#carmine falcone.

[got9lives]

edits relating to selina kyle 001 / ? ft parents : maria kyle (nia l.ong) in 1996 when she met carmine falcone to falcone in present canon before his death.

both deceased. falcone wasn't around as selina grew up something which she resented him for. especially as her mother was murdered when selina was only 7-8 years old. selina blames him for her murder because he wasn't there for them. falcone was murdered (shot long range) by the riddler right after apprehension by the batman and jim gordon in present times for her main verse set in tbm22. that was moments after selina herself attempted to kill him but was foiled by the bat.

[junkfoodcinemas]

THE BATMAN (2022) dir. Matt Reeves

[alpacinosgf]

"The only person that really has any control over Oz is his mother" - Colin Farrell

[cherienymphe]

Birds of Prey

Carmine Falcone x Reader

Warnings: DUB-CON, age gap (reader is around Sofia and Alberto's age), power imbalance, implied stalking, mentions of organized crime

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @whimsicalrogers

summary: Carmine Falcone doesn't believe there's anything in Gotham he can't have—and you like to pretend that doesn't include you.

⭑

“The boss wants to see you.”

A familiar deep voice reached your ears, coming face to face with one of the many bouncers at the club when you looked over your shoulder. Your jaw took a break as you stopped chewing, your minty breath reaching your nose as you exhaled and frowned. It wasn’t too long ago that you’d just talked to Oz, and similar words left your mouth, confusion filling you on what he could possibly need to talk about.

“Not Oz,” was all Kenzie said, and you pressed your lips together.

Oh.

“...oh.”

You hadn’t even realized that the dark haired man—your actual boss—was here tonight, and you swallowed, inadvertently swallowing your gum. You ignored the way your heart stuttered, and you folded the tips you’d previously been counting before sliding them into your boot. The way Kenzie lingered told you that he was meant to be escorting you, and with a small sigh, you forced yourself to your feet. 

You clearly wouldn’t have the time you wanted to yourself to mentally prepare to talk to Carmine Falcone tonight. 

It wasn’t that you disliked the man—no more than you disliked any of the other corrupted men in this city. In fact, you’d say that he was pretty okay in your eyes, but he was just so intimidating. You supposed it was natural, after all. He was rich and powerful and practically owned the city, and being in close proximity to someone like that—without the flashing lights and loud unintelligible music—made you all too aware of not only just your shortcomings but also the huge imbalance that filled the room whenever it was just the two of you.

Kenzie made no move to step out of the elevator with you when it opened, and the heels of your shoes clicked against the floor when you stepped into the loft. The elevator doors closing sounded so loud to your ears for some reason, and aside from the low hum of music playing in the space, the only sound that could be heard was your heels. 

At least until you heard the snap of billiard balls hitting each other.

Your heart jumped at the confirmation that he was in here, and despite your reservations, you picked up the pace, determined to get this over with. You’d been in his loft a handful of times, most especially when you first started working at the 44 Below and he wanted to know how well you were adjusting. It was always coincidentally when you’d just finished a shift, boots full of the money you’d gotten from eager customers with their hands out for Drops. You suspected that Mr. Falcone hadn’t quite trusted you just yet then, recalling the way he sometimes counted your loot thrice.

Now, however, only a few years later, things were different…

“How were things tonight?”

It wasn’t an unusual way to be greeted, Mr. Falcone concerned with the money and business before all else. He hadn’t even looked up from his game as he spoke to you, those dark shades of his no doubt hiding a very intense gaze.

“Things were good,” you told him, bending down to reach into your left boot. “I only really had trouble from maybe two guys, but-.”

“Who?”

The sudden question threw you off, and you looked up from your knelt position to see that he was standing straight now, game forgotten as he held the pool stick in hand. Your eyes were briefly distracted by the glint of the gold ring on his pinky, and you forced yourself to remember that he wanted a response.

“I didn’t… They weren’t regulars,” you said, standing. “I think they came with someone else, and we just had a brief back and forth about the price.”

You were quick in handing the money to him, and you watched him count it. He didn’t really make a habit of asking you about your shifts anymore, so you didn’t think this was all he wanted. In fact, you were sure of that, and that made you nervous. Carmine Falcone wasn’t the kind of guy to concern himself with the likes of you just because. If it wasn’t about business then it was about pleasure, and you had never talked to the man about anything that wasn’t business.

The silence between you stretched and despite the fact that there were so many things you needed to do tonight before it got too late, you didn’t dare rush him. Not only was the man the reason you even had a job, but he just wasn’t the kind of man you rushed. You waited on him, and you watched him nod as he took his time in counting the last few bills from what you’d been able to sell.

“Not bad,” he praised in that low voice of his, and you sent him a small tight lipped smile.

You wondered if he could see how nervous you were and decided to put you out of your misery.

“I talked to Oz earlier,” he began, getting straight into it, pocketing the money. “He said that he gave you some extra money for rent.”

Of all the things that this could be about, that was at the very bottom of the list for you and truthfully…it shouldn’t have been. You shakily exhaled, feeling his eyes on you through those shades, and you briefly looked away. You didn’t even know how you became a topic of conversation between them, and some part of you wanted to curse Oz for putting you into this position. 

You knew exactly why Mr. Falcone was bringing this up with you.

“It’s not what you think,” you hurried to say, shrugging and waving your hand. “I asked him about any extra shifts and because there aren’t any, he offered me cash instead.”

The tall man slowly started to make his way around the pool table, and you were quick to get your next words out.

“It’s just a loan. I’m paying him back…”

“With what money?”

You snapped your lips together, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t say I was paying him back tomorrow,” you eventually mumbled.

“I think Oz would prefer it if you paid him back never.”

Your eyes found the floor at that, hating the truth in his words and especially hating the predicament you found yourself in. You wondered if the other man knew what he was doing when he told Mr. Falcone about what he’d done, and while you liked to think that Oz was just some blundering idiot, sometimes he seemed a lot more calculated than people gave him credit for.

“Oz knows that it’s not like that, and…besides, if he did then I would just give the money back.”

The dark-haired man before you didn’t respond to that at first. Instead, all that met you was a small change in expression, and you watched the way the corner of his mouth lifted. It was the closest thing to a smile you’d ever see on his face when he wasn’t talking to his daughter. He turned away from you, and you kept your eyes on him as he made his way to his bar.

“...and then how would you pay your rent?” he wondered. “This is still the same landlord, I presume.”

