#Rustic Mafia

[anakinstwinklebunny]

hear me out…

mafia!anakin opens a café as a laundering front and hires reader who is completely clueless to what her boss does…?

ps i feel like i’ve sent a bajillion suggestions for bunnytine’s (it’s literally 2 pls-) but i hope it’s not annoying you sksk

- 🐮

𝐀 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐭 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭..

PAIRING: mafia!anakin x f!innocent!baker!reader

You loved working at Skywalker Coffee.

The rustic wooden counters, the smell of fresh cinnamon rolls in the morning, the little bell that jingled whenever someone walked in..

And the owner?

ANAKIN SKYWALKER.. honestly you weren’t sure how he ended up running a café. He never smiled, always wore black, and spent more time sitting in the back, ordering only a black coffee. No sugar. No cream. It had to be hot, not warm. He would sent it back.

But, no matter how suspicious he was, how weirdly annoying he was, he paid well. And what was more important to you, he let you bake whatever you wanted. You just had to make a profit out of it.

And he definitely made your stomach do weird things whenever he looked at you.

So your job was very simple:

Take orders. Bake desserts. And under no circumstances, ever, go downstairs. To which you had no idea why. But anakin was weirdly strict about it.

“The downstairs storage is off-limits,” he had told you on your first day, blue eyes piercing you in half. “If I ever catch you down there, you’re fired.”

That was all he said, really. No further explanation. No more to say. And since you were a good employee, a sweet girl, someone who didn’t break rules, you listened, and instead, focused on finishing the orders.

You experimented with croissants on Wednesdays, made different type of brownies on Fridays, Mondays were always sugar-free planned. In the middle of it all, you perfected your scones, decorated cakes with frosting flowers while the café buzzed with popular activity.

Except… the customers were always a little weird. Too many rich men in tailored suits walked in and out. They never ordered much—just black coffee, a pastry here and there. They always nodded at Anakin, like there was some silent understanding between them.. they always, at the same time almost, headed downstairs, to the very place you were depraved from going

Yet you never questioned it. Because why would you? It's not like anything bad happened here, or downstairs ...

You were icing cupcakes when you heard the crash, the sharp voices, the slam of the furniture downstairs. Your heart stuttered, frosting bag slipping from your fingers as you turned your head to the side, breath catching.

The café was already closed. No customer waiting for you to pick up their order, just nothing...

You knew you shouldn’t.

You knew he’d be furious if he caught you snooping. But that still didn't stop you from going downstairs...to take a small, as quiet as you could, steps, with your hand supporting you on the cold wall.

Stupid girl

You couldn't really hear everything. Just Anakin's dangerous rasp that was sharp with a threat that made your skim prickle. he growled, tone soft yet oh, so deadly, “and I’ll cut your fucking hands off.”

Your fingers tightened on your apron.

You shouldn’t even be this close.

But then the Anakin turned around and you could see him more clearly—broad shoulders, dark suit stained with blood, eyes wild and nothing like the soft grins he gave you over the counter.

His gaze snapped to you immediately, and you saw it. Saw how his eyes narrowed, how his expression fell to something you could call a disappointment, before he finally decided to speak up first “Angel,” he said, voice low. “What did I tell you?”

You stumbled back, heart hammering. “I—I just—I heard—”

His eyes softened just a fraction—just enough for him to sigh, fingers brushing over his jaw as he crossed the space between you in a few long strides. At first you thought he might hit you but he only cupped your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones with a mocking gentleness that made your breath hitch. “I told you to stay in the kitchen,” he murmured, voice low, gaze flicking over your face like he was checking for bruises, for blood, for any sign that you’d been hurt. But that quickly disappeared. “Can’t you just listen, sweetheart? Now I'm forced to do something I really hate” his gaze drifted to something - or someone - behind you, and before you could react to anything, there was darkness. You felt like you were floating, mind dizzy, not cooperating, just drifting drifting drifting drifting---

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake

[theonottsbxtch]

DONT WANNA BE SAVED | MV1

an: mafia!max i DO want to be saved, please do not mix me up with the main character she's just a bit silly. also single dad!max hmu, yeah? i hope you're aware of how much googling i had to do this for request because i know NOTHING about dressage.

wc: 6.2k

The rhythmic crunch of gravel under the tyres was the only sound that cut through the quiet tension in the air. Max Verstappen drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, his sharp jaw clenched. He wasn’t used to venturing into parts of town that didn’t know his name, but for his little girl, he’d do anything—even if it meant swallowing his pride and knocking on the door of a horse trainer who clearly wanted nothing to do with him.

The GPS barked at him, announcing the final turn. Max squinted through the windscreen at the small, unassuming ranch sprawled out in the middle of nowhere. The place looked sturdy but unpolished, a far cry from the grand estates he usually associated with trainers who were supposedly “the best.” He cut the engine and stepped out, the crisp bite of the afternoon wind tugging at the tailored lapels of his suit.

The barn doors creaked open, and she emerged.

She was nothing like he expected. For someone with a reputation of being the finest dressage instructor on this side of the country, she didn’t look the part. Her hair was loosely tied back, strands falling into her face as she adjusted the cuff of her sleeve. Her boots were scuffed, her hands calloused, and there was a streak of dirt smeared across her cheek. Yet, the confidence in the way she moved was unmistakable—deliberate, purposeful, like she could size him up in a heartbeat and decide exactly how much of her time he deserved.

Max straightened as she approached, his usual commanding air faltering under her cool, appraising gaze. “Mr Verstappen?” she asked, voice calm and low, though there was a slight arch to her brow as she clocked his expensive suit against the rustic backdrop.

“That’s right,” he replied, recovering quickly. “I called about my daughter, Stella.”

“I remember.” Her tone was unreadable as she wiped her hands on her jeans and extended one to him. He hesitated a second too long before shaking it. Firm grip. No nonsense.

“She’s serious about competing,” Max continued, trying to soften the edge in his voice. “I’ve been told you’re the best, and I don’t settle for less when it comes to her.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, almost like a smile, but not quite. “Dressage isn’t about settling or not settling,” she said. “It’s about discipline, patience, and trust. None of which can be bought.”

Max’s jaw ticked at the subtle dig, but he didn’t rise to it. He was here for Stella, not to flex his ego. “You’ll have all the resources you need,” he said instead. “Money isn’t an issue.”

Her eyes flicked to him, sharp as a blade. “Good. Because if your daughter’s going to train with me, I’m going to need more than that.” She turned abruptly, gesturing for him to follow her towards the barn. “I’ll meet Stella, and we’ll go from there. But just so we’re clear—I don’t babysit, and I don’t do miracles.”

Max trailed behind her, a slow smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. She was bold, he’d give her that. Most people were too afraid to speak to him like that. Maybe she really was the best.

His shoes crunched against the gravel as he followed her into the barn. The earthy scent of hay and leather mingled with the faint sweetness of horses, instantly grounding the space. Inside, sunlight filtered through the high windows, casting golden streaks across the straw-scattered floor. A bay mare in one of the stables tossed her head, her ears twitching at the sound of their footsteps.

She leaned against the edge of the stall, absently running her fingers along the edge of the wood. “How old is Stella?” she asked, her voice carrying the clipped efficiency of someone who didn’t waste time on niceties.

“Nine,” Max said, stepping closer. “She’s ridden before, but it’s always been a hobby. Now, she’s ready to take it seriously.”

“Is she?” she asked, glancing at him.

Max frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, is she ready? Or are you?” She crossed her arms, leaning her weight casually against the stable door.

His nostrils flared, but he bit back his instinctive retort. People didn’t question him—not in his world. But this was different. For Stella, he’d let his temper take a back seat. “Stella’s the one who asked. She’s determined, and I support her in whatever she wants.”

For the first time, her expression softened, just slightly. “Good. A lot of parents want this more than the kids. It shows in the way they push them, and that pressure never works. Horses aren’t machines. They pick up on that tension, and it ruins the trust.”

He nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure he liked being lectured. “Trust, discipline, patience,” he said, his voice taking on a dry edge. “I got it.”

Her lips twitched again, and this time he was certain it was a smile, however faint. “You don’t strike me as the patient type.”

Max chuckled, low and sharp. “You’d be surprised. I know when to wait. I also know when to act.”

Something flickered in her gaze at that, but she didn’t let it linger. Instead, she straightened and pushed open the stable door, letting the mare step out. The horse was sleek and graceful, her muscles shifting smoothly under her polished coat.

“This is Luna,” she said, patting the mare’s neck. “She’s my best. If Stella wants to learn, she’ll start with her.”

“Stella doesn’t have her own horse yet,” Max admitted, studying the animal.

“Good. That makes it easier. Luna’s a good judge of character. If Stella’s nervous, Luna will know. And if Luna doesn’t trust her...” She shrugged, leaving the rest unsaid.

Max raised an eyebrow. “What happens then?”

“She doesn’t ride,” she said simply.

He appreciated her bluntness, even if it grated at him. She wasn’t someone he could charm or intimidate, and oddly, that made him more intrigued.

As if sensing his thoughts, she brushed past him, leading Luna to a bridle rack. “Bring Stella by tomorrow. I’ll see what we’re working with.”

“And what about you?” Max asked, his voice dropping slightly, almost testing.

She turned, brow furrowing. “What about me?”

“You seem to have high expectations,” he said. “If Stella’s the one being judged, does that mean you’ve already made up your mind about me?”

Her gaze lingered on him, steady and unflinching. “You’re not the one I’m here to teach, Mr Verstappen. But if you’re asking...” She paused, her lips curving into the faintest smirk. “I’ve met plenty of men like you. You don’t scare me.”

Max tilted his head, his mouth pulling into a slow, deliberate grin. “Plenty of men like me? Somehow, I doubt that.”

The month following his first meeting with her passed in a blur of early mornings, long afternoons, and the kind of quiet determination that Max had to admit impressed him. Stella had taken to the training better than he could have hoped, and her instructor—well, she’d more than lived up to her reputation.

She was tough but fair, demanding excellence without suffocating his daughter’s enthusiasm. Max had watched every session from the sidelines, arms crossed, keeping a respectful distance but always observing. And more than once, he found his attention drifting—not to Stella, but to her instructor.

There was something about her. A kind of grit that didn’t falter, even when she was teaching patience to a headstrong nine-year-old. Her quiet confidence didn’t demand attention; it commanded it. Max had seen plenty of people fake authority, but she wore it like second skin.

He liked that.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was to see her a month later, in a completely different world.

The pounding bass hit him first, reverberating through his chest as he pushed through the crowd. The club was dimly lit, alive with movement—people dancing, drinks clinking, laughter rising over the music. It wasn’t his usual scene, but a meeting had brought him here, one of those backroom negotiations that needed the anonymity of chaos.

He’d wrapped up the deal without trouble, but as he made his way back to the main floor, something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

There she was, behind the bar.

Her hair was down, loose waves brushing her shoulders, and she wasn’t in scuffed boots or faded jeans anymore. Instead, she wore a fitted black top and a skater skirt, a thin chain glinting at her neck under the neon lights. She moved with an easy rhythm, pouring drinks and flashing quick smiles to the patrons leaning against the bar.

For a moment, Max thought he’d imagined it. But then she turned slightly, catching his profile out of the corner of her eye, and froze.

Her eyes widened for just a second—barely noticeable—but enough for him to catch it. She recovered quickly, though, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow as if to say, What are you doing here?

Max didn’t answer her unspoken question. Instead, he made his way to the bar, sliding between two drunken men slouched over their cocktails. He rested his elbows on the polished surface, waiting for her to acknowledge him.

“Mr Verstappen,” she said finally, leaning forward slightly. Her voice was calm, but there was a flicker of something else in her expression—annoyance, maybe, or surprise. “Didn’t think this was your kind of place.”

“It’s not,” he admitted, letting his eyes roam the bottles behind her before settling back on her face. “But it seems I’m full of surprises tonight.”

She snorted softly, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. She placed it in front of him, her smirk sharp. “You look like you need this more than a whiskey.”

Max chuckled, low and rough. “Not here for a drink. Just curious.” He tilted his head, studying her. “Didn’t peg you for the nightlife type.”

“Didn’t think you were paying that much attention,” she shot back, wiping her hands on a bar towel.

“More than you realise,” Max murmured. He wasn’t sure if she caught the softness in his tone over the thumping music, but her eyes narrowed slightly, her posture stiffening.

“I could say the same about you,” she replied, shifting her weight. “What’s the boss of half the city doing in a place like this?”

“Business,” he said simply, straightening. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

She leaned closer, resting her hands on the bar. “You’re full of questions tonight, aren’t you?”

“Just one.” His voice dipped, his gaze unwavering. “Why are you here?”

She rolled her eyes, breaking the tension with a dry laugh. “It’s called having bills to pay, Verstappen. Not all of us have cash to burn. This keeps the lights on when teaching doesn’t.”

Max didn’t miss the edge to her words, and he wondered, not for the first time, just how much she kept buried beneath that sharp exterior. She didn’t need saving—that much was obvious—but the thought of her working this job, with the late hours and the leering patrons, stirred something primal in him.

“How long have you been doing this?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“Long enough,” she said, shrugging. “And I’m good at it. Don’t look so shocked.”

“I’m not shocked.” He paused, letting the moment hang between them. “But I’m not exactly thrilled, either.”

Her expression hardened slightly, and she straightened, putting more distance between them. “Don’t start with that ‘I know what’s best’ routine. I get enough of that already.”

Max raised his hands, palms out in mock surrender. “No routine. Just... noticing things.”

“Noticed enough, then?” she asked, turning away to serve another customer.

For the first time in a long time, Max found himself on uneven ground. He wasn’t sure if he was impressed, frustrated, or just intrigued. But one thing was certain: she had a way of staying in his head, and it was starting to feel less like an annoyance and more like an inevitability.

As she moved down the bar, he lingered, watching her work. No, she didn’t need saving. But the urge to shield her from this world, to pull her away from the late nights and the reckless strangers, was already starting to claw its way to the surface.

And Max Verstappen wasn’t the kind of man to ignore an instinct like that.

For weeks after the encounter at the club, Max couldn’t shake the image of her behind the bar. It wasn’t just the stark contrast to her usual self—confident, commanding, utterly at home in the arena—but the way it gnawed at something deep inside him.

She didn’t belong in that place, surrounded by cheap cologne and drunken hands reaching for more than drinks. The thought of her dealing with that night after night twisted in his gut like a blade.

It wasn’t just about Stella anymore. He’d grown to respect her over the past month—the way she pushed his daughter without breaking her spirit, the way she handled herself with a quiet strength that most people in his world didn’t have.

That respect, though, was starting to blur into something more. And Max wasn’t sure what to do with that.

He finally brought it up on a crisp Friday morning, just after Stella’s session. The three of them stood by the paddock, Luna grazing lazily a few feet away. Stella was laughing at something, her cheeks flushed from the chill and the effort she’d put into the lesson. Max felt a swell of pride watching her, but his gaze kept drifting back to her instructor.

When Stella wandered off to grab a snack from the car, he seized the moment.

“You’ve been doing good work with her,” he began, his voice low and steady.

She gave him a side glance, adjusting the bridle she was holding. “Thanks.”

“You know,” he continued, his tone carefully casual, “I’ve been thinking about your rate.”

Her hands froze for a split second before she turned to face him fully. “My rate?”

He nodded. “You’re worth more than what I’m paying you. A lot more. I’d like to fix that.”

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion flaring immediately. “Fix it, huh?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You’re not charging enough for the kind of work you do. I’m doubling it.”

She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “And what’s this really about, Max? Feeling generous all of a sudden?”

“It’s not generosity,” he said, his jaw tightening. “It’s fairness.”

Her laugh was sharp, almost bitter. “Fairness. Right. Is that what you call pity now?”

His brows shot up. “Pity? You think I pity you?”

“What else am I supposed to think? You see me working a second job and suddenly decide to play knight in shining armour?” She shook her head, a hard edge to her voice. “Keep your money, Verstappen. I don’t need your charity.”

“It’s not charity!” His voice rose slightly, and she blinked at the rare flash of frustration. He took a breath, forcing himself to calm down. “Is it a sin,” he said, his voice quieter now, “that I want to make sure you’ve got a roof over your head?”

