#that makes it sound like I’m a mob boss. I’m Italian so…

[poppadom0912]

Mafia boyfriend

Warnings: Mentions of violence, guns, canon-typical injuries, mob/mafia typical behaviour

Summary: Your boyfriend isn't exactly how you described him to be.

A/N: I’m trying to get a bunch of writing done before the new academic year, so please do enjoy! This idea was so random but the concept is kinda fun so I thought why not. I know no Italian at all, everything is from google translate so I'm sorry for any inaccuracies. This writing and description is very stereotypical and very wattpad of me, I apologise in advance. 🙏

"So, are we ever going to meet your mysterious man?" Stella asked you while the four of you sat in the back of the ambulance having your weekly talk about anything and everything.

You laughed at her expecting face, along with the knowing glances Violet and Sylvie had. "He's just a really busy guy, taking over his dad's business takes a lot of time and not all of it is in Chicago so he's going back and forth from here to Italy."

"But he treats you good, right?" Violet asked seriously, wanting nothing more than for you to be with someone good.

"Oh he's amazing." You said whimsically, a soft smile settling on your lips at the thought of your boyfriend of one year that your family had yet to meet. "Hopefully he's back by Friday so you'll see him on Saturday for the barbeque."

"Oh I completely forgot about that." Sylvie frowned, confused as to how she forgot the yearly picnic that always took place. "What time does it start?"

"I have no idea." You shrugged. "I'll just show up whenever I'm ready."

"Wow, so organised." Stella complimented you sarcastically, ducking away from your hand when you were going to smack her.

"In my relationship, Enzo does all the planning." You mumbled with a slight pout as though trying to prove a point but it didn't work

"Mystery man does have a name!"

"Enzo sounds hot."

"Violet!"

*****

"Eeeee! You're here!" Violet squealed in pure joy as she practically sprinted towards you with her arms open, enveloping you in the biggest hug despite seeing you yesterday on shift. "About time, these lot are getting boring."

At her snide but playful comment, Gallo and Ritter started booing her from where she left them behind at their table with a few others from 51 who were drinking beers. You quickly waved at them and made a mental note to go and say hi to them.

"Oh Violet, I have someone I want you to meet." You eagerly smiled and the younger paramedic took note of your eyes sparkling which could only mean one thing.

Violet gasped, her arms dropping to her side as she did so in disbelief that this was finally happening. "Y/N, don't lie to me girl, my gentle heart can't take it."

You shook your head, smiling at the utter joy one of your friends had for a moment that lots of people don't consider that important. "Violet this is my boyfriend Enzo. Enzo, this is one of my best friends Violet."

With her award winning smile, Violet followed your line of sight and her brows rose in shock when she finally met the man you'd been dating for a little over a year now.

There was no doubt about it, he was an extremely attractive man but he was definitely out of his element. Unbeknownst to all of the CFD, the park was littered in bodyguards who had been held back from personally tailing their boss like they usually would.

Shaking off all her negative thoughts, Violet thought the best and held out her hand towards the attractive but intimidating man. "It's lovely to finally meet you after so long Enzo, I'm Violet."

"I've heard plenty of good things about you. It's a wonder we haven't met earlier." His voice was slightly accented, Violet remembered you saying he was Italian. His grip wasn't as hard as she thought and his tone actually softer than he looked, his words making the paramedic laugh.

"We've been nagging Y/N for so long to meet you but she's very convincing." You choked back a laugh at Violet's comment, lightly elbowing her in the gut. "Alright Vi, that's enough. Where's Stella and Sylvie?"

"Over there with Kelly and Matt."

It was comedic really, the sight of you and your boyfriend together was unbelievable. Despite being a firefighter, you were of very short stature and you were practically the embodiment of pure joy but with your boyfriend standing besides you, he was so much taller and wore all black smart ish attire with rings on two of his fingers.

It was like the typical grumpy and sunshine trope that people read about in books but this was real life. Violet almost couldn't believe you bagged yourself a man like him but in a good way.

"Y/N, hey girl!" Stella smiled, waving you over from besides Kelly as soon as she noticed you. Not only did she notice but so did three others that stood with her that a man was accompanying you, someone who was very out of his element. "Stop- is this the infamous Enzo?"

At your dimpled smile, Stella's smile widened as she fully turned to greet your boyfriend she'd been desperate to meet since you mentioned taking his number ages ago.

There was no denying you were ecstatic to be with him but something wasn't adding up and it seemed that she wasn't the only one suspicious.

Things weren't adding up and your family were dammed if they didn't find out what.

*****

Being shot at was nothing you weren't used to living in Chicago all your life. At this point, you'd become accustomed to it and you no longer feared it how you used to when you were a child.

However, it did scare you when in uniform and out on a call.

Following Casey and Severide's orders, everything was organised in an orderly manner but as soon as you re-entered the house to bring out a victim, all the gunfire suddenly stopped.

Initially, everyone was relieved and began calming down but as soon as you exited the house with a woman in tow, gunshots began raining down once again causing everyone to shout in a flurry of panic.

But once again, as soon as you backed up into the house protecting the smoke inhalation victim, all the gunshots stopped.

It was at this moment, it all slowly started to click.

Whispering to the female victim to stay put, you very carefully set one foot outside the house and what do you know, gunshots started popping off.

Eyes wide and chest heaving, you swallowed harshly at the realisation that you were being targeted. You alone and no one else.

"Y/L/N, stay inside, we're coming to you." Casey relayed over the radio, your captains words making it clear to you that he had also connected all the dots.

All you had to do now was wonder why.

Following the shooting, everyone came out unharmed but you. While you were distracted with the smoke inhalation victim, you were caught slacking and got grazed by a bullet.

You'd been hurt much worse before but it was bad enough for Sylvie to warrant a trip to Med where Enzo met you, worry and concern flooding off of him in waves. Not once since your year of being together had you ever seen him so worried about anything.

He brushed off your questions about work, he told you this morning he had an important meeting with some clients but here he was with you.

Unbeknownst to you, a group of Italian men were dutifully waiting for their boss in the waiting room and beyond the hospital doors lay a few cars all inhabited with similar looking men.

Once you fell asleep, Enzo lightly placed a kiss on your forehead before stepping away, gently closing the doors to your room. Walking away, he was lucky not to bump into anyone from the firehouse, going straight towards his brothers who waited for him to speak eagerly.

"It's them. They're targeting my Y/N."

His younger siblings eyes, identical to his, all darkened at his words. They'd grown attached to you over the one year period and they'd be damned if one of the best things to happen to this family was hurt, let alone dragged into business that she was too pure for.

"Come on, we have some work to do."

*****

That incident was over a month ago. You fully healed since then, the trauma of such an incident long forgotten. And you were too oblivious to notice the change in the people around you, especially your boyfriend and his family. Their protectiveness reaching new heights, not that it bothered you though.

Things drastically changed when one day you never showed up to shift. You were very strict on punctuality and Stella mentioned seeing you yesterday morning for some brunch.

It was only when Violet called Enzo, asking if you'd fallen sick and forgotten to call Boden, did they properly start to get worried.

Your boyfriend picked up on the second ring, voice filled with confusion at your best friend calling him, something she's never done before.

Violet explained the situation, Enzo confirming he hadn't seen you since you left early this morning for work.

The tension in his voice was clear as day. So when he said 'I'll deal with it' before hanging up, Violet was left feeling uneasy.

What the hell did he mean?!

Three hours later, Intelligence were rolling up to the firehouse, well only Jay and Hailey.

"We just got a call about Y/N being kidnapped?" Hailey said, confusion laced in her words as she approached the squad table.

The firefighters all looked at her in shock. They were never told anything about a kidnapping.

"What the hell." Cruz whispered as the two detectives explained everything they knew.

"Who knows where she was seen last?" Jay asked, looking at all of 51, everyone joining them outside in concern for you.

"Her boyfriend Enzo." Violet said, brows furrowed as she bit her lip. "I called and asked him around three hours ago now."

"Really?" Jay hummed. "What's his full name?"

"No clue. That's all we really know about him - his name, he's Italian and he's now a CEO after his dad died." Stella replied when Violet remained silent.

"Interesting."

*****

Dropping off a patient at Med, Violet stood besides Sylvie as she filled in some paperwork, bouncing on her feet to pass time when Will appeared in front of them suddenly.

Scaring both paramedics, he apologised with a sheepish smile.

"Hey, you guys never mentioned Y/N being kidnapped?" Before either of them could reply or explain themselves, he carried on. "It doesn't matter now, she's upstairs in a private room."

Both women were too shocked to reply, staring at the doctor mouths agape and eyes wide.

"Y/N's here? At Med?" Sylvie repeated, wanting clarification just in case she was hearing things.

"Yep." Will nodded. "Me and Maggie were treating her, I'm the primary on her case."

"Well then, what are you waiting for?" Violet said impatiently. "Lead the way Halstead."

And lead the way he did, showing them to a floor they barely saw due to their lack of 'rich rich' patients.

In the chairs outside were several men dressed in blacks and greys, all looking very similar to each other, their brown eyes glued to Sylvie and Violet as they neared the room.

Knocking on the door, Will didn't wait for a reply before entering, poking his head inside before opening it fully.

"Sylvie! Violet!" You exclaimed, trying to get up from your laid back position on the bed, wincing from moving too fast.

"Okay, let's not do that." Enzo said at the same time as Will, gently pushing you to lay back down.

"I've put a rush on your test results." Will said, looking at you and your boyfriend. "If I'm not available, I'll send Maggie."

Enzo thanked him while the two paramedics hugged you cautiously.

"Girl, what the hell happened?" Violet asked first, standing by your head with Sylvie standing next to her, opposite to where Enzo was sat.

"I'll be honest, I don't remember much." You admitted, grimacing at the pain in your head when you moved too much. "Pretty sure I was drugged for the most of it."

"I think I was taken like two blocks away from 51." You said confusingly, looking to your right at Enzo in confirmation, turning back when he nodded. "And all I can really remember is being punched and kicked a few times and like, a bunch of men talking about mob revenge stuff."

"Honestly, I don't even know or remember what they were talking about - I was so out of it."

You licked your chapped lips at which Enzo instantly held a cup of water in front of you, directing the straw for you to drink.

Humming appreciatingly, you smiled at him, dimples and squinted eyes and all before turning back to 2 of 3 of your girls.

"I was so out of it that when I first saw Enzo, I struggled to even recognise him, innit baby?"

Enzo just hummed, his one hand encompassing both of yours, his calloused fingers softly rubbing your knuckles.

"Where was she?" Violet asked, mustering up the courage to ask. "How- Where did you find her?"

Enzo finally took his eyes off you, eyes cold as he looked at your best friend. "I have a really good friend - we grew up together - whose a detective."

"I just asked for a favour." Enzo lied masterfully, having a lifetime full of experience.

The two paramedics, while quite suspicious, remained oblivious to what he was covering up.

"Fratello." A voice from the door interrupted them, all yours heads turning to one of Enzo's younger brothers. Brother

"Sono stati affrontati. Ale and Carlo assicurati che facesse male."

they have been dealt with. Ale and Carlo made sure it hurt.

"Bene." Enzo nodded, smiling at his younger brother. "You guys can go home now." good

His brother rolled his eyes, scoffing when he replied, "You're very silly Enzo, why would we go anywhere?" He said rhetorically before looking at you.

"You look much better cognata!" He smiled, brightening up his face and looking much less scarier than he just was. "All you need now is some good food and you'll be as good as new." Sister-in-law

You giggled, stifling a groan from the pain it caused in your ribs. "Thank you Luca. I expect to go home to your cooking."

He laughed, winking before he left, nodding at his brother who shooed him away.

Before anyone could say anything, the radios around their torsos went off, the familiar voice of Matt asking for their whereabouts causing them to frown.

"We should probably get back to work. We're still on shift for another fifteen hours." Sylvie said, the sadness clear in her face at the prospect of leaving you for so long.

"Yes yes. Go back and save the city on my behalf." You removed one hand from Enzo's, holding it out for both of them to take. "Say hi to everyone for me. Tell em I'll be back to working soon-"

"Ah- no you won't." Enzo stopped you before you could continue, chastising you with a smile but firm in his words. "You need to recover first. Only when you're fully healed can you go back to putting out fires, yes?"

"Exactly!" Violet agreed. "We're all on the same page, perfect."

"We'll come back and see you again after shift." Violet said as the two of them got up to leave. "Don't move an inch."

"Promise." You smiled, thanking them profusely for visiting. "Give everyone my love."

Closing the door behind them, the waiting room remained full of the same men, who now that they were looking properly, looked eerily similar to Enzo.

Making their way to the elevators, Sylvie broke the silence. "I don't- I don't think he asked a friend for a favour."

"Did you see the gun his brother had?"

...

"I did."

[scorpiussage]

Alfie Solomons + Quid Pro Quo

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Reader

Warnings: smut

For me because I’m an idiot 🤦🏻‍♀️

Your family is damn lucky to have you, you think as you make your way through Solomons’ ‘bakery’ towards his office. Tommy especially, as he’s really the one who will be benefiting from this the most. And really he should be the one doing this, not you. After all, he’s the one who started this whole mess with the Italians. 

Alfie’s massive frame is hunched over piles of paperwork at his desk and his spectacles are in danger of falling off the end of his nose. Ollie, who’s led you to the office, knocks on the door frame politely only for Alfie to snap (without looking up), “What the fuck is it now, Ollie?!” 

The poor boy flushes and tries to answer, but he wasn’t quick enough because Alfie’s continuing on in his tirade, “I thought I fucking told yo-!”

That’s when Alfie looks up and catches sight of you leaning against the doorframe, your eyebrow cocked up in that infuriatingly arrogant manor that you always see Tommy do. He leans back in his chair in surprise, his eyes tracking up and down your frame before correcting course and looking towards his whipping boy. 

“Alright, Ollie, you can go,” he dismisses the lad who practically sprints to leave the general vicinity, thankful to get away from his boss’ terrible temper. 

You roll your eyes at the dramatics of it all and close the office door behind yourself as you enter, your fingers deftly clicking the lock into place. At the sound of that Alfie sits up to his full height in his chair, his hand already reaching into the drawer that he keeps his gun in. You wave him off, though, as you remove your coat and hang it carefully on the coat rack next to Alfie’s. 

He doesn’t remove his hand from the drawer, but he does relax slightly. His eyes never leave you, though, and you know he’s fully prepared to shoot you regardless of if you’re a woman and his best friend’s sister, “What’s this about, then?”

His voice always has the most delectable rumble to it that hits you from your toes to the top of your head. 

You circle around his desk and halfway sit yourself on the corner, “I want to make a deal with you.” 

His hand is now fully removed from the gun drawer and is instead stroking his beard in consideration, “Oh?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard plenty about this mess with the Italians?” you ask while nervously fiddling with your necklace. This whole issue has admittedly had you pretty freaked out. You don’t want anyone in your family to die. 

Alfie nods while leaning back in his chair more comfortably, “Had them fuckin’ wops comin’ in here and tryna make demands. I know about it; what is it you want, love?”

You flush at the endearment, ever since he first met you when you’d helped Tommy limp in here to make a deal against Sabini, he’s always called you ‘Love’. If Tommy hadn’t been so distracted and in pain, he probably would have blown a gasket hearing it. 

“We need men to hold down our territory,” the Blinders just weren’t cutting it anymore and no doubt both John and Arthur were going to scream at you once they found out, but it was a necessity, “I was hoping we could commandeer some of yours.” 

Alfie’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he chuckles, “Well, that’s not a cheap thing, love. You got that kind of money lying about?”