He presumed correctly, and you were reminded of a similar conversation months ago. The only sound that could be heard was alcohol flowing from one glass container to another. When he approached you with a clear glass of brown liquor, you hesitantly took it, feeling pressured to do so even if only to be polite. You could feel him eyeing you, and you slowly took a small sip.

“Seems to me like Oz made you an offer you couldn’t refuse…”

“Mr. Falcone-.”

“...but you refused me just fine.”

“It’s…different,” was your only reply, and you looked up at him as he took a sip of his own drink.

“How so?” he asked in that way that reminded you a lot like a dad would ask their child.

“You’re my boss,” you said—a little loudly—and you couldn’t stop your incredulous chuckle.

“So is Oz.”

You rolled your eyes at that, briefly forgetting who you were talking to.

“Sure, yeah, but you’re my actual boss,” you elaborated. “Nothing against Oz, at all, but everyone knows he doesn’t really run anything. Nothing other than what you let him think he’s in charge of.”

He only took another sip, his gaze never leaving you, and you got the feeling that he wanted to see how far you’d go to explain why you’d take money from Oz and not from him.

“Oz can’t do anything without your okay, and that includes anything pertaining to my job. He’s not actually in charge of me,” you quietly finished. “You are, and…I can’t take money from you.”

You got the feeling that you were offending him—the same feeling you got months ago when your landlord decided to hike up the rent for no reason for the umpteenth time—and you didn’t know how to feel about that. Surely he could understand why taking money from Oz was wholly different from taking money from him. Needing something to distract yourself with, you took another sip, appreciating the slight burn in your throat.

“Different or not, I don’t want you taking any more money from Oz.”

Despite the fact that you had no plans of doing that, the finality in his tone made you bristle. You didn’t appreciate how he was choosing to prove you right, knowing that if you didn’t do as he said and he found out, your job could come into question. You could only nod, hating that this place was the safest place in Gotham to make the kind of money you were making with your credentials.

The older man moved closer to you, his free hand lifting to touch your chin, and you swallowed when he tilted your head up ever so slightly. His fingers on your skin made you shudder, and you wished that you were the naive girl you used to be. You wished that you didn’t know why being so close to him gave you goosebumps. You wished that you didn’t know why he was offended you wouldn't take his help. You wished that you didn’t know what this whole thing with Oz was really about.

“Is that understood?”

He wanted a verbal answer, and you softly exhaled.

“Yes, Mr. Falcone.”

“Look, doll,” Oz’s accent was thick as he followed you around the room. “I know you still got that good for nothing landlord, and you ain’t making any more now than you were a month ago.”

The club had long shut down for the night, but when you were one of the girls who had to stick around and clean up, it could take ages. You grabbed a half empty glass full of something that you were too scared to try and identify as the man beside you limped along with your even strides. There were no flashing lights and no loud music, so you had no choice but to engage in conversation with the man who’d done you a huge favor.

“I already told you, it was a loan,” you said to him, setting a tray of dirty glasses aside. “How am I supposed to ever pay you back if you keep bailing me out of trouble?”

You faced him now as you wondered this, and by the brief look that passed over Oz’s features, you knew that Mr. Falcone was correct in his assessment of the heavyset man. You’d known it then, and you swallowed down a sigh, feeling like you were stuck between a rock and a hard place. You were going to pay Oz back, that was the truth. Not just because you hated owing anyone anything and you wanted to, but also because you needed to. 

Just like your boss, Oz wanted something from you too, and he definitely felt more owed to it if he could hold a few measly hundred dollars over your head.

The gold in his mouth winked at you as he sent you what was meant to be a comforting grin. It only struck you as lecherous, and Oz shrugged.

“That’s not something we gotta worry about, right now. You can’t exactly show up for work if you’re out on the street, now can ya?”

You fixed Oz with an even stare, and the way his features dropped told you that he realized he wasn’t getting through to you. Even if you wanted to give into your desperation and take any more of his money, you couldn’t. Mr. Falcone had left no room for confusion, and you were more afraid of him than you ever would be of Oz. Oz just wasn’t a serious guy at all—which made you feel even shittier about accepting his money—and everything about your boss was very serious.

The way he moved, the way he talked, and the way he simply looked at people. He navigated his relationships with people with an asuredness that he couldn’t be touched, and he was so confident in it because it was true. The man was practically untouchable, and it was why he was a man you never wanted to get on the bad side of.

Even over something as simple as borrowing money from Oswald Cobb.

“I’m sorry, Oz,” you shrugged. “It’s really sweet of you—so sweet—but I just can’t.”

You brushed past him before he had a chance to respond, noticing the way his expression had already begun to sour. Oz walked around like he had something to prove, and it being so obvious only made it worse. You didn’t want to hear what he could’ve possibly come up with about why you wouldn’t take his money. You didn’t even know what you would say if he continued to press you about it. After all, it’s not like you could tell him the truth.

You didn’t see the conversation going over well if you told him that Mr. Falcone didn’t want you accepting any more money from him because your boss felt slighted that you wouldn’t allow him to metaphorically pee on you. It was such a crass and vulgar way to put it, but it was the truth. Oz you could take money from and turn down any further advances without the fear of losing your job.

Mr. Falcone…not so much.

Taking his money would cross a line you couldn’t uncross. There would be no paying him back and certainly no giving it back. Taking your boss’ money would come with strings you just wouldn’t be able to cut, and it was already bad enough that you were on his radar, the powerful man no doubt keenly aware of you and everyone you cared about.

It was late when you finally walked out of The Iceberg Lounge, your thin coat tight around you as you stepped into the biting air. There was hardly a soul on the street, let alone a taxi, and as the seconds ticked on, it was starting to hit you that you were going to have to walk. The dangers of Gotham at night weren’t even your biggest concern—it was the cold.

Just when you convinced yourself that the walk would warm you up, a nice sleek car pulled up beside you. It was black and nothing like you’d ever ridden in before. It wasn’t a limo, that much you could tell, and as it slowed to a stop in front of you, your mind distractedly settled on a Lincoln. You were just thinking that it seemed like the kind of car someone would be driven around in when the back window was rolled down.

A light drizzle started as you came face to face with Mr. Falcone.

Your lips parted in surprise before you pressed them together again, jaw clenching as you realized the predicament you found yourself in. If turning down Mr. Falcone’s money offended him, then you had no doubt that turning down a ride would be an even worse offense. You knew the path this conversation was going to take before he even opened his mouth, and you resigned yourself to it.

