice it would be to have a friend who was unaware of his lifestyle. Especially one with such an upbeat, friendly personality. Ivan could already tell that, even if he was the new bartender, the customers were already quite fond of him. The girls especially were hovering close, trying to catch his eye.

Ivan realized Alfred had asked him something, and was patiently waiting for an answer as he poured liquors. “What?”

“I said, do you have any brothers?”

“Oh. No. Two sisters, and a fairly big extended family. No brothers.”

Alfred grinned. “Aww, sisters. Little brother Ivan! Or big brother Ivan?”

“Both.”

“Oh, some of each. I'm the younger brother, myself.”

For some reason, Ivan found himself wanting to learn more about this extroverted young man. It was nice just listening to him talk, the way he sounded so eager to spill out every word. It was certainly helping to keep his mind off the recent unpleasantness, even if only temporarily.

But before he could think of something else to ask, his phone rang. “Excuse me.” He quickly walked to a less populated corner of the bar before answering. “Yes?” Ivan listened for a moment, eyes narrowing. “All right. I'll be there soon.” Work. Of course. He just wanted one relaxing night... With a sigh, he returned to the bar.

“Alfred,” he said before remembering. “Al. I need to go. It was nice talking to you.”

“Aww, so soon?” The boy actually looked disappointed.

Ivan nodded. “Work.”

“All right... Well, come back soon!”

Ivan couldn't stop himself from smiling. “I just might do that.”

-----

“Well. Viktor.” Ivan eyed the trembling man tied to the chair. “Is it true?”

The man violently shook his head. “I... I don't...”

Toris tossed a photograph onto the table. It showed Viktor Kozlov having a rather intimate talk with Sergio Giordano.

“What were you telling him?” Ivan said, small chilly smile terrifying the bound man more than any frown or scowl.

“N-nothing! Really!”

“Then why are you so frightened? The innocent have nothing to fear from me...”

“P-please, boss! I-I didn't... he was just so... Oh god, no!”

Ivan had picked up one of his favorite weapons, an old faucet pipe nobody really wanted to know the origins of. “I have bad news for you, Vitya. You are not leaving this room alive. But how quickly I switch to a nice clean gunshot is up to you. What did you tell Mr. Giordano?” Ivan raised the pipe.

Toris averted his eyes before the first scream.

Viktor and Sergio aren't supposed to be anybody, in case you were wondering. Just random mafia guys.

It keeps getting better and better!

I liked the switch from cute Ivan to badass-mafia-Ivan :D And yeeeah, the the good old faucet pipe makes an appearance!

Alfred is still sooooo cute!! Oh hell I can't wait for the next chapter!
It's just so good!

This really is awesome. I thought the dialog in the bar scene was particularly good, it felt quite natural. I'll definitely be following this!

SOOO COOOOOL.
I'm totally hooked on this story, oh my goodness. You've made both Ivan and Alfred such likable characters.

And ooh, this is so interesting--guh what'll happen next? Their relationship has just barely begun *__*

HNNNGGGGG This is such an amazing fill ♥♥

I'm on the edge of my seat, anon! Update soon!

Ivan using the affectionate form of Viktor right before beating him to death?

HNNNNNN ♥♥♥

That is all

PS: ILOVEYOU

Oh! This just gets better and better! I love the characterizations!

Can't wait for more!

(Me - "Hey reCaptcha, how many times can someone cross Ivan?"

reCaptcha - "once, carill" O.O)

Ah, finally nice to see some terrifying Ivan after all that sweetness...your setting the plot really nicely, and Alfred is cool and cute ^^

I just have to comment on two impressive things: this is a really nice and believable first encounter, where the universe doesn't revolve around one anonymous stranger the character has suddenly fallen in love/lust for no good reason, which is usually the norm; this is exactly the way two guys would talk after meeting delivering/receiving a pizza, and one of them was a customer at the other's bar. Yes. Alfred is nice and open, friendly and accomodating, but also centered around other people, other customers, as befits a good waiter, and Ivan was talking to him about his problems and all.

Second, and my favourite thing: this is the first time I've seen the "making smalltalk" part in detail. Usually, authors of AUs where the characters just met inform us that they made "smalltalk" and asked general questions about the other's life. Then, they learn things about their private lives, etc. The extent of their knowledge is undetermined. However, you actually went through the trouble of building a believable conversation between two guys that just met and are vaguely curious about each other, but one of them is working and the ohter hiding a lot, and thus, you gave us the exact imput that they have about the other's life. Which is generally awesome, but even more so in a fic where criminal activities are concerned.