Truthfully, no. All your money is whatever Tommy decides to give you as allowance. 

You boldly look the mob boss in the eyes as you reach up and begin undoing the buttons on your dress, “I don’t have money.” 

Alfie’s hand, quick as a whip, snatches your wrists, stopping your movements, “That’s– listen, love, you don’t need to be comin’ in here and doing that. I’ll work something out with payment with your brother, eh?”

Your jaw clenches at those words. All your life you’ve been treated like a little girl and you, frankly, are fucking sick of it. And you’ve seen the way that Alfie looks at you, the way his eyes crinkle in warmth when he greets you. This wouldn’t be any sort of sacrifice on your part, he’s an incredibly handsome man and you’ve wanted him for some time. 

Wrenching your hands out of his, you continue to undress, letting the fabric slip from your shoulders to pool around your feet. Alfie visibly gulps, his hands still held out before him like he wants to touch you but can’t bring himself to. 

You slip between his chair and the desk and seat yourself onto the wooden surface, ignoring the fact that you’re likely wrinkling his very important documents. Now Alfie is eye level with your knicker covered core and he looks like he’s fighting a losing battle in his mind. 

You lean back on your hands, spreading your legs and planting your feet playfully on the arm rests of his chair, “What’s the matter, Mr. Solomons?”

“Fuckin’ hell, love,” he gasps out, his fingers twitching just inches from the skin of your thigh. You lift your leg and force the contact, and once you do, he’s a goner. 

He surges up out of his chair, caging you in against the desk and panting in your face, “You get one last chance to back out.” 

You don’t even take the time to consider it; instead you’re wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing him. His beard is scratchy and odd feeling against your face but you find you don’t mind it in the slightest as he coaxes your jaw open to deepen the kiss. He tastes like sweet bread and you moan as he grips your waist to tug you to the very edge of the desk. 

When he pulls back he tells you with all the honesty in his soul, “I‘ve wanted to do that for a long time.” 

He’s terribly gentle as he undoes the tie holding your brazier, his calloused hands rubbing reverently over every inch of revealed skin. He thumbs your nipples and smirks at your soft gasps. 

“What have you done to me, little witch?” he asks rhetorically, his lips already descending to start leaving love bites along your collarbone. Some of these marks are going to be impossible to hide from your brothers you realize with a huff. Alfie must sense what you’re thinking because he bursts out into immature little giggles while he starts playing with the buttons on your knickers. 

“If Tommy doesn’t kill you for this, Arthur sure as hell will,” you grumble, your own fingers lifting to begin undoing the buttons on his shirt. 

“Eh, your brothers can go kick rocks, you’re a grown woman,” and there’s a definite innuendo tucked into those words as he slips your knickers off, revealing your body in its entirety to him. You shyly spread your legs under his heated gaze, your hand slipping down along your stomach towards your folds. He lets out a rumbling groan and then throws himself into his chair, scooting the wooden thing forward. He grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders, ignoring your surprised yelp as he buries his face between your thighs. 

You’ve never had a man eat you out before, and at first you’re apprehensive until he licks a long stripe up from your entrance to your clit that has you letting out a louder than usual moan. You forget entirely whatever it was you were thinking about, only able to focus on the feeling of his tongue licking you up and down and then circling that most sensitive bundle of nerves. Your fingers thread through his hair, yanking him forward so that you can grind along his face. 

His chuckles would normally be irritating, but they vibrate your core in the most delightful way. You’re certain the whole of the bakery can hear you gasping Alfie’s name like a holy prayer. 

The orgasm hits you like a freight train, bowling you over and sprawling you across his desk like some needy whore, your back most certainly wrinkling his paperwork as you arch in pleasure. 

He leaves trails of kisses on the insides of your thighs as you come down from your high. 

“God has blessed me here today, he has,” Alfie remarks while standing up from the chair and working on opening his trousers, “Ain’t never had a more beautiful, incredible woman all to meself like this.” 

You mewl as he spreads you open again, his cock already in hand and running up and down your oversensative slit like his tongue did. Awareness creeps back into you and you tense when you see the size of him, your eyes going wide with alarm. He rubs his hand over your stomach soothingly, saying, “No need to be frightened, love, you’ll be able to take this.” 

You try to relax, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk to steady yourself as he lines up. For Alfie’s part, he’s very gentle and slow as he pushes into you, his voice a constant stream of soft, cooing encouragements. When he’s all the way in, he even holds himself there and waits patiently for you to adjust. 

You are practically shaking on his cock, your body jerking about in a strange combination of discomfort and pleasure that you’ve never experienced before. He just watches you, his hips not even giving so much as a twitch from the position he’s set himself in. You figured he was more experienced, but God, you feel like a virgin with him. 

“Alfie,” you cry, your voice high and begging, “Please.” 

That’s all the cue he needs before he’s gripping your hips tight enough to bruise and fucking you with an unerring confidence. The desk under you begins to make a soft thudding noise as he rocks the two of you back and forth and you’re helpless to his pace, too pleasure-strung-out to try to initiate anything. 

Your second orgasm is a sneaky one, creeping up on you before you can even realize what’s happening. Alfie does, though, and his grin is wicked as he starts thumbing your clit. 

“Gonna cum on me cock, yeah? Go on then, love, cum,” that’s all the permission you need and your whole body seizes up tight as your climax zaps through you. Alfie’s hips are fucking you at an incredible pace, your own orgasm fueling the beginning of his. 

To your disappointment, he pulls out and splatters his seed all up your belly. Your fingers drag through the spend, gathering it up and dripping it into your mouth, your tongue licking up what’s left. 

Alfie curses rather colorfully at the display and slumps back into his chair, “You’re a fuckin’ dream, love.” 

You carefully climb off his desk and both of you begin the task of redressing. As you’re fixing your hair in the small mirror on his wall, Alfie says,”The men you need are yours. But this isn’t a one off thing, what we just did between us.” 

You suddenly imagine what it would be like to marry Alfie and live a happy life in the countryside. It’s a beautiful dream and one that both you and he will have to put on hold until this business with the Italians is done. 

“Tommy’s going to want to merge the businesses and he’ll be an absolute tyrant about his cut,” You tell him in reply. 

Alfie grumbles petulantly, his face comically sour at the reminder that if he wants a relationship with you, it means joining your families in more ways than one. 

Before you leave, Alfie plants a sweet peck on your lips, his eyes dancing with visible adoration for you. 

“Ishmael will drive you to that communist sister of yours,” he tells you before showing you out. 

Maybe making this deal wasn’t such a sacrifice after all.

…

Check out open slots/other bingo oneshots here!

[sophiefilo16]

Quick Write #2

Title: The Honorable Family

Dario Ricci, son of mob boss

Lila Winston, daughter of police chief

Context: They kidnapped her to bribe the chief into looking the other way on a crime/letting one of their own go.

 -

I gently tug my wrists. Yep, still tied. Do I honestly expect the zip tie to magically go away? No. Am I still going to keep checking every five minutes? Yes.

The guard on my right straightens at the sound of the garage door rattling open. This must be who they’re waiting for. With the sun at his back, the man steps in. I greet him with a sneer.

He saunters over to me in all black like he thinks he’s someone special. In a way, he is. But not any way I care about.

Sporting an air of whiskey and cigarettes, he comes within a foot of me and crouches to meet my glare. If my hands were free, I’d punch him right in his square jaw. Which admittedly, isn’t quite as punchable as I always imagined. He’s actually kind of cu—

What the hell am I thinking?!

“Don’t worry. We ain’t gonna hurt you none. Just need to make ya pops a little scared is all.”

He speaks with that classic mix of a New York-Italian accent. I’m half-convinced it’s fake.

I harden my glare as I respond. “Sure, as if I’d believe what a Ricci has to say.”

The man simply smirks with a sparkle in his eye. How infuriating! Does he think this is a game?

But the way he’s so relaxed in his suit as he looks at me calmly… Maybe he really means it? Actually, now that I’m really looking at him, he’s pretty young. Probably barely older than me. He’s clean-cut with a dangerous charm to him, but knowing he’s bad news doesn’t stop me from being lured in.

No! Focus, Lila! You’re the daughter of Deputy Chief Brian Winston. You can’t get wrapped up in shiny hair and soft lips.

I spit at him. Or try to. It doesn’t get very far since these jerks haven’t given me in water since they kidnapped me. But it’s the thought that counts.

“You think I’ll cooperate?” I jeer. “Like hell! I’ll never play nice for the people who killed my mom!”

That wipes the smirk off his face. He tilts his head a bit. Imagine that. A kidnapping, murdering gangster trying to play innocent. It only riles me up more.

“Don’t think I don’t know!” I continue. “You strapped a bomb to her car thinking it’d be my dad. You murdered an innocent woman just to avoid getting caught! I’ll never cooperate with you! I’ve spent every day since then determined to make you pay for what you did to her! To us!”

As I glare at him with enraged, teary eyes, he stares back at me with a cool gaze. Are these really the eyes of a cold-hearted killer?

 My boys weren’t kidding when they said she’s a handful. This girl really is something else. She’s got guts, though, talking to me like that when she knows my father runs this town. Look at her. Makeup half-ruined and clothes a mess but still glaring at me like she could actually take me with her hands behind her back.

It’s cute as all hell. If I didn’t have business to take care of, I’d see what she’s really all about. Wouldn’t mind a pretty little voice like that filling my bedroom.

I stand up and pull out a smoke. She somehow looks even more disgusted with me. It’s a good reminder of the beef between our bloods and keeps me from getting too distracted by that face.

“We ain’t the ones who snuffed ya ma,” I comment as I light the cig between my teeth. I take a deep drag and hold the smoke in my lungs for a moment before continuing.

“The Riccis don’t mess with family that don’t mess with us, and if we gonna get dirty, we don’t use no pussy tricks like no bombs.” I take another pull to hide my disgust at the thought. The Riccis pride ourselves on being the last honorable mafia family in the state. But Little Miss Cop Jr. wouldn’t understand that.

“Nah, if we really had beef, we would’ve settled it up close and personal. In fact, only reason we didn’t make a move on your old pop sooner…is ‘cause of you. We weren’t tryna leave some girl to the streets. You should be lucky the Riccis look out for stuff like that ‘cause these other families wouldn’t have given a damn no matter how old you are.”

As I tap the ash off my cig, I level her a steady gaze. She can think whatever she wants, but she’s not going to slander my family’s name like that without me having something to say about it.

We stare at each other for a while until her face softens. With wide eyes, she asks, “You…didn’t kill my mom?”

“You deaf or something?” I scoff.

“Then…who did?” For the first time, she’s looking at me without hate in her eyes. Honestly, I hate it. It was easier to treat this as just a job when she wasn’t looking so desperate.

“…Probably the Bruscas. Or the D’Amicos. They do coward shit like that. But back in those days, it would’ve been Raffas running things. Who knows?” Taking another long drag, I stare over her shoulder to avoid those big green eyes.

“Can…can you help me? Figure out who did it?” I choke on the smoke. Is this chick crazy?

“And why should I help you?”

She scoots forward with that pleading voice, and I can’t help looking at her. “Please… I don’t have anyone else I can ask.”

Damn. I always was a sucker for a cute face. Running around with these goody-goody girls is nothing but trouble. Cousin Rob can speak to that. Still, the poor girl’s looking for who messed with her family. There’s respect in that.

[drrutherford]

giordirossi​:

Please, don’t put yourself out on my account.

Too late. Discomfort coils like a snake around her spine and with it comes the unfathomable sensation of being so far out of her element that it’s almost funny. Most of the targets she sought to win over were uninspiring in the grand scheme, forgettable cogs with more bravado than brain cells. Gideon had been someone else entirely from his first response to her loaded question on that bridge. Internally, she chastises herself for not recognizing both the challenge he would pose and her own capacity for distraction. 

If you got snappish because of what happened with your boyfriend…

“My boyfriend?” Now it’s her turn to scoff. Despite the whispers that accompanied her friendship with Vincenzo and sudden rise to a moderately respectable place within the Sovrani, she’d never crossed the line. Not even once. Tonight’s glamorous affair hadn’t blurred the solid nature of that boundary, regardless of whose arm she arrived or left on. 

With her lower lip caught between pallid teeth, Giordana fights against the urge to comment that only one person aboard the yacht tonight knew her body so thoroughly–– and it wasn’t the Italian mob boss.

Whether Melissa Lin planned to shoot Vincenzo or not, the consequences of her harebrained decision remained stationary and hashing those events out wouldn’t change their result. “As you’ve been so quick to remind me this evening, intention doesn’t negate impact.” Admittedly that sounds as if she’s dismissing his explanation and so, with a sigh, the assassin makes another languid approach forward. Two steps are better than nothing. “But you’re right, I was holding that against you.” On some level, she still is… Amongst other things. “I won’t claim to be fair or rational when it comes to the safety of the people I care about, surely you can understand that. Otherwise I’m not sure what else there is to say.”

You’re doing it again. The softness of his voice creates a stark juxtaposition against the bitterness of their encounters thus far, effectively drawing her up short until she’s left without a sharp rebuttal or humorous quip to raise as a barrier between them. Venom would be easier handled than whatever this is; preferred even. Several heartbeats pass in silence until she relegates her view to the twinkling city skyline resting atop dark waters.

His next question pries further and she knows without glancing that whatever response she offers will make or break any potential to move forward on a civil note. Instinct says to bite mercilessly and keep him at bay, while duty says to coax with long lashes. Instead she turns to face him once more and mirrors the question back, “Do you?” Few could afford the luxury of waiting, not with so many posed to drag a knife across one’s back. Giordana had a feeling that, for all of his affront towards the assumptions about his character, he could relate to such immediate distrust. 

“I should let you get back to your date.” From observation alone she was a pretty, doe-eyed girl whose expressions still held genuine kindness in them. Utterly normal and unaffiliated with the monsters who lurked around en masse. “Before people start wondering where the Man of The Year’s run off to.”

.

She’s pretty reactive to the term boyfriend, but she doesn’t deny it, either. That’s all well and good, Gideon tells himself acerbically, it makes no difference to him whether she and the Italian leader are just screwing or even bound in matrimony at this point.

Whether they use labels, whether they don’t — whether they just make eyes each other like they did up on that stage when collecting their joint award.

He only wonders whether they were whatever they are even on that night back in January; when she was sharing his bed and looking at him as though she’d really felt something. Something beyond the anonymous, corporeal high that could be found in any man’s bed so long as he knew a thing or two about women... Maybe then he’d have felt less a fool for spending the rest of January hoping to run into her again... Wasting a little more time than necessary on that bridge some nights, just in case.

“I could say the same for your Italian buddy — the one who tried to kill me that night. I could say this means war and hold it against you lot like so many egomaniacs might on this ship, but where would that leave us? Are you really itching for a war?” Gideon questions, half wanting to know the answer, half preferring to leave it rhetorical. He’s already uncovered too many things tonight that leave him uncomfortable, there’s no need to add another. “The point is, I wasn’t... And though she jumped in to save my life, Melissa wasn’t, either. Whatever you think of me, for the sake of your people and mine I’d hope to be on the same page about that.”

She doesn’t answer the next question, but slings it back at him instead. ‘Do you?...’ The Italian asks, clearly doubtful that he hasn’t jumped to his own conclusions, or wouldn’t have, if their positions were reversed last time they’d met. He’s frustrated by it, an immediate defensiveness — but he’s stabbed by a sense of culpability, too. 

I wouldn’t have wanted to do it to you, the Rutherford thinks quietly, recalling the ugly way his foolish, eager, hope had died in his chest that day at Vespucci’s when she’d whipped around to glare at him. But he’s not stupid enough to admit it now, given the way it’s all settled like dust between them. 