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she sighed and leaned against the paddock fence. “You’ve got a hell of a way of showing it,” she muttered.

“What do you want from me?” Max asked, spreading his hands. “You work yourself to the bone here, and then you go to that—” He stopped himself, his voice tight. “That place. And you think I’m just supposed to ignore it? Pretend I don’t care?”

Her lips quirked into a smirk, though there was little humour in it. “Careful, Max. You’re starting to sound like a softie.”

He barked a laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you’re raising a nine-year-old daughter on your own. And her closest friends are her unofficial uncles in the mafia.”

Her brows shot up, and for a moment, her lips twitched like she was fighting the urge to laugh. “That right?”

“That’s right,” he said, his tone lighter now, but his eyes still serious. “And maybe I don’t want to see someone else I—” He stopped, catching himself before he said too much. “Someone I respect running herself ragged.”

She studied him, her gaze softer now, but still guarded. “Max, I’m fine. Really. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, and I don’t need anyone swooping in to do it for me.”

“I know you don’t need it,” he said quietly. “But maybe I need to do it anyway.”

The honesty in his voice left her momentarily speechless. She glanced away, focusing on the horizon. “You’re impossible,” she muttered.

“Maybe,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But I don’t give up easily. Ask Stella.”

“Trust me, I’ve noticed,” she said, shaking her head. “Fine. If you’re so desperate to throw your money around, I’ll let you pay me more. But only because you’ll keep bugging me if I don’t.”

“That’s probably true,” he said with a shrug.

“But,” she added, pointing a finger at him, “if you start thinking this means I owe you something, I will kick you off this property.”

Max grinned, the tension between them easing slightly. “Noted.”

For now, it was enough. But as she walked away, her shoulders straight and her head held high, Max couldn’t help but think that his concern for her was starting to go beyond what he could justify as simple admiration.

And that thought both thrilled and terrified him.

He wasn’t sure when exactly it started happening—the subtle shift from guarded respect to something warmer, more playful. At first, he’d chalked it up to her stubborn streak. She never missed an opportunity to challenge him, whether it was a pointed remark about his suit and tie being out of place at the barn or her light jabs at his overprotective tendencies.

But as the weeks went on, those jabs started to feel less like walls and more like invitations.

It began innocently enough. One morning, Max showed up to Stella’s session with two coffees in hand—one black, the way he liked it, and one sweet and milky, based on an educated guess.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to her as she adjusted a saddle.

She glanced at the cup and then back at him, one eyebrow raised. “What’s this?”

“Coffee,” he replied dryly.

Her lips twitched. “I can see that. What I mean is, why are you giving it to me?”

“Because it’s cold, and I’m not completely heartless,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

She took the cup, sniffed it cautiously, then sipped. Her eyes lit up for a brief second before narrowing. “Let me guess—someone else made this choice for you, didn’t they? No way you guessed right on your own.”

He grinned. “You caught me. Stella might have mentioned you have a sweet tooth.”

“Mm-hmm.” She set the cup on a nearby ledge, her expression neutral. “Thanks, Verstappen. I’ll try not to read too much into it.”

“You do that,” he said, but his smirk lingered for the rest of the morning.

It was then a Wednesday afternoon, and Max had just arrived at the barn when he caught her pulling a boot from a deep puddle of mud.

“You look like you’re having fun,” he said, leaning against the fence with his arms crossed.

She shot him a look, her nose scrunching. “Don’t start. This is your daughter’s fault, by the way. She decided Luna needed a little adventure off the trail.”

“She’s nine,” Max said, his tone mock-defensive. “You can’t hold her responsible for everything.”

She stomped her now-filthy boot back into place and gave him a pointed once-over. “No, but I can hold you responsible. You’re the one who raised her.”

Max laughed, loud and genuine, and it startled her for a second. She recovered quickly, shaking her head as she brushed past him. “You’re lucky I like Stella.”

“Lucky, huh?” he called after her. “I’ll take that as a win.”

The following week Max was standing at the edge of the paddock, watching Stella trot a clean figure-eight, when he felt her step up beside him.

“She’s getting better,” she said, her voice low and even.

“She’s got a good teacher,” Max replied, not looking away from the horse and rider.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her roll her eyes. “Flattery doesn’t work on me, Verstappen.”

“Wasn’t trying to flatter,” he said, turning to face her fully. “Just stating facts.”

She squinted at him, clearly suspicious. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Maybe,” he said, his smirk returning. “Or maybe it’s just that you’re finally starting to warm up to me.”

She snorted. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” But her lips curved into a reluctant smile, and Max couldn’t help but feel like he’d scored a small victory.

By the fourth week, the playful banter had become a regular part of their routine. It was after Stella’s lesson, with the late afternoon sun casting golden light over the barn, that Max finally decided to push the boundary just a little further.

“So,” he said casually, leaning against the fence as she packed away the gear. “What do you do for fun? When you’re not working two jobs and pretending you don’t like my coffee.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder. “Why do you care?”

“Call it curiosity,” he said, shrugging. “Or maybe I’m trying to figure out if you’re even capable of fun.”

She laughed, tossing a saddle pad into the tack room. “I’m plenty capable, thank you very much. I just don’t have a lot of time for it.”

“That’s a shame,” Max said, his voice dropping slightly. “Maybe you should make time.”

She paused, turning to face him fully. Her expression was wary, but there was a flicker of something else—something that made his pulse quicken. “And what would I do with all this hypothetical free time?”

“Well,” he said, stepping closer, his tone careful but deliberate, “you could start by letting me buy you dinner.”

Her eyes widened, just a fraction, before she masked her surprise with a smirk. “Dinner, huh? Is this another one of your attempts to ‘make sure I’ve got a roof over my head’?”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “No. This is me asking you to spend time with me. No strings, no pity money. Just dinner.”

She hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of the bridle she’d been holding. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, his voice softening. “Unless, of course, you’re too scared.”

That did it. Her chin lifted, and her smirk turned into a full-blown grin. “Scared? Of you? Not likely.”

“Good,” Max said, his own smile widening. “How about Friday night?”

She tilted her head, pretending to consider. “Alright, Verstappen. You’ve got yourself a deal. But don’t think this means I’m going easy on Stella.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his chest lighter than it had been in weeks.

As she turned to finish her work, Max couldn’t help but feel like he’d just won the most important negotiation of his life.

Leading up to that Friday night, Max had been on edge all day, and he didn’t know why.

Everything had been going smoothly—Stella’s training, his business, even his tentative plans for dinner. But there was a gnawing unease in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t shake. He’d checked his phone more times than he cared to admit, waiting for a text from her confirming their meeting, but the screen stayed stubbornly blank.

By the time the sun started setting, his patience ran out. Max grabbed his keys and headed for his car, his gut screaming at him to go now.

When he pulled up outside her small cottage, the sight of her truck with its tailgate open and half-packed belongings hit him like a punch to the chest.

He stepped out of the car, his brows furrowing as he called out, “What’s going on?”

She looked up sharply, startled. For a split second, he saw something in her eyes—panic, maybe, or guilt—but she masked it quickly, busying herself with stuffing a duffel bag into the truck bed.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice tight. “Just... handling some stuff.”

Max crossed the distance between them in a few long strides, his tone sharp. “Don’t lie to me. What’s going on?”

“I’m not lying,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “It’s none of your business, Max.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” he shot back, grabbing the edge of the truck bed. “We had plans tonight, and now I find you packing up your life like you’re running from something. Talk to me.”

She let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through her hair. “Look, it’s complicated, alright? I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“You might not,” Max said, his voice lowering, “but I’m not leaving until you give me one.”

For a moment, she stood there, glaring at him like she was debating whether to push him away or tell him to mind his own business. But then something in her resolve cracked.

“Fine,” she muttered. “You want to know? I screwed up when I was younger. Got mixed up with the wrong people—the Tifosi. And now they’ve decided it’s payback time.”

The name hit Max like a freight train. The Tifosi were no joke. Ruthless, calculating, and vindictive, they didn’t let debts slide, no matter how old.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice tight with a mixture of anger and concern.

“Because it’s not your problem,” she said, her tone sharp. “I don’t need you swooping in to play hero, Max. I’ve handled worse.”

“That’s not the point!” His voice rose, frustration bleeding into his words. “You should’ve told me. I could’ve—”

“Could’ve what?” she snapped, her eyes flashing. “Fixed it? Made it all go away? Newsflash, Verstappen: not everything is yours to control. I don’t need to be saved!”

Max’s jaw clenched as her words sank in. He took a step back, his hands gripping the edge of the truck bed so tightly his knuckles turned white. Then, without a word, he grabbed the duffel bag she’d just loaded and yanked it back out.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, her voice rising.

“You’re not running,” he said firmly, throwing the bag into the back of his car. “You’re coming with me.”

“The hell I am!” She stepped forward, trying to grab the bag, but Max blocked her, his voice like steel.

“Yes, you are. My daughter needs an instructor, and I’m not letting her down because of some silly little debt.”

Her mouth fell open in disbelief, anger flashing across her face. “Silly little debt? Are you out of your mind? You know who they are!”

“I do,” Max said, his tone calm but unyielding. “And I know how to deal with them.”

“You don’t understand—”

“I understand plenty,” he cut her off, stepping closer. “You think you’re the only one who’s had the Tifosi breathing down their neck? You think I don’t know what it’s like to owe them?”

Her eyes widened, her anger faltering for the first time.

“I’ve dealt with them before,” Max continued, his voice softer now but no less determined. “And I’m still standing. You don’t have to do this alone.”

She stared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to process his words. Finally, she shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because,” he said, his gaze locking onto hers, “I don’t let people I care about get crushed by this life. And whether you like it or not, I care about you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Then she turned away, her shoulders tense. “Max, this is a mistake. You don’t need to get involved.”

“It’s not a mistake,” he said firmly. “And you’re coming with me, whether you like it or not. End of discussion.”

Before she could argue, he grabbed the rest of her bags, loading them into his car with a finality that left no room for debate.

She stood there, torn between fury and something she didn’t want to name, as Max closed the trunk and opened the passenger door.

“Get in,” he said, his voice steady but not unkind.

For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then, with a resigned sigh, she walked toward the car and slid into the passenger seat.

As Max got behind the wheel, he glanced at her, his expression softening just enough to show her he meant what he’d said.

“You’re not alone in this,” he murmured.

She didn’t respond, but the way her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly told him she’d heard him loud and clear.

The ride back to Max’s estate was silent, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of gravel under the tires. She sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.

Max glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to say something, to fill the tense quiet with words that might reassure her, but he knew better. She wasn’t the type to be soothed by platitudes, and besides, she’d made it clear she didn’t want his help.

Too bad, he thought grimly. She was getting it whether she wanted it or not.

When they pulled into his driveway, the sprawling estate loomed in the moonlight, its imposing structure a sharp contrast to her modest cottage. Max stepped out of the car and rounded to the trunk without a word, hauling her bags out with practiced ease.

“Where’s the rest?” he asked as she stepped out of the car.

“The rest of what?” she said, her tone clipped.

“Your horses.”

She blinked, taken aback. “They’re still at the barn. I wasn’t planning on leaving them.”

Max pulled his phone from his pocket, already dialling. “They’ll be here by morning.”

“Wait—what?” she sputtered, her voice rising. “You can’t just—”

“Watch me,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He spoke briefly into the phone, his words curt and to the point. When he hung up, he turned back to her, his expression calm but firm. “They’ll be transported safely. You’ll have stalls for them here.”

She stared at him, her frustration clear. “You don’t get to make decisions for me, Max.”

He shrugged, hefting one of her bags onto his shoulder. “I just did.”

The house was quiet as they entered, the kind of silence that spoke of thick walls and careful security. Max led her through the spacious halls, his steps sure and unhurried despite the tension in the air.

He stopped at a door on the second floor and pushed it open, revealing a neatly furnished room with warm, neutral tones.

“This is yours,” he said, setting her bags down near the bed.

She glanced around, taking in the plush rug, the antique dresser, and the large window overlooking the grounds. “It’s... nice,” she admitted reluctantly.

“It’ll do,” he said with a faint smirk.

He gestured for her to follow him down the hall, stopping at another door. This time, he knocked lightly before opening it.

Stella’s room was a whirlwind of bright colours and cheerful chaos. Posters of horses adorned the walls, and the bed was covered in a tangle of blankets and stuffed animals.

Stella looked up from where she was brushing her hair, her face lighting up when she saw her instructor. “You’re here!” she exclaimed, bounding over. “Are you having a sleepover?!”

She laughed softly, some of the tension easing from her posture. “Something like that, kiddo.”

“This is so cool!” Stella said, practically vibrating with excitement. “Wait till I tell Uncle Oz—oh, can Uncle Ozzy meet you in the morning? She’ll be so happy!”

Max chuckled, ruffling Stella’s hair. “Alright, alright. You can tell Oscar in the morning. Let her rest she’s just got here. And if anything happens, you call Uncle Lan. Got it?”

Stella nodded solemnly, her big eyes darting between her father and her instructor. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Just for a bit,” Max said, his voice gentle.

She pouted but didn’t argue, which made Max’s heart twist a little. He glanced at her instructor, who was watching the exchange with a quiet intensity.

When they stepped back into the hallway, she turned to him, arms crossed. “Where are you going?”

“Business,” he said simply, heading toward the stairs.

She followed him, her tone sharp. “You mean the Tifosi.”

Max paused, turning to face her. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held an edge of steel. “I said I’d handle it.”

Her jaw tightened. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” he said firmly. “They made it my business the second they came after you.”

She stared at him, her emotions warring between gratitude and frustration. Finally, she sighed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Max’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “I’ve been told.”

And with that, he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the grand staircase as she stood there, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and something she couldn’t quite name.

The clock read just past midnight as Max pulled into the driveway, the quiet rumble of his car breaking the stillness of the night. The meeting with the Tifosi had gone as expected—tense, with more threats than he cared to count—but he’d made his position clear. They wouldn’t touch her. Not if they wanted to keep breathing.

He stepped inside the house, letting out a breath as the familiar warmth of home washed over him. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he moved through the quiet halls. When he reached the living room, the sight before him stopped him in his tracks.

There they were: his daughter curled up on the sofa, her small frame nestled against the armrest, and next to her, her instructor. The TV flickered softly, showing clips of a younger, brighter version of the woman beside his daughter.

He stood there for a moment, watching as the faint strains of applause and commentary played from the screen. The sight of her expertly guiding a horse through intricate dressage routines stirred something in him. But it was the way she slept now, her head tilted back, her features softened in the glow of the TV, that made his chest ache.

Max stepped closer, careful not to wake them. Stella’s head rested against the woman’s arm, her little hand clutching a stuffed horse. Max smiled faintly, his heart swelling as he reached down to scoop his daughter up.

Stella stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open for a moment before closing again. “Daddy?” she mumbled sleepily.

“Shh,” Max whispered, kissing her temple. “Just putting you to bed, sweetheart.”

She sighed contentedly, already slipping back into sleep as he carried her upstairs. After tucking her in, he noticed her water bottle was empty and picked it up to fill it in the kitchen.

When Max made his way to the kitchen, he found Lando leaning against the counter, tidying up a canister of cocoa powder.

“Lando?” Max said, his brow furrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Lando turned, his usual smirk firmly in place. “Emergency call.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Emergency?”

“Your kid called me in a panic because you’re apparently out of hot chocolate powder. Thought the world was ending.” Lando chuckled, placing the canister in its rightful spot. “I brought some over, but they knocked out before I could even make it.”

Max let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Thanks. I owe you.”

Lando waved a hand dismissively. “No big deal. I live for the drama. Besides, it’s Stella. She’s got me wrapped around her finger.”

Max smiled, grateful for his friend’s unwavering presence. “Get home. You’ve done enough.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando said, grabbing his coat. “Good luck with her, though.” He gestured vaguely toward the living room with a knowing look before heading out.

Filling up the water bottle and putting it back in its place Max returned to the living room, finding her still sound asleep on the sofa. The TV had switched to a dim, idle screen, and her breathing was soft and even.

He crouched down beside her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. For someone so fierce and guarded, she looked almost fragile like this. Vulnerable.

Without a second thought, he slipped his arms under her, lifting her gently. She stirred, her head naturally finding its place against his chest.