“Y/N.”

His deep voice greeted you over the light rain, and you responded with a soft smile. 

“Mr. Falcone. I didn’t even know you were up there tonight,” you said, keeping your voice light. “I was just about to head home.”

Even in the privacy of his car, he still had those shades on, and for some reason the sight of them on his face struck you as more eerie now than normal. Maybe it was because with hardly any light around, you couldn’t even see the faint shadow of his eyes. You were just staring into darkness, and the sight almost made you miss his next words.

“Why don’t you get in. I’ll drop you off,” his words came out like a suggestion, but you knew they were anything but.

With only a second of hesitation, you gave him a soft ‘okay’ before rounding the car.

The inside smelled like him—manly and clean with a hint of wood. You apologized for wetting his seats as you strapped yourself in, but he held his hand up before you could finish, signaling to you that it was nothing. You felt awkward sitting in his backseat with him, the heater warming you up more than your coat ever could. As if he could read your mind, the head of the Falcone family spoke.

“Were you going to walk home in that?”

It almost took you too long to realize that he was talking about your coat, and you fingered the thin material, a sheepish smile on your face.

“It wouldn’t have been that far of a walk,” you shrugged.

It was a lie, and you both knew it.

Even when you eventually looked away, you could still feel his eyes on you, and you didn’t expect his next words.

“Why are you so afraid of me?”

A beat of silence.

“I’m not.”

Another lie.

“I don’t like liars, you know that,” he called you out.

Swallowing, you looked out of the window, but that didn’t last long, hating the sight of his reflection behind you. The silence between you stretched, and the longer it went on, the more obvious it became that he wanted an actual honest answer to his question. Your shoulders heaved with a deep breath, and your gaze fell to your lap.

You swiped your tongue between your lips.

“I feel like you want something from me that I’m not exactly willing to give,” you slowly told him.

You were all too aware that there was a third person privy to this conversation, but you wondered how much the driver was paid by the Falcones to basically see and hear nothing because Mr. Falcone acted like he wasn’t even there, so you forced yourself to do the same. All that met your words was silence, and when you glanced at him, the other man wasn’t looking at you but instead staring straight ahead.

You started to think you’d said the wrong thing by acknowledging the elephant in the room whenever you were with him.

“...and what exactly is it that you think Oz wants from you?”

You leaned back in your seat at that, pressing your lips together and resisting the urge to fire back at him that you weren’t an idiot. Oz wasn’t exactly subtle, but you could handle Oz. You didn’t want to give Mr. Falcone the satisfaction of knowing that his power and connections and place in Gotham scared you more than any measly feelings.

So he wanted to fuck you. Big deal.

That wasn’t exactly new or daunting or shocking. Working at the 44 Below, you encountered plenty of men who did, but none as powerful as him. That was the part that scared you, being wanted by a man like Carmine Falcone. Oz was nothing, just another man on the street with a gun and some money who thought he was bigger than what he was. Mr. Falcone on the other hand…

You’d heard things—whispers of women around him disappearing and dying. He was the head of an organized crime family, so you couldn’t say you’d be surprised if he was even worse than you imagined. It was why you couldn’t blur this line between you, no matter how much he was trying to. He was your boss, you worked at his club, and that was all it could be. You were suddenly extremely aware of the fact that you were sitting in his car as he gave you a ride home out of the rain, and you looked out of the window.

You would have to find a better job and soon.

When his driver slowed to a stop outside of your apartment—the source of your current dilemma—you were quick to reach for the door handle…and Mr. Falcone was quick to reach for you. He’d only ever touched you a handful of times, and like always, his hand was gentle on your arm, but it felt so heavy to you through the thin material of your coat. You nervously watched him reach inside of it with his other hand, and your heart dropped at the wad of cash he pulled out.

You were shaking your head before he even spoke.

“Give this to Oz,” he told you, no room for argument in his tone. “I know everything that goes on in my club.”

You could feel his eyes on your face as he said that, and your earlier conversation with 

Oz came to mind.

“...and I don’t want you owing him anything.”

You thought to yourself that you shared the same sentiment, but owing Oz was better than owing a man like Carmine Falcone You didn’t say that though, accepting that you were going to be offending him for a third time tonight, and you didn’t want to make it worse. Ignoring his words and the money, you opened the door and was immediately greeted by drops of rain.

“I can handle Oz.”

That was all you said to him before closing the door behind you, hurrying around the car and into your apartment building, only relaxing when you were bathed in darkness.

You resisted the urge to fiddle with your fingers as you met his even stare with one of your own. You knew this conversation wasn’t going to be the lightest once you finally told him, but no amount of mental preparation was enough, it seemed. Mr. Falcone always had a stern look on his face, even when he wasn’t seemingly upset, but it was clear in this moment that he wasn’t happy with the turn of events.

At all.

“This clearly isn’t a ‘two weeks notice’ kind of establishment, but…it seemed like the proper thing to do,” you finally added. “The restaurant doesn’t pay what I make here, that’s for sure, but it’s decent money.”

There was a lot left unsaid, and you certainly weren’t going to voice it, but that apparently didn’t matter.

“Of course, it doesn’t hurt that you won’t have to deal with me anymore.”

He had no problems saying what you wouldn’t, and you actually winced at his words, looking away as he took a sip of his drink. His loft was quiet, and you finally sighed—softly—as you briefly closed your eyes.

“I never meant to offend you. I swear,” you said, looking at him again. “I’m just…not that kind of girl, and you seem very…determined to make a liar out of me.”

His mustache twitched, a crooked smile on his lips, and you were right to be nervous as you watched him stand. You started to stand too when he held a hand out, and despite your confusion, you remained seated. Your positions weren’t lost on you as he moved closer to you, towering over you and looking down his nose at you where you sat. He still had his drink in hand, and when he lifted his free hand, you expected the feel of his fingers on your chin.

He only pointed at you instead.

“You will need my help.”

He said it with so much conviction that part of you couldn’t help but to believe his words, and you blinked.

“You will,” he reiterated, and you oddly felt like a child being scolded by a parent in this moment. “You will need money and assistance because this city doesn’t reward the good and doesn’t believe in being fair.”

You struggled to swallow at that, knowing without a doubt that if nothing else he said was true, that definitely was.