For the best, Gideon decides, setting his jaw. ‘You should get back to your date,’ the woman invites, and whether it’s a test or mere mockery, the surgeon throws his cards to the table and decides the game is over. He won’t play it tonight — won’t let morbid curiosity or misplaced nostalgia get the better of him.

“Goodnight, Giordana.” He tells her simply, offering a tilt of his head in lieu of an answer to the question she’d asked, before turning on his heel to rejoin the party.

— End. 

[simpfiles]

Hey I think your stories are amazing and I was wondering if you could write sd Silco because ou know better than an of us how to make it realistic? You of course dont need to. Thank you!

summary.    mob boss silco wants to finically support you. do you accept his offer?

a/n.      lol idk about 'realistic' but enjoy a fanfic's length of hcs (1.6k words? wack!) that somehow morphed into a loosely tied together plot. also take this playlist as an apology for the long wait.

silco’s new to the lifestyle and that’s ok, so are you. but at least you did your research, learning the terminology and unwritten rules of the trade. at your first meeting, silco made an apprising sweep of your body, lit his cigar, and said, “hm. alight. on your knees.” before you could even shake his hand.

you aren’t aware of his occupation as he was rather vague. Only mentioning that he was part of an organization that dealt with community welfare. you joked that it sounded like a cover for the mafia. he laughed back, “no, i’m not italian.”

aside from expecting head at the m&g, you are surprised by his chivalry; opening doors, holding your purchasers, helping you put on your coat, even walking on the outside of traffic. if things were different, then maybe...

no. stop. you're not about to become a cliche and fall for your sugar daddy. this is strictly business.

he comes across as boujee, adorn with versace and yves saint laurent but his apartment is nearly barren and pantry is stocked with generic brands and he eats at wendy’s (wendy’s of all places) once a month when visiting his daughter.

she’s studying to be a mechanical engineer. he asks if you’re planning on advancing your own education. college was never an option for him but he’d be open to help fund yours.

really doesn’t like being called a ‘sugar daddy’. if you must call him something and ‘boss/client’ is too detached, spoiling partner will suffice.

and spoil you he does. anything you want you get, but you have to ask for it. you have to be reminded that he is your main source of cashflow.

he wants be mutually exclusive, tho you may have a partner outside of the relationship, he doesn't want you working for other daddies. which works out perfectly for you because you don't think you could balance more than one + the idea of him having another baby on the side sends you in a fit of jealousy and despair.

you're also not allow to maintain another job while under his employment, as it cuts into his time with you and he likes you reliant on him for support.

you’re always paid in cash; a stack of hundreds with a creased fifty acting as a band. you’ve never seen him use a credit card.

on top of your allowance, he frequently takes you shopping. silco rushes you straight to the changing room while personally picking out clothes for you to model. he seems to have a thing for pinstripes...

sometimes an outfit he selects hangs off your body just right and he corners you back into the fitting room, locking the door behind him.

he’s a selfish fucker. never forget your a hole he’s paying to fuck as he pleases.

if you’re in this profession for instant gratification you better get out. he doesn’t let you cum once while in public.

he finishes in your mouth and tells you not to swallow until you leave the store.

it’s when you get home he rewards you for due diligence through body worship. his favorite position is on his knees with his arms wrapped around you legs, face buried in your lap. silco works his way up slowly, languid kisses turn to love bites while his hands melt away your tension. he gives you control. "choose a number." that's how many times he'll make you cum before even going near positions that he can cum in. it's all about reverence.

you're allow to spend the night and even extended stays but he doesn't want you to live with him. that's too much like a relationship and this is strictly business.

silco's primary tv usage is news and business related channels, leaning more heavily towards local news outlets. he does fill up the dvr with episodes of breaking bad and game of thrones bc everyone around him keeps raving about them. he'll put them on as background noise while fucking you.

he sleeps with a piece under his pillow. he has a spare for when he stays at your place, you just don't know.

while under his employment, silco has always taken care of you. never late on a payment, readily takes you wherever you want to go (ya'll just got back from a relaxing weekend trip to the coast), even bought you a car. tho it's in his name...for tax reasons, he claimed. so you don't push the subject of his work too much. no point in ruining a good thing.

and what a good thing this arrangement between you two is! you're not the only one who's been spoiled in the relationship.

silco never expected to find you so engaging and with a smile that he enjoys so much. it's nearly addictive. he feels-- something when you smile and hates himself for it. you're just some person he hired to fuck.

but when he touches himself it's your face he see, your voice he hears, and your underwear he sniffs that sends him over the edge.

damn fucking shame he has to screw things up.

thursday comes and you have a doctors appointment. something you told silco ahead of time and he signed off on. but as you wait for the nurse to call your name, you get a call from silco "drop you location."

he knows better than to mix business and pleasure but for the last week he's been over worked, fighting a migraine and has had an overwhelming need to feel your lips stretched wide around his prick.

if he rushes, he can have you suck him off in the car then drop you off at his place before his meeting.

his blood pressure immediately lows when he sees you coming outside. he tells you to get in the car and when you grow hesitant--stalling with questions--he offers you half a week's allowance for this one session.

never before has he seen you run so fast. he exhales sharply, gripping the steering wheel tighter. this is strictly business.

he doesn't give you time to buckle up before slamming on the gas. his hand weaves its way into your hair, yanking your head to his crotch. his message crystal clear.

on the way he hits a pothole and hisses when your performance suffered from it. then refuses to let you stop even when a cop pulls him over for reckless driving. his iron grip keeps your lips firmly planted around the base of his prick as he sorts things out with the officer.

a flash of his id with payment is all it takes to make the problem go away. but it ate away too much from his time and he's forced to drive past his place if he wants that sweet release and make it to his meeting on time.

he finally cums somewhere at the cross section of 52nd street and loban avenue. with no instructions to hold it, you choke and swallow and recoil back in your seat. once you gain some composure you begin spitting questions left and right. none of them he can answer without opening the floodgates for more questions.

this was a bad idea.

"i'll explain everything when we get home," after he's had time to collect his thoughts and regroup his focus on you. "but for now, I need your silence."

you feel like a little kid. the analogy reaching new heights when he parks in front of an old laundromat and gives you explicated instructions to stay put. the locked doors only adding salt to the injury.

sevika is waiting for him inside. she gives him a briefing of what couldn't be said over the phone while guiding him into a secret cellar hidden behind the manger's office.

"one more thing..."

silco's muscles jerk instantaneously, "what?"

"he came with them."

silco turns to her for verification, then to his car with you still in idle. he should have never brought you. "when was his arrival?"

"about an hour ago. and he ain't happy about the wait."

"are the chembarons there as well?"

"yes, sir."

alright. he knows what needs to be done.

your eyes widen when you see sevika stalking towards you. they only get bigger when she gets in the driver's seat despite your best efforts to keep the doors locked.

obvious questions plummet out of your gape mouth: who are you, what are you doing, get the hell out of this car!

"all you need to know is that silco told me to take you home. so stop wasting my time and tell me your address."

not believing her for a second you start to get out of the car, "i want to talk to silco."

that's when she pulls a gun on you. "sit down."

you sit.

"tell me your address."

you tell her.

sevika doesn't withdraw the gun from you until she's barreling through the streets, back to your home.

stupid stupid. you curse yourself. you should have gotten out when you could. now you're stuck in a car with a possible criminal who now knows your address and silco-- oh gosh, silco!!

what happen to him? was he ok? you don't dare try to use your phone while under sevika's watch.

you have her drop you off at your apartment's main office. where there are witnesses and security cameras.

the second she pulls away, you call silco.

straight to voicemail.

you leave a heated voicemail that extends pass the recording limit. so you leave a second one telling him to call you back right away.

it's late in the night when he returns you call. he whispers you name and you sigh back his, so happy to hear his voice again.

"i no longer require your services,"

"what?"

"you will receive a month's allowance as severance."

"no no no no. silco what's going on? i don't understand, can yo--"

"do not attempt to contact me again."

"but i--"

he ends the call.

not one to give up easily, you call him back.

sorry, but the number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service. good bye.

[leetotters]

Hi! Can I ask for a long sugardaddy mob Tom fic? You’re first like blurb kinda did it for me ☺️☺️

mobsugardaddy!tom holland x reader

warning: daddy kink(he's a sugardaddy here lmao), curse words, oral (male recieving)

summary: basically request just short😔

"Don't you fucking come near her again" Tom spat on the man's bloody face colliding his fist to his swollen eye one last time, he gripped the man's jaw making him let out a groan at the mob boss firm hold. "Don't go touching things that don't belong to you" Tom gritted through clenched teeth as the image of the man in front of him attempting to grope your ass played in his mind once more. Tom roughly drew his hand back, pushing the man's face to the mucky floor, he instructed his right hand man Harrison to finish up for him, knowing you would be fretting why he was taking so long.

Tom exited the back door of the pub, pulling out a handkerchief from his suite wiping the blood from his fists and knuckle, mumbling profanity words when he noticed his knuckles were bruised red. Tom made his way to his car, where he was met with the sight of you laid back in the car seat scrolling through your phone, your dress hiked up displaying your red thong that was surely doing a poor job covering your cunt.

Tom opened his door, sliding in his seat as he pulled his seatbelt over his chest, pressing the start button. "Hey babydoll, sorry for taking so long daddy had.. some business to deal with" Tom knew better than to tell you what he was doing, he knew you didn't mind his choice of work but he was smart enough not to get you involved.

You nodded your head acknowledging Tom, you kept your eyes on your phone screen skimming through dresses and jewelry you wanted Tom to purchase for you. "Ohh look at this Daddy" you gasped at the ivory satin dress with corseted details that exposed a fair amount of cleavage to Tom, he only smiled at you resting his hand on your thigh pecking your plump lips, "Looks lovely doll, you should add it to your cart" You beamed saying a soft thank you as he clicked the plus icon.

"So where are we going now" You inquired setting your phone on your lap, pulling Tom's hand from your thigh interlocking your fingers together, twisting the silver rings that adorned his fingers. "I was thinking that Italian restaurant you wanted to try" Tom answered pulling your hand to the steering wheel as he circled around the road.

"Yes let's go there, the menu is a bit pricey though" You stated earning a hearty laugh from Tom, "M'sure I can manage the bill darling" you rolled your eyes at his cheeky response but broke out grinning knowing he wouldn't give a damn about the cost.

After your extravagant dinner you went home your stomach full with the delicious full course dinner and your favorite dessert. "Tommy I think you're trying to get me fat" you whined poking your belly, pouting at Tom, he looked at you shaking his head placing his hand on your stomach giving it a gentle pat. "Course not doll", he pecked your lips focusing his eyes on the road as the light turned green.

When you arrived at Tom's mansion you got out of the car, handing your coat to the maid as Tom did the same telling her to expect Harrison to stop in later to collect some important documents, you made your way to Tom's room which was practically yours since he insisted that you had your own personal closet, the reason being you spent most of your nights here instead at the luxurious apartment he bought you.

"Doll I have to finish up some work so don't wait for me" Tom spoke walking up to his bed undressing himself leaving him in his button up shirt and his boxers. "No Tom it's a Friday night" you whined out like a child, wrapping your arms around his torso resting your head on his clothed back, your fingers fiddling with his pendant.

Tom turned around latching his lips to your pouty ones, "As much as I want to spend my night with you doll, I have some stuff to get finish up" You huffed pulling your lips from his as he tried to deepen the kiss as if he was going to finish what he started. "Well go ahead, m'not stopping you" You went to the bathroom taking your dress off leaving you with your thong and bra on, you thought Tom already left to go to his office so you began wiping your makeup off.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror making sure you got all your makeup off, exiting the bathroom ready to dress yourself for a lonely night with Netflix. Before you could bend to pick up Tom's trousers from the ground you were hoisted up in the air, your legs instantly wrapping around the middle of person as you let out a loud scream. "Sh doll" Tom quieted you, his hand holding the back of your thigh while his other stretched the fabric of your thong letting it go to slap against your skin making you yelp at slight sting.

"What the fuck Tom" you jeered pretty sure he should be in his office doing his work or killing a man for all you knew. "What doll did you not want to spend the night with daddy" he smirked seeing you attempting to clench your thighs together, he knew how much you loved the daddy title.

"Put me down Tom" You uttered trying to come down from Tom's sturdy hold. "What did I tell you about calling me doll" Tom quipped through gritted teeth not liking your tone and name you just used, giving you the chance to correct yourself, his free hand unclasping the hooks of your bra revealing your perky breasts.

You gulped answering him like the good girl you are for him, knowing tomorrow he was suppose to take you out for your daily shopping spree because of your good behavior. "Sorry Daddy" you mumbled eyes trained on Tom's shirt not daring to meet his gaze.

"Much better" Tom rest you down on the floor patting your ass as a little approval, you smiled up at him happy that he wasn't using his mean tone and you probably still had the chance to buy latest Chanel handbag you saw earlier. "Since you behaved bratty today why don't you show daddy how sorry you are" Tom spoke his hands tweaking your hardened nipple.

"Yes daddy, I really am sorry" you sunk to your knees, internally cheering that your grumpy self got him to give you his cock, you pulled his boxers down his legs, your finger tracing over the cross tattoo on his ankle. Tom's cock stood high and proud slapping his stomach breaking free from it's prison, you grasped his length your hand pumping his brick hard cock, vaguely dipping your tongue on his tip tasting his moreish precum.

"C'mon doll better start sucking or else I'll not buy that cute little handbag you so badly wanted" Tom lifted your hair pushing his cock in your mouth making you gag, but wasted no time suckling his length, your hands playing with his balls as Tom kept his hand in your hair pushing you deeper so you were now deepthroating him. "Just like that babydoll" he groaned thrusting forward inches away from his end.

You looked up at Tom through your lashes, your eyes glossy blurring your vision of his beautiful face as he came in your mouth, his hold of your head tightening eager to come all over the tip of your tongue, that was more than gladly to collect his come. "Yes doll swallow Daddy's come" He ordered, you didn't need to be told twice immediately swallowing the warm liquid.

"Open up babydoll" You opened your mouth showing him you swallowed just like he asked you to. "Good girl" he praised softly patting your cheek prompting you to close your mouth, Tom pulled his boxers up his legs tucking his now wormy looking cock in.

You were about to speak but was cut off by the ringing of Tom's phone which made you roll your eyes but you stayed quiet knowing better than to upset him. Tom answered his phone giving you his winsome smile before entering the bathroom to continue his call.

You changed slipping in to your satin ruffled two piece pajama set waiting for Tom to come cuddle, you clicked on Netflix playing Gilmore Girls once again even though you finished the series. You laughed at one of Lorelai jokes twisting the rose gold tiffany and co bracelet Tom bought for you a while back at the first three months in your 'arrangement'.

Tom exited the bathroom his smile long gone and replaced with a miffed expression throwing his phone carelessly on his dresser running his hand through his curls. "What happened To- Daddy" you asked softly not sure if he would want to reply to you or not. "Nothing doll just someone fucked up again" He groaned slamming his fists against the wall letting out an annoyed huffed.

You jerked up at the sound, standing from your spot on the bed making your way to him, gently pulling him in a hug kissing his forehead, his whole mood changing embracing you in his muscular arms pecking your nose snuggling closer. "What happened" you asked a few minutes after.

"Just this new guy fucked up, lost me thousands of dollars too, big dumbass" Tom scowled pulling away grabbing his coat from the leather chair, clasping his Rolex on his wrists, combing his locks. "I have to go see about this babydoll" Tom kissed your lips, "But tomorrow I'm yours for the entire day, me and my credit card" He laughed seeing the way your eyes widened at his last words.