“Max?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

“It’s me,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

She shifted slightly, nuzzling closer into him. “Thank you,” she whispered, barely audible.

His heart twisted at the simple words, and he tightened his hold on her instinctively.

“Always,” he said softly, carrying her upstairs.

When he reached his room, he laid her down carefully on the bed, pulling the blankets over her. She murmured something incoherent, her lips curving into a faint smile.

Max stood there for a moment, watching her as she drifted back into deep sleep. The weight of the night’s events pressed on him, but so did the warmth of knowing she was safe, here in his home, with his family.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like he wasn’t just protecting someone—it felt like he was building something

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday

[risingoftime]

home sweet home

⤷ mafia!coriolanus snow x housewife!reader: Coriolanus comes home after a long day at work and needs some tlc.

contains: smut mdni 18+, coriolanus being horny af, blood, unprotected sex, p in v, voyeurism, choking, oral (reader receiving), slight orgasm denial, fingering, possessive behaviour, overstimulation, breeding kink? body worshipping? porn no plot.

a/n: lowkey want to write a modern mafia!au series fic of coriolanus snow x reader.

You had just finished mashing the potatoes in the kitchen when the alarm went off on the cuckoo bird timer on your countertop. It was time to take out the whole chicken cooking in the oven. Grabbing your mitts, you took the perfectly roasted chicken to cool on the rack before you heard your name being yelled from the front foyer.

"Honey, I'm home!" Coriolanus called out. His henchmen stood not too far behind, straight-faced and unfazed by his theatrics.

Coriolanus Snow, the most wanted mafia boss in Panem, is a man of power, feared and respected by all. His name invokes terror, and his empire spans the city. Coriolanus was known for his ruthless tactics and cold-heartedness, a force to be reckoned with. But, hidden beneath his hardened exterior is a deviant soul inexplicably drawn to you. And he wasn't timid about it. Your heart still skipped a beat whenever Coriolanus had returned home safely, given his line of work.

When you walked to the front door, Coriolanus stood in his glory in an impeccably tailored suit. His platinum blonde hair was slicked back with no sign of his curls, giving you a clear view of his blue eyes and face. The white rose pinned to his blazer was stained with crimson red blood splatters that painted his white dress shirt into a deep rustic red, blood that partially dried—the only indication of what his day entailed as Coriolanus smiled brightly at the sight of you. Everything else about him remained clean-cut. He resembled what you would imagine an angel of death in a suit.

"Busy day?" you asked.

"Things got a bit messier than I had anticipated, but nothing that I can't handle," Coriolanus unbuttoned his dress shirt and removed his blazer before handing the items to the hired help. The maid offered him a hot sanitization cloth to wipe his hands, and he gladly accepted. Then he pulled you closer to him into a tight embrace, pushing his muscular frame against yours. Coriolanus's hard cock pressed into your abdomen, making it very apparent what he wanted from you. Goosebumps appeared over your skin, and it became difficult to breathe normally as his hands roamed over your body freely, as if it were his for the taking.

"Coryo, we have company." You whispered urgently, attempting to voice your objections, but his lips silenced you. Coriolanus trailed tender kisses along your jawline and down your neck.

"I can't help it," he murmured between kisses, his voice filled with longing and lust. "I missed you so much." You were barely able to keep yourself steady at this point, with your rapid heartbeat, and he knew. Grabbing your waist, he lifts you off of the ground, and your legs wrap around him instinctively. His hands feel huge, gripping your ass to support your weight.

Your body desperately wanted him to fuck you right then and there, but the embarrassing thought of his henchmen hearing your moans and pleas was enough for you to keep your composure. Although, you wouldn't mind if Coriolanus did it anyway.

Something ignites in Coriolanus's eyes when he looks down at your core pressed against his dick. He watches as his hands push you against his cock, creating friction between you. The movement elicits a lewd moan from your lips, "Coryo, please." Coriolanus's Adam's apple bobs in his throat at the sound. He placed you on top of the entryway table and pushed your legs further apart, exposing your wet panties.

"Coryo, they'll see…" You feigned concern, but the truth is that you like to be watched, and Coriolanus was aware of this. His men stood still at the doorway with their gaze ahead, but one slipped up and made eye contact.

Coriolanus grabs your chin and forces your attention back onto him, "let them," he grumbled, his judgement hazy from your effect on him. His actions were calculated, taking one of your legs over his shoulder as he pushed your underwear to the side. Coriolanus shoved two fingers into you, "Ugh, you're so wet, and I haven't even given you my dick yet." You were practically writhing on his hand like a crutch, hypnotized by his touch. Each time was better than the last. It's intense. His thumb massaged your clit at the same speed as his fingers. You were ready to collapse at the ecstasy he brought you from just using one hand. “Such a pretty pussy, all for me.” Coriolanus got off by pleasing you and seized any opportunity to show how genuinely devoted he was to winning you over and showing others you were only his.

"Hmmm, look at the mess you’re making," Coriolanus cooed.

You watched while he played with your arousal between your folds, gathering more of it for lubrication before pushing his fingers deeper inside your cunt. Guiding his lips back to yours, he bit down on your bottom lip, slightly drawing blood and tasting it with his tongue before enticing yours.

“Fuck you make me feel so good.” you exhaled and relinquished all control to him. “Baby, I’m so close,” moaning softly in his mouth.

“No, not yet. They don't deserve to see you." Coriolanus slowed down his speed. You whimpered from his denial of your release. "That's only for me, you're mine." He picked you up again, taking his fingers out of you, ready to take you to bed. But the darn cuckoo bird clucked from the kitchen once more.

"You cooked dinner already?" Coriolanus asked. You nodded shyly, acutely aware that you were not far from cumming in front of an audience. In your peripheral vision, you could see the henchmen adjust their pants in a failed attempt to hide their erection. “I can’t wait to taste what you made,” he said. Coriolanus looked over his shoulder at them and muttered under his breath, “Perverted fucks.” he continued to carry you towards the kitchen. Having his arms wrapped around you made you feel safe and protected.

Coriolanus placed you on top of the kitchen countertop, hooked his index finger around the band of your underwear and tugged them down.

“what are you doing?” you giggled.

“I told you I can’t wait to taste you,” he stated.

“No, you didn’t,” you replied.

“Didn’t I?” He questioned as he lowered his head between your legs. Coriolanus took his time teasing you, lazily dragging his tongue from your inner thigh and inching closer and closer to your exposed cunt until it met its mark. He lapped up your juices, sucking on your clit and flicking it over and over again with the tip of his tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut, overconsumed by bliss.

"Don't stop," you sighed. Coriolanus ate you out as if it was his last meal. Hungrily, licking and slurping your pussy.

"I wouldn't dare," he swears under his breath and groans. “Fuck, taste so good." Your hands tangled in Coriolanus's hair from tugging him closer while you roll your hips across his face. He'd done this countless times, yet this felt different. On his knees, Coriolanus moaned out your name like a prayer, worshipping your body. He moved with vigour and dedication to add to the tension that grew within you. "Ah, Coryo-" your breath was staggered, and your legs clenched and shaken around his head, trapping him there on the edge of the counter. It was too much as your orgasm rippled throughout your body all at once.

Coriolanus reappeared with your fluids still on his chin and lips. While taking you in a passionate kiss, he wasted no time in unbuckling his trousers. Your arousal still dripping from his tongue as he lined his cock up to your entrance. You bounced up and down on his cock, as Coriolanus grinded his waist up to eagerly meet your movements halfway. "That's it, baby girl, just like that." He’s so hard that it almost hurts. Coriolanus couldn’t get enough of it. His fingers dug into your thighs while he fucks you and watches your breast move with each thrust. Coriolanus was aggressive and needy, and you loved every moment of it.

"I— shit, I'm gonna cum," you could feel Coriolanus’s body tremble against yours. "Give it to me. Every last drop," you moaned. Demanding him to surrender you all his body can offer, you would take whatever he yields to you. Riding his cock until Coriolanus couldn’t keep his eyes open, “Baby s’too much,” he slurred. Wet slapping sounds echoed throughout the house, intermingled with your moans. Cumming together. Coriolanus's hand raised around your neck, applying enough pressure to slightly cut off your circulation as he continued to pound into your pussy relentlessly. "Tell me that this pussy is mine," he growled. "It's yours, Coryo." you cried out. You stuttered out his name as you lost control of your limbs, trembling in bliss, your walls clenched and pulsed around his member. You were at your wit's end, but your body wouldn’t stop, edging yourself closer and closer to orgasm. There was an insatiable urge that remained between the two of you. Even as he pumped his cum deeper and deeper inside of you, it was never enough.

[viktorviolettaenterprises]

Mafia Inspired Posepack

DOWNLOAD

2 years ago, my good friend @rebouks, also known as Rebecca creating a Peaky Blinder-inspired group pose pack *THIS*, inspired me to make my own version with a unique twist. This time, I used artwork Some from the "Mafia" game series as the basis for my poses. I hope you enjoy this pose pack!

Author's Note

You Need:

Andrew's Pose Player

@twistedmexi Searchable Pose Player

Weapons Included: "Gotta Keep it Real"

Smith & Wesson Model 10

The Smith & Wesson Model 10 is like the classic rock of revolvers—timeless and reliable. This baby has been around since the late 1800s, and it’s still a favorite among folks who appreciate good old-fashioned craftsmanship. It’s a simple, no-nonsense .38 Special revolver that feels solid in your hand and gives you that satisfying "click" when you pull the trigger. With its sleek design and smooth action, it’s perfect for both newbies and seasoned shooters. Whether you’re heading to the range or keeping it for home defense, the Model 10 won’t let you down. Plus, it's easy to load and unload, making it user-friendly for everyone.

Smith & Wesson Model 20

The Smith & Wesson Model 20 is like the hidden gem in the revolver world. It’s not as well-known as some of its cousins, Model 10. but it packs a punch and offers some solid features. This wheel gun is chambered for the .38 Special, making it an excellent choice for both target shooting and home defense.

One of the standout things about the Model 20 is its smooth trigger pull and Bigger Frame. Some people said "Size Matter" and Model 20 defintely One of them!, which makes for an enjoyable shooting experience. The gun has a nice heft to it, giving you a feeling of stability and control. Plus, it has a classic look that screams quality, with a design that’s built to last.

Smith & Wesson Model 27

The Smith & Wesson Model 27 is like the high-end sports car of revolvers. It’s got style, performance, and a bit of flair that sets it apart from the crowd. Chambered in .357 Magnum, this beauty is not just about looks; it delivers some serious power and accuracy.

With its sleek lines and polished finish, the Model 27 feels great in your hand and looks even better in a display case. The double-action mechanism is smooth, making it easy to shoot accurately. Plus, it’s got a solid reputation, having been a favorite among law enforcement and enthusiasts for decades. Whether you're hitting the range or adding to your collection, this revolver has the chops to impress.

Colt Detective Special .38

The Colt Detective Special .38 is a classic revolver that’s been a go-to for police detectives, especially those working undercover but it's Not Limited To Some Mob who lucky enough to get their Hands on it!. Compact and easy to conceal, this wheel gun offers a perfect blend of reliability and simplicity. It’s got a sleek design that makes it ideal for discreet carry while still packing a solid punch.

With its double-action mechanism, it’s quick to draw and fire, which is crucial in high-pressure situations. The Detective Special is known for its accuracy and smooth trigger pull, making it a favorite among those who need a dependable sidearm. Whether you’re in law enforcement or just appreciate a well-crafted firearm, this revolver has a timeless appeal.

Sawed Off Shotgun "Lupara"

The sawed-off lupara is a classic piece with a bit of a rebellious edge. Originally hailing from Italy, this short-barreled shotgun is known for its compact size and powerful punch. With the barrel cut down, it’s easy to handle and perfect for close-quarters situations, making it popular among those looking for something discreet yet effective.

The lupara has a rugged, no-frills look, often associated with the rustic lifestyle and a bit of outlaw charm. Its twin barrels can fire both buckshot and slugs, giving you flexibility depending on the situation. Whether you're in the field or just admiring its craftsmanship, the sawed-off lupara has a gritty allure that’s hard to resist. also Perfect Hammer in case you want to Whack Some Rats Or Rival Family, Mafia Style!

Thompson M1928

"The gun that made the twenties roar" Here We go! This is the stuff of legends. This iconic submachine gun is famous for its sleek design, distinctive curved magazine, and, of course, its roaring firepower. Originally developed during the Prohibition era, it quickly became a favorite among gangsters and law enforcement alike.

With its heavy, solid feel and classic wood furniture, the Thompson looks and feels like a piece of history. It’s chambered in .45 ACP, delivering a satisfying kick and a distinctive sound that turns heads at the range. Whether you’re a collector, a history buff, or just looking for an unforgettable shooting experience, the "Chicago Typewriter" is sure to impress.

Winchester Model M1897 "Trench Gun"

The Winchester 1897 Trench Gun is a true piece of American history. Known for its rugged design and reliability, this pump-action shotgun was a staple for soldiers during World War I and Bring Them to Victory. With its short barrel and heat shield, it was built for close-quarters combat, making it a favorite among troops in the trenches.

The action on this beauty is smooth, and it packs a serious punch with its 12-gauge shells. The classic look, complete with wood furniture and a solid build, gives it a nostalgic charm. Whether you’re a collector, a history buff, or just love shooting, the Winchester 1897 is a standout that never goes out of style.

THANK YOU!: @bdangkingfish

@cctreasuretrove

@exzentra-reblog

@decadesfinds

@coffee-cc-finds

@ts4cc-finds

@ts4-poses

@ts4history

@ts4historyccfinds

@sims4historicalccfinds

@historicalsims4

@sssvitlanz

[marvelseries19]

Hi! Please read till the end.

Hi, so, I've been working on something, which you can read below the keep reading button. I'm wondering if this is something that you would be interested in reading.

The italics are meant to be Italian, but I'm not about to write in a third language I don't speak.

It's based on the movie The Equalizer 3, it contains the Italian mafia, drugs, an American assassin who's been trained by the government, and things of that sort.

Now the dilemma comes in whether I should just follow the movie storyline and make Natasha a CIA agent and just basically rewrite the movie or if I should find a way to mix the movie and the MCU one.

I don't want to describe too much of the movie in case you haven't seen it and, in case you choose that route then I don't want to give spoilers.

So, at the end of this little introduction, there will be a poll in which you can choose one of three options.

One, I just rewrite the movie in a more "normal" universe.

Two, I find a way to mix the two universes.

Or three, you are not interested in reading any of this.

A little warning before you read, there are descriptions of blood, killing, injuries, etc. So, read at your own risk.

-------

Sicily, Italy.

Lorenzo Vitale is the owner of a traditional, rustic Italian vineyard. He is on his way there with his son, Eugenio. The scenic route they must take to get there starkly contrasts with what awaits them.

As soon as they reach the front gate of the property, a body is lying there. He recognizes him as one of the men working for him in the vineyard. He slowly drives inside, where another of his men is waiting for them. Lorenzo instructs Eugenio to remain in the car as he opens the door.

The worker, scared, meets the white-haired men at the door of the house. "She told me to wait outside."

His boss, nervous as to what he would encounter inside, shares a look with his son before deciding to go in alongside the young man who is gripping his gun. They venture inside with their guns in their hands, ready to go in case they need them. A body can be seen as soon as they take a corner; a machete is in the man's chest, and blood is scattered around the floor. It was certainly not a peaceful scene. As they walk further inside, more bodies can be found with all sorts of injuries. It's a blood bath.

They make their way to the stairs, which lead them to the wine cellar, where they see you sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, cleaning your hands, with two of his remaining men pointing their guns at either side of you. Lorenzo is taken aback by your cool demeanor, as if you were not just about to die.

"They wouldn't let me in, so…" You continue to clean your ring before putting it back on. "They should have let me in." Your voice is calm and loud enough for the men to hear you. The man can't help but wonder why everyone else was killed, but the two guarding you are still breathing.

As you fold the cloth you were using, the man speaks. "Let me see if I got this right. You came all the way here, alone, to this vineyard in Sicily. Why?"

"You."

"So, you know who I am?" He asks. "I know what you are." You answer as you leave the cloth aside.

"And yet, you still came here. Why?"

You look around at the men on either side of you. "You took something that didn't belong to you, and I'm here to take it back."