“...and what will you do? Run to Oz with your tail between your legs?”

You shuddered at the thought, and you knew he noticed by his slight chuckle.

“Sacrifice your dignity to become the kind of woman you claim you’re not but for strangers instead? Hmm?”

Your throat felt tight as every word from him felt like a slap.

“Would it really be worth it just to pat yourself on the back for not taking my help?”

You didn’t have anything to say to that, blinking back tears as he shook his finger at you before dropping his arm entirely. He took another swig of his drink, and you watched him turn away from you with a shake of his head.

“You remind me a lot of my son, you know that?”

You had only crossed paths with the young man in question a handful of times, and you weren't impressed, so this comparison only made you feel worse.

“Just like Alberto,” Mr. Falcone dragged out. “So hard headed and stubborn and always needs to do things the hard way just to prove a point.”

You finally stood on shaky legs, adjusting your purse on your shoulder. You hated to admit that his words were already getting to you, a lot of truth in them that you refused to face. 

“Thank you, Mr. Falcone for the opportunity you gave me here,” was all you said. “I know it may not seem like it, but I really am grateful.”

When he didn’t respond, you made your way to the elevator, your heels echoing off the walls. You had just stepped inside when he spoke again, face to face with him just as you pushed the button to go back down to the ground floor.

“The devil you know is always better.”

That simple statement made your heart drop, and you didn’t respond, refusing to give him the satisfaction. When the doors shut though, your face crumbled, and the longer they stewed in your mind, the less his words felt like speculation and more like a curse. He wasn’t wrong, and you hated it.

This city swallowed people like you up. Gotham cackled and spat in the face of anyone who tried to do things the ‘right’ way here, and you wondered if you were really about to be next on its long list of victims all because you didn’t want to get tangled up with the likes of Carmine Falcone. Maybe he was right. Maybe you would end up right in his grasp where he wanted you…

…but you owed it to yourself to try.

It took a second restaurant gig just to keep your head above the water. The corruption in Gotham didn’t just extend to the cops and drug lords, but even all the way down to the lowly landlords too. You knew the day was coming when your rent would be hiked up again with no explanation nor rhyme or reason as to why, but with your two jobs, it wasn't anything you couldn’t handle. Sure, you didn’t ever have any money left over for things like food and other necessities most times, but you had a place to lay your head at night.

…and most of all, you didn’t have to stare into the eyes of Carmine Falcone and pretend like you didn’t know he was just waiting for you to offer him something so many other women probably had.

You had no doubt that he’d played this game before. After all, the man wasn’t just rich and powerful, but handsome too, and the kind of women who worked at the 44 Below—hell even just the Iceberg Lounge—tended to have no qualms about entering an arrangement with a powerful good looking man to keep a nice sum of money in their pockets. You wondered if that was part of the hang up with you—that you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

You supposed he was right when he called you stubborn, although you could’ve gone without the comparisons to Alberto. Everything he prophesied came true, and it was only some months later when you found yourself standing outside on a corner with some girls you were familiar with.

“The first one is always a little nerve wracking,” she told you, a comforting smile on her glossy lips.

“Speak for yourself,” another one interjected. “They all make my skin crawl.”

They chuckled together, and you nervously joined in.

You were no virgin—far from it—but you’d never offered the pleasure of your company for money before. You figured it couldn’t be all that different from any other one night stand. It was sex, and that pretty much worked the same no matter who it was with, only tonight you'd be getting paid for it. You weren’t in danger of being put out on the street—yet—but you were at a point where you were working just to pay bills…and it had started to get to you.

You needed some extra money in your pocket.

A low feminine whistle pulled you from your thoughts, and you followed your friend’s gaze.

“This is your lucky first pick, I can tell. Look at that car,” she praised pointing at the dark vehicle.

You didn’t join in on their excitement when you finally studied said car—a familiar car. Your heart sank to your stomach as a congratulatory pat was given to your arm, and despite how much you told yourself it was only a coincidence—he wasn’t the only rich man to be driven around in a car like that—something deep in your gut told you otherwise. You blinked as it slowed down, and your friends’ voices had faded some as they backed away to give you privacy.

You weren’t surprised when the back window rolled down.

Just sick to your stomach.

“Mr. Falcone,” you eventually greeted, never one to be rude to him despite everything.

He didn’t respond, just staring at you through those dark sunglasses, face as taut as ever.

“I can get one of the other-.”

“Get in.”

You bristled at the interruption, halfway turning to gesture to one of the other few women on the corner.

“I’m serious. Any of them would be happy to-.”

“I don’t like repeating myself, you know that.”

You swallowed the rest of what you were going to say, and your arm fell. You stared at him, and he stared at you, and the longer the seconds dragged on, the more you wanted to just…cry. Did he stake out notorious corners regularly? Had he just been waiting for the night you showed up on one of them? If you dared to walk away right now, you wondered what he would do. Follow you? Drag you into the car?

You’d never seen Mr. Falcone so much as raise his voice, but to be a successful head of an organized crime family, you knew it required a level of brutality you’d just never been privy to. You thought about those rumors and whispers you heard of the women around him, and you didn’t know which option was worse, right now—getting in that car or walking away from it.

As you distractedly watched one of your friends walk off with some John, you realized that your former boss’ presence was going to affect any attempts to service any man—any other man—tonight, and you angrily huffed.

No more words were exchanged as you stomped around the vehicle, the silence loud from the moment you slid into the backseat. The wheels were turning before you even clicked your seatbelt in place, and you refused to look at the dark-haired man next to you. Your gaze remained on the window, even when it became apparent you weren’t heading towards the Shoreline Lofts.

It didn’t take you long after that to realize just where you were heading, and despite how much your nerves spiked, you bit your tongue.

The Falcone family mansion was just as stunning and impressive as you’d heard it to be. You’d never had the pleasure of laying eyes on it, and for a brief moment, you’d forgotten the corner your former boss had backed you into. Your lips were parted at the sight of it, slow to get out and almost stumbling over your feet as you never took your eyes off of it. You think you would’ve been content to stand outside and stare at it all night.

Your companion for the night, on the other hand, had other ideas…

You did end up stumbling when he took your arm, and your heart was fast beneath your chest as he walked you to the imposing building. An added layer of fear and apprehension surrounded you, tonight unlike all the other times you were alone with the older man. You knew that some way or another he was going to get what he’d been after, and you didn’t quite know how consensual your part in all of this was going to be.