"Yes okay daddy don't be long" You pecked him waving him out the bed room door, jumping on the king sized bed pulling out your phone scrolling through yet another site.

[welightitup]

WIP List

Thanks for the tag @redyellowstupid!! I am truly awful with keeping up with tumblr and tags (fic writing is taking over my life 😭) but here I am and I am gonna do this to hold myself accountable!

I’ve included descriptions as I got a bit carried away and didn’t understand the rules oops but come into my lovely inbox if you want to know more about any of them and I will defo talk your ear off. Will it be head canons, will it be dialogue, will it be scenes - who knows?! It’s a potluck and you won’t know until you ask ❤️

So my WIPs in no order whatsoever (all are Piarles focused in some way or form!):

Merc!Pierre AU - Lewis is retiring and Mercedes wants Pierre, but he has to keep it a secret until they're ready to announce it. It's not as easy nor as healthy as it sounds (one shot - approx. 30k).

Engineer!Pierre/F1 driver!Charles AU sequel - sequel to 'Love Like This', taking place right after the first fic on their first date and carrying through as they try to navigate their new relationship and their jobs (one shot).

Footballer!Pierre/F1 driver!Charles AU - Pierre is a footballer for AC Milan and a big F1 fan, and Charles drives for Ferarri. They're hot, they're athletes, they're friends - until they're not. They're also very bankable as their joint sponsors figure out (multi-chaptered).

Interpol Detective!Pierre/Mobster Charles AU - Pierre is assigned to a case to help calm down the rising crimes in a popular Italian city thanks to two rival mobs. Whilst working the case - and being targeted! - he meets Charles, an innocent man just a few years younger than him caught up in the criminal world due to his devotion and loyal traits to his father figure, mob boss Sebastian. They fall in love - Pierre wants Charles to leave, Charles wants Pierre to understand; it's not easy to leave a life of crime (?one shot).

Actor!Pierre/bodyguard!Charles AU - likely my entry for the Chicfest AU. Pierre is a famous actor in town for the Monaco GP to research a role for his upcoming F1 movie. Charles is the Monégasque bodyguard assigned to protect him and guide him throughout the very busy week. However, the two of them have met before when Charles had picked up a hot guy in a club and taken him home for an unforgettable night. But now he vows to stay professional, despite Pierre making it his personal mission to get Charles into bed again (one shot).

Royalty AU - probably a sequel to an upcoming fic by the lovely @singsweetmelodies, where Charles takes the crown and Pierre, as his consort, helps him with their new royal status (?one shot(s)).

Devil Wears Prada AU - Pierre is an editor of a very famous fashion magazine, the youngest in history and all of Paris. Charles wants to write about F1 for the prestigious sister magazine, but he can't get his foot in the door anywhere! So when the job as Pierre Gasly's PA comes up, he goes for it, despite knowing nothing about fashion (multi-chaptered).

Teen dad!Charles AU - this my guilty pleasure fic which might never see the light of day. Charles gets a girl pregnant at 15, and raises his baby girl as a single teen dad with the help of his family (and obvs his bff Pierre). Thanks to Jules' input and assurances, he manages to keep his sponsors and keep racing, eventually making it into F1 (?multi-chaptered, probs).

I feel like that everything? Banes (inc. @dm3rv), correct me if I’m wrong cos you probs know better than me!

[fromthefishbowl]

the neverending “question” of mob-boss AUs and italian characters

Every fandom in existence has mafia AUs, for some reason.

Usually written by anglophones, they show the mafia as the one portrayed in The Godfather or Goodfellas: dudes wearing bespoke suits who push the barrel of their gun into their enemy’s mouth as the latter pleads for their life, tears spilling down their cheeks and snot dripping onto their upper lip, pathetic as they kneel and beg while the mafioso stands over them, proud and manly and so handsome, with his gold watch catching the orange lights of the dying sun.

Well... let me shut down it real quick: that is a purely American and purely fictional vision of the mafia. A, for some reason, entirely idealized version of organized crime that Hollywood has been shoving into theaters for decades, to the point that you don’t even need to be American to believe that this is how things are in reality.

I feel like that, as a first note, I should say that “mafia” doesn’t mean anything: “mafia” is merely the type of organization, and it indicates a violent criminal organization with a moral code founded on the concept of “omertà”, silence regarding a crime and the unwillingness to confess to be the one committing it or turning in the names of the people who did.

So... what mafiosa organization is being discussed? Sacra Corona Unita? Cosa Nostra? ‘Ndrangheta? Camorra? Stidda? Banda della Magliana (in action between 1977 and 1993)?

Usually it sounds like the organization in question is Cosa Nostra, the Sicilian one, but there is always so little research and conversation with actual Italians - who have said over and over and over again that you shouldn’t portray Italian characters as sexy mafia bosses - that I wouldn’t be surprised if this is the first time you even hear about the fact that there are different kinds of organizations.

On the same route, since the dialogue with actual Italians is not considered in this conversation, for some reason, people are still running with the idea of “mobsters/mafia bosses are just bad boys” and sometimes they just need a redemption arch to come clean and become stand out citizens, while other times they are the epitome of sexiness and their partner gets into the organization too. In most cases, they are written as these loveable doofuses who will murder a bitch in cold blood but will then come cuddle with you.

No.

A round, absolute no.

Mafia bosses exploit people, they rape people, they murder innocent people, they steal from people, they enslave immigrants, they melt children into acid tanks because their parents were going to collaborate with the police. How is any of this sexy or even redeemable? Do you know that one of the reasons why weed will never be legalized in Italy is not because of the strong presence of the Church, but because mafiose organizations make a lot of money by selling drugs, including weed, and legalizing it would ruin their market?

And here, this is the face of a mafia boss who actually did it! His name was Totò Riina, a true Italian mafia boss who thankfully croaked a couple of years ago. You are literally one Google search away from seeing the other hundreds of heinous crimes he and his colleagues committed, as well as actually informing yourself regarding anything that has to do with the mafia and how it still affects and enslaves and terrorizes an entire country. Roberto Saviano, a writer who dared to call out the names of the Camorra boss and his associates during a protest, has been living under protection for fourteen years because they threatened to murder him. He is only forty-one!

This concerns the TOG fandom because I have seen that, although there is a lot of willingness from the many artists and writers that populate it to learn about Joe’s culture, religion, and traditions, everything regarding Nicky seems to be taken for granted and no one is willing to inform themselves, creating an astounding lack of dialogue with Italian creators.

Writing Nicky as being part of a mafiosa organization is a horrible example of ignorance and xenophobia, as well as unwillingness to understand how truly damaging those kinds of organizations are for our country.

You wouldn’t write about a KKK member being sexy and cool, so why is it okay to write about a mafioso that way? What part of murdering children and raping women and enslaving people for profit is cool?

For once we have a good example of an Italian character in the mainstream media that is not played by an American actor who pretends to speak with a broken Neapolitan accent, and the first instinct is to turn him into a horrible, horrible monster who is actually plaguing our country? And the wrong kind too, usually, because he’s from Genoa and not Sicily!

Seriously, I’m not saying that you cannot write mafia AUs, it’s fiction, who cares, but at the same time it should be a given that you should check your ideas with people who are actually from that country and who can actually explain to you how to do it correctly. For how mafia AUs are written, the mafioso could as well be just a normal criminal that has found themselves with their hands in drugs and murdering people and pimping out women.

If you have ever watched an Italian show or movie regarding crime, you should know that the main characters, the ones the audience is supposed to emphasize with, are never mafiosi. In Suburra, both TV series and movie, neither Aureliano nor Spadino are mafiosi: they’re just criminals. You know who the mafioso is? Samurai, the guy the director never tries to make you emphasize with, as he was part of the Banda della Magliana. In Trust, Primo is not represented as being sympathetic: he’s evil and his actions aren’t forgivable. In Don’t Be Bad, you’re supposed to be empathetic to Luca’s character, Cesare, but he’s a simple criminal with no ties to any mafiosa organization.

It really shouldn’t be this hard to even just ask Italians how to write about Italian issues with some touch and empathy.

Writing Nicky as a mobster could be as bad as writing Joe as a terrorist, and it’s crazy that no one seems to notice it.

[wienerbarnes]

Italian Heart

Pairing: Bucky x Italian!MobBoss!Reader

Word Count: 4,867

Warnings: canon level violence, possible inaccurate italian slang lol

A/N: ive been watching a lot of the sopranos lately and i feel like ive never seen a bucky x mob boss reader au (ive only rlly seen em where buckys the mob boss. if there are ones where reader is the mob boss PLS SEND EM TO ME I BEG) a lot of the slang and mob stuff here is from sopranos bc... im not in the fucking mafia so forgive me anyway enjoy :)<3

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky’s never seen a woman quite like yourself.

Dressed in expensive satin and jewelry that hangs between your breasts, an angry look on your face at the fact you’re sitting before him and Sam in an interrogation room in the tower. Freshly done nails, clean and crisp lipstick, spicy perfume, and an expression of annoyance.

As put together as you look, you don’t look like someone to be fucked with. Which, he supposes is good for a mobster; the Boss of Newark.

Looking at you, though, he’d never thought you to be such a figure of intimidation. While the mafia is still alive, despite how the media tries to deny this, he always pictured an old Italian man that chain smokes cigars. He doesn’t think he’s too far off, to his credit; he can smell the remnants of smoke on you.

“Mind if we make this fast? My cousin’s comin’ for dinner and I was gonna make ziti.” You huff, crossing your legs under the table.

“Sounds delicious. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here.” Sam says, a calm look on his face even though he’s well aware of what you’re capable of.

When hunting down the last traces of the super soldier serum, he never thought Nick Fury himself would suggest getting in touch with you. He didn’t think it was worth the time to question how the two of you knew each other.

Theft. Drugs. Murder. Bribery. The list goes on, and there’s not a single thing that ties you to any of it.

A shrug of your shoulders, “So, what exactly is this about?” You ask.

“What is it that you do for a living?” Sam asks.

“I work in waste management.” You respond, a rehearsed answer.

Not exactly a lie, the environmental facility you manage is one of hundreds of covers used by your crew for your crimes. Environmental facilities, deli shops, strip clubs, auto shops. There isn’t a business in Jersey you aren’t tied to.

“Waste management? Like, garbage disposal?” Bucky asks, knowing exactly what it is you do for work.

You smirk, “Yeah, we dispose of garbage sometimes. What’s that got to do with me being here?”

“It’s to my understanding that you’re in the business of… buying and selling things. You and… the people you hang around got a real knack for it.” Sam tells you.

Bucky holds back a roll of his eyes. More like stealing and selling. Expensive Italian suits, antique watches, cars, electronics, illegal cigars. Who knows what else.

“I don’t know where you heard that… but I’m a popular gal, maybe I know a guy who might know a guy. What are you lookin’ for?” You ask.

You know this game, after being in the mob for so long. After being a part of your own crew for years, your patience and hard work paid off, working your way up to a captain and finally a boss. It didn’t take you long to learn in this business that government officials are jokes. Always wanting to bust my balls and then come crying to my corner for help, it’s a bunch of ugatz.

“Serums.” Bucky finally speaks.

A laugh escapes you, “What, like vitamin C?” You teasingly smirk at him.

His chair makes a loud sound in the small room as he pushes it back harshly and stands, resting his hands on the table in between the two of you. You don’t flinch.

“Enough with the bullshit. Super serums. To create super soldiers. We need to get them before they end up in the wrong hands and make a big ass mess.” He snaps at you, but you don’t seem phased in the slightest. In fact, you seem rather amused.

“You must have a lot of agita with all that anger, Sergeant Barnes.”

He doesn’t hold back this time and rolls his eyes before you speak up again, “Your first name is James, isn’t it? Ain’t that Italian?”

“No, it’s English. Or Scottish. Or Jewish - I don’t know, who cares? Are you gonna help us or not?” Bucky takes his seat again, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask, leaning back in your chair.

“Not being arrested for all the shit we know you’re caught up in.” Sam offers.

You roll your own eyes this time, “I’ll take my chances. Thanks for wasting my time, boys, don’t let it happen again.” You stand, prepared to make your way back to the train station to go back to Jersey.

“Wait,” Sam stops you, “What is it that you want?”

You smile innocently and take your seat again, taking a minute to think before answering, “My little sister’s a big fan of yours. I’m sure she and all her friends would think it’s cool if you showed up to her prom as her date.” You wink at Sam.

Silence fills the room as the men think about your request.

“You’re gonna do it, right?” Bucky looks over at him and sees Sam rubbing the crease in between his eyes. He was expecting you to ask for immunity, protection, money, guns. But after hearing your request, he supposes you have enough of all that stuff anyway.

“Man -” Sam begins to refuse.

“Sam, it’s a fucking school dance in exchange for some of the most powerful and sought after serums on the planet - go to the fucking prom.” He tells him, eyebrows scrunching in confusion as to how he would hesitate on something so simple.

“She’s eighteen, so you won’t have any problems with the media or none of that.” You add, the information not really making Sam feel any better.

“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll go to the dance with your sister if you help us get these serums.”

You smile, happy to have done business with the two men, “What information do ya got for me?”

…

Bucky and Sam wait outside a back room in the facility you own. They passed the garbage trucks parked neatly outside, but could hear your screaming and the smell of Cuban cigars as soon as they entered the building.

She’s with a customer, they were told, by someone in your crew, them meeting Bucky’s expectations for mobsters more than you did. None of them ask any questions, but Bucky and Sam aren’t stupid, they’re sure your crew is aware of what’s going on and know the exact reason they’re there.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that? The Bible says, Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit -”

“You listen to me, you take your Bible and your quotations book and shove it up your fat fucking ass! Now get the fuck out of my face!”

Bucky can’t help but scoff listening to you scream at whoever’s inside. Sam elbows him, silently telling him that now isn’t the time to find your work funny, especially not in front of the rest of your crew.

Bucky knows he’s old-fashioned, and while things that were taboo such as body modifications or certain fashion styles don’t phase him anymore, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to hearing a woman talk like that. He doesn’t think he’s ever even heard anybody talk like you do.

Suddenly a man bursts out of the room, huffing and puffing, and you walk slowly behind him, as if to make sure he makes it outside okay.

“Grab his plate for me, will you?” You say not to anyone in particular, voice smooth and calm as if you hadn’t been yelling and threatening that man’s life for the past twenty minutes.

One of the men from your crew follows outside, seemingly to collect the license plate of the man who just left.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to that guy, right?” Sam asks as he and Bucky enter the room, taking a seat in front of the desk you have in there. He knows there’s no point in asking, that you’ll do whatever you want regardless because it’s obvious you’re passionate about receiving respect, but it was worth a shot.

“Is that what you came all the way to Jersey to ask me? Christ, I’m fuckin’ starving, you boys want anything to eat?” You ask, accent heavy as you reach into the side drawer of your desk and pull out what seems to be some kind of meat wrapped in paper.

“Gabagool?” You offer to them, picking out a slice for yourself and placing it in your mouth.

“Gesundheit.” Sam responds.

“It’s pork, you asshole.”

Bucky silently reaches over and picks off a slice of the cured cold cut, putting the meat in his mouth and savoring the flavor. While he can’t stand the way you make a living or the sailor’s mouth you have, he loves Italian food, and actually chose a neighborhood in New York that has plenty of traditional cold cut markets and restaurants to live in in order to fulfill his cravings.