"How did you find me?" He shares a look with the men in the room. "No one has been able to before." You shrug your shoulders in response. "Very well." You take a look at Lorenzo, his movements, his clothes, and finally, the key that you need. "You are already here. Except you're a few meters short of what you came for."

You make eye contact with him. "We all end up where we're supposed to be. Which means… Your man to my left has his finger on the trigger, but he's a foot too close, which renders the man to my right dead already. He just doesn't know it yet. I feel sorry for his family." You whisper. "Nine seconds." You start the countdown on your smartwatch. "That's what you have to decide your fate." The men in the room exchange a look at your clear warning. "Nine seconds, nothing more."

As the clock marks nine seconds, you quickly stand and redirect the gun from the man to your left, which does exactly what you said it would, because as you do that, the man reacts and pulls the trigger, effectively killing the man to your right. You take advantage of the position to shoot the other young man who accompanied Lorenzo inside. The older men, seeing he was the last one available, attempt to shoot you, but you're quicker and move the man that you still had in your hands and push him in front of you. Again, using the position in your favor, you shoot Vitale.

He tries to crawl away from you despite the pain he is in, while you take a second to take a breath without taking your eyes off of him. You watch him crawl for a few seconds before grabbing one of the men's shotguns as you make your way to him. You check the gun to see if it still has ammo inside. Happy with the finding, you shoot him one more time in the leg.

The man let out a scream at the pain he felt, not only from his extensive wounds but also from his insistence on crawling away from you. You know he won't get far with his injuries, but you want to make sure he can't escape. As you approach him, you see the fear in his eyes as he realizes there's no way out. With a cold determination, you raise the shotgun and aim directly at his head. The sound of the gunshot echoes through the vineyard.

[diagonal-queen]

hey girlyyyy ❗❗❗ why do i feel like im bothering you when its quite literally just a request box🧍

but anyway !!! Following with the previous request of meeting with chuuya after years. Can i ask for like, a glimpse of their relationship? Like they're keeping it a secret from both their agencies so they have to be sneaky to meet each other like silly little lovers💗🤞😭😭

sakjhjkhfahfsh oh my god nahhh the sillies 🙈 you are never bothering me by sending me an ask. i am a pathetic and lonely creacher and i kick my silly little legs and let out my horrendus little giggles whenever someone sends me an ask. i am elated every time.

Star-Crossed

♡ pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: Romeo and Juliet, but you and Chuuya aren't as fucking stupid as those kids were. (sorry, I'm just having a goof- you and Chuuya are navigating secretly dating while being members of opposing groups)

♡ wc: 1.6k

♡ cw: Reader and Chuuya flirt and talk about sex (they're a couple guys. C'mon now), swearing.

note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHUUYA!! Good timing for me to finish this one hey? lol I hope you enjoy it! Apologies for errors- maybe I should write a Chuuya birthday thing?

Part 1 (you don't have to read it but it provides context for this)

Chuuya had gotten there before you. He was sitting on a bench across the footpath from the restaurant, absentmindedly on his phone. It was no fancy place, one may say casual or even rustic. But once, a long time ago as teenagers, Chuuya had taken you there one evening when you were feeling down and you'd enjoyed yourself enough to decide that it would be a good place to go back to. Maybe get the same meals as that time, and recreate some cherished memories.

You stood around the corner of the block, making sure that there weren't too many witnesses around. You'd gone through a world of effort to conceal your relationship with the mafioso. You'd changed his contact name, turned off your notifications and even made sure to eradicate all traces that you two spent time together, which hurt the most of all. You felt that just a simple picture of the two of you wasn't asking too much.

The two of you seldom contacted one another during work hours. Considering the Agency tended to work within the daytime while the Port Mafia took over the night, you didn't have much time to communicate with one another, much less meet up in person. When you did, you both had to be cautious that none of your coworkers were around. It had gotten exhausting rather quickly, but the two of you continued to try nonetheless.

Weekends were really the only days that you could sometimes see one another. That's why, on an overcast Sunday, you and Chuuya had decided to go on a lunch date together. You were mostly sure that you wouldn't be bumping into any other Agency members, and yet you scurried along the street like a cautious mouse.

You called his name, and when he turned and saw you he smiled.

"How are you?" You asked him as you approached. He stood up and pulled you into his embrace once you reached him.

"I'm glad to see you, baby."

"You ought to be! It took so much effort to get here without rousing suspicion," you whined, pulling away and squeezing his shoulders. Chuuya cocked an eyebrow at you.

"Huh? Have you told them anything?"

"They're detectives, Chuu!" you responded, giving him a nudge. "It's hard to keep a secret when you're surrounded by detectives all the time. I'm pretty sure Ranpo knows already- or at least he's caught on to the fact that I'm seeing someone."

"...who?"

"Y'know, the one with the hat and cape...he trapped you in a book once?" Chuuya pursed his lips and nodded. "He's a genius."

"I know," he sighed. "At least Dazai doesn't know...probably."

"Nah, he doesn't," you confirmed, "If he did, he'd have brought it up with me by now. And I dunno how I'm gonna approach that conversation at all."

"Just give me a call when it happens. I'll beat the shit out of him," he muttered, sourly. You giggled, pulling him back into your arms.

"I can always count on you, can't I?"

"'Course you can, babe," he pressed a kiss to your cheek. "Sorry you gotta go through all that, by the way."

"I can't imagine it's much easier in the Port Mafia? Y'know, to be dating an Agency member."

"Eh, it's not so bad when you're an executive." He shrugged with a sigh. You cast him a mischievous grin.

"Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting you're all authoritative and strong like that," you teased. Chuuya blinked, before he wrapped his arm around your waist.

"Forgetting? Maybe I should jog your memory." You narrowed your eyes at his suggestive tone.

"Oh? How so?" You smirked. Chuuya tapped his lips.

"Hm...got any more kinks I don't know about?"

"Keep it in your fuckin' pants, Chuu!" You laughed, swatting his arm. "Imagine if there were children here."

"If you keep encouraging me there might well be," he retorted, and you gasped.

"You're a goddamn menace." Chuuya chuckled at your blunt statement. "Ah...anyway, we should go inside. We'd be less conspicuous that way, and we've been loitering around here long enough as is."

He nodded, and you both went inside. After entering the door Chuuya opened for you, the scent of the place filled your nostrils and it was like you'd visited for the first time. You stood in the entranceway for a moment, a small smile formed on your lips.

"Something wrong?" Chuuya asked, passing you and shutting the door. You shook your head.

"No, nothing's wrong," you quickly replied before taking a step forward. "It's just...been a while."

"...it has, yeah," Chuuya agreed, placing his hand on your back. "Glad to be back here."

~ ~ ~

Fifteen minutes flies by so fast when you're enjoying your time. Fifteen minutes with Chuuya felt more like fifteen seconds. You'd ordered your food, caught up on each others' recounts of the past week, Chuuya made an obligatory complaint about Dazai, and then Chuuya's phone rang twice.

The first time he'd just ignored it, and you'd tried to do the same, but the second time he let out an aggravated breath and pulled it out of his pocket, eyes briefly flickering towards the screen which you didn't have the time to get a good peek at. Chuuya glanced at you, both apparently frustrated and apologetic.

"Sorry, hon. I have to take this one, but I'll make it quick, alright?"

"It's okay, don't worry about it." You smiled as you said this, but your facade dropped once he disappeared to take the call. You didn't blame Chuuya for being busy, but lamented the fact that the two of you couldn't seem to spend any amount of time together uninterrupted. It was almost as if everybody really did know about your relationship and were doing all they could to keep it apart.

He was back before long, taking his seat across from you at the table and letting out an exhale.

"Did something bad happen?"

"Nah, just got into a bit of an altercation. Managed to sort it out though, so it's fine. Nothing to worry about." Chuuya placed his hand atop yours. "Where were we?"

"...I think you were bitching again. About Dazai?" You replied, balancing your hand on your palm with a grin.

"'Again'?"

"Yep. It's your favourite thing to do, right?"

"Besides you..." he mused, and you bit back a laugh. "I'd say so. But I can't help it. You know that best, don'tcha?"

"He's still lazy at the Agency. In fact, he's probably gotten worse. Sometimes I have to physically force him to come with me when we have jobs together," you rolled your eyes. "That being said though, he can be so overbearing sometimes, fuck's sake."

"Eh, if I were him I'd be protective of you too. Maybe the single thing I can't blame him for, actually," Chuuya scowled, taking a sip of water. "Wish I could spend as much time with you as he does, though. That might be nice..."

As you acknowledged that sentiment, an idea popped into your head. You suddenly sat upright.

"You and I should go on a trip. A road trip, or a vacation or something like that."

"A trip?" He repeated, confused.

"Mm. We wouldn't have to worry about anybody seeing us, and we'd be able to relax and actually spend time together," you explained. "We could even just...go camping or something. That's not that expensive, right? We'd have to travel pretty far, though..."

"I'd be willing to go anywhere as long as you're there," Chuuya shrugged. You turned to him, before smiling.

"That's adorable of you, sweetie."

"Money wouldn't be an issue. It's the time I'm worried about, and how we'd both be able to leave at the same time without suspicion," he continued.

"I just called you adorable and you're gonna go ahead and ignore me?" You scowled, folding your arms over your chest. "I see how it is."

"Aw, sorry babe. I didn't mean for it to come across like that," he apologised, taking your hand and pressing his lips to your knuckle. "I'm just concerned, that's all."

"I know, I get it..." you gave him a sad smile. "I wish we didn't have to be like this. I get so jealous when I see couples together out and about. I want that to be us!"

"Maybe one day. Just...not today though. Neither of us can afford it right now, y'know?" He murmured. "I would want absolutely everybody around me to know that you're my partner. If it wouldn't put you in danger, I mean."

"You're that proud of me, huh?" You queried, rubbing your thumb over Chuuya's gloved hand. He looked at you as if that were a stupid question.

"'Course I am. I can't really show it now, but I promise I am," he answered sincerely, staring into your eyes. "Okay?"

"...I'll choose to believe you for now," you replied, sarcastically. "But one day you better prove it in the most dramatic and flamboyant way possible, got it?"

Chuuya smiled. "I'd give you the whole world if you asked for it, Y/N."

"Oh, maybe that's a little too dramatic," you hastily replied. "...maybe we should just stick to dinner dates for now, m'kay?"

"Whatever you'd like, baby. I'll just save the world for another time."

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fedyushka, @flower-of-darkness

and thank you @bibilovedit for the request!

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Love In Trouble [Part Four]

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician, RPF

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character, Austin Butler x Original Female Character

Characters: Characters: Elvis Presley, Original Female Character, Austin Butler, Red West, Sonny West, Jerry Schilling Colonel Tom Parker, Minnie Presley, Vernon Presley, Dee Presley, Joanie Esposito, Joe Esposito, Pat West

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3699

Summary: Lori Presley lives the high life. She has a lovely home, a elegant wardrobe and her parties are the most sought after ticket in town. Not to mention her husband is the King of Memphis. But what if she no longer wants to be the Queen?

Tags/Warnings: This is a mafia au with detective austin butler entering the chat, Memphis Mafia, Detective Austin Butler, Adultery, Infidelity, Love, Angst, Unhappy Marriage, Murder, Court Room Drama in the loosest possible way, AU, Set in the 70s

Notes: ngl the logistics of this one are hammering me but we're trying here

LINK TO ALL PARTS // LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST

Detective Butler’s apartment was nice. The stonework was a rustic red colour and the gardens that adjoined the sidewalk out front were kept neat and tidy. Even the parking lot out back looked respectable with newish vehicles in every spot and an electric gate that hinted at the smell of the inhabitants being more well off than others in the surrounding neighbourhoods. Still money or not it was a far cry from the homes she was used to. The winding driveways up to bleached brickwork. Ornate stained glass that coloured the sunshine as it shone through onto a thick shag pile.

Still Lori didn’t think that the difference in architectural design was the reason for her feeling so out of place. It wasn’t the reason she’d come when she was sure Elvis wouldn’t notice her absence. It wasn’t why she’d lied and told him she’d been roped into some church event whilst he went to the club. It wasn’t the reason she scurried inside hoping no one saw or recognised her even opting to wear something casual in the hopes she wouldn't draw attention to herself.

Thankfully she didn’t pass anyone on the way up to his apartment and when she got there the door was open meaning she didn’t have to do anything more than check it was him at the door before she darted inside, allowing him to close it softly behind her.

‘You’re late,’ he said as he watched her look around, pushing her oversized sunglasses up onto her elegantly styled hairdo before she looked back at him. Her expression was cold, all the emotion and care wiped from it, and it made him falter, clearing his throat nervously as he added, ‘I er, I thought you weren’t coming.’

‘Yeah well I’m here aren’t I?’ she challenged, ‘this apartment building isn’t exactly easy to find.’

‘Well we could’ve done it at the station,’ he replied, making her jaw tighten and her arms cross across her body. Austin cleared his throat and moved towards the kitchen trying to resist pushing her for fear she’d spook and flee taking whatever leads he had with her.

‘Drink?’ he asked, ducking behind the wall that sectioned his kitchen/diner off from the living room. He could hear her moving around, no doubt assessing his entire life or at least what he’d bothered to unpack yet, but he decided to let her.

‘Water’s fine,’ she called.

Lori could hear him moving about, the faucet coming on and the clink of glasses, but she ignored it moving around the room as she assessed him.  She didn’t know what she'd been expecting from this straightlaced, hard edged cop. The one that had accosted her at the church function felt stiff and unyielding. She’d expected his apartment to be all dark panelling and chrome but it was soft. Neutral palettes against soft furnishings. At first she’d thought it was the choice of the landlord, a uniform that allowed them to rent on a whim, but there were personal touches that hinted it may be more his taste than some faceless home owner. A movie poster of an art nouveau film she had never heard of. A potted plant that was thriving despite the position it held within the room. A picture of a young blond boy and what looked like his mom, the pair beaming.

When he re-emerged and placed her drink on the coffee table he could feel her eyeing him, her blue eyes sweeping up and down his lean frame with curiosity. Austin said nothing but straightened up looking her dead in the eye as if signalling he wasn’t put off by the scrutiny. Then he gestured to the sofa allowing her to sit down which did so gracefully before he took his own seat in his armchair, his finger brushing underneath his chin as he watched her.

She’d taken to looking around his apartment again and he took the time to observe her whilst she was distracted. She looked different again today. Not a chic nightclub attendee, not a cutesy woman of the church but a blend of the two with her outfit of choice being a pair of tight bell bottoms that maintained modesty and a waif of fabric that knotted against her chest as if bragging about being just enough material to be called a shirt. Again her hair was perfectly styled but her makeup was neutral, enough that she could be deemed as making an effort but not so much it supported the idea she was to impress him.

When she looked back and found him watching her she busied herself with her drink, taking a long swig as if she was determined to prolong being the one to initiate conversation. And though he liked making her squirm he decided to be merciful and said, ‘so.’

‘So?’ she scoffed, placing the glass down on a coaster as she raised her brow, ‘that’s all you have to say?’

‘What am I supposed to say?’ Austin shrugged, leaning back in his chair casually as if he was unbothered about the outcome of this rendezvous.

‘Just so?’ she baulked.

‘Well you called me,’ he mused, ‘and insisted on meeting face to face. I assumed whatever it was you were going to be doing the explaining. I mean I don’t suppose you’d come all the way down here to tell me what I already know. Or to parrot out the official company line.’

‘Which is?’ she pressed.

‘That Tony Bowen had nothing to do with Kings. Or you for that matter,’ he challenged. Lori shifted, crossing and uncrossing her legs as she grabbed her glass of water once more if only to have something to mess with.

Of course that was why she was here. She was here because he was the only person who might possibly believe what she had been thinking these past few days. He might believe her or possibly tell her that what she had been thinking was ludicrous. That the evidence didn’t lend itself to the notions she had been having. But to get there it seemed he was determined to make her utter those notions out loud.

‘Okay,’ she said, her throat thick with a spittle she swallowed down as she tried to get the words out, ‘okay so we had an affair.’

‘And?’ Austin replied, watching as she fell quiet, her gaze flitting to her lap. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him but he was sick of people pussyfooting around the issue when a man was dead and so he pressed, ‘and what does that have to do with his death?’