This looks great

Thank you for all the nice and supporting words, everyone!

Alfred groaned softly as he made his way back to the land of the awake. He lifted his face from the pillow, groggy, realizing he was still on the couch. He frequently just crashed right in the living room of their small apartment the moment he came home from the bar. He only ever had a few hours of sleep a night anymore, and it was catching up with him.

Not wanting to get up (not that he ever did, even back in the days when he got eight or ten hours of sleep), he burrowed deeper under the blanket he knew he had not draped over himself. But soon the smell of coffee reached his nose, and he decided he had better get up and wake himself the liquid way before work.

Alfred rolled off the couch, blanket and pillow following him to the floor, tangling around his legs as he managed to stand. He chuckled to himself as he realized he was still wearing his clothes from the night before.

The night before... He smiled as the memory came back to his muddled mind. And the smile only grew as he repeated the conversation in his head. By the time he reached the kitchen, he was feeling human again.

“You can't keep doing this,” his brother said softly, plunking a plate of toast down beside the coffee mugs. “You're going to run out of steam and keel over. Probably while behind the wheel doing a delivery.”

“Good morning to you, too, Mattie.” Alfred ruffled his hair as he passed—wavy hair grown long, the only real physical difference between them—then dropped onto his chair with a grin.

“I'm serious.” Matthew frowned across the table at his twin.

“I know. We've gone over this a thousand times.”

“Well you...” Matthew trailed off, eyes narrowing. “All right. Who is it?”

Alfred blinked. “Who's what?”

“You know you can't hide anything from me.” A smile crept onto Matthew's face, much to Alfred's relief. He wasn't in the mood for another lecture on his sleeping and working habits. “It's been a while since I've seen that look on your face. So who is it? Someone at work?”

Alfred felt his face grow hot. “It's not like that. We've only met a couple times.”

“Yes?”

There was no use in refusing to talk. Matthew would find a way. And it wasn't like Alfred could refuse him anything, anyway. “I delivered a pizza to his place couple weeks ago. Just happened to mention my night job. And last night, he showed up. We chatted a while.”

Matthew spread jam on a piece of toast. “Mm hm.”

Alfred helped himself to the butter. “I don't know! He's just a really great guy, okay? He's so handsome, and he has the most amazing eyes ever, and he's tall—taller than me!—and he's foreign and sexy, and smart and sophisticated, and very nice, and-”

“Are you gonna ask him out?” Matthew interrupted.

Alfred sputtered, grateful he hadn't started eating or drinking yet. “Of course not! We've only just met. Not to mention I have no idea what team he bats for. You don't just ask random guys out, that's a good way to get your ass kicked!” He cut off further conversation by eating, devouring his toast like a starving wolf. But by the time he finished, he felt the need to defend himself further. “An amazing guy like that probably has lots of women. And besides, that might have been a one time visit, I might not ever see him again. And yeah, I only just met the guy, it's not like-”

“Okay, okay.” Matthew was smiling. “Foreign, you said?”

Alfred nodded. “Russian!”

“Oh, hot.”

“I know, right?” Alfred took a long drink of coffee, relaxing as the bitter liquid warmed him. “So I'm not holding my breath. But it would be nice to talk to him again.”

Matthew nodded, rising from the table. He wandered around, retrieving Alfred's day clothes from where they had been tossed the previous evening. “We're not done talking about this, you know.”

Alfred groaned. No, they were never done with that. At least, Mattie never was. “I really don't-”

“Do you honestly think you can do this for a few years, Al?”

“I'm still getting used to it! I'll be fine.”

“You like the bar job better, don't you? I still say you could just do that.”

Alfred heaved a sigh, setting his coffee mug down. “We have been over this fifty billion times. I won't have you getting all into debt long before you even have to start paying back your loans, which we also need to save for. And you're taking an assload of hard classes, and you spend all your time doing schoolwork and studying. You can't have a job, too!”

“Al...” Matthew came up behind him, resting his cheek in Alfred's hair. “You don't belong here, trapped. You're supposed to be free.”

He couldn't help but smile at that. “I know. But I'm okay. The sky isn't going anywhere, the Air Force isn't gonna fill up.” Alfred finally stood, accepting his outfit from Matthew. “C'mon, I have tonight off from The Hideout. We can hang out and watch movies and stuff after I'm done with Lombardi's.”