“There’s a big party staged downtown this weekend, we think that’s when the drop is going to happen.” Sam tells you, bringing the focus to their reason for coming here in the first place.

“I’ll send one of my boys.” You reply in between your chews.

“That wasn’t the deal. The deal was you get the serums.” Bucky speaks up.

“Buck, you know how many people want her dead?” Sam tries to reason.

“What the fuck do I have a crew for then? - No, if pretty boy wants me to do it myself, then I will. The same people that want my head are the same fucks who are terrified to be within twenty feet of me in fear they’ll make eye contact. I’m not scared of nothin’.” You say, narrowing your eyes at Bucky.

“What did you guys come here to talk about?” You ask.

Sam looks confused at your expression, “...To go over the plan? Hash out details? So you know how everything’s gonna go?”

“I’ll be fine; I’ve seen The Godfather once or twice,” You tell him, wrapping up the cappo, after Bucky picks off one last slice, and replacing it in the drawer, “Don’t worry Captain, this ain’t my first rodeo. I’ll get the serums for you.” You open a different drawer and pull out a cigar and a lighter.

Bucky watches as you place the large cigar in between your red-painted lips, bringing the flame of your lighter to the end and hollowing your cheeks until smoke exits from the corner of your mouth. Bucky feels blood travel south as his eyes glaze over your hand grab the cigar out of your mouth and blow out a long string of smoke.

“I guess we’ll be in touch then,” Sam stands and Bucky follows after.

“My sister’s wearing blue, so find yourself a nice tie.” You call out, lifting your feet up to cross them on the desk, dress rising and showing your legs.

Bucky blushes, and then laughs as he exits when he hears you, in a deep and more exaggerated accent than your own, “Just when I thought I was out… they pull me back in!”

…

The morning of the party, Sam and Bucky pick you up from your house, planning to take you into New York to discuss final details before tonight.

You get in the passenger seat, Sam offering it to you and climbing in the backseat. As Bucky begins to drive off, your phone rings.

“I told you to leave that.” Bucky says, telling you explicitly to leave electronics here to prevent anyone finding out where you are, and also to avoid any distractions.

“Wanted to see what you’d about it, Sarge,” You wink at him, pulling out a flip phone and answering the call.

“Yeah… Uh huh… He what? Are you fucking kidding me?... Alright… Tell him not to move a fucking muscle.” You hang up, slamming the phone closed.

“Stop at the facility for a sec, I gotta take care of something.” Bucky sighs and turns away from the route to head to your facility.

“Bucky’s going to be going with you tonight, by the way, he’ll be in disguise. Just in case anything goes wrong.” Sam tells you, not really caring anymore about having to make a stop for you to take care of whatever business you need to take care of.

Your only response is a hum as Bucky can feel the anger radiating off your now tense body.

You slam the car door shut as Bucky parks behind a garbage truck outside, not even waiting for him to fully put the car in park before you exit.

Him and Sam follow quickly behind you to see what’s going on. You enter through a side door that leads to a large room, a garage for the trucks, Bucky assumes.

There’s a large truck inside, and racks of suits wrapped in plastic scattered around. A younger man stands near the truck as your crew peruses around the racks, he couldn’t be older than twenty-five years old. Your heels click on the ground as you approach, slowing down as you glance between the suits and the young man. Bucky and Sam hang around a few feet behind your trail.

You stop, fuming, staring at the man before you speak, “You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“I -” He begins, but you cut him off, raising an open hand at him.

“Actually, I don’t even want to hear your fucking voice right now. Because if what I heard you did is true; if what you did to Vinny’s guy is true, you’re gonna be a fuck load of trouble.”

“Can I -”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“But -”

“I said shut the fuck up, Christopher! What part of that don’t you understand?” You yell, and even Bucky feels intimidated.

You turn to your crew, “What the fuck happened.” You demand, more than ask.

“Kid says he tried to take the truck, Vinny’s guy had a gun that fell outta the seat, went off, shot him.” One of the men summarizes, not looking up from the rack of suits.

You raise a manicured hand to pinch between your eyes, “You keep me skinny, Christopher, with all the fucking stress you cause me.”

“Would you let me explain?” He tries.

“If you don’t do as I told you and shut your fucking mouth, you’re gonna be buried with two assholes,” You threaten before continuing.

“They were fuckin’ suits! All you had to do was take the truck! How did you fuck that up -” You stop yourself and sigh, attempting to calm yourself down.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna take all this shit, you’re gonna take it back to Vinny, and you’re gonna tell him what happened yourself.” You finish.

“Marone!” He exclaims, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Enough with the theatrics! You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your ass! Now, I don’t see you grabbing that rack and that rack and that rack and putting it back in the truck!” You wave your arms around the room.

The kid sighs and begins grabbing the racks one by one and rolling them back in the truck.

“Would it be such a shame if they all went back?” An older man from your crew asks, already wearing one of the expensive suits. You scoff and laugh.

“Bucky, pick yourself somethin’ nice for tonight,'' You turn to face him, and he jumps at the sound of your now calmer voice being directed at him, as opposed to the harsh one used on Christopher, “On me.” You wink.

...

Sam and Bucky sit on the bed and watch as you get ready. A small apartment near the party that’s already been swept for bugs. A favor, you called it, from someone you know.

They don’t question it.

“You and Bucky will go in together and I’ll be waiting at a secondary location watching and listening to everything.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from your dress. A mermaid dress, he thinks it is, black and tight and hugging you in all the right places, curving around your ass and sleeveless at the top, allowing you to show off a nice necklace and your cleavage. It’s an understatement to say that he’ll enjoy accompanying you tonight, even if it’s in a costume.

His mother probably would’ve loved it if he would’ve gotten with someone like you. Someone who loves their family, a spitfire that wouldn’t take any of his shit, and whose god damn gorgeous. She might’ve had to wash your mouth out with soap, though.

“So, why is Bucky goin’ again?”

“Safety.” Bucky answers.

“Is he going for my safety or am I going for his?” You tease, finishing the last few curls of your hair, smoke coming from the iron after each time you pull your hair away from it.

“Once you find our guy, get talking with him and see if you can get him to make you an offer,” He begins.

“One I can’t refuse?”

“Then, you’ll try and get him alone, see if he’ll show you the serums, and once you do, we’ll be taking care of the rest.” Sam finishes explaining.

Bucky plucks a box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. One, a camera, and the other, a microphone. You’re also given a comm to hide in your ear so both him and Sam can hear everything and you can hear them.

“Easy - peasy.” You respond.

The ballroom is lively, loud music and people everywhere, and Bucky attunes all the action overwhelming him to a sweat and not that fact that you’re pressed up against him, his arm wrapped around your waist.

About a hundred different people come up to greet you, asking about your family, offering you drinks and food. Bucky can see right through all of them though; they’re all putting on the act out of fear. Everyone’s attention is on you, and Bucky’s sure if he wasn’t in disguise right now, no one would even notice.

You bring him to the middle of the crowd and he can’t be surprised when you start to dance with him, pulling at his arms to get him to loosen up. He complies, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close as the two of you move together.

“I’ll let you know when I spot him.” He tells you, voice causing goosebumps to rise on your neck; goosebumps that he notices but doesn’t point out.

It only takes a song or two before he spots who he’s looking for and sends you over, making sure your com is on, and choosing to stick by the bar, giving him a good view of you and allowing himself a break of having your body pressed against his.

He’s impressed listening to you talk to this guy, voice smooth and sultry, yet still commanding.

He knows there was a lot of talk when you took position as boss; not a lot of people in the mob took you seriously and didn’t think you or a woman in general would be good in that kind of position in power. So, you use that to your advantage to get shit done, and Bucky applauds you for that.

It’s not long before the guy offers to go somewhere more private to discuss business and Bucky follows far behind, Sam praising you through the coms from where he waits in the car outside, watching through the camera in your earring.

Bucky waits outside of a closed office door upstairs, listening to the conversation through the coms but hearing your exclamation through the door when the guys give you his asking price.

“5 mil each?! What do you take me for, some kinda stunad?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Take it or leave it, yeah, I can put a bullet between your eyes and take it, alright.”

“Stop messing around and take the offer, it’s not real anyway!” Sam tells you, not wanting to lose their chance on the serums.

You ignore him prioritizing your need for respect over the stupid mission, “How do I know these aren’t Kool-Aid pouches poured in glass bottles?”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to test ‘em out for you.” The guy scoffs.

“Stronzo. You’re outta your fucking mind offering me that.”

“I’ll lower the price for you if you give me a little dance, how ‘bout that?”

“Vaffanculo.” You curse at him.

“Up yours, lady!” He yells back, and Sam sees through the camera, he grabs at you.

“Buck, get in there.” Sam tells him, and it only takes Bucky a second to kick open the door.

He’s a bit taken aback when he not only sees the case of serums out on the table, but you holding the man bent over the small table in the middle of the room next to the serums, gun held to the back of his head.

He very quickly decides that you’re fine and moves to grab the serums, closing the case and holding it securely in his left hand.

“Don’t kill the guy.”

You stay silent and Bucky looks at you again. He can almost see the steam coming out of your ears and he notices a small cut on your cheek bone. He looks down to the man’s cowering figure and notices a large ring on his hand.

You mumble something in Italian to the man, a threat of some kind that Bucky can guess given how the man shuts his eyes and shakes a bit under your hold. Sam finally enters the room, military grade handcuffs in hand.

“Feds are on their way, get her out of here.” He tells Bucky.

You slowly lift the gun off the man’s head and stand up straighter, walking over to brush past Bucky in the direction of the back door.

He makes eye contact with Sam and gives him a nod before following after you, watching as you scrunch up the bottom of your dress to replace the gun in an ankle holster. Once outside, he stops you under a street light near the car and raises his hand to look at your cheek.

“We gotta get going,” You swat at his hand.

“You’re still bleeding.” He says, using his thumb to brush away the line of blood, smearing a red tinge on your skin.

He looks into your eyes and for a second he sees the tough exterior drop. The face of someone who got smacked across the cheek all for mouthing off at some asshole.

Your vulnerability doesn’t last long, though, as you sniff and walk towards the car, opening the passenger door and sitting inside before Bucky can make it over there to open the door for you.

The drive back to the apartment is silent, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do or say to fill the silence. Stepping into the apartment, you immediately go to change and collect your things. Bucky moves to the bathroom to look for a first aid kit of some kind.

He meets you in the room and you’re now in cotton pants and a large t-shirt, sandals on your feet showing the bright red color of your toenails and the lines indented in your skin from how tight your heels were. You’re hanging up the dress and zipping it back in the cover when Bucky drops the first aid kit on the bed.

“Christ, it’s only a small cut.” You mumble.

“Just - Let me, would you?”

He takes out the liquid of disinfectant and soaks a cotton pad, cleaning off your cheek bone with it before covering it with healing ointment and a bandaid.

You don’t thank him when he finishes and he huffs as he closes the kit, “When do you drop the act, huh?”

“I don’t.”

“Really?” Bucky asks in annoyed disbelief.

“No. People tend to try and have me whacked when I drop the act.”

He sighs, “So, what, nobody ever takes care of you? Treats you? You don’t have any days off? Time to be yourself?”

“This lifestyle doesn’t really allow me to have days off, Sergeant Barnes.” You snap, gathering the dress in your hands and turning to face him completely.

“Take me home, I’m tired and my feet hurt.”

You leave him in the room and he waits an extra few seconds before dropping the conversation and following you out.

...

Bucky opens the back door to the environmental facility with his right hand and sees the door to your office open, you and your crew sitting together surrounded by cigar smoke and he can hear a TV on.

“Sir, please step into the vehicle.”

“Like the cop would be callin’ this asshole Sir if the fuckin’ cameras weren’t around!” You wave a hand at the TV, not yet seeing Bucky standing there.

He finds it funny that the gnarliest criminals - the literal Mafia - spend their time watching shitty, scripted cop shows.

It’s been about two weeks since the mission with you where you retrieved the serums. Sam went to prom with your sister five days ago, which was hilarious for him, especially when he got photo prints of different sizes in the mail at his apartment. He didn’t bother thinking about how you found his address.

One of the men sitting next to you glances his way and sees him standing there, smirking at the vision of him; hair combed slightly back and to the side, and a large bouquet of flowers in his right hand and a small paper box in his left.

“You got company, Boss.” He says.

You look over to the doorway and your jaw drops in an open-mouthed smile.

“Look at googootz! Now this is a man that knows how to treat a lady, are you boys paying attention?” You tease, scurrying over to him and pinching one of his cheeks, resting your free hand on his large bicep to guide him into the room, the rest of your crew ushering out to give the two of you privacy.

“What’s in the box?”

“Cannoli.”

You throw your head back with an exaggerated moan, “You know the way to an Italian woman’s heart, Sergeant Barnes. What’s with all the gifts?”

“Thought I’d treat you.” Is all his response is.

You narrow your eyes at him and stand up a little straighter, crossing your arms over your chest.

The last conversation before he dropped you off that night hasn’t escaped his mind. He understands the difficulties of life - how it’s hard to find time for yourself among the busy schedule that is existing. He catches himself sometimes, too, forcing his body to run with no sleep, burning through all of his energy until he’s completely drained and blaming it on life.

But life’s not always like that. Life allows for days off. For treats. For a bit of kindness. And Bucky’s come to show you just that.

“What, a beautiful woman like you never received flowers and pastries before?” He says, taking a half-step forward to be close enough to look you closer in the eyes.

“Are you flirting with me?” You whisper in amusement.

His eyes glance away from yours to look down at your red-painted lips. He gives you a shy smirk, really turning up the charm. For a big, bad, boss, you’re pretty easy to break down.

“Let me take you out tonight.”

“Maybe I’ve got plans.”

“Cancel ‘em.”

“What makes you think you’re worth canceling plans for?”

“Why don’t you trust me and find out?”

“You should know by now, Sergeant Barnes, that I don’t trust.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, setting the box of cannoli on your desk before reaching his now free hand up to your face, using his finger to brush away a stray hair and push it behind your ear.

He then takes a hold of one of your hands, turning it over to place a kiss on the top of it, before wrapping your fingers around the flowers in his other hand, forcing you to take them.

“No restaurant you’ve been to a hundred times over, no drama, no business. Just a man trying to treat a lady.” You look down at the flowers before meeting his eyes again.

“I get to pick the place.”

“No.”

“The kind of food.”

“No.”

“The -”

“No. Let me take care of everything.” Bucky insists, determined to get you to give up control for the first time in what he can only imagine has been a very long time.

Bucky knows better than anyone how terrifying it is to give up control. It was terrifying when he was forced to give up control, his free will taken away from him in the war for decades upon decades, but it’s terrifying even now when he has to do it as a free man. It makes a person vulnerable. When was the last time you were allowed to be vulnerable for somebody?

“I’m gonna pick you up here at six. Wear something nice and leave the executive attitude at home.” He finishes, leaving you with the flowers and cannoli before returning back outside, ignoring the stares he receives from you crew who wait patiently outside your office.

He feels your eyes follow him at the door, and he can’t wait to sweep you off your feet tonight.

[moonbaby26]

(gif from Jason Passaro’s youtube edit here)

Title: One Shitty Friday Night (Part 1)

Pairings: Peter Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Colossus x Shadowcat

Summary: Set after the events of Deadpool 2, you and your boyfriend Peter are on a double date downtown with your fellow X-Men Piotr Rasputin (Colossus) and Kitty Pryde (Shadowcat) when Deadpool and Russell arrive unexpectedly. Chaos and violence naturally ensues, including taking down mafia henchmen, dealing with news media and paparazzi who circle in with the action, and a jealous Peter. This will be concluded in Part 2 with the mixed reactions of Logan, Charles, and Erik when you all bring Wade and Russell back home, etc. 😄

Notes: For simplicity’s sake as Piotr R. is normally called “Peter” as well, he’ll just be referred to as Colossus here.

