𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ✔️

i'll be back (mob!arvin)

request (summary): anon: mob arvin x reader where reader comes home from work to tell him that somebody groped her and he gets all protective or something?

word count: 0.8k

warnings: language, violence, tw: sexual assault— please read at your own risk!

edited: kind of a shitty ending sorry jehfse

a/n: i am LIVING for mob!arvin russell rn. how have we not come up w this. seriously,, like ksdjfhsdb. also ive never posted a fic w/o a header of gif this is weird lol

—

You inhale deeply and shakily attempt to unlock the front door of your house. You drop the keys and curse to yourself, picking them right back up. You exhale and try to shake off the utter shock and disbelief you're feeling due to previous events at work. You finally lock the door and allow yourself in, sliding down the door as you close it.

"Hey, darlin'— doll? What's wrong," Arvin walks down from upstairs, his previous soft expression turning into a concerned one as he glances at your poor state.

"O-Oh, it's nothing honey. Just— just work things y' know," you laugh timidly and wave your hand in dismissal.

He sighs heavily and walks over, holding out his hands. "C'mere. Come on, up," he motions for you to grab his hands. You let out a quiet huff and oblige, giggling as he swoops you up in his arms. "Would you like a drink, baby?" he asks while holding you close to his chest.

"Yeah, that sounds nice. Thank you, lover," you whisper softly and smile at the man before you. Who would've thought? This goddamn mobster, a complete softy for his kin. You knew that of course, but everyone else would think you're mad. Most mobsters in this day didn't care much about their family or lovers, treated them like accessories or belongings. You're blessed with Arvin, who grew up loving and defending his loved ones like no other leader out there.

He places you down on the couch and walks over to grab some whiskey. Once he finishes pouring the two of you glasses to drink, he sits right next to you and hands you a glass. You gingerly accept it and grasp the glass ever so lightly, your mind still in a daze of the experience.

"Flower? You're scarin' me a bit not gonna lie," he mutters and drops his hand onto your thigh, gently squeezing it. "Talk to me, I'm here for you."

You flinch at his touch and shake your head for a moment. Arvin immediately pulls away and looks at you with eyes full of worry and shock. You've never flinched at this touch, never. Anxiety began to bubble up inside of the both of you as tension rose in the air.

Not realizing your eyebrows were knit together so tight it looks as if you're in pain. You close your eyes and the memories flash through your mind like a film. You open them, tears now present in your doe eyes as you glance back at Arvin. Your lips quiver as you open your mouth and begin to tell him what had happened at work.

"You've been doing so well, Mrs. Russell. Excellent work might I say," your boss praised as he walked you to his office.

You smiled happily and hugged some files to your chest. "Is that so? Thank you very much, I work hard for this company," you beamed.

"Course! We've all noticed, and I say you should be rewarded for your efforts," he replied and moved towards his desk, leaning upon it. "Come come, sit. I must tell you."

You quickly sit and look up at him excitedly. You had a feeling that promotion was on your way. "Yes, sir?"

He smirked and took a seat next to you, shaking his head while letting out a quiet chortle. "I want to give you a promotion!"

"Oh! How kind of you—"

"But, I do have one more task for you," he said lowly, his voice almost purring in a way.

Blinded by the eagerness and joy of a promotion, you only nodded and leaned in. "What is it, Mister?"

He smirked and placed his hand on your thigh, squeezing your skin firmly. You had let out a gasp and before you could rip away the disgusting man had grabbed your face.

"H- He then," you stammered as tears stream down your cheeks. "He did, he did horrible things. I- I feel disgusting, like a whore—"

"No. You're not a damn whore, far from it. Trust me," Arvin cut you off and downed the rest of his drink. He sighed begrudgingly as he placed his glass aside and ran his hands through his suit to feel for something. He took out his pistol and cocked it, checking to see if there were any bullets left. He slams the magazine back into the gun, stuffs it into his back pocket, and stood up swiftly.

He leans down and presses a long, warm, and loving kiss against your temple. "How bout you relax, finish your drink, run a bath, and sleep. When I come back home, I'll make dinner. How's that sound, sweetheart?" he murmurs against your skin while holding the back of your head. Too stunned to reply you only nod and smile weakly at your husband. "I'll be back," he presses one last kiss to your head and walks off. Knowing all too well what he was about to do, you nod acknowledging with a small grateful smile and watch him walk off.