After all, you didn’t want to sleep with him, not even for money.

…but it was clear more than ever that Carmine Falcone wouldn't rest until he was taking care of you, and you were taking care of him.

Just like he wanted.

“Tell me something…”

His deep voice broke the silence the moment he let you go, and you felt wholly uncomfortable in the bedroom that was the size of your entire apartment. You hadn’t even thought to admire the impressive artwork on the walls and grand staircase as you made your way up it, only concerned with how the rest of your life was about to start.

“Is sleeping with some strange man off the streets really more appealing than sleeping with me?”

It seemed like you’d offended Mr. Falcone enough to last a lifetime, and so you decided to be honest as he poured you both drinks.

“You terrify me to my core…so yes.”

You didn’t miss the way he paused at that before continuing on.

“Those men on the streets of Gotham?” you shrugged. “They’re just men. Men who aren’t nearly as big and bad as they think they are, men who I can handle just fine…”

You only stared at the drink being offered to you when he stopped to stand before you.

“...but you run this city, and everyone in it, and I want nothing to do with a man like that.”

When you didn’t take the drink, he only set it off to the side on a nearby side table like your refusal meant nothing to him. He took his time in sipping his own drink, and you couldn’t stop your eyes from drifting towards the bed. Hours ago, you had no idea how this night could possibly end, but in this moment, you were never more sure of anything in your life.

Your eyes followed his movements as he set down his empty glass, the sound of it hitting the wood making you flinch. Like everything he did, he took his time in moving closer to you, always moving like he had all the time in the world. Your chest was heaving ever so slightly, and you lifted your gaze to look at his face just in time to watch him reach up and remove those dark shades. You didn’t recall ever having stared directly into his eyes before, and oddly enough, you found the sunglasses that always covered his eyes to be less intimidating. 

You weren’t surprised to feel his fingers on your chin, and you blinked at the familiar feel.

“How much were you going to charge?”

You answered him, knowing what he was referring to.

“$300 for an hour.”

You didn’t miss the haughty smirk that graced his lips, and you continued before he could speak.

“I needed extra money and they aren’t all Carmine Falcone,” you told him, a bit of an edge in your voice.

It didn’t get by him, and you felt his fingers tighten on your chin.

“...and that was really preferable to accepting my help.”

It came out like a statement, and so you didn’t respond because no response was needed. When his thumb touched your bottom lip, your heart skipped a beat. The older man’s intense gaze was on you, and a huge part of you wanted him to put you out of your misery. The two of you had been playing this cat and mouse game for months—really years—and you comforted yourself in thinking that the first step was the hardest part.

“Let me take care of you.”

From anyone else’s lips, that would’ve sounded like begging, but when Carmine said it, it sounded like an order. It sounded like he was telling you to let him do what he wanted because he was going to do it anyway. You voiced your thoughts.

“Do I have a choice?” you wondered into the quiet room.

The only response to your question was the scent of his cologne filling your nose and his lips on yours. You felt overwhelmed by his mere presence, realizing that this was the point of no return. Carmine Falcone had you exactly where he wanted you, and you were the last place you ever wanted to be. You felt almost silly for attempting to put this off for so long, reluctant to admit that you were always going to end up here from the moment he’d decided it.

The only shot you had was leaving Gotham entirely.

The dress you wore tonight was meant to come off and on easily, and it did just that with a few movements of his hand, the fabric falling at your feet. For the first time in years, you were nervous because as many men as you’d slept with, none of them were like him. Your movements were shaky, and you were both relieved and intimidated once you quickly realized that he liked to be in charge.

The sheets on the bed were softer than any you’d ever had the pleasure of laying on, and they only served to remind you what kind of life you were about to be drawn into. Whether or not it was worth it wasn’t even something you’d been able to consider, having little agency in this arrangement. Carmine Falcone took what he wanted and did what he wanted, and you didn’t want to believe that you were naive for thinking you could be the exception.

Your fingers trembled as you undressed him, and he didn't take his eyes off of you the entire time. You were sure some other type of power play was at work here, and you clenched your jaw as you undid his belt. You could feel his hand touching your hair, fingers finding their way to your neck and grazing the skin there.

It seemed that he was content to save the feigned romance of it all for later, wanting to put himself out of his misery for an entirely different reason than you wanted to put yourself out of yours.

You couldn’t stop the surprised gasp that left you when he pushed himself into you, hips connecting with yours before you had a chance to process what happened. Your nails pressed into his skin, and the way he shuddered beneath your touch told you that he liked that. It felt difficult to wrap your head around your predicament—pinned beneath your former boss and lying in his bed.

Forcing yourself to let go of your apprehension and fear, you found that you could enjoy yourself if you just turned your brain off for a moment. As it was, you couldn’t stop thinking about what this meant and what your life would be like tomorrow and what this would mean for your relationship with Carmine. However, his hand on your neck forced you to think of nothing but him inside of you and his hands on you.

Everywhere he touched flared with heat, and you didn’t even know when you’d wrapped your legs around him. The thin layer of sweat that started to appear on your skin did little to cool you, but your mind strayed further and further from that with every thrust of his hips. Your lashes fluttered as you felt yourself stretch around his cock, your other hand reaching down to twist around the sheets.

The feel of his facial hair brushing along your skin made you shudder beneath him, and your gaze landed on the ceiling, eyes absentmindedly roaming along the walls and wallpaper and every detail that made your little apartment look like something out of a horror movie. You told yourself that there was a silver lining in this, but what did the silver lining mean to you when you never wanted this in the first place?

As his lips met yours again, you could see yourself getting used to this despite your initial refusal. However, it didn’t seem smart to get comfortable around the likes of Carmine, but as he curved his hips into yours again, you wondered if that line of thought was easier said than done. Beneath him, it was easy to forget just what he did and the kind of business he ran and the power he held in this city.

However…

When he pulled away, gaze meeting yours, a stab of fear tore through you.

Carmine Falcone always scared you and probably always would, no amount of money and fancy apartments and cars would change that. You unintentionally arched your chest up into his, back curving as his fingers danced along your spine. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he liked that he scared you, that your fear made this more fun for him.

His hand trailed over your skin and slid up between your chest before he took your chin in his hand. He kissed you again—a trembling breath leaving your lips—before that same hand slid around your throat. You lost track of how long he plunged his cock into you, and you were already embarrassed to think about someone else cleaning up the mess that was his bed tomorrow.