Warnings: Some alcohol use. And it’s Deadpool, so a lot of cursing and irreverent jokes of course. This started out as just crack!fic that became actual fic that had to be split into two parts because it hit post limit. Holy cow.

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

Kitty all but snorted, trying to put her drink back down on the table before it could end up fully sideways instead as her laughter left her trembling.

Colossus sighed quietly, but you could still see the warmth in his eyes as he looked down at her before helping dab up some of her errant wine off the table with a thick cloth napkin.

It was late Friday night, and save for your semi disapproving, large and very Russian designated driver, the other three of you were now several drinks deep and a bit too loudly enjoying Peter’s retelling of the Led Zeppelin cover band debacle. You’d been there with him that night, but it never got old the way Peter told it.

“I shit you not, and this guy still keeps hitting on Jean.” Peter continued, his third nearly empty glass of craft beer still in hand. “Scott’s about to fry the dude. They’re playing Immigrant Song, and these lasers start up. All dudebros in the club go wild, and Scott tries to sneak off a warning shot. Freaking air balls it! I have to move like forty people and it still blows a damn hole in the wall. But nobody even noticed! Fake Robert Plant is screaming his heart out and everybody is just eating it up. I swear my Dad could have flown in there, cape billowing and they still would have thought it was part of the show!”

You were at risk of being elbowed in this small restaurant booth, with how animated Peter was as he spoke beside you. But you didn’t mind. The lighting was dim, possibly verging on romantic, the smell of good food from the kitchen reminded you of what was to come, and you were just enjoying time with some of your favorite people.

When Peter did finally drop his hand again though, the not so subtle movements of it then up your thigh also promised something much more personal later tonight. Maybe it was the warmth from the mixed drinks you were also nursing, but you shifted your leg a little, pushing even more into his touch under the table. Your movement just signaled your silent agreement to him that tonight would be a perfect night to be throwing clothes on the floor as soon as you got back to your shared room at the mansion.

It’d been a long, tiring week after all. Helping teach classes during the day and training your ass off in the danger room every night, you didn’t think it was unreasonable to cut loose a bit now.

Even Colossus was chuckling a little at last, but the big guy was always softest around Kitty. You in particular had been one of her biggest supporters when she’d first confessed her attraction towards him. You’d noticed his bashfulness with her as well, and all the little glances he’d given her long before she’d ever worked up the courage to ask him out.

But that seemed so long ago now, it was hard to really remember a time when they weren’t together. Almost as long as you and Peter really.

You glanced up as the waiter came back by to check on you all, saying your food would be out in a few more minutes and asking if anyone needed more drinks.

“Oh gosh, we’re really running up the tab right?” Kitty smiled.

You could see the little bit of relief in Colossus’ expression as she waved the waiter off though, her current wine glass still nearly full. “I’m fine for now, thank you.”

Peter glanced at you and you nodded as well. A buzz was fine, but you didn’t want to be climbing the mansion stairs full on drunk tonight. “I’m good.”

As the waiter left, your conversation got a little more subdued. You leaned into Peter somewhat, hip to hip in the booth as he put his arm around your waist.

Kitty was now talking about a movie she thought you should all go see next weekend if you could. You were just in the process of agreeing as you’d wanted to see it too, when Colossus suddenly went stock still, a look of real surprise on his face.

Kitty evidently noticed as soon as you did, you both staring up at him in unison.

“Do not turn around,” He instructed to you and Peter, eyes locked on something behind you.

Of course when told to do one thing, it would take everything in Peter’s willpower to not do the opposite. But to his credit he actually did hesitate. “Do we need to be dodging something? I mean, I can move us if I need to, man. You just gotta let me know.” Peter stated.

“I don’t think he’s seen us yet. Please do not draw attention.” Colossus responded, still frustratingly vague to the rest of you.

But he hadn’t metaled up yet, his skin still entirely human looking. So on the plus side, it couldn’t be someone he thought an immediate physical threat.

You glanced to Kitty for some hope of explanation as she was seated beside Colossus and facing the same direction. But she was too short in comparison to him, and couldn’t see all the way across the booth dividers as easily as he could. “Well who is it?” Kitty demanded quietly.

But you heard an impatient voice carry over clearly from the nearby restaurant entrance.

“Look, you know he’s here. I know he’s here. Don’t make me leave you guys a bad Yelp review. I will totally Karen that shit up. I’m just here for him.” A pause. “...And some of the cannolis. God, I love those things. You went a little scarce on the filling last time though. Don’t make me add that to the Yelp review.”

You heard the hostess stutter, fear evidently building. “Sir, firearms are not allowed in this restaurant. The owner, he, I...I can’t.”

There was a loud sigh from the man, the distinct sound of a gun cocking, and then all hell broke loose.

“WADE!” Colossus screamed, your entire table flipping as he stood up, metal now encasing him in this even larger form.

Abruptly you were now standing back by the entrance yourself. Peter had one arm around you, and the other around Kitty as he let you both go just as instantly, having just brought you there before he disappeared again.

That little flare up of vertigo from the speed and sudden stop didn’t mix well with the alcohol, and she and you both stood there another moment, queasy as Peter appeared again with an armful of guns.

It would have been comical as he clearly had no idea where to put them now, but everyone else that had still been in the restaurant was already screaming and running for the doors in a panic.

The owner of the multiple guns couldn’t care less about the crowd however, only turning his full focus to the lot of you then in exasperation.

“Oh my God, you anti second amendment, mother fuckers. I’m in the middle of a job here!”

“You can’t just point guns at innocent people, Wade! We have talked about this many times!” Colossus retorted, all seven foot of him now standing over Deadpool with paternal like annoyance.

“For fuck’s sake, it’s called a threat. I wasn’t going to kill her you overprotective, asshat! Now Giovanni is probably holed up in some pussy ass panic room, or he’s already ghosted me out the back door! And yes, I know that is such a stereotypical mob boss name and totally sounds like the Pokemon villain. Fuck him and his always trying to take Pikachu! He had a talking cat the whole time who just wanted his love, but no, got to have the electric rat. Fuck!”

“Language, Wade!” Colossus scolded. “There is still a child present!”

And honestly in all this insanity, that was the first time you actually noticed Russell also still standing there. Everyone else in the room had now fled out into the street.

“I’m fucking fourteen,” The boy replied defiantly. “And yeah, we were working!”

“Daddy and angrier metal daddy are just talking, hon.” Deadpool commented, waving a hand.

There was a small gust of air beside you and you looked to Peter knowingly. Wade’s guns were now all on a table, though intentionally still distant from your current position. “So I just made a couple laps.” Peter spoke up. “The cops are already coming, and there’s still a bunch of guys in the basement. They were opening some crates, probably getting weapons? I didn’t know if we were taking them out yet though. I didn’t touch anything. But is Giovanni like a big dude with gold rings and all?”

“I’m telling you besides the drug and human trafficking, it’s practically more criminal how much he sets back Italian-American stereotypes. They are an honest, manicotti making people goddamn it.” Deadpool answered.

You really were starting to regret the amount of drinks you’d had. If you’d known tonight was going to be anything like this, you would have gladly stuck to water. Your head was already trying to throb a little as you finally spoke. “So, does this guy actually have warrants out on him? If the cops come, they’re all going to end up shooting each other most likely. Can we just defuse this by giving him up to them?”

“I would say we assist to prevent unnecessary bloodshed, if that is the case, yes. I’m sure the Professor would prefer that.” Colossus agreed.

“Freaking goody two shoes, all of you.” Wade sighed. “But he has to get arrested or dead okay? I don’t get paid otherwise.” He paused though, then looking back up to Colossus before suddenly elbowing him. As if he’d even really feel that. “And hello rudeness, are you not going to introduce me to your little girls night out club here before we go bust some heads in a gratuitous X-Force/X-Men hotties crossover?”

“X-Force?” Kitty asked, sounding as already over this as could be.

“Well, we are a little empty on the roster at the moment. Some...unfortunate parachuting incidents. Wind advisory that day. You know how it goes.” Deadpool shrugged.

By her expression, no. She did not know how it went.

But the sooner you started, the sooner this could be over. Colossus motioned to each of you in turn, “Peter, (Y/N), and Kitty. These are my teammates and friends.” He nodded back to Deadpool, “And this is Wade.” And then to the boy. “And Russell.”

Of course you already knew who they both were. It’d been a bit of a scandal really, with the whole Essex House fiasco and the deaths that had occurred there. Fair or not, a lot of the blame had ended up on Juggernaut the second time around though you thought. Which is why Charles hadn’t had to deal with too much bad press in the aftermath.

You could not let this become another Essex House situation for the X-Men though. You were about to speak up about heading to the basement together and Deadpool staying out of your way so you all could neutralize everyone without any fatal hits, when he gasped dramatically, making you freeze again.

“Kitty!? Like an actual girl named Kitty? Oh my God, this whole time I thought you were his cat!” He hit his own leg, laughing. “I’m thinking, holy shit this guy loves his goddamn cat, but who am I to judge you know? I had a dog named Mr. Shuggums. Cutest little fucker.” He took a breath. “I miss him.”

“Wade.” Colossus groaned. “We do not have all night.”

Okay, so there was still something sweet about Colossus gushing about his girlfriend even to this manic mercenary. But no kidding, this show really needed to get on the road here.

“Guys, why don’t we just let Peter disarm them all, Colossus, you grab Giovanni, and Kitty and I deal with anyone who still resists? No one has to get hurt, and then it’s all done, easy.”

“And then we go find somewhere else to eat. Killing me here. I wanted that damn calzone and tiramisu.” Peter sighed, pulling his goggles back down over his eyes again. “More guns coming up.”

He disappeared at once, but when he didn’t return immediately as you were so accustomed to, you and Kitty exchanged a nervous look.

And after only another few seconds, your instincts told you something had definitely gone wrong.

“Is the basement directly beneath us?” You asked Deadpool sharply, already reaching out a hand to Kitty. Your adrenaline was starting, all good feelings gone as it was now time to act.

But you’d worked together long enough now, you didn’t have to explain your plan to her or Colossus.

Yet when the previously mouthy merc had no instant response, just staring at you in thought, it was clear he hadn’t done any recon beforehand at all. He’d literally just walked in here and expected everything to work out.

“Perfect.” Kitty said sarcastically, glancing quickly to Colossus as she took your hand. “You’re our backup, dear, in case our vertical entrance doesn’t work out. Come find us.”

“Always.” He said, already turning, his weight shaking the floor as he ran to look for any stairway downward while you and Kitty dropped straight through the floor.

It was surely a risk of its own to use her phasing ability so blindly as this. You could end up in a too small crawlspace, in underground piping, a sewer system, anything really. She’d make sure not to go solid until it was safe, as to not impale or bury you alive of course. But if Peter were in trouble, there was no time to waste by ending up at a dead end and having to go back up and try again.

You’d held your breath, as there was no way for you to process oxygen either as your lungs and every other part of you shifted through the other matter. It was darkness and insulation, pipes, and conduit that flashed by at first. But in the fractions of seconds that it took to fall, you had already powered up. The white light of your energy field overtaking your body, shielding you both as you did fall into a larger open area.

It was even darker than the restaurant above, all concrete and dampness. The glow from your body was the brightest thing there as much more men than you’d expected all turned in surprise. You saw the glint of multiple gun barrels now, but the thing you wanted to see most was Peter’s silver hair as you’d scanned the area for him instantly.

There was a stairwell in the distance. He was laying near the bottom of it. But you had no time to be shocked or afraid, only anger swelled as you released Kitty’s hand, making you solid again. “I’ll get him.” Was all you said. Letting her know to protect herself as you flew to him. Bullets couldn’t hurt her if she was ready for them. But Peter would be defenseless without one of you now, and by means of your power of flight you were the faster of you and her.

The man closest to Peter had a different kind of gun though you realized. Something you didn’t recognize at all as he aimed at you. You splayed your palms to create an energy shield in front of you as he pulled the trigger.

It didn’t make a sound though. But everything around you instantly distorted as pain exploded through you. You saw five or six of him now, as your feet hit the ground, unable to concentrate enough to fly then. But even as you stumbled, realizing your shielding wasn’t fully stopping whatever that weapon was doing, you were still able to expand your shield rapidly, hitting the man with the force of a car in your pain and sending him flying into a nearby wall, the weapon clattering to the ground lightly against his now limp body.

But you still felt like you were going to puke.

“Kill them you idiots!” Someone screamed.

You dropped yourself, laying over Peter just as quickly, grateful to feel him breathing as you focused through the pain to extend a shield around you both as the gunfire started.

“Bitch!” Another man yelled as Kitty just walked unharmed through all the flying bullets towards you.

“Shadowcat actually,” She said, skilled enough in her powers to choose what was solid and what wasn’t. Just the outside of her fist being all she needed to crush his nose in one punch with a squirt of blood, and only the end of her foot used as she swept her leg after to knock his own right out from under him.

Even among your own team, sometimes people could forget that that petite Jewish girl was about as skilled a martial artist as anyone could be.

“Babe?” You heard against your ear though, glancing back down to Peter. There was real relief even in the chaos as you saw him smile up at you.

He talked back against your ear in the noise as Kitty continued to utterly wreck the guys around you. “I fucked up a little, right? That gun...they already had it going, aimed at the door when I came back, a trap...I think I hit every stair on the way down...I still see like three of you right now.”

“Ditto.” You breathed.

And then there was another even louder noise as the remnants of a door also came flying down the stairs. Colossus barreled in behind it like a stampeding elephant, Deadpool right behind him as they leapt over the both of you and joined the fray.

“We found the basement!” Deadpool announced gleefully, swords swinging. “Don’t think they’d even locked the door back actually, but fuck if big Russki doesn’t love a dramatic entrance!”

For a moment you thought all your words about at least trying not to kill had been for nothing, thinking Deadpool was going to chop these men into literal pieces. But even as blood sprayed left and right, you realized he was just cutting tendons. The men then unable to hold their guns, unable to stand at all as he crippled each he reached in succession.

It was still completely horrific, but hell, how much could you really ask for from someone like him? Especially when you yourself had slammed that one man into a concrete wall as if he were a ragdoll. You glanced over anxiously for a moment, glad to see him shifting a little, but still crumpled exactly where you’d thrown him. He was alive, a small relief at least.

——————————

Obviously the other gunmen hadn’t had a prayer either though once you’d all been down there together.

Colossus already had a still cursing Giovanni slung over one shoulder as you were now helping Peter back up and trying not to step in all the blood as you all walked over to Kitty.

“What a mess...very interesting weapon though,” She spoke of that odd gun that’d been used on you and Peter, it now in her hands as she turned it one way and then another examining it. “I’m bringing this back with us. The police don’t need anything like this. Hank and I can figure out how it works. And how to defend against it hopefully before we run into another one of these out in the field.”

“It seems this Giovanni was more a threat than expected,” Colossus said, giving the still squirming man an unhappy look, before looking back to you all. “Are you alright, Peter?”

“I’m still hungry.” Peter grumbled, an arm over your shoulder to still help stabilize him as his other hand went to his head as if it were pounding. He also had some bruising starting on his face, no doubt from his tumble down the stairs. “I wouldn’t have drank so damn much if I’d known we weren’t going to eat...”

With the speed of his metabolism, that alcohol likely was hitting him pretty hard now on his already empty stomach.