‘I don't know,’ she lied, swallowing thickly though to her surprise the familiar sting of tears had not presented themselves. Austin sighed.

‘Then why are you here?’

‘Because,’ she said looking at him, his blue eyes wide and expectant which lowered her tone to something barely audible, ‘because I think my husband might have something to do with it.’

‘Why do you think that?’ he asked in the most forgiving tone he’d summoned since meeting her.

‘Because no one crosses Elvis Presley,’ she said quietly.

The sentiment hung in the air for a moment, the pair of them watching one another until she became too shy to look at him, her gaze turning to her glass once more as she chugged the icy cold water down allowing it to wash the tears and bile from her throat from finally having spoken the words aloud.

She hadn't wanted to believe it. Of course she was not naïve to the types of things her husband and his entourage got up to in the name of work but it had never been any of her business. She did not have a hand in it. The wheels were greased enough that trouble rarely arose from it and if it did it was swiftly dealt with.

But this, Tony's death, hadn't been something she could ignore. Because Elvis had made sure it wasn’t. Even as they danced around the topic of why he would be involved or why she might care about some bus boy she had known that this was not something simple. This was personal. He had made it personal. He had killed Tony because he knew it would hurt her. Punish her for daring to find solace in the arms of another man like he had never done the same. It was a reminder that at the end of the day she was his. A reflection on him and if she was going to misbehave he would too but worse.

Austin was still watching her when he cleared his throat, sad blue eyes flitting back to his face as he probed gently, ‘okay…but do you really think he’d kill someone over an affair?’

‘It’s an embarrassment,’ she reasoned.

‘Okay sure,’ he said hesitantly, ‘but killing the guy? I mean what if he got caught surely the motive coming out is just as embarrassing. I mean no offence but he'd be just as well killin’ you-’

‘Killing me wouldn’t be a punishment though would it?’ she challenged, ‘no one knows why Tony's dead apart from me and him. I can't even mourn him or challenge him about it because that would be admitting fault. I get to sit in grief whilst he gets away with murder. It’s a solid punishment.’

‘Why not just divorce you?’ Austin challenged, again longing for the golden hue of California where there seemed to be less scrutiny over honour and shame. After all, it was hard to talk about morals and respect when everyone in tinsel town was screwing someone they shouldn’t.

‘And risk a scandal? Risk the humiliation of being left for a younger man, please,’ she scoffed, shaking her head and looking away from him as if listening to his ridiculous theories would make her stupider. Austin sighed and leaned forward weighing up his case.

‘Okay say he did kill the guy,’ Austin started, ‘I haven’t got much to go on other than your word. He has an alibi for one.’

‘Yeah he said he left the club at one and was home in good time but he didn’t get to the house until well after two thirty,’ she reasoned.

‘But no one could corroborate that other than you. His boys are adamant they got him home on time,’ Austin said, recalling the way his questions had gone down like a lead balloon when he’d broached the boss’ departure time on the night in question.

‘Our security system might be able to,’ she said, praying that the tape had not been pre-emptively wiped.

‘Okay so he wasn’t at home,’ Austin shrugged.

‘And he was shot right? Elvis has guns and I bet you could match one of them to whatever killed Tony,’ she continued. She could see his reluctance and because of it she could feel her heart breaking as the only person who was willing to believe Tony had come to foul play no longer seeing the way it could've happened.

‘It’s flimsy,’ he said.

‘It’s all I got,’ she breathed.

Austin pondered that for a moment trying to find how he could work the scarce evidence into something workable. It wasn’t a great fit and considering the rift it would cause he couldn’t imagine it'd be easy to push through for an arrest let alone a trial but there was something to her that tugged at his heart strings. Like the old lady crying down the phone to him and his own sense of justice, her being willing to take the risk felt well big.

And yet he wasn’t sure he could trust her. Not yet anyway.

But without her he had nothing. Without a testimony or hint at where to find more evidence the case would collapse around him. So he pressed, the stoic, sceptical cop returning to replace the one that had tried to ease her out of her shell.

‘Why do you want to help anyway? I mean you didn’t seem too bothered before,’ he challenged.

‘I loved Tony,’ she said truthfully.

‘Do you love him?’ he asked, not saying his name yet they both felt the weight of his presence. When she dropped her gaze to her empty glass he snorted, making her head snap back up as he asked, ‘if you love him why are you here? You are aware this could ruin his life.’

‘I’m aware,’ she snapped, ‘but it’s my fault Tony’s dead. And I suppose he deserves justice.’

‘And that’s your husband in prison?’ he challenged, ‘why not just leave him? Humiliate him.’

‘It’s not as simple as packing a bag and leaving,’ she retorted.

‘Oh,’ he chuckled, ‘this is your way out without the blame laying at your feet right?’

‘Oh I’m plenty to blame,’ she smiled mirthlessly, ‘but I figure the blood of a dead man on my hands and a jailed husband might go some way in repentance.’

Austin could see her point but in his eyes her worldview was still skewed as if she would come out of this with only secret shame. A point he dared to make as he said, ‘you know if we go through with this there may not be any saving you. We will have to tell them everything and despite whatever evidence we can cobble together it might all come down to your testimony.’

‘I understand,’ she said quietly. Austin hesitated but decided to ask anyway. He already had his hopes up at the chance at pushing this case to where it needed to be.

‘So you’re in?’ he asked, ‘because I’m not going to go through with this only for you to change your mind-‘

‘I won't,’ she affirmed.

‘How can I trust that?’ he asked sceptically.

‘You can't,’ she smiled sadly, making his heart flip flop, ‘but I loved Tony and I know you think I can do the right thing.’

‘But you love him.’

‘I did but right now I'm not sure I’ll be able to again not knowing what he did,’ she said. Austin nodded and weighed his options up once more.

It was almost foolhardy to think he could trust her, the wife of a wannabe mobster. And if he did trust her and it all went south he'd only have himself to blame. He would not have a chance at staying in the precinct or the county for that matter. He’d probably have to move again. But there was something in her eyes he couldn’t ignore. A tugging at his heart strings. She was one of the most famous women in Memphis and yet here in his small apartment she felt helpless. The rock on her left hand and the designer shades perched on her coiffed hairdo were nothing more than façade. Because what true riches did she have in her life?

Her husband hadn't even noticed her affair until it was over. The love she had for Tony was tucked away never to be mentioned in the light of day. A plethora of people moved in and out of her home every day and yet no one had noticed she was here. Apart from smoke and mirrors what substance did her life have? To him it appeared very little.

Then again he supposed his own life favoured that at the moment. Without his work he wasn’t much of anything these days which was probably why he put so much stock in solving this case. He supposed they’d just have to help one another.

‘Fine,’ he nodded, ‘let me speak to the DA.’

✵✵✵

Robert Johnson was a short, plump man with a hairline that receded far past his ears even if he had trimmed it down to hide the rate at which it had disappeared. It also struck Austin that the man might do well to size up in pants, his belt creating a distinct overhang of stomach that wasn’t hidden as he’d removed his suit jacket and stood up as he entered, offering a hand to Austin as he came towards him.

Nevertheless he was polite, offering him a drink which Austin politely declined, too eager to thrust his newly constructed case file under his nose. He had known it was a risk bypassing his commanding officer but he had wanted to get more impartial eyes on the thing before he was given an outright no. And by all accounts Johnson was far more amenable than his Captain even if he was pouring over every sheet in the manila folder with a sceptical brow and a wince. As he let out another sigh Austin couldn’t help himself and leant in trying to skim the bit he was reading upside down as he said, ‘I know what you’re going to say.’

‘You do?’ the man asked cautiously.

‘It’s barely a case,’ Austin replied.

‘It’s shit quite frankly,’ he replied, throwing the flap closed as he relaxed back in his chair. His tone took Austin off guard. Because it wasn’t unfriendly. It wasn’t a flat-out refusal but it spoke the truth which didn’t beg much hope for what he was intending.

‘Bobby,’ Austin sighed, ‘he did it. I know it. You know it. God the whole precinct knows it-’

‘And that don’t make a case,’ Bobby sighed, leaning forward and interlacing his fingers when he noted the downtrodden look on the detective’s face, ‘look I want him locked up believe me I do. He ain't exactly good for the city but I don’t see how it’s feasible. Not with that you’ve got. I mean fingerprints? A missing gun that matches the make of one of his and no alibi except his friends word-’

‘What about the fact the dead guy was banging his wife,’ Austin pressed.

‘It’s motive but he’ll just say he didn’t do it and your evidence doesn’t back it up that he didn’t. Besides you can't prove there definitely was an affair. A picture don’t mean nothing, not really. And even if you could all it’d take would be for her to deny it or him to say he never knew about it,’ Bobby reasoned.

‘What about if she’s willing to testify?’ Austin rebutted, making the older man sit up in his chair with intrigue, ‘she knows he did it Bob. He did it to punish her and she's willing to testify to that.’

‘Well a jury would lap that up,’ Bobby smiled, ‘get her in to make a statement…what?’ he asked, seeing the way Austin’s smile dimmed.

‘We can't.’

‘You’re shitting me,’ Bobby scoffed.

‘We can't include her,’ he replied, leaning forward to press the folder onto the desk as his colleague tried to hand it back, feeling the case dissolve. With the blonde's insistence he hesitated, ‘not forever just not yet. We need to build the case around our evidence. Pick his side of the story apart one by one and then by the time he’s on the stand there’ll be enough circumstantial evidence surrounding him that slapping a motive on top of it will make it clear as day.’

‘And if she backs out?’ Bobby challenged.

‘She won't,’ Austin affirmed though the gaze on him remained hesitant, ‘I saw the look in her eyes Bob. She won’t back out.’

‘Oh yeah and how do you know? What’d she do whisper sweet promises in your ear like she did the dead guy,’ Robert said drily. Austin fought the urge to roll his eyes as he said, ‘she told me the truth.’

‘And you trust her?’ he asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow.

‘I do,’ Austin replied truthfully. After all what other choice did he have?

When the doubt in the other man’s eyes didn’t fade he sighed and took the manila folder from him, placing it on his lap as he leaned closer, begging him to see his point of view as he said, ‘look I know it’s risky. I know the case will rely on her and she’s not the kinda witness you want to back but from what I can tell she’s for real about this thing. She knows that this is her only way out. She knows without us she’s trapped which is why we have to play this right. It’s why we can’t expose her sooner than needed. Anything before that would ruin her situation heck it might even wind up with her dead. She has to trust us to the finish line.’

‘And that’s the stand?’ Robert probed.

‘Hopefully,’ Austin said, praying his case would hold enough water to even get to trial.

‘It’ll need more circumstantial,’ Robert said.

‘Definitely,’ Austin agreed.

‘And we need to pick apart whatever they spin,’ he added.

‘I’m sure we could get one of them to break form,’ Austin promised, ‘and if we get all that and then hit ‘em with an affair narrative it’ll swing a jury.’

‘You might be right,’ the other man said, rubbing his hand along his stubbled skin as he pondered it before he looked at Austin, uttering his declarations, ‘we’re gonna need concretes. Circumstantial too but something that’s undeniable. Something a hotshot defence attorney can’t pick apart.’

‘I’m sure once we have a comparison the finger prints will match. And I’ll find out more about the gun,’ Austin assured.

‘Then it’s a case of looking at the night in question. You’ll need to have his entourage in at the same time mind, see if their stories align before they can speak to one another. Probably the whole staff,’ he sighed. Austin didn’t notice his lack lustre orders because he was so happy that someone was finally listening to him. That the boys at the precinct would have to help on something they had deemed an impossible feat. That he’d been right to trust his gut on this one.

His happiness only faded as he reached the door ready to head back to work and heard his name called. He paused, not closing the door he was holding in the hopes Robert wouldn’t want to keep him much longer. He had work to do after all.

‘Sir?’ he asked, hoping respecting authority would make the exasperated look on the man’s face fade.

‘I’ll back you on this but don’t think I don’t know that this is a powder keg ready to go off,’ he warned.

‘I know sir,’ Austin nodded, ‘thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me,’ Robert snorted.

‘Why not?’ Austin asked.

‘Because I’m not doin’ it for nothing,’ he said rolling his eyes as Austin’s brow furrowed, ‘don’t worry I ain’t dirty. In fact I’m one of the ones that’s not searching for a reason to look the other way.’

‘I’m not sure I follow,’ Austin chuckled weakly.

‘You said to do this we’re gonna have to help the wife right?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ Austin hesitated.

‘Fine. I’ll help the wife but if we’re gonna poke the bear I want something in return,’ he said.

‘What?’ Austin asked curiously, pushing the door just so it clicked onto the latch. It wasn’t fully closed, one gust of wind from the open window would no doubt blow it gently open but it was enough that their voices didn’t travel into the corridor. Whatever the man was going to proposition him for his ears only.

‘Tip offs.’

‘Tip offs?’ Austin questioned.

‘If we’re gunnin’ for Presley we might as well aim for the entire structure. He won’t crumble without his friends goin’ first. Believe me I and many before me have tried,’ Robert said but Austin wasn’t sure he understood.

‘Sir?’ was all he asked.

‘Keep her close and make sure she’s willing to talk about more than just this Tony guy. He’s our in but by god if I ain’t gonna make sure we bring them all down.’

ELVIS TAGS

@girlblogger2002 @sania562 @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @louisejoy86 @ccab @i-r-i-n-a-a @lettersfromvenus @artlesson8892 @presleyenterprise

AUSTIN TAGS

@purejasmine@caitlin1996

[terrence-silver]

❝  i think about anything happening to you and i— i just.  i fucking lose it.  ❞ for Terry McCain? ❤️

---

-"This is a big shift. From a Chicago Detective to a country boy out on a farm."-

You remark, not unaffectionately, but perhaps curiously, staring out the rustic, wooden window overlooking the vast grassy backyard of Terry's familial farmstead that a lay a couple of hours worth a drive away from the outskirts of the city, nestled in the bosom of the mellow Illinois countryside, appearing almost Rockwellian in it's style; like a big, traditional Irish family once dwelled here when Terry was a boy and like nothing has been significantly changed or touched since, everything exactly the way it was left, maybe years and years ago. Lace curtains on, old fences outdoors that embraced the entire estate from all sides and a remote road that disappeared and blended into the horizon, like a straight line. He brought you here when the street violence against his colleagues at the police station got progressively worse. Convinced you you'd be safe here. Protected. Out of sight, at least, for a while, until all the dust settled down. It is not that you were ungrateful. It was beautiful here. Very peaceful. A part of Terry himself, in a sense. A big contrast, though. One you weren't exactly certain you consented to. But, he told you he didn't require you to agree with it. He just wanted you to be okay. Alive. That was all he needed. -"Yeah?"- You hear his voice, questioning, an act only followed by his hands on your shoulders, turning you away from the window to look at him. -"That's the whole point."- He reaffirms, seeming entirely honest and blunt, only to grow instantly heated, brimming with concern.

The topic of your safety always tended to agitate Terry.

-"It's dangerous out there. All that traffic and all those streets and alleys and me never knowing ---"-

He starts, only to halt just as abruptly in his tracks, seeming exasperated with stress, shaking his head, staring you down as he mustered the will to continue. This wasn't the first time you two had this conversation. -"Never knowing what the fuck can happen to you the minute I'm not looking."- He adds, continuing finally, his fingers caressing your cheek soothingly, his entire hand so big it nearly overwhelms your whole face with ease. -"I think about anything happening to you and I— I just....I fucking lose it, okay?"- He reassures and you didn't want to seem ungrateful or overly argumentative just for the sake of being argumentative. You understood just why Terry was doing this. You weren't stupid. Gang retaliation was no joke and he's lost more colleagues and acquittances than he could account for, fearing that you were only fair game too. If the Mob was willing to take out other Officers and Detectives, what was to prevent them from taking you out? An ordinary, unarmed civilian? That was, at least, Terry's assessment of the situation. Pity settles in your gut. Whenever you questioned Terry, it almost felt like kicking an overly affectionate puppy; profoundly wrong and heartbreaking. -"Out here? There's nobody coming and nobody's gonna find you."- He explains, and in spite of attempting to be empathetic, that's exactly what you feared. Nobody coming and nobody finding you. Nobody but him. The nearest small town was forty miles away down a dirt road connecting to a highway and everything that surrounded the farm was plains and grasslands as far as the eye could see.