With a house like this and a family like his, there were no doubts in your mind that someone did their cleaning for them.

Some time throughout the night, you recalled words leaving his lips and yours that sounded a lot like a verbal push and pull. He wanted you to proclaim something you didn’t want to, and your refusal would be met with little nips from his teeth into your skin here and there. He’d call you stubborn, and you would turn your head away. You vaguely recalled asking about the rest of the family, nervously wondering how your presence would be received in the house. 

You didn’t think Carmine had any qualms about being honest about what and who you were. He was the type to do whatever he wanted unapologetically, and you didn’t doubt that it extended to whatever woman he wanted to parade around with whose time and company he was paying for.

“They know you’re mine,” was all he said. “They’ll do as I say.”

That didn’t bring you any comfort.

[weak-hero]

there is so much to unpack about dinner scene but it comes down to two people finding themselves in unexpected pseudo-familial dynamic born out of grief and loneliness

sofia asks if she can help in cooking/changes plates and then be still for millisecond, almost bracing herself for harsh reaction because that how it was with carmine. but sal is not like her father. she doesn't have to walk on eggshells in case she makes him upset, she can actually relax a little bit and eat in peace.

and i love all the parallels and anti-parallels between these dinner scenes from 1x04 and 1x06 :

grand room vs kitchen

sal actually cooking the meal vs carmine getting the prepared food

soup (symbol of warmth/intimate dish) vs roasted hunted meat

carmine/sal both pour her wine (as in she's the big girl sitting at adults table)

carmine positioned at the head of the table vs sal choosing to sit next to her

sofia in proper dress/hair done vs nightgown/hair disheveled

all the food x sofia scenes post-arkham were a build up to this scene with sal so audience would see how she's more considerate to him -> actually mindful of his opinion about herself ; cause sofia was eating like time was running out, not caring what people would think about her and here she's makes herself to slow down and actually enjoy the meal like!!!!!!!!!!!!! so much to unpack!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[unfortunately-obsessed]

Okay so

Thomas was born a Wayne. Martha was born a Kane. Both come with curses, destines, tied to Gotham from the marrow of their bones

When Martha finds out what Carmine did to Maria Kyle? She sees red. For heaven's sake, she's a Kane– she can't sit still and see the city burn itself. Do nothing. The thing she carries on her purse, unnamed, is steel heavy. She stretches her fingers, tentatively, thinking, and pulls the trigger

When the Falcone shows up the Wayne's doorstep? Thomas is too far deep in his own self-loathing. It's just one of those nights where he remembers he was born in a gold candle, fed by a silver spoon. It's just one of those days where the city weights upon his shoulder. The people count on him. The city. Can he stand tall and proud if he allows his hands to be tainted by Falcone's blood? Can he be the judge in Carmine's life? Isn't not saving someone the same as sentencing them to death? So, he made the oath, help the sick

That is to say Bruce has his mother's rage towards the city and his father's savior complex

And Carmine Falcone? He just thinks this all is amusing

[animusrox]

Batman Begins (2005) dir. Christopher Nolan

[batmanlovesnirvana]

GOTHAM GAZETTE

[youronebraincell]

I just know that Sofia uses sex as a grounding technique. The only way she can truly calm down is being skin to skin with her girlfriend. Kissing her, looking deep in her eyes. Generally being very possessive and close to her. She’d be very verbal and talkative during sex. Talking about how stressful her day was, how she’s feeling, her fears, her worries. They’re all laid bare into her woman’s bare skin until it all washes away and all she can think about is the angel kissing her and telling her it’s all going to be okay. That she’s here and she’s never leaving Sofia

Sofia Gigante x fem!reader

I’ve never written a self-insert fic but I got this ask and couldn’t resist so bear with me.

Warning: spoilers for the first five episodes of The Penguin, angst, implied homophobia, mild fluff, reference torture/abuse, smut, spit as lube, strap-on, rough sex, masturbation, minor voyeurism, sustaining injury, possessiveness, floor sex, tribbing, cunnilingus

Word count: 3K

Though she kept it well-hidden, Sofia was extremely anxious most if not all of the time. With the stress of the foundation and being the daughter of mob boss Carmine Falcone, you were the only thing that kept her sane.

Then she got sent to Arkham.

You didn’t see or talk to her for over a decade, but not for the lack of trying. Carmine forbade you from going to Arkham by ‘kindly suggesting’ that Sofia take this time away to work on herself until she’s all better. It didn’t surprise you.

He had never approved of your.. close relationship with his only known daughter.

But then he passed away.

You and Alberto were able to file for an appeal for Sofia’s release. The judge that previously handled her case was found unresponsive in his chambers a week before Carmine’s death.

You saw this as an opportunity to get a new judge, someone who wasn’t on Carmine’s payroll, to review the case. It didn’t take long before Sofia was exonerated and released back into society.

Sofia was different.

The light in her eyes had dimmed. Her smile, once so bright and blinding, had become faint and bittersweet. Every response, every move she made seemed premeditated.

Sofia stayed at your place. You didn’t think it would be good for her to go back to the Mansion so soon. To your surprise, Alberto agreed.

You didn’t mind that he stuck you with two of his guards stationed outside of your apartment in the process. All that mattered was that you had Sofia.

You gave her space even though it was the last thing you wanted. Sofia must’ve had the same thought because on her first night in your apartment, you awoke to the sound of her settling beside you on your worn-out couch, her breath soft and even against your neck. She kept her hands to herself. You did the same.

Yet when morning came, her arm was draped over your waist and your hand was close to her chest. When your eyes fluttered open, you saw big brown eyes staring right at you.

“You still snore.”

You let out a laugh.

The corner of her mouth tugged upward into a smile. It was small, but you didn’t care.

It was progress.

But then.. then Alberto died.

Sofia completely unraveled. She moved back into the Mansion and took you with her.

You watched as the family, especially that fuck Johnny, sidelined her, treating her like she was nothing more than an inconvenience instead of the only living Heir to the Falcone empire.

(Un)fortunately for you, this caused sex with Sofia to improve greatly. Not that it wasn’t already out of this world before, but it was different. It was like she had something to prove now and she had to do so by working her fingers inside of your wet cunt, her teeth grazing against your collarbone.

You were the outlet for her frustration.

Like now at her brother’s memorial.