“We should turn this guy over and get out of here.” You agreed. Though you didn’t feel so hot yourself. Still a little nauseous from whatever that weapon did to your senses. But at least you weren’t seeing triple of everything anymore.

“Hold it, girl scouts!” Deadpool piped up, chipper as ever as he grabbed something at Giovanni’s neck before any of you could think to stop him.

The man choked just a moment though, before a piece of metal snapped off into Wade’s hands. It was a necklace, with a symbol of some sort. You saw just a glimpse of it before Deadpool pocketed it. “No proof of finishing the job, no payday for DP. No payday, then no liquor, no coke, no hookers. Am I right?”

It was too difficult to tell when if ever he was serious, and you all chose to ignore his comment, starting back up the stairs. The odd sounds of bullet fragments falling back down the stairwell caught Peter’s attention though as he gave a grossed out look to Wade for a moment.

The now impact deformed bullets were starting to work themselves back out of all the bloody holes in Deadpool’s costume. You knew where you’d seen that before of course, but Peter was the only one that actually said it aloud.

“Damn, you and Logan would be a pair.”

There was a pause, and you could swear even with the mask, you thought you saw Wade’s cheekbones move in a way that signaled he was outright grinning from ear to ear. “At least someone gets it. He still won’t return my calls though. Such a diva lately.”

Once you did get to the top of the stairs, you only found a very agitated Russell standing there, Wade’s guns in his arms. “You took long enough, the cops are outside you know. I’m not going back to jail for you!”

“Cool your tater tots, kid.” Deadpool responded lazily, in no hurry, but grabbing the weapons back to holster them all regardless.

“I could have finished this faster! I would have fried their asses!” Russell argued.

“You would have been shot. Fire does not stop bullets.” Colossus only answered matter of factly.

Russell made a face, but Wade cut him off before he could say any more.

“Now now, listen to metal daddy. No sass. And actually, I think there’s something we should talk about, champ. X-Force is way more badass and all, but we don’t exactly have a training and junior member tier yet. Maybe later. You might want to think about riding home with these guys and checking their setup out. I don’t have any powers myself to relate to you like that, except me being very shootable, devastatingly charming, sexy, smart, and a competitive level Skee-Ball player...”

Deadpool sighed, continuing. “But these guys have a Danger Room. Which is totally not a sex dungeon, yeah I was bummed about that too. But they could let you unleash that school shooter level teenage angst and burn all the shit you wanted until you really figure out your powers.”

Russel bristled. “I’m not a school shooter you prick! And you always said the X-Men were neutered dweebs and-”

Wade coughed loudly, ushering Russell forward suddenly as you all continued to walk. “Hah, kids. Such darlings. Mishear everything don’t they?”

Colossus only answered without offense though. “The offer is still open, Russell. Though you have said no before. The Professor would never turn down a young mutant in need.”

It was Peter who surprised you a little, a smirk on his face as he contributed. “Freaking sweet house too, man. Xavier’s loaded. Big screen TV, a pool, basketball court, your own room, supersonic jet. Bunch of cute girls as well, or cute boys, you know whatever you’re into.”

“I’m not gay.” Russell huffed, but actually looked to be listening now as he didn’t immediately spit back with a sarcastic retort.

Though you gave Peter a weird look and he just grinned. “What? I stayed for you didn’t I, babe? Just saying. I wasn’t exactly on board with the whole team thing before that either. I know where he’s coming from is all.”

“It’s up to you, Russell.” Kitty said more diplomatically, before returning to the matter at hand. “We’re parked at that parking garage two blocks south. Everyone meet back there, Colossus and I will hand this guy over to the cops out front. The rest of you, I’m sure there’s got to be some emergency exit you can sneak out of. Probably better to split up actually. Less attention.”

—————————

Just as Kitty had suggested, Deadpool and Russell went out one way, and you and Peter another. You came out onto another street behind the restaurant. And you’d just finally started to relax again, Peter taking your hand in his own and walking away like an honest to God normal couple for once, just out on the town together before you noticed an oddly placed white van with distinct lettering on it.

Peter saw it too just as the light from a camera hit you both.

“Hell,” You breathed.

“Want to run?” He asked seriously.

“Too late, they’d just film us ditching, and say we had something to hide.”

Your headache was returning in full force you thought as you steeled yourself, seeing the reporter now in a full sprint towards you.

“It’s Quicksilver! And (your codename)! The X-Men are here!” A woman shouted.

As you walked closer to the news van, the camera flashes only increased. It looked like a small group of paparazzi had also camped out here, hoping for this exact result. How did word travel so damn fast?

“Marcia Fletcher, WAFN nightly news!” She introduced herself at once, her camera man there just as quickly, huffing a little from the run as he got you both in focus.

You could see the lights on on his camera as she shoved her microphone in front of you and Peter. “You’re on live coverage of the Ruffiano’s restaurant shootings with WAFN. Is it true that Giovani Marcello was apprehended here tonight by the X-Men? And how did you know he was here when he’s been on Interpol’s most wanted list for four years?”

You knew without looking at him that Peter was happily deferring the speaking role to you now as you tried not to look rattled. You attempted to think of what Charles would and wouldn’t want you to say, even with the pain in your head and lingering nausea. “We didn’t know who was here. We were in the area and saw people running and went to help, that’s all.” You lied.

“But the reports of gunshots, witnesses also said Deadpool had drawn a gun on a restaurant employee and Colossus was seen inside. Is Deadpool now affiliated with the X-Men again? Did he shoot anyone?”

“Deadpool is not affiliated with the X-Men. Colossus was here tonight, but he only would have been defending anyone he thought in danger. Deadpool did not shoot anyone.” You tried to keep to short truths that time.

“But then why was Deadpool there? Should people really believe it would be a coincidence that the X-Men and Deadpool would be at the same incidence at one time if not working together?”

“Well you’re here aren’t you? Are you affiliated with us?” You replied before you could stop yourself, though still restraining the annoyance you really wanted to put into that statement. “Trouble attracts a crowd.”

Peter made a sound, a restrained laugh you knew. But before the reporter could blurt out another question, one of the now growing number of paparazzi called out, “(Your codename), hey look here! Is it true you and Quicksilver are still dating!?”

You knew better than to be baited, humoring any of them just made it worse. They were like piranhas. But Peter couldn’t help it, turning to look as so many cameras flashed. His arm slid around you protectively. “Why wouldn’t we be, dude?” He called back.

“Are you saying the photos of (your codename) and Gambit were before you two reconciling?”

It took every ounce of your self control to not respond, but oh God did you want to. It was the mission in Tanzania. You knew it. You, Storm, and Gambit. Peter had stayed in the U.S. for that one as it’d been the holidays and his Mom had wanted both he and Wanda over for some time together.

After the mission was over, the three of you had ended up on one of the beautiful Tanzanian beaches for a single day. Just a single day to yourselves.

You’d had the audacity to wear a revealing bathing suit though and you and Remy had been photographed together, him shirtless of course because it was a goddamn beach. And laughing and smiling because, surprise, you were friends! And they’d cropped Ororo out in all the closeups for complete loss of context.

It’d been a thing in some of the tabloids for a while, but you really thought that had finally blown over. Of course if anyone asked Remy, he liked to play coy on the whole subject to keep up his God’s gift to all men and women sex symbol status.

“Peter, let’s just go,” You whispered in his ear, sure anything else said would only make things worse.

But you could read him all too well, and when he turned his face to look back at you, you already knew what he was going to do. You didn’t try to stop him, because never would you humiliate him on live television with any type of rejection, but oh, you would never live this one down. Never.

He kissed you hard. And there was nothing fake about it, honestly the kind of kiss usually reserved for your bedroom as you felt heat rising up in you. The camera flashes clicking over and over as you could still taste the alcohol he’d drank before.

When he finally released you again, you gasped a little. He gave the photographers a ‘fuck you’ look, before speaking just to you. “Now we can go.”

“Fly or run?” You breathed.

“Fly please. I’m still about half out of it.” He admitted.

You powered up to some surprised and excited sounds from the crowd. Your whole body glowing white again in the energy you emitted.

“Wait, aren’t you going to stay and talk to the police!?” The reporter shouted.

“They know where to find us if they need us.” You answered, extending your energy field around Peter, before you took off vertically, making sure to get sideways over the rooftops as soon as you could though to breakup their camera angles and finally give you privacy again at last.

You landed gently atop the parking garage only a few moments later, letting him go again as you powered back down.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, just taking your hand again though.

“No.” You said truthfully. “But, I have no idea what we’ve really just done. We still have to go home...home where the Professor always watches the 10:00 news with his late night tea.”

Peter sighed, only half joking. “We could always go stay with my Mom for a while?”

You just moved in closer, pulling him against you as you laid your head on his shoulder. “We’ll survive, babe. Somehow we always do.”

“I think that says more about you than me though. Pretty sure I’d be face down in a ditch somewhere already if it weren’t for you.”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck then before raising your head back up to kiss him once more. Much softer this time, and even longer than his jealous little display a few minutes ago.

He made one of his little noises of contentment, hands sliding down to squeeze your butt through the thin pants you were wearing. As he pulled your hips tighter against him, he broke the kiss enough to speak regretfully. “I really was hoping to get lucky tonight...”

“Same.” You smiled. It had been a while. Mostly from you both being so tired by the time you finally got in bed. Passing out on each other had more been the norm the past couple weeks. “We get some food in you, and see where things go?”

“Gross! Get a room!”

You startled at the sudden shouting, having wholly thought yourselves alone up here in the moonlight.

Peter rolled his eyes, yelling back at Russell, “Kid, we have one! And we’d already be back there by now if it wasn’t for your little mafia hunting shenanigans!”

You looked over to see Deadpool and Russell both standing in the doorway to the parking garage stairs.

Wade whistled, leaning back against the doorframe. “Way to take down that Marcia Fletcher a notch! I always found her too uppity to be honest. I think she’s still butt hurt that they didn’t give her the lead anchor spot when Carl Sanderson moved to the early bird morning show. Tanya Meyer on the 5:00 news though, that’s my girl.”

You blinked. “How...how do you know-” It was literally minutes ago, it would have taken them just this long to walk here.

Deadpool lifted up his cell phone. “Facebook live, bitches. Don’t you follow WAFN? The recipes they post from Saturday morning cooking with Pat are always delish.” He looked back down at the phone though, happily reading. “Hah! Peggy Fredrickson from Brewster, New York thinks Marcia’s contouring and drawn on eyebrows are getting worse. Fire your makeup person, Marcia.” He tapped something on the screen. “Like comment! Oh, and Michael Morris from Ridgefield says who wouldn’t do Remy LeBeau. Damn, Michael, all out and proud on main.”

Peter let go of you, taking an annoyed breath. But then looking back to you. “Please let me at least prank Remy, something, anything.”

“But he didn’t do anything.” You replied, though only more stressed now that this was already blowing up on social media.

“Exactly! He should have at least denied it! But no, Mr. cool Cajun can’t admit that you’d actually choose me over him.”

“Hey now, I think you’re looking at this the wrong way, Quickie.” Deadpool interjected. “There’s always the ménage à trois option. I mean he’s French right? And Michael from Ridgefield is just spitting truth. Who wouldn’t want to do Remy LeBeau? He could shuffle my cards anytime.”

“You guys are so fucking weird.” Russell groaned. “Can we go find your damn car now?”

But you didn’t move yet, still looking fully at Peter. “Wade’s just trying to get under your skin. We all know how Remy is. He’d flirt with a piece of cardboard if it suited him. It doesn’t mean anything to him.” You recognized that Gambit was physically attractive of course, you had eyes too after all. But that was the only extent of it. You loved Peter. Not to mention you wouldn’t at all want to get on Rogue’s bad side. She and Gambit were tumultuous enough without someone else being added to the mix.

“This is adorable, really. But I did bring ‘good job team for sending a little girl selling, gentrification funding, pencil dick mob boss to butt fucking federal prison’ cannolis. Want some?” Deadpool offered, lifting up a large takeout box you somehow hadn’t noticed before.

Peter’s shoulders dropped a little, still heavily annoyed though eyeing the box. “So does this mean you’re coming back with us too?”

Wade shrugged, “The kid doesn’t know you guys. What kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t at least go and make sure he actually wanted to stay in your little mutant commune before I ditch him there?”

“You aren’t my damned dad.” Russell said, though almost sounding too tired to argue further at this point. He reached up, taking a cannoli from the box and biting into it as he started to walk back down the stairwell. “What floor is the car on?”

“Just one down from here, you already passed it. Black SUV,” you answered. Colossus and Kitty must not have been here yet if Wade and Russell had made it all the way to the top deck without finding them.

Peter grabbed your hand again, walking with you to the doorway as he grabbed three cannolis out the box begrudgingly with his other hand. He passed one off to you, before biting into the other two in quick succession.

And you only had a moment to see all the thick scarring under Wade’s mask as he lifted it just enough to start eating one himself, before turning to follow you both out and down the stairwell.

———————————

(Concluded in Part 2 here)

[ethanesimp]

WHEN YOU’RE GONE // D.D.

Pairing: Mob Boss! Damiano David x Mob GN! Reader (it was originally written with a fem! reader so please let me know if you spot any slip ups on my part)

Summary: Soulmates are already a difficult concept to grasp and things don’t seem to get any easier when you like a person who already has a soulmate.

Word Count: 9.8k (it’s so long lakjd)

Warnings: Swearing, death and mentions of it, injuries, angst -lots of it-, it’s a mob fic so violence, smoking, Damiano being kind of an asshole? Me probably using swear words in italian wrong... Just read with caution pls

Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

A/N: If you’ve seen this before, it’s probably because this has been written and posted on my other blog @pparkersbitch as a Tom Holland fanfiction at the beginning of the year (which has now been deleted). It’s the same person and I’m not stealing anyone’s work :) I just like it and wanted to bring it back. I did add/modify some tiny details though. The idea is probably dumb, but I’m sharing anyways.

Taglist: @gretavanfleetlove​ @superchrystaldrug​ @reputationdamiano​​

“This isn’t how I wanted to start my morning,” Your best friend mumbled in a tired voice. You could barely hear him from where you were standing over the sounds the old -and surely broken- coffee machine kept making and the music playing from his phone.

“Well, sucks to be us, huh?” You chuckled and poured coffee on both of your cups as you did a small dance to try and shake the tiredness off your body. You handed Damiano his cup after preparing his coffee the way he liked it, a teaspoon of sugar with a splash of milk, and walked with him to the large office down the hall, “I don’t get why Ethan and Thomas can’t do this instead of us.”

The room was always cold and you seemed to forget about it most of the time since it still slipped your mind to wear a sweater or hoodie over your thin pajama shirt. You grabbed one of the blankets from the small black couch on the corner of the room and wrapped it around your body as best as you could with your free hand. 

You sat down on the chair next to him to have a better look at all the papers and files he had spread out on the desk, “What exactly are we looking for?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows. All those documents were enough to keep you occupied for the whole day if you didn’t work fast enough.

“We are looking for any leads to the drug cartel or its leader. Really anything that can help us find them,” Damiano explained and took a sip of his coffee as he opened the first file. 

You had been trying to track a drug cartel ever since they infiltrated your warehouse and stole some of your products. Damiano’s father had been at both of your necks ever since it happened as if it had been your fault instead of the incompetent guards that were supposed to be guarding the entrance at all times, “I’m sure these are people we’ve made deals with in the past, they wouldn’t have been able to break in otherwise. We’ve always been far too careful for this to be a mere coincidence.”

He removed the gold ring from his ring finger and left it on the jewelry bowl you had placed on his desk. You had known Damiano David and his family for years. For as long as you had known him, the band on his ring finger had been gold, and you hated it. 