What if he was to take a liking to this?

Having you here?

Barricaded up until further notice?

The Mafia itself called this sort of tactical safehouse retreat in times of gang violence 'hitting the mattresses'. You saw it mentioned in The Godfather once. In Terry's vocabulary, though? It was called being smart. But, how long? How long would it last, you wondered?

-"Yeah, but, Terry, you can't keep me here by force for my own safety. I get that you're worried. I understand, but still, we can't just allow ourselves to be too afraid to live. It's not healthy --- you can't do this."-

You try to reason with him, attempting to be as gentle as possible as to not have him misunderstand your intent and make it seem like you were angry with him. You weren't angry. You felt soft and absolutely touched that he went to these lengths to make sure you'd be okay, but he couldn't allow himself to succumb to paranoia and doubt every shadow at every corner and every possible thing that ever could happen potentially, pushing through every day like it was a siege. It would drive him insane. In fact, it was already driving him insane and you wanted to spare him the anxiety. Spare him the worry. The mental strain. Make him comprehend that nothing's going to happen to you, precisely because you were a nobody. Just some civilian. To no avail, it seemed. -"I can if I want to."- He interjects, straight to the point, his fingers caressing the place where your neck met your shoulder blades, quickly reaching over to the window behind you and pulling the curtains back into place, obscuring you from view. What view? There was nobody here. Maybe the occasional farmer driving a tractor down the dirt road. -"I prefer it to losing you any day."- He remarks once his attention is back on you, his embrace emanating warmth caught in the thick fabric of his sweater, the leather holster of his gun digging into your arm right before he reaches into it, opens it and pulls out a firearm, handing to you once he's done hugging you. You stare at him, mouth agape. What? He expected you to use that in case...in case of something happening? Was that even legal? He catches the hesitation on your face.

Reassuring you softly.

-"I can pull you out of jail, but I can't pull you out of the grave. You know that quote?"-

[daughters-of-liberty]

I may be alone in this, but why aren't more supernatural romances set in rustic, rural small towns? Why are the vampires always billionaire businessmen? Why are the werewolves...also always billionaire businessmen...or billionaire mafia gangsters? Like is the supernatural component not thrilling enough? We gotta make em have fuck you money and buttloads of power? The hell?

[aikoiya]

LoZ - Hyrulean Cultural Aesthetics

Important to note, Hylians, Sheikah, Gerudo, & Lupáns are all considered human.

Those with pointed ears are referred to as Cuspan & those without are called Ovelian.

Overall Cultural Influences:

Central Hyrule & Hylians specifically = Medieval Germanic & Arthurian English with some variation depending on location. All Hylian towns will likely have a little bit of this in them.

Ovelians = Rural, small town, down home, farmer, tough as nails, survivor, rough around the edges, traditional, conservative, but still rebellious, & generally very good-hearted. That means they are the rednecks, the cowboys, the military men, the American Southerners, the Vikings, & the Celts kind of characters. You're salt of the earth types. At least in feel, though not necessarily in culture. It's because of this that humans generally get along well with Gorons. Either way, humans stick mostly to the agricultural & ranching settlements for the most part.

Zora = Hard to tell as they generally don't wear clothing, but they do wear a lot of jewelry. If I had to give them clothes, I'd definitely say they'd be something flowy. Possibly Roman or Greek in fashion to go with the water theme? As for sensibilities, maybe a bit of French Rococo. I also get the impression that the Zora's Domain is actually divided into 2 levels: the Upper Domain & the Lower Domain. The Upper Domain is what we see in the games & consists of the commercial district & palace. The Lower Domain is entirely underwater & is where the Zora actually live. The reason we don't see it is because Link can't dive.

Rito = Northern Native American. Aldean specifically. Maybe a bit of Latin American.

Goron = A mix of Maori (Polynesian), African, Dwarven, & maybe a bit of Old West mining town, though it's hard to tell for certain as they generally don't wear clothing. At the same time, their general architecture seems to have a Town of Bedrock-type feel to it. Definitely something with a decent source of friendly machismo (not what is considered "toxic masculinity;" actual machismo). Something masculine & tribal, but also community oriented & friendly.

Gerudo = Egyptian/Middle Eastern Amazons with some Orc influence. Possibly with some hints of Hindu too. At least as far as fashion goes.

Korok/Kokiri = If Peter Pan & the Lost Boys were Hobbits.

Twili = Possibly Scandanavian? Also Chinese with some Japanese influences.

Mogma = They seem to be Brooklyn-ish. Maybe even a bit of an Italian-American Mob feel, but more so in the "friendly gangster" way. So, I'm seeing some Bensonhurst influences, which is a specifically Italian-American borough within Brooklyn, I believe. Maybe even a bit of New York Jewish? Like, they come across as being Italian mafia adjacent, but only in so much as the accent, the attitude, & family-oriented organization. Sort of an "it takes a village" & "we take care of our own" type of mentality. Not in any way actually mafia though & certainly not in the romanticized view of gangsters as I don't actually see the Mogmas being the types to actually commit crimes on the reg. And despite being avid treasure-hunters, they seem to have a general culture of altruistic generosity. By that, I mean that their love language is gift-giving.

Yeti = Norse Viking.

Minish = Borrowers.

Anouki = Inuit.

Lokomo = Possibly Greek?

Zonai = Mesoamerican.

*Búralupán = Gaelic, Celtic, & Nordic. (This is a race I made up, if you wanna know more, go to Wolf Link & the Lupán Race.)

Smaller Settlements:

Hateno = I'm getting Gaelic Scottish farming town. Also maybe a bit of Spain, Italy, & Greece. Mostly inhabited by humans, both Cuspan & Ovelian.

Kakariko = Japanese with maybe a touch of American Old West. While primarily Japanese, there's also some definite South Korean influences. Especially in their cooking.

Mabe = Rustic dairy ranching town vibes because I'm putting Lon Lon Ranch there. Based on how AoC & LA's Mabe was designed, their roofing is colorful terracotta tile & generally has ivy & such growing on their homes, so maybe Colonial Spanish. Mostly inhabited by humans.

Goponga = I'm getting rural Luisiana Bayou vibes, most likely due to it being located in a swamp. So, primarily Cajun, French, & Colonial Spanish with some Zora inspiration maybe. Mostly inhabited by humans & Zora.

Deya = Not sure yet, but I'm giving them a vineyard, peach orchard, & making them use them to make moscato, so maybe an old Tuscany winery & fishing village? Mostly inhabited by humans. From what we see in the games, it was actually the biggest settlement in Hyrule besides Castle Town, so it could've been a full-on town or city.

Ordon = Has a rural ranching feel & might be inspired by a southern agricultural town in Italy called Ordona. So, maybe rural Italy with American South mannerisms & sensibilities. Culturally, though, I get Gaelic Irish vibes. It might be the smials… Also, maybe a little bit of Welsh too. Either way, it's mostly inhabited by Ovelians & Lupáns (more Ovelian than Lupáns) with the occasional Hylian, Sheikah, & 1 or 2 Gerudo. (For more of their overall culture, go to Ordonian Culture & Ordon Cooking Culture.)

Lurelin = Rural Hawaiian fishing village. Maybe a little bit of Caribbean & Okinawan? With a little bit of Mesoamerican mixed in due to Zonai influence from the nearby ruins.

Ealiyah = Tibetan-flavored Gerudo farming & brewing town. Maybe a little bit of Russian & hints of Norse too? Also, interior decoration is eclectic & cluttered but cozy & colorful in a vibrant, rustic Bohemian sort of way. There are also some influences from humans, including Ovelians, Hylians, Lupàns, & even Sheikah to a degree as several of each race lives there too (all men), but overall, the culture remains mostly that Tibetan-Gerudo sort of style. They do a lot of weaving & sewing as well as dying. (This is a town I made up, for more on its culture & history, go to Ealiyah Town & the Highlands Gerudo.)

- Hànmalàn Hamlet = A small majority Upper Middle Eastern/Southeast Asian-flavored Gerudo settlement in the Faron Jungle with some Lurelinites & a number of Sheikah living there as well. Located in Damel Forest.

Tabantha Village = Norse with Rito, Yeti, & Lupán inspiration. So, old Norse Viking, Aldean, Celtic, & Gaelic with a Russian & Welsh accent. They use a lot of furs in their clothing. Mostly inhabited by Ovelians, Hylians, Rito, Yeti, & Lupán.

Shadow Hamlet = Dwarven possibly, with Goron inspiration. So, very masculine. Maybe a bit of Old Western Mining Town. A mix of Gorons, Hylians, & Ovelians tend to live here.

Koholint Domain = This is on the Koholina Archipelago, which Eventide Island is the smallest island of & will eventually become a fishing & port town. In-world, it has influence from Zora, Rito, & Lurelin. But, from a real world perspective, it's mostly Polynesian, coastal Native American, & coastal Hindu with some ancient coastal Greco-Roman (even Atlantis-like) influence for the underwater sections of the settlement. As well as in their formal fashion. There would likely be a tiny bit of Carribean & Okinawan influence in there too. The population is made up of Euryhaline Zora (able to survive in both salt & fresh water), Coastal Rito, & Lurelin humans. And, much like with how I think the Zora's Domain is built, the settlement's commercial district is on land, while the Zora residential area is underwater. The Rito & human residences, as well as the Cheiftain's home, are also on land. (For more on the specifics of this, go to Euryhaline Zora & Coastal Rito Port Town.)

Gatepost, Outpost, & East Post = These are all a package deal. These are mostly military towns, so that'll definitely factor in. They are positioned in such a way as to protect Oldcastle. Mostly inhabited by Hyrulean Humans, but with smatterings of the other races too.

Oldcastle = The site of OoT's Castle Town, a.k.a. the Great Plateau, so there'll be some DEEP historical significance going on. As such, it's mostly Medieval Germanic & Arthurian English. Mostly inhabited by Hyrulean Humans.

LoZ Cultural Masterlist

[hotdilfs11]

Mafia Boss-Thomas Shelby x Reader pt4

Rest of the parts

✩summary: The Shelby knew this girl when she was very little. However, when her mother passed away (at 16) everything changed and everyone drifted away from each other. Now after seven years Veronica is a mafia boss in her fathers business. Her father sent her to Birmingham on business, will this play off well?

✩pairings:girl named Veronica(POC) x Thomas Shelby

✩warnings: none

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

The morning came early as I woke up in bed watching the sun leaked through my window. The morning air was crisp and fresh, and everything came into focus as I sat up from my bed and looked around the glib room. I started to remember what I have to do today, and the weight of frustration and stress started to fall on my back. I slowly crept out of bed, not wanting to do my task for today, but I knew I had to get it over with. My foot caressed the cold frigid floor as I started to step out of bed and to get dressed

1:50 PM

I was in my office going over some paperwork and some other tasks my father had assigned me for the week. I heard a roaring sound echo through the air as I looked down to realize it was my phone. I pick it up from the side of me and realize it's my father calling.

"Hello!" I say nonchalantly.

"Hey, dear, how was it with the peaky blinders?" he said tiredly on the phone. Then I remembered that the time is different in New York compared to here in Birmingham.

I glanced at my watch. "It's good I’m meeting them today at four o'clock; I’m about to leave in a minute."

"That's good, just give me an update about them every week. I don’t need anything going bad, and I know they're known for that." He was cautious about Peaky Blinders. I think he was actually concerned.

"Yes, I know, dad, I've got to go." I quickly hung up the phone with him. I forgot that half of the Peaky Blinders old businesses went to shit because they messed it up themselves. I honestly hope they know who they’re working for because if not, they're in for a ride.

I started to grab my things and put on my coat as I left my condo to ride to Birmingham for the first time in seven years. I felt like I wanted to throw up while the feeling of sadness overwhelmed me as I went into my hometown, remembering everything I loved and hated about it. All the good times and the bad times leading up to my mother's death

3:35 PM

I showed up at the garrison, and it looked like any other pub you'll ever see. It has a boxy shape with a mysterious jet-black exterior. On the top, it says "The Garrison Tavern" in yellow letters with a white outline.

"Madam," Dante says as he opens the door right in front of the garrison. I smile and say, "Thank you, Dante, and I only need one bodyguard today, not the other ones."

Dante was still holding the car door for me, waiting for me to get out of the car. I got out of the car and walked towards the pub, swinging the rustic door open. I walked through the door, taking in the smell of cigarettes and whiskey. However, I noticed how manly and vintage it looked, with a modern twist to it. I spotted Arthur working behind the counter, serving drinks to people. He quickly noticed me the second I walked in with Dante.

He looked at me. "Hey Ronnie," he said with a smile while serving drinks to a customer. He looked weirdly happy. I honestly thought he would be mad because of how I acted yesterday.

I started walking towards the bar, sitting on one of the hard and uncomfortable stools. "Hey Arthur, where are we all meeting again?".

"Uh..I think in Tommy's office maybe since it's quick," he said as he started pouring someone else a drink. "I think he's back there honest."

"Okay, thank you, dear," I say, getting up from the stool.

I walk towards Tommy's door, knocking on it softly. "Come in," he said with a husky voice.

The door knob creaked as I twisted it, opening the door and revealing Tommy behind his desk. I saw Polly and John sitting on two of the three chairs right in front of his desk.

"Come in, sit” ,Tommy demands.

I turned to Dante, who was hovering over me. "Stay out here, Dante; I’ll be okay," I told him. He stepped out of the room as I walked over to sit next to John.

I turn towards John and Polly. "Ok, before we start, I want to apologize for how I acted, but you guys have to understand who I am as a person in this moment of my life," I said softly.

John made eye contact with me as his eyes softened up. "It's okay, V, I understand," he said in a sincere voice. My eyes widened as those words fell out of John's mouth. I wasn't expecting him to actually say he understood; I didn’t think he would be understanding at all. I was expecting more from Polly to say something, but she just gave me a blank, angry stare. She looked so disappointed at how I tuned out to be this way while everyone else seemed a bit happy or just unbothered. I expected the boys to be mad, not Polly, and now this just made me very upset with myself, but I also had a resentment towards her.

"Ok, so what's your answer?" I say quickly, looking back at Tommy, trying not to fill my head with emotion.

"Yes, we’ll go into business with you; I already told Arthur." Tommy says quickly as he analyzed me. He glanced over my body, sending me a chill through my me.

"Ok, great, now there are things I’ll need from all of you and Arthur," I say with a sturdy voice.

I tell them I need all of their personal information, including emails, where they live, family and friends, and who they live with, as a safety measure. I ask this just in case something goes wrong in the company and I need to notify them and their families.

"I need all this in two days before I assign you things to do, understood?" I ordered making eye contact with everyone in the room. I looked around the room while everyone nodded at me, agreeing to everything I said.

"Okay, I’ll be back in two days," I said as I stood up to leave. A rush went through my body as Tommy said, "Miss Hawthorn, can I talk to you alone?” He teased me, hinting everyone out the room.

"Of course, Mr. Shelby," I say, being coy. I know he keeps calling me Miss Hawthorn because he’s flirting with me and he knows how much he affects me.

As everyone is leaving the room, Tommy stands up from his desk. I start to walk towards his desk, keeping a good distance away from him, knowing how I’ll react while I’m around him.

"You wanted to talk to me, Mr. Shelby?" I say it with a mean face, showing no emotions.

"Why are you acting like that, Miss Hawthorn?" he says as he starts inching towards me.

"I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Shelby," I said with a grin on my face, acting innocent.

Tommy starts inching towards me, and my heart starts to beat like a drum as he gets closer to me. I placed my hand on the desk, bracing myself and trying to control my emotions as I started to get even more nervous than I already was.

"So you're going to act like there's nothing between us anymore, eh?" He said it in a flirty but harsh tone.

He looked at my hands as he started to caress them in a back-and-forth motion, making me tense.

"um..I" I couldn’t make out my words as his strong, rough hands started to move up and down my bare arm. A chill flooded through my body as the butterflies in my stomach started to grow stronger and stronger. I felt his steel blue eyes taunting me as he started to inch closer and closer to me, feeling his warm body hovering over mine.