Matthew gave a wavering smile. “On your night off you should be catching up on your rest.”

“I'll do that, too!”

“Promise?”

“I promise!” Alfred gave his brother a friendly clap on the shoulder, ignoring his wince, and headed for the bathroom to get ready. “I swear, Mattie, you're gonna worry yourself to death long before anything ever happens to me.”

----

“What do you mean you don't know?” Ivan growled, then instantly regretted it when Raivis flinched away.

“I didn't see,” the boy mumbled. “It was dark out. I walked out of the club, saw a flicker of movement in the dark, heard a shot, and then I hurt and that's all I remember.”

It wasn't enough to go on, even to figure out if Raivis had been specifically targeted or not. He could very well have just walked out into a...

Ivan blinked. “What club?”

Raivis looked away, apparently discovering something interesting on the bare hospital wall. “The Dollhouse?”

“What.” He didn't even make it a question.

“Well... now that Gil's kinda on our side, he said-”

“You went to The Dollhouse.”

Raivis had a look on his face that seemed to say he wished he had never awakened. “I was just curious.”

Great. It was bad enough the kid—not even 16 yet—drank like a fish. Now he was getting into adult clubs. His father was going to be thrilled. Ivan decided to choose something else to berate Raivis about. “You know that place is in their territory.”

“I know.”

“It probably was them.”

“I guess it could have been.”

Ivan's eyes narrowed, and Raivis cringed again. The Russian turned to leave.

“W-wait!”

“What?” Ivan muttered.

“Don't go after them. Okay? We don't know it was them.”

Ivan eyed the injured boy, not answering.

“Please?”

“I will go where I wish.” If Raivis had been in that part of town, what were the odds that it wasn't one of the Italians?

“If you-”

“And don't think we are done. Once you're out of the hospital...”

Raivis quivered. Good. He should be scared.

As should those bastards. Ivan was convinced it was them. As he stalked out of the hospital, he felt for the guns he had hidden away. Just an old habit, he knew they were there. Smiling darkly, Ivan returned to his limo.

And once again, he found himself giving the wrong directions to the driver. Dammit, he was in a dangerous mood. Raivis was right to worry; Ivan was going to do something stupid. He needed to let off some steam, and he needed to do it soon.

And so, he again found himself in front of an inviting brick building, finding himself looking forward to just chatting with a normal friend. To having a good drink, and a laugh. To learning the life story of someone who had had a relatively normal life, and who talked to Ivan like he too was normal.

The interior of the bar was still crowded. Ivan smiled to himself when he caught a flash of blond hair behind the busy bar. He stepped closer, narrowly avoided a man somehow carrying what must have been six mugs of beer.

A few guys at the bar made obscene catcalls at the bartender, and Ivan scowled. He stormed closer, and one person turned and walked away, giving him a better view.

Oh.

Ivan felt a stab of disappointment. The blond hair he had noticed was actually quite long, and its owner had endowments that almost rivaled Ivan's older sister. Well, sure, everybody had days off. Not him, of course, but people who had normal jobs. Ivan shoved the disappointment away, deciding that he was relieved instead.

Relieved, of course. Coming in two nights in a row, that would seem creepy. Talking to the friendly young man was nice, Ivan did not want to alienate him. So yes, he was definitely relieved. He could come back in a couple days, instead. If he decided to. He didn't have to. But just in case he wanted to for some reason, he could come back later, and not seem quite so creepy.

Ivan left the bar, returning to the chilly night. A light drizzle had started during the brief time he was inside, and he shivered. He hated the cold. He hurried toward his limo, feeling again for the reassuring weight of his various weapons. The driver asked where he wanted to go now.

Ivan smiled grimly at him. “Little Italy.”

I loved the exchange between Raivis and Ivan. You could just "feel" the tension oozing between them. And my god, Alfred, you're going to work yourself to death! Listen to your brother! D:

I'm still loving this fill, anon!! Please, please update soon :D -sitting on the edge of her seat in anticipation-

X3 this is so cute. I really like how tired your Ivan is. Also I like your Canada.

I really like this!

Russia/America, Mafia!AU~

Bratva 1a/??

Bratva 1b/??

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Bratva 2a/??

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God bless believable first encounters <3

Bratva 3a/??

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