It didn’t matter where you were. She’d pull you aside, find somewhere private and then eat you out or fingerfuck you to the brink of insanity while ranting to you about whatever asshole or shitty situation upset her this time.

When you came for the second or third time, your legs a little shaky, she cleaned her fingers with her lips and tongue. She held your gaze as she proceeded to wipe them on your dress.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

You were rewarded with a chaste kiss on the lips before she told you to clean yourself up and meet her back inside. You didn’t care that she made you feel like a whore when she left.

You were hers. Solely and unconditionally, hers.

If a whore was what Sofia wanted,

then a whore you would be.

You were reading a book late in the night as you waited for Sofia to come to bed when the double doors were thrown open, startling you and making you drop your book in your lap.

Sofia closed the doors behind her and made her way over to you, her heels clacking against the polished wooden floor. “Take off your clothes.”

You stare at her, your mouth slightly agape.

“Now, Y/N!”

You closed the book and set it on your nightstand before pulling your shirt over your head and lifting your hips to take off your panties.

You were more than a little concerned, but also really turned on by your girlfriend’s commanding tone. A gush of wetness left your cunt as you thought about what she was gonna do to you.

Sofia took off her dress, her bra and panties following soon after. She let her hair down and opened the walk-in closet.

When she came out, she looked down as she adjusted the harness of the strap-on around her waist. A black dildo stood out between her legs.

Your jaw dropped as you marvelled at the size.

Sofia eyed you with a hint of irritation as she walked towards you on the bed. “Close your mouth. I won’t be needing that tonight.”

You closed your mouth.

You moved to sit in the middle of the bed before spreading your legs. Sofia was on you in a matter of seconds, her mouth ravishing yours as she laid you down. Her hand slithered down to see if you were wet enough. She pulled away, breaking the kiss. She watched your reaction as she slipped her middle finger into your cunt.

You tried to suppress a groan, but she noticed.

“Don’t do that. I need to know if I’m hurting you.”

She spat into her hand and rubbed her spit along her length before pressing the tip against your entrance. You shivered with want.

She spread your lower lips with her fingers. Her eyes never left your face as she pushed her cock inside of you, watching every microexpression from the furrow of your brows to the slight tremble of your bottom lip. It was bigger than the dildos she used on you in the past. This one was stretching you out in a way that was almost too much for you to handle. Almost.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when she bottomed out. She gave you a moment to get adjusted to her size.

You put your hand on her shoulder, but quickly pulled it away when you touched her scars.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt me.”

You looked up at her.

“Go on.”

Hesitantly, you brought your hand up to her shoulder. You grabbed onto it. You brushed the pad of your thumb along her scars in a back and forth motion, a frown forming your lips. “I’m sorry..”

“No. None of that, okay? The past is in the past.”

Still, your jaw clenched at the torture and abuse Sofia was subjected to at the hands of her father.

It relaxed as you let out a surprised gasp when Sofia pulled back and thrusted her hips forward.

She spent the rest of the night and better part of the morning fucking into you with reckless abandon as your velvety walls clenched around her faux cock orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

From what she was saying, the family wanted to send her away to Italy. Assholes.

Then there was something about her being suspicious of Oz..

It was hard for you to keep up as she fucked you well within an inch of your life.

Sofia seemed content with the barely coherent hums you gave her every now and then.

You dragged your nails down her back when you came for the umpteenth time. You hid your face in the crook of her neck, whimpering as another orgasm washed over you like a crashing wave.

You heard her panting lightly next to your head.

You felt raw and empty when she wordlessly pulled her cock out of you. Your walls clenched around nothing, immediately missing the warmth and stretch that the toy provided.

You tried to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling as you laid sprawled out on the bed.

You closed your eyes.

When you opened them, you turned your head towards the sound of uneven breathing and saw Sofia masturbating, the strap-on long abandoned. Her eyes were glued to the ceiling like she was planning something in her head.

You turned to lie on your side so you could watch.

Her neck strained when she tilted her chin up. You could tell she was close. She inhaled sharply and suppressed a groan when she came, her eyes still trained on the ceiling. She breathed out.

Then she turned to look at you.

Your fingers danced on her upper arm, slowly making their way to her face. You tapped her temple. “What’re you thinking?”

“You need to go to a hotel for a couple days.”

You brushed the end of her brow. “Okay.”

You didn’t question her. You never did.

Sofia smiled and took your hand from her face to press a gentle kiss to your palm.

“Grazie, bella.”

She set you up in a hotel suite just outside of Gotham with one simple instruction: don’t leave the room. Two guards were stationed outside to make sure you didn’t defy her.

On one of those mornings while you were eating a breakfast sandwich in bed, you saw the news of what happened at the Falcone Mansion.

You saw Sofia talking to Chief Mackenzie just outside the Mansion before going in. The camera panned to Gia being taken away in a beige van.

Your heart dropped to your stomach.

You jump out of bed and put on a shirt and some sweats before opening the front door.

One of the guards, a tan woman about an inch or two taller than you, stepped in front of you.

“Get out of my way.”

“I have direct orders to keep you here, ma’am.”

“I don’t care. I need to see Sofia.”

You tried to move past her, but she continued to block your path. The other guard didn’t bother stepping in. His phone rang. “Shit. It’s the wife.”

“Go. I got this.”

The man walked away from the suite, his receding footsteps growing quieter and quieter. The woman made sure he was out of sight before pushing you back into the suite by force.

You stumbled backwards and fell flat on your ass. The back of your head made contact with the edge of the footboard. You cried out in pain.

The guard didn’t seem to care. “You will stay here until Miss Falcone says otherwise.”

She left you on the floor, the door slamming shut behind her as she made her exit.

You stood up and went to the fridge to get something cold for your head. You take a soda can from the back of the fridge and press it against the bump forming on your head. You wince when the cool metal touches your scalp.

A few hours later, the woman came in unannounced to tell you they’ll be taking you back to the Mansion. She handed you some painkillers. “For your head.”

You stared at her, your eyes ablaze with fury.

Much to your irritation, she cracked a smile. “We leave in ten. That should give you enough time to look.. presentable for Miss Falcone.”

Your nostrils flared as she left. Bitch.

You put on an emerald green, one-shoulder evening dress. You contemplated putting your hair in a bun, but decided against it last minute.

You didn’t need Sofia asking questions.

The drive to the Mansion was spent in silence.

When you arrived, you walked behind the guards and entered what you called ‘The War Room.’