"So you feel nothing towards us?" He said while he dragged his hand down my arm while his hands started to wrap gently around my waist. My body starts to tremble, and my face starts to get hot as his hands start to grip my waist a little bit tighter by the second. I put my hands on Tommy's firm chest, trying not to give into his touch, even though I wanted to. My breath shuddered and my mouth went dry. "Tommy, you know I can’t answer that," I said softly as guilt started to rush over me. I want him so bad, and I’ve always wanted him, but I can't. I’m in this business, and I’ll always be professional, even if it hurts sometimes. His head tilted in confusion as I spat out those words. His eyes grew soft and desperate as he spoke. "Why not"

I slipped out. of Tommys arms, backing away from his desk and keeping a fair distance from him. "Because I can't, Tommy." He starts walking towards me as I tell him, "I’m leaving, Tommy."

I turned my back on Tommy, trying to walk out the door. As I’m walking away from him, I feel Tommy's strong hands wrap around me, spinning me around in a quick motion. Now I’m closer to him than ever, feeling his warm body against mine. My body is rigid with tension, and my breath starts to quicken. I looked into his icy yet puzzling eyes, as he had a cold expression on his face. "No, I want you to answer my question. Do you feel anything, Veronica?" He spoke in a forceful and deep voice.

Guilt took over my body as I tried to give him an answer, but I couldn't. All I could do was stare into his cold blue eyes, unable to speak. My face was flushed as we got lost in each other's eyes; my heart was racing, and my mouth went dry as I was overwhelmed with pleasure and desire as Tommy grabbed me a little bit tighter. My eyes couldn't help looking at his lips as I unconsciously leaned closer and closer, brushing my lips against his. My stomach started to do turns until I heard a loud knock at the door of Tommy's office. My head turned in a swift motion, looking endlessly at the door.

"Tommy, we gotta fucking go," John said in his deep accent as he walked away from the door.

I snapped out of whatever I was about to do, noticing how close I was to Tommy and how close I was to kissing him. I whispered "fuck" while I backed away from Tommy, thinking about what I was getting myself into. I wasn’t fucking thinking about my future, my father's future, or the future of the company.

I was stuck, frozen, and unable to walk. I didn’t know what to do or how to react. "I…" I took a long pause, trying to capture my thoughts. "I have to go," I said as I slowly turned around, facing the door, until my legs went stiff when I heard Tommy speak for one last time. "Ronnie I want you to come to a ball at my house in four days," he says as I start to turn around.

His voice grew deeper as he said. "I want you to be there, love."

My brows furrowed as I started to shake my head in frustration. "Tommy, I said—" He cuts me off in the middle of my sentence. He begins to walk up to me while he puts his blazer on. "I just want you to be there," he demanded, making heavy eye contact with me. "Fine," I say quickly. I turned my back on him as I started to walk out of his office.

[insomniackid7]

The hermitcraft season so far is so fascinating Magic Mountain has a heavy cyber punk lean that almost tells a story similar to Zaun and Piltover from League of legends. We got A main city (impulse), an interesting architectural building (Skizz) a traditional city that co-opted the style (Joel), An Mad scientist (Mumbo), Whimsical rich dude with an attraction you don't see in cyberpunk cities (Scar) and then the more rustic side, the more unnerving, a shantytown built into the cliff face, mostly empty as all the occupants fish for a living (Grian), and the tiny, creepy boats and strange lighthouses (Gem). Then on the otherside, we have Neighborhood Shenanigans, HOA pettiness, some real Spongbob and Squidward Neighbor wars, and giant inflatable characters on the front lawn of mysterious origin. Everyone gathers at the local market to buy and complain about the DMV and permits while someone plots a monopoly and ends up falling in with the Mafia. Then Zedaph crawls out of his ravine.

[skzhocomments]

THE WHITE LILY (Mafia Book #1 - Bang Chan) - Chapter 6 - Nightmareless

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

General masterlist

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

Let me know if you'd like to be on the taglist for this story or on the general taglist!

---

Chapter 6 - Nightmareless

chapter word count: 2.2k words

~1 year and 4 months before Present Day~

~Chan's POV~

~Flashback, 10 years ago~

"Channie, my boy... you're so young and yet-" The old man's speech was interrupted by a rough cough. "Yet there's no other choice for you out there. I wish- I wish I could've given you... more."

"Dad, I- no, you gave me so much, but..."

"I took over father's business when I was 32... much, much older than you are now. Double your age. Double your experience... Now you have to take over mine..."

"Dad, I don't know what you're saying-" I responded desperate, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

"Son, listen to me!" he shouted, spiralling into another coughing fit. "you can't show any weakness. EVER. If you do, they will take you down with no hesitation. You have to be strong if you're going to own this wicked business of ours."

"I don't- I can't do it, dad. You have so much more left, I-"

"No, son, I'm almost..."

"Dad, stay with me! You will survive this! You have to!"

"My time is up... just remember what I told you... These emotions of yours, they are beautiful, son, but you can't let them see it. You have to stay composed, to be cold. So cold, one would be afraid to speak in front of you. No matter how hurt you are, don't let it show. Can you promise this to me?"

"I- I'll try... Fuck." I could barely see through my tears.

"But there's one thing you have to remember..."

"DAD! NO! PLEASE!"

"It's (...)"

~End of flashback~

"NO!" I woke up, screaming. My whole body drenched in sweat and hurting.

Another nightmare...

This cursed Mafia left in my care by my father was a big weight on my shoulders. I was damn good at leading it, but sometimes I would get stuck in an impasse, not knowing what decision is best. In those times, I would reflect back on my father's words, to the numerous days he spent training me... but as the years passed, his voice became a distant thing of the past. I was not even able to recall his whole dying speech.

Way to be a good son, Chris.

Occasional flashbacks would intrude my mind during night-time, rendering me unable to sleep. But never the whole picture... What else was he trying to say?

With a head heavy as lead, I got off the bed and glanced at the time: 3:52 AM.

Well, the early bird catches the worm, right?

I quietly opened the door to my bedroom and moved towards the stairs. Looking back through the dark hallway, I saw a dark silhouette heading towards me.

"Chan?" a shy voice asked, unsure.

"Emilia?"

"I heard the door opening and... What's wrong? You can't sleep?" she whispered.

"Should ask the same. Let's go downstairs, we don't want to wake up everyone else, do we?" I extended my hand towards her, which she quickly took.

We headed down to the living room and I turned on the electric fireplace, the only source of light in the room appropriate for such an unorthodox hour.

Fierce tones of orange and yellow warmed the room, giving it a cosy feel.

"Kinda rustic, don't you think?" Emilia joked. "Should I also brew some tea?"

"Wouldn't hurt to have a warm drink."

She returned 5 minutes later with two mugs. The smell of green tea soothed me, the hot liquid warming my insides.

"Didn't even realise I was so cold." Emilia broke the silence.

"Mhm. Me too."

Inspecting her face, I noticed dark bags under her eyes and a frown on her otherwise cheerful expression.

"Why couldn't you sleep?" I asked.

"It's... ugh" she shook her head. "Nevermind."

"Come on, don't be like that." I replied, getting closer to her on the couch and placing my hand on her thigh.

"... don't laugh at me, okay?" she replied quietly and turned her head towards me, scanning my eyes.

"Of course not."

"I just... I had a nightmare and couldn't go back to sleep..."

"You too?" I smiled and caressed the back of her head.

My reply seemed to take her by surprise, as her eyes grew bigger.

"Care to share?" she asked me.

"Only if you do the same."

She nodded and urged me to start my story.

"You know, Emi... I don't know how much you've heard about us before we became Stray Kids."

"Hm... not much, honestly. I just know you were called something else and that your older ruler was sort of... cruel."

"Mhm. That would be my father."

Although she seemed surprised, she didn't say anything else, waiting for me to continue.

"My father was a stern man. You could say he was rigid, even cruel at times, as you heard. But he was the best leader. We were called North Side, because he managed to take control of the whole north of the country. He would control authorities, which supplies got in and out, all trades, the politics. Everything. He was a scary man, to be honest." I chuckled, to which Emilia smiled. 

"He would take good care of us... my mother and my siblings. But no matter how much power he had, he also had lots of enemies. It only took one person to betray him... poisoned him, like he was some rat. Got rid of my siblings like it was nothing."

Emilia felt the anger in my voice and grabbed my hand, squeezing it.

"He was my dad's closest ally. His right hand man. So, naturally, when I found out... I cut off his head, displayed it on a spike outside of the mansion as a warning to the others."

"Drew inspiration from Medieval England?" Emilia chuckled.

"Exactly." I chuckled, too. "That was the first time I killed someone. I was 15."

She caressed my hand and smiled bitterly.

"I had to take over the Mafia, but... how could I continue his "Empire"? I didn't know how anything worked. Don't get me wrong – he did train me for this, but theory and practice are so different. He would always make me promise that I would be cold, that I wouldn't get attached. Those worked wonders. But... he also said something else. I just can't seem to remember... I feel like it was important..."

"And that's why you're having nightmares."

"Exactly."

"So... how did you become SKZ?"

"Right. So, after investigating, I found out that a lot of father's old acquaintances planned this revolt against him. I killed them all and figured I would just disband North Side as a whole. There was barely anyone left, anyway. But it's not like I could just give up on the Mafia mindset. I trained my whole life up to that point. I was good at it. So... one thing led to another, and I was back in business with supervising trades and making sure things went by smoothly. I lost some of the territory of the Empire my father built, but I got control back of more than half of it in barely a year or two. Not alone, though. I met some other people along the way... first it was Seungmin, then Minho... Han and Felix shortly followed... and soon enough all of us bonded over this whole affair and decided we would become official. That's how Stray Kids was born."

"Wow. Well, I must say, your father taught you well, since you've been able to manage this Mafia so flawlessly."

"You think?" I chuckled. "I feel like I might screw up. That what my father told me was the most important thing in the world... and I can't remember it. I'm pissed off."

"I'm sure you'll remember it eventually. The right moment just hasn't come yet, that's all."

"Thanks, Emi."

We both looked at the fake flames of the fireplace, but soon enough I resumed looking at Emilia.

"I told you the root of my nightmares. What's yours?"

"Hmmm... you already know my whole life story though, don't you?"

"Pretty much, yea." I chuckled.

"Then you must also know about San."

"Your partner, right?"

"Mhm. Do you also know why he got killed?"

I shook my head.

"I didn't either. Until I came here, that is. He planned on leaving, too... He would always joke around that he would run away with me and show me the world outside of our little bubble. I just put the puzzle pieces together. Our Boss got rid of him, just like he wanted to do with me."

Her eyes darkened.

"The Mission he gives whoever wants to leave... It's always something impossible, you know? He probably planned to finish us off either way as soon as we said we wanted to go." she laughed bitterly. "If we wouldn't finish the mission, we would die trying... and if we did complete it, he would've killed us.  We never had a choice."

I stayed silent, contemplating on her words for a bit, for they carried a lot of weight.

"So... the thing is, I'm scared... I can't sleep. I wake up shaking. Every time I close my eyes... I remember what happened to me. I'm scared of being betrayed again." She put both her hands on her face, covering her eyes. 

I took her into a strong embrace, and started to tell her how different Stray Kids were. We wanted to be human beings above all, and we loved each other more than anything in the world. She was part of our team now.

"I can promise you that it won't happen. You are safe here. I give you my word."

She was shaking badly, but after a short while, her breathing regulated and she straightened her back.

"I'm sorry... it's just... I never told anyone about that, y'know?" she glanced at me, her beautiful eyes staring directly into mine.

Her wounds from our latest mission seemed to be all healed by now, just a small mark remaining on her lips.

Her lips... so plum and beautiful in the soft light. I couldn't help it. I bent towards her and placed mine on top of hers, cupping her face with my right hand.

She responded with a soft peck on my lips, while her hands found their way to my nape.

The kiss grew more passionate in the fire's glimmer, our shadows becoming one as she rested in my lap.

What's with this girl that makes me so crazy? I wondered, slipping my hands underneath her blouse. Her skin was as soft as the first time I touched her. I wished that bruises from our last rendezvous would still be visible on her neck and chest, but it felt like ages since I last met her like this.

I started kissing my way down her jaw and slowly sucked on her exposed collarbone, making her let out a soft moan.

Hearing her quiet whimpers was like music to my ears. I was completely addicted to the moans erupting from her lips, and I wanted to hear them more and more.

With her still on top of me, my next move was easy. I picked her up and got up from the couch, slowly making my way towards my room upstairs. Her weight in my arms felt just right.

We continued sharing kisses as I opened the door to the bedroom and laid her down slowly on my bed.

My hands found hers and, in contrast to the first night I tied her with my belt, I took both of her hands and put them above her head gently. 

I didn't want to leave any part of her body unmarked, so I carefully lifted off her blouse and went down, planting small kisses on her abdomen. Her pants were the next ones to go, and I was pleasantly surprised when I saw that she wore nothing underneath.

I couldn't help it but let a chuckle escape.

"What's so funny?" she smiled.

"No panties?" I kissed her inner thigh as she parted her lips and let out another moan.

"Why would I wear any to bed?"

I trailed kissed on her thigh and reached upwards, parting her legs and planting a kiss on her core. Slowly, my tongue found her clit and drew circles around it, her whimpers getting more intense.

"Fuck, you're so good at this." She praised me.

After feeling that she was prepared to take me, I raised above her and kissed her deeply. My member quickly disappeared between her legs, our bodies moving in unison.

"You're so gentle tonight." She complimented me again, my lips in the crook of her neck kissing it ever so slowly while I was pumping in and out of her.

It only took another couple of deep thrust to get Emilia to come, and I followed soon after. She just felt so good. So right for me.

~

The next morning, I woke up, surprised to notice that I fell asleep in the first place. 

Even more, I was perplex that it the first time in God knows how long I've slept without having nightmares. 

I woke up rested, her still asleep in my bed, and had the chance to admire how beautiful she looked sleeping so soundly. I gathered from her relaxed face that she also had a nightmare-less deep sleep.

From then on, I would visit her every night and invite her to my room. We didn't always have sex; just sleeping next to her brought me a sense of peace I haven't felt once ever since becoming the leader of SKZ.

This became our routine, until...

---

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

[entropys-universe]

EVERYONE CALM DOWN, I HAVE A NEW AU IDEA!!!

Think mafia au, but like, no crime, and a METRIC TON of dancing. Porty au.

Pigsy has a more rustic/country vibe, lots of impromptu songs with hitting tables, stomping boots, and homemade moonshine! Tang is there cus, even if it's loud, he has headphones and his own table in the corner cus he likes the vibes :3

The demon bull family has a weird mix of huge drums, and violins, a nice contrast, but mix into something like fire. Lots of fire, slowdance unless you want heatstroke.

The spider demons have a sorta, Victorian goth vibe, generally slower waltz songs, unless Spindrax gets ahold of the music, then there's gonna be a ton of girl in red.

The dragons have a classic kinda waltz, white and gold, with themes of water and lillypads

Wukong does not have a club, and nor do the idiot twins and their babysitter, they end up working odd jobs till Spindrax invites them over, and they start working there.

Ya'll wanna add on?

[theplayersau]

Chapter 2: Sambuco Mob Part 1

Stella's perspective

Milano, Italia- 2001

I stood at the doorstep of a large, rustic-looking family-size villa that was erect on a dead-end cobblestone street. It seemed that all the other houses hugging it hadn't been lived in for years. It was an odd location for a villa. I've seen many sides of Milano, due to my always taking long trips on the Metropolitana. I wasn't extremely familiar with this side of town, though...

Chiara glanced down at me, as if she could tell that I was deep in thought, and she spoke to me in that assured voice of hers.

"I can tell what you're probably thinking: why are the other houses on this street so empty? Is it because Chiara is in the mafia?"

When I was brought out of those exact thoughts by shock and looked up at her with questions in my eyes, she flashed me a bit of a sly smile.

"Seems I was right... To answer your question: no, it's not. They're empty for a variety of natural reasons, like the owner's deaths or being unable to afford them. I had no hand in that."

"Right..." I muttered. I couldn't believe she could read me so easily.

"Now, before we enter, I should warn you that my housemates, or rather, team, is a bit of a quirky bunch... Some come off as cold or mean, but they mean well. However, I think you'll easily find a friend among them. Just don't be discouraged if you're not accepted. After all, you aren't part of the familia."