Sofia was standing at the head of the table with Johnny sitting on her right. You watched in awe as she spoke. You hung on to every word.

Johnny told her to take it easy.

You rolled your eyes.

You flinched when she shot him in the head.

Silence enveloped the room.

She blew a raspberry then continued speaking as if nothing had happened. She opened a duffel bag and dumped stacks and stacks of cash onto the table. Nobody dared to move. Not even when she urged them to take what’s rightfully theirs.

“Come on, guys,” You said with a smile, sauntering over to your girlfriend. “Dig in.”

Sofia wrapped an arm around your waist. “You heard her, ladies and gentlemen. Have your fill.”

Two dozen greedy hands reached out to grab what they could before it was all gone.

“Not you.”

The woman who kept guard at the hotel froze, her body bent over slightly on the table.

“Put it back.”

The woman emptied her pockets and put the stacks back on the table.

“Everyone else, continue.”

The table was cleared in seconds.

Sofia’s eyes never left the woman standing across from her with her fists clenched at her sides. “You hurt the woman I love when you were supposed to be protecting her. I can’t let that stand.”

The woman swallowed nervously.

“Since you were such a loyal soldier to my father, I will give you the benefit of a doubt and let you leave with your head still attached to your body.”

The woman didn’t need to be told twice.

She turned on her heel and left the room.

Sofia’s grip on your waist tightened, her fingers digging into the fabric of your dress hard enough to bruise the covered skin that lay underneath.

“First person to kill her gets ten grand.”

The two of you didn’t witness the chaos that erupted as you left the room beforehand.

She took you into her father’s study and closed the doors. Her eyes raked over your face. “You weren’t gonna tell me.”

You pursed your lips. “I was being difficult. She was just.. doing her job.”

She reached behind you to asses the damage that had been done to the back of your head. Her heart ached at the bump she felt. “Hurting you is not one of the requirements.”

She pulled her hand away when you winced.

You looked at her.

“You killed your family.”

“I did.”

“You orphaned Gia.”

Sofia pressed her lips together. “I did.”

“Did it feel good?”

“Yes. It did.”

You threw yourself onto Sofia, surprising her for a split second before her surprise morphed into something else. Something more inviting.

You found yourself lying on your back in front of the lit fireplace. Clothes were literally torn off and ripped apart by Sofia’s needy hands.

You moaned into her mouth as you grinded your cunts together, sloppily and unrestrained. Your hardened nipples rubbed against hers. Your tongue submitted to hers as they danced inside your mouth to a rhythm only the two of you knew.

She bit your bottom lip when you reached down and cupped her ass, urging her on. You welcomed the taste of your own blood on your tongue.

A thick strand of saliva connected your lips together when she broke the kiss.

“You’re so gorgeous when you’re like this, bella;”

Sofia leaned down to nip at your earlobe.

“Spent, barely hanging on,”

Her tongue licked the shell of your ear.

“But begging for more.”

She kissed you again. You both orgasmed simultaneously, moaning into each other’s mouths while getting down from your highs, your hips bucking wantonly to chase after each other.

When you broke apart for air, you pushed her down so she was the one lying on her back.

“I haven’t seen you in days,” You said as you made your way down her body. You stop inches away from her cunt. “Care to bring me up to speed while I eat you out, Miss Gigante?”

Sofia loved the way her new name rolled of your tongue. “Only if you put that tongue to good use.”

“Don’t I always?”

You ate out Sofia as she told you what you had missed, your mouth and tongue working overtime to satisfy the woman you loved.

Oz betrayed her (surprise, surprise), Julian ‘saved’ her after the Maronis ambushed her and then she killed him before killing the Falcones.

You listened intently to each and every word.

Your bodies were covered in thick layers of sweat by the time the two of you were finished.

You had your head on her chest. You drew meaningless patterns on her arm and stomach while her fingers played with your hair.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You looked up at her. “For what?”

“Everything, I suppose” She looked deep into your eyes. “You could’ve abandoned me a handful of times, but you didn’t. Which is more than I could say for my family. May they rest in peace.”

You tried not to smile at that.

“Now that Berto’s gone, you’re all I have.”

She cupped your left cheek, her thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth.

“I love you. I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life. Hopefully, I’ll never have to find out.”

You weren’t stupid. There was an underlying threat to her words. Of course there was.

There was no forgetting what Sofia was. Even when you were putty in her arms like you are now, you knew what she was capable of when crossed.

Still, you gave her a genuine smile. “I love you too. Even if you accuse me of snoring which I don’t.”

Sofia let out a loud laugh.

You caved three seconds in and laughed with her.

[aerionbrightflamed]

the penguin 1x04 / succession 2x01

[reynardwrites]

I....

His hands...

I think I'm actually going to be sick

Oz is never beating the Carmine 2.0 allegations

[bruciemilf]

And if I said “Thomas knocked Martha up on their first meeting and they had a shotgun wedding bc her family was pissed, so these are the only wedding pictures Bruce has” WHAT

[vincentsleftear]

There’s just something about the way Sofia makes it her mission to set her family on a new track. How she seeks to avenge the wrongs committed against her mother, a woman whose murder at the hands of her husband was swept under the rug by her own family. And herself, a woman sacrificed by that very same family, locked away and tortured in an institution for crimes she did not commit.

Something about how she vows the legacy of the Falcone Family hurting their most vulnerable ends with her…

And then there’s Gia, her young niece.

Sofia murders the remaining Falcones in the name of revenge. She lies to the public and (more importantly) lies to Gia about the way they all died. Gia becomes another motherless daughter, someone who had those she loved ripped away by those she trusted.

To tie up any loose ends, Sofia has this little girl carted away to some orphanage in Gotham, just another institution where Gia will face God knows what horrors all alone. At the hands of Sofia, Gia becomes yet another girl discarded like a peice of trash by those she needs protection from most.

There’s just something about how in her mission to rise above her family’s dark past Sofia Falcone is slowly becoming the very thing she seeks to destroy….

[dspectar]

I guess the apple don’t fall far from the tree 🍏

Going somewhere with this I think

[alpacinosgf]

You made me do this, just like your mother

[we-ezer]

Danny Falcone 2

Danny compromises with Carmine’s desire for him to wear a suit by wearing blazers over graphic tees. It hurts Carmine’s old gangster soul but he loves his new kid even more so he allows it as long as Danny promises to never take off the family ring around his neck (for protection).