I nodded, listening carefully. Usually, I'm quite wary of new situations and new people. I'd be lying if I said I was at ease, but this woman... She talked with a sage quality that made her seem wiser beyond her years... She sounded almost like a mother, or a nurturing older sister. She definitely didn't come off like a criminal.

I watched her turn her key in the lock and push open the aged wooden door. I could hear some kind of rumbling in the floor above my head, and the wood below my boots creaked with each step I took inside. It was a modestly decorated home... Nothing flashy stood out, and it seemed quite cozy, overall. Like a grandmother lived here...

It reminded me a bit of home.

Chiara raised a brow and looked above her, reacting to the stomping upstairs, and I saw her mutter under her breath, saying, "What the hell...?"

Almost as if this were a corny sitcom, two people rushed down the narrow stairs, and the sparse ceramic decorations in the room shuddered, as well as the pictures on the walls. I took a cautious step back but Chiara stood firmly still, her hands on her hips.

A tall man with tanned skin, and short, curly, dark green hair stumbled into the front room we were in. His thick brows were furrowed in frustration as a fair-skinned, strawberry blonde wearing dark sunglasses jumped onto his back. He tried to shake her off, baring his teeth, his dark painted lips pulled back in a grimace, but she only continued to laugh and hold on tight.

"Get off of me! You're a grown woman so act like it!" the man shouted with a strained voice.

"Make me!" the woman teased. She had a playful voice with a raspy quality to it.

Chiara cleared her throat loud enough for the two to hear, and they promptly stopped in their tracks and looked in her direction. None of them said a word, but the woman did slip off of the man's back.

"Hah- Chiara!" the woman cheered in a bit of an awkward tone, adjusting the collar on her pink suit jacket.

The man wasted no time, though. He immediately zeroed in on me. His dark eyes, from beneath what seemed like a metal mask over brows, narrowed. He pointed at me and didn't hold back the disapproval in his tone.

"Who the hell is that?"

The woman elbowed him in the ribs and hissed, "Be nice!"

Chiara sighed and put her hand on my shoulder.

"This is Stella. She'll be staying with us until the unforeseeable future," she clarified.

"Stella, huh?" The man took a few heavy steps towards me. "What's your problem? Chiara obviously wanted to take you in for a reason, so what's your deal?"

Chiara spoke in a stern voice I hadn't heard yet from her. "Dante! Manners..."

Dante glanced at Chiara, locking eyes with her for a moment before he huffed and turned away, storming off.

With his absence, the woman who was standing beside him before came closer to me with a beaming grin on her pinkish lips. She was absolutely gorgeous. She smelled like fresh raspberries and had a small, black heart dotted on her left cheek, just below her eye. If I had seen her at school, I'd probably be jealous of her looks or popularity.

"Ciao! My name is Elektra! It's nice to meet you..." She paused for a moment, in thought, before tittering nervously and shrugging. "Heh, I'm bad with names. What was yours again?"

"Stella."

"Right, right, Stella... Hm..." She tapped her chin for a moment before snapping. "'Stellar Stella'. How about it? When I'm remembering new names, I have to relate it to a word, y'know?"

Despite myself, I almost grinned. What a silly woman. "Yeah, sounds good..."

"So, Stellar Stella... Seems like you're stuck with us for the next little while, huh?"

I looked over to Chiara and she nodded. I then replied to her, "Seems like it."

"Elektra, could you show Stella where the shower is? And perhaps provide her a change of clothes as well..." Chiara said.

"'Course! Sure thing, Chia. Let's get going, Stellar Stella."

Chiara nodded and smiled before waving us off. "I'll get started on a fresh meal for you, Carusa. Elektra will take care of you otherwise."

I nodded, about to speak up, but before I could, Elektra took my hand and led me towards the stairs. I followed behind her as fast as I could. This woman was extremely friendly... She also wasn't put off by my status as a stranger or my disheveled appearance. Before I knew it, the pink-clad woman had brought me to an even more pink room. It was a bit small and cluttered with gaudy decorations, but it seemed just right for her.

Once we were in the room, she let go of my hand and began rummaging through some drawers full of clothing, eyeing me occasionally from behind those designer glasses... God, those things must have costed a fortune.

"So, you're another one of society's rejects, huh? Welcome to the club," Elektra began, chuckling to herself. "I've got a feeling I'm gonna be showin' you the ropes here soon."

I studied her for a moment before speaking carefully. "Showing me the ropes?"

"Yeah! Well, I mean... Chiara did tell you what we are, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"But you don't wanna be involved? Yeah, I said that too. Now lookit me."

"So, you're telling me it's like I don't have a choice?"

"What? No, no. Definitely not. But I am saying what tends to happen. You're obviously free to go whenever and do whatever you want, don't get it twisted."

I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to shut out the doubtful thoughts in my mind. I should have been more skeptical of this whole thing, really. But why pass up a perfectly good opportunity for free stuff?

Elektra smiled softly and approached me with a t-shirt in her hands, holding it up towards me.

"Yeah... I think this'll fit just fine on ya." She set it off to the side before opening a different drawer and pulling out a pair of fuzzy, pink lounge pants. "You and I seem about the same size. You're a little smaller than me, though."

She handed me the outfit, then gestured for me to follow her out into the hallway again. At the end of the hallway was a linen closet, and she retrieved a towel from one of the shelves within and passed it to me as well. There were four other doors in this hallway... Hm.

Elektra pushed one of them open, then flicked on a light switch on the wall. She then pointed inside.

"This is the restroom. You can use all the stuff that has my name on it– just don't use too much, alright?" she instructed.

"Right... Thank you." I stepped inside the small bathroom.

When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, though, I stopped in my tracks and absorbed the mess I had been reduced to. My dark hair was a rat's nest, there were mascara stains smudged across my cheeks, my dress was soiled with dirt and sweat, and my skin looked dull. I set the clothes down on the counter and brought my hand up to my cheek, preparing myself for the hot, stinging tears I felt forming on my waterline.

A hand on my shoulder startled me out of it. Elektra was standing beside me now and she lifted up my hair in order to unclasp my pearl necklace.

"How long have you been outside?" she asked in a gentle voice.

I lowered my gaze and began taking the star-shaped clips out of my hair. "Three weeks..."

"You didn't pack any extra clothes?"

"I did, but... Some guy stole my bag from me."

"Damn... What a jerk," she sighed. She then leaned against the counter and looked at my necklace. "That's really beautiful. Where'd you get it?"

"My grandmother gave it to me. It was hers."

"And she...?"

"Died. Yes."

"And that's why you were out there."

"And that's why I was out there."

There was a small, refreshing pause before the both of us sort of smiled. I didn't know much about this woman but I knew she understood, and that's all that mattered to me.

"I'm going to head out to the store and get you some more clothes. What size are you?"

"Medium, usually."

She nodded before turning to leave, but I stopped her before she could.

"Elektra, you don't have to go out and do that for me."

She snorted a bit and shook her head. "Are you crazy? 'Course I do. Girls gotta stick together. Besides, I'd never really pass up an opportunity to go shopping."

"Are you su-"

"Hey, I said I'll do it, so I'll do it. If I didn't want to, I wouldn't have offered, alright?"

I didn't know how to retort or properly thank her, so I just went quiet and nodded.

"Now, go take that shower. Relax and get comfortable. I'll be back soon."

She shut the door as she left, and for the first time in three weeks, I had some privacy... I didn't realize how precious it was until I didn't have it. I took a deep breath and sat down on the closed toilet lid, unzipping my dirty boots. It felt so nice to finally take them off, to feel like I didn't have to be on the run.

I knew the clean water would feel like a blessing.

*

As I stood in front of the mirror, now dressed and clean, I could hear a conversation happening downstairs. The house was sort of small and the walls seemed thin. There were two voices: Chiara's and Dante's. It didn't take a genius to hear the edge in Dante's voice. I guess I think kind of backwards or something, because when I hear people talking about me, even if it's not meant for me to hear, I always go to the source. If I did something wrong, I want to know. I always had... I don't want to be in trouble.

I snuck out of the bathroom and down the stairs, and the first thing that hit me was the smell of fresh food... It was divine. I could feel myself start to salivate just at the thought of eating it, and my stomach churned. But I was quickly distracted from that by the conversation going on in the kitchen.

"Bringing strangers into the house, especially civilians... What are you thinking, Chiara? We can't trust her. We don't know her. And she doesn't know us. She doesn't need to be involved. Sometimes your big heart trips you up," Dante chastised.

"I'm thinking that it's the right thing to do. I have the means to provide shelter and food for a homeless, orphaned child. I think if I ignored her, I'd earn myself a deeper place in Hell," Chiara replied.

"Yeah, like you're a woman of God."

"Watch it."

"Look, what I'm saying is: I think this is a bad decision. We don't need kids in our base and definitely not civilian ones."

"Would you give me the same advice in the scenario where I took you in as a child?"

There was a silence between the two of them, and the only sounds that could be heard were from something frying on the stove. After a long moment, Dante responded in a bit of a defeated tone.

"I guess not..."

"Then it's settled. You let me do my job and operate as I see fit, and you be nice to our guest."

"I don't want to 'be nice'. She's a stranger. And I don't want her getting too comfortable. We're criminals, Chiara."

"If you can't be nice then don't say anything at all."

"That's boring."

"Hush, Dante... You're a camurrìa."

"You should be used to it by now."

"I am. Now go back to what you were doing. I'm busy."

Heavy, booted footsteps started approaching from the kitchen and I felt frozen in place. I knew I shouldn't have been eavesdropping, and I definitely didn't want to talk to that Dante guy. My legs failed me, though, and I was eventually caught under scrutinizing eyes. I looked up at the man with a guilty expression, unable to say a word. It looked like he was about to open his mouth to speak, but he stopped and glanced back at the kitchen for a moment before turning back to me and speaking in a harsh mutter.

"You should learn to mind your own damn business, brat."

I couldn't offer him anything in response, but that didn't matter. He made his way up the stairs anyway, the tail of his long coat swaying behind him.

I could understand his reservations, but not his attitude. I don't know what I did to deserve his immediate anger but it seemed that he was just the aggressive type.

There wasn't any time to think about that, though. The smell of food was calling my name and I couldn't ignore it any longer.

-- Chapter End --

⭐️⭐️⭐️

[touradvisiorhub]

Top 10 Themed Restaurants in Hyderabad for a Memorable Dining Experience

Hyderabad, known for its rich history, vibrant culture, and, of course, its delectable food, is a paradise for food enthusiasts. The city’s culinary scene is thriving with themed restaurants that offer not only mouth-watering dishes but also a unique ambiance inspired by various themes. Whether you’re in the mood for a rustic village setting, a fantasy world, or even a time machine back to the 80s, Hyderabad has it all. Here’s a curated list of the top 10 themed restaurants in Hyderabad that you must visit for a unique dining experience.

1. Ohri’s Nautanki Gali

Theme: Bollywood Extravaganza

Location: Banjara Hills

Ohri’s Nautanki Gali is a popular spot for Bollywood fans, filled with quirky decor that gives you a taste of classic Bollywood. With walls adorned with film posters, colorful interiors, and energetic Bollywood music, this place takes you on a vibrant journey through Indian cinema. The menu features a wide range of Indian street food and North Indian dishes, ensuring a full Bollywood masala experience.

2. Dialogues in the Dark

Theme: Dining in Complete Darkness

Location: Inorbit Mall, Hitech City

Dialogues in the Dark is a one-of-a-kind concept that’s designed to heighten your senses. The restaurant offers a dining experience in pitch darkness, challenging your other senses to appreciate flavors and textures more deeply. Guided by visually impaired staff, it’s a sensory journey that encourages empathy and awareness, making it a memorable experience with dishes that range from Indian to Continental.

3. Gufaa Ohri’s

Theme: Cave Dining

Location: Basheer Bagh

Gufaa Ohri’s offers a mysterious, jungle-themed ambiance designed to make diners feel like they’re inside a cave. Dim lighting, stone walls, and faux vines hanging from the ceiling create an adventurous atmosphere that pairs beautifully with the North Indian and Mughlai dishes served here. With its rustic decor and dramatic settings, Gufaa Ohri’s is perfect for those looking to experience something different.

4. Mafia — The Crime Café

Theme: Mafia and Crime

Location: Jubilee Hills

For fans of crime novels and mafia movies, Mafia Café brings a dark, thrilling theme to life. The interiors are styled like a gangster’s hideout, complete with dim lighting, vintage posters, and a mysterious vibe. The menu has a twist as well, with quirky names inspired by mafia lingo and dishes that range from spicy Indian food to Continental delights. It’s a great place for a night out with friends who love suspense and thrill.

5. Beach House

Theme: Seaside Dining

Location: Jubilee Hills

Bringing a slice of the coast to the city, Beach House has a relaxed, beach-themed ambiance. With sand under your feet, wooden decor, and soft ambient lighting, this restaurant makes you feel like you’re on a mini vacation by the beach. The menu primarily features seafood delicacies, along with some popular Continental and North Indian options. Beach House is ideal for a relaxing dinner and offers a unique way to escape the city’s hustle.

6. Heart Cup Coffee

Theme: Retro

Location: Jubilee Hills

Heart Cup Coffee takes you back to the 80s and 90s with its retro decor, music, and ambiance. With neon lights, vintage furniture, and an outdoor seating area that’s perfect for cool evenings, this café offers a nostalgic vibe. They serve a variety of Continental dishes, along with some fun cocktails and coffee blends. This is a go-to spot for live performances, making it a lively place for people who want good food and entertainment.

7. The Fisherman’s Wharf

Theme: Goan Beach Shack

Location: Financial District

The Fisherman’s Wharf brings the laid-back charm of Goa to Hyderabad. Designed like a Goan beach shack with colorful decor, bamboo accents, and rustic furniture, it’s a great place for seafood lovers. The menu features a mix of Goan, Indian, and Continental cuisine, with special attention to seafood. The live music and Goan-themed decor give it a casual, fun vibe, perfect for those missing the beach life.

8. The Grand Trunk Road

Theme: Historic Journey on Grand Trunk Road

Location: Jubilee Hills

The Grand Trunk Road restaurant is themed around the historical trade route, offering a culinary journey that reflects the diverse regions connected by this ancient road. The decor showcases elements from Punjab to Bengal, with maps, artifacts, and traditional motifs adding to the ambiance. The menu is equally diverse, with signature dishes from North India, Bengal, and Pakistan, providing a fascinating dining experience that’s both educational and delicious.

9. Chicha’s

Theme: Old Hyderabad Vibe

Location: Lakdikapul

Chicha’s is a tribute to old Hyderabad, with a rustic ambiance and a menu that focuses on traditional Hyderabadi dishes. The walls are decorated with old photographs and memorabilia, giving a nostalgic feel of the Nizam era. Known for its authentic Hyderabadi biryanis, kebabs, and haleem, Chicha’s provides a culinary experience that transports diners back to the old city. It’s a must-visit for anyone interested in exploring Hyderabad’s rich food heritage.

10. Prego — Italian at the Westin

Theme: Italian Countryside

Location: The Westin, Mindspace IT Park

While not as explicitly themed as others on this list, Prego offers an authentic Italian countryside dining experience. With a classy, rustic decor reminiscent of a Tuscan village, and outdoor seating that feels like a Mediterranean escape, Prego stands out for its warm ambiance and authentic Italian dishes. The wood-fired pizzas and handmade pasta are must-tries, and the sophisticated vibe makes it perfect for romantic dinners or special occasions.

Why Visit Themed Restaurants in Hyderabad?

Hyderabad’s themed restaurants offer more than just a meal; they provide a multi-sensory experience that combines ambiance, storytelling, and flavors. Visiting these restaurants is a fun way to explore various cultures, periods, and fictional worlds without leaving the city. Whether you’re looking for a Bollywood-inspired vibe, a romantic Italian setting, or an adventurous cave-like environment, each restaurant has a unique story to tell through its decor, menu, and atmosphere.

These top 10 themed restaurants in Hyderabad give you the chance to step into a different world with each visit. Perfect for family outings, date nights, or a fun evening with friends, these places make dining an event rather than just a meal. So the next time you’re in the mood for something different, try one of these themed restaurants for an unforgettable experience.

Whether you’re a local or a visitor, themed restaurants in Hyderabad promise an adventure for the taste buds and the imagination alike.