That stupid little gold band was a silent reminder that he had met his soulmate and there was nothing to be done about it. For months you had silently hoped and prayed for Damiano to be your soulmate, but any illusion or wish you had of it happening, had vanished the moment you saw the gold ring on his finger for the first time. You later discovered he avoided wearing it on his hand because it put his soulmate at risk of being found, but he still kept it close to him at all times by using it as a necklace.

You avoided wearing yours for an entirely different reason. The black ring and all the stares and words of pity that came with it were saddening and something you didn’t need. While gold was a reminder of love and good luck, black was a reminder that your soulmate was no longer alive and you were doomed to spend the rest of your life alone. You were sure the band had been black for most of your life, or at least that’s how you remembered it.

It was safe to say you were jealous of Damiano’s soulmate, Marlee. Not only was she one of the most beautiful women you had ever met, but she got to have perhaps the most amazing man by her side until her dying day, something you could never have in any way that wasn’t platonic.

You successfully ignored it most days, which wasn’t so hard to do since you had better things to think about most of the time, but nights were always the hardest. In your loud and chaotic life, there was a speck in time where everything quieted and calmed down. During those few hours was when you’d break down and grieve for the person whose name you didn’t even get to know. You’d cry for being stupid enough to fall for someone who wasn’t only your best friend, but who also had a girlfriend.

“Damiano, Y/N?” Marlee’s sweet voice interrupted your train of thoughts. You had been reading the files consciously enough to notice anything unusual, but you had paid no mind to anything else until she walked into the room. You smiled politely at her and waved. 

She walked up to Damiano and he immediately closed all files with any sort of photo that might be too graphic for her to look at. Marlee cupped his face and pressed her lips to his for a few moments that felt like an eternity to you, watching everything from the side as a feeling of jealousy invaded your senses. You did nothing but look at the painting on the wall until they stopped locking lips, which took a bit longer than you would’ve liked.

“Did you two find anything?” Marlee asked once she pulled away from Damiano. He gave her a look you knew as ‘I cannot tell you anything about the mob to keep you safe’. She had been involved with the mob’s administration for most of her life, only after she met Damiano and her father united his mob with Damiano’s did she stop working. 

You had been brought in as a replacement of sorts once Marlee stopped doing any mob business per Damiano’s request. His parents had saved yours from a legal accident, which left you in debt with his family, so you didn’t have much say on whether you’d join the mob or not. 

Something you were grateful for was that Damiano always kept your hands clean. No matter what business it was, he made sure to keep you out of any sort of situation in which you’d have to hurt or get hurt by another member of the mob. Most people that worked for Damiano didn’t have the pleasure of knowing him as the lenient and caring individual he was around you.

You excused yourself after spending a few more minutes flipping through the files in search of something but ultimately found nothing. It was supposed to be your free day, or at least that was what Damiano had promised. Apart from that impromptu search for information at 5 am, he promised he’d have Ethan, Vic, or Thomas help with anything he needed. 

That was why you took the liberty to lock yourself inside your room and put your phone on silent. You desperately wanted to catch up on all the hours of sleep you had lost in between those early morning duty calls and coffee runs. No matter how much you enjoyed spending time with Damiano, you still missed your normal sleep schedule.

-

When you woke up a few hours later, the house was completely silent. The usual chatter coming from the kitchen wasn’t there, neither was the noise of Vic repeatedly firing bullets at the targets in the garden to practice her aim like she did every morning or the soft sound of Thomas softly strumming his guitar as he tried to piece an unplanned melody together with the assistance of Ethan’s drumming.

It wasn’t a Sunday, which meant they weren’t away visiting their families. They were all supposed to be home. That last thought made you nervous and you couldn’t help but wonder if something had happened while you were asleep. Being in the mob, you knew a lot of unexpected things happened all the time and you had to be prepared for them all.

You walked to the door, determined to investigate what was wrong. Your hand was already firmly grasping the doorknob and you were about to undo the lock when someone knocked harshly on the door, startling you. 

Without hesitation, you jumped back and reached for the gun stuffed in one of the drawers nearby, “Y/N? You awake?” 

You let go of the drawer’s handle and your tense body relaxed at the sound of Victoria’s raspy voice, “Fuck, Vic, you scared me,” You spoke as you opened the door to be met with her panicked blue eyes. Your eyebrows furrowed at her worried expression, but before you could ask, she grabbed you by the arm softly and dragged you out of the room.

Once you were in the hallway, you finally heard everything with a lot more clarity. The faint sound of glass clinking before falling to the floor, Thomas’s exasperated shouts, and Damiano’s complaints. You looked at Victoria, expecting an explanation.

“I don’t know what happened,” She began, “One second he was alright, then at like 9 AM Ethan and I heard them fighting. She’s gone and Damiano’s locked in his room, won’t let anyone in. Thomas is trying to get him to talk while Ethan looks for the keys.”

You walked past Victoria and ran up the stairs. Damiano’s room was right above yours. Upon walking up to the third floor of the house, you saw Thomas repeatedly knocking on Damiano’s door. Once he heard footsteps and spotted you, it was like relief washed all over him at the sight of you.

“Do you mind trying?” He asked, “He’s been asking for you,” Thomas added with a sigh as he brushed his messy hair out of his forehead. You nodded and got closer to the door once he got out of the way.

With hesitation, you knocked on the door and patiently waited for a response, which arrived only after you knocked once again, “Vaffanculo, Thomas! Which part of your tiny fucking brain cannot understand that I want to be left alone?”

You flinched at his words and took a long breath as you gathered the confidence to speak up, “I-It’s Y/N, Dami,” You said, loud enough for him to hear you from where he was. You were expecting rejection; if Damiano didn’t want to talk to people who were as close to him as siblings, why would he talk to you? Sure, you were one of his best friends, but he’d known Thomas for longer than he—

Your thoughts were interrupted when Damiano opened the door and quickly dragged you in before slamming it shut once more. For the first few minutes, you stood in silence while Damiano faced the door. You couldn’t see his face or his eyes, so you had no idea what could be going through his mind, so you focused on your surroundings instead. 

The room was a mess, but not more than it usually was. What alarmed you was the shattered glass on the floor as well as the drops of blood that stained the white floor. You looked back at your best friend and noticed that it was dripping from his hand. 

“Damiano,” You called, “Amore, your hand,” He turned to look at you and that’s when you finally saw his red and swollen eyes as well his tear-stained cheeks. His gaze softened once his eyes fell on yours. He choked back a sob and turned away from you once again.

If his hand hadn’t been bleeding, you wouldn’t have hesitated on wrapping your arms around his neck and trying to comfort him. Instead, you ran to his bathroom to grab the first-aid kit. After years of being in the business, treating Damiano’s cuts and injuries wasn’t anything new to you, but you were oblivious as to why he was in such a state in the first place.

Being the person he was, Damiano had learned to conceal his emotions incredibly well to protect himself, even around the people he trusted the most. You had only seen him that shaken once when something had gone terribly wrong. The fact that Marlee was gone too only gave you a worse feeling. The fact that her clothes were all gone from the closet didn’t ease your worried mind either.

Damiano was sitting on the bed patiently waiting for you to return. Once you did, he avoided your gaze and said nothing as you examined his hand. The cuts were all superficial and would surely cure on their own in a few days, which was why you only focused on removing the tiny shards of glass that had stuck to his skin with a pair of tweezers.

Once that was done and you had cleaned the cuts, you wrapped a bandage around his hand once and secured it with a small piece of tape. You sat in silence for a while, you didn’t comment on the sobs that would escape his lips every once in a while or the tears that had started falling down his cheeks.

Instead, you waited until he was ready to say something, “I don’t even know how to tell you this,” Damiano mumbled. His eyes stayed glued to the floor. He seemed… embarrassed to look you in the eye.

“I was finally going to do it this morning, N/N,” He said as a sigh escaped past his lips and he took a small velvet box out of his pocket. He didn’t have to say what was inside the box because you knew exactly what it was. Damiano had been planning on proposing for months, but there was always something that managed to get in the way of completing his goal.

“She went to the bathroom and had left her phone on my bedside table. I was going to get the ring and Y/N… I-I swear to God I didn’t want to look but the messages kept coming, one after the other, the fucking phone wouldn’t stop making noise. Cazzo, she was the one feeding information to the drug cartel and Lord knows to who else,” He said those words in one breath and you had barely been able to catch them all. Damiano threw the box at the wall angrily and from the noise, you didn’t doubt there’d be an indent there.

“I asked her about it and you have no idea how much I wished she’d deny it, but she didn’t even try,” Damiano cried. Unexpectedly, Damiano turned his body around to face yours and wrapped his arms around your waist while he buried his face on your neck.

It took you by surprise, but you said nothing. Instead, you focused on rubbing circles on his back and whispering soothing words into his ear. Part of you knew there was something else going on, even if you didn’t ask. You hadn’t seen Damiano cry in a long time and even then you saw nothing more than just a few tears rolling down his cheeks. What happened with Marlee had truly driven him right to the edge and he couldn’t keep in everything he had been trying so hard to hide.

-

In the four months that followed, you didn’t see Marlee once. She never had the guts to return after Damiano found out about everything she had been doing behind his back. At first, he had been utterly destroyed by her absence, it pained you to see him shut everything and everyone out with the lame excuse that he had work to do. Every single time he did so, you’d quietly sit down and help him despite his complaints. 

He got better though. Once enough time passed, he healed, but all that love he had once felt for her was now nothing more than pure hatred every single time her name was mentioned. You knew better than anyone that it wasn’t the healthiest thing to do, but it didn’t matter how many times you told him so because it never truly changed much.

As for the mob, things seemed to calm down once Damiano and Ethan were able to track down the leader of the drug cartel and get the stolen products back. Everything was too good and too quiet. While your four friends enjoyed all that peace, you couldn’t help but worry about something being wrong. It was a silly thing anyway, there was nothing that gave you even the slightest confirmation that your worry wasn’t just fueled by paranoia, not a single thing.

You should’ve been grateful instead. Your sleep schedule had gotten acceptably regular and there was no more working from 5 am to 10 pm every single day. You also had time to finally sit down and read the books that had been sitting on your untouched shelf ever since the start of the year, just like you were doing at that very moment while the boys were playing poker in the basement and Vic was on a date.

Damiano walked into your room eventually, still smelling like the cigarette he had just been smoking minutes back. He couldn’t help but scrunch up his nose as the smell of lemon incense burning hit his nostrils.

You looked up and giggled at his disgusted expression, “You cannot be disgusted when you were the one who walked into my room smelling like cigar and beer,” Damiano rolled his eyes and plopped down on the bed next to you.

“Incense is bad for you,” You shot Damiano a killer look and closed your book. He gave you a funny look back and then put his attention on your book, “What are you reading anyway?”

You hummed and showed him the cover. It had a beautiful yet simple design, which accurately represented the story hidden in between those pages, “Okay so, it’s the story of these people that all get invited to this island. They’re all summoned there for different reasons but it turns out they all have this common enemy. It’s terrifying because they get killed off one by one when a children’s lullaby plays. I truly cannot explain it enough to do justice to how intense this book is.”

“Oh and before that I got to read the most wonderful romance book! It was apparently the first book written where soulmates weren’t a thing and it was just a piece of art. Beautifully written, made me cry for hours too.”

Damiano smiled and you could almost see all the gears turning inside his brain, “Wouldn’t it be amazing?”

“What would?”

He shrugged and propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you, “A world without soulmates, where you’re not bound to someone since birth.”

You sighed and turned to look at him, “It’s our own fault… being bound, I mean. No angel from the heavens came down to tell us we have to love our soulmate as anything more than a close friend, you know? It can be purely platonic, we’re just stupid.”

“Were you ever able to fall in love with your soulmate or was it just platonic?” Damiano asked. You never talked much about soulmates with him. He still didn’t know your soulmate had been dead for as long as you could remember.

“I never got to know them,” You smiled sadly and showed him the black ring you had gotten used to wearing around your neck, carefully tucked under your shirt to stay unseen. His mouth fell open as he grabbed the ring and inspected it closely. It was the first time he had seen a black ring.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry,” Damiano let the ring go. You shrugged and waved your hand to silently show it wasn’t too important, “I thought you guys were separated or something.”

You shook your head, “Mom says the ring turned black when I was six, but I don’t really remember so I just like to pretend I never had one in the first place… I don’t know.”

There was a question on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t want to ask it, as intrigued as you were to know the answer. You hadn’t talked about her ever since she left and he’d most likely avoid the question because he truly wanted to keep her name out of his mouth. Nonetheless, he noticed your hesitance because you suddenly got too silent. 

“You can ask, you know? I know I just touched on a sensitive topic, so…” You nodded. Both of you were lying on your backs, looking up at the ceiling which had some of those glow-in-the-dark stars and planets you had glued when you first moved in to feel less lonely.

You hummed softly as you tried to find the right words. You didn’t want to be too straightforward with your question in fear of upsetting your best friend even though he had asked you the same question minutes earlier, “Did-did you ever… you know, fall in love with her?” 

Damiano thought about it in silence, you had probably caught him off-guard with your question, “No, not really. Not in the way I was expecting at least. You know truth be told, I was a bit disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, she had this angelic look to her, she was a stunning girl. I just- there was nothing we had in common other than being soulmates. For years I had seen my parents act like they shared one mind and just thought the same things. I always imagined it’d be like that for me too.

“My expectations couldn’t have been further from what it truly was like. Honestly, I’m not even sure which part of our relationship was true anymore. Now that I look back on it, I’ve realized most of the things she did or said were just to get information out of me.” 

It was weird to hear him say all that. As a person who always got to look at the way Marlee and Damiano interacted with one another, you would’ve never expected Damiano to feel that way, “And,” He continued, “I was expecting it to be someone else.”

His last confession made you turn around to look at him. It was the first time he had admitted that, probably because of the beer he had been drinking while playing with his friends.

“I know it sounds terrible but… I met her and this other person on the same day, almost at the same time. I didn’t notice my ring had turned gold until much later. I had only been with them both and people I already knew. I thought it had been the other person until she told me her ring had changed too. Meanwhile, the other one said nothing. Now I realize it would’ve been impossible for them to be my soulmate.”

It might’ve been because he was telling you all those things and you felt safe to admit what you felt, or maybe because you were tired of bottling it up for so long. Either way, you spoke up, not caring if you’d regret it later, “It’s not as terrible as you might think.”

“Look, I’m not bound to anyone. The black ring gives me the freedom of loving someone else. I never met my soulmate so there’s no guilt in being with someone else. It’s supposed to be a perfect thing, Dami, only it isn’t. I know a lot of people who’re also blacksouled,” You hated using the word. It was usually how people would refer to those who didn’t have a soulmate anymore, “And I fell in love.”

“T-that’s great!” Damiano replied, “Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, not like you’re obliged to tell me anything just because we’re friends but I-”

You interrupted his rant, “I fell in love with someone whose soulmate’s still alive.”

“So what? You said it yourself. Are they together?” He asked. You told him they weren’t. If only he knew you were talking about him… He’d probably run away and never speak to you again, “Then fuck it. Fuck the rules and everything else society has to say.”

“It’s not that simple, Dami. I truly wish it was, but it isn’t,” You wanted nothing more than for the conversation to be over. If it went any further, you knew you’d spill every single thing. It had gotten far too hard to conceal your feelings when you were close to him. Now that you were talking about them, it’d be even harder.

You got up and walked to your bookshelf, where you started accommodating your books as an excuse to avoid being so close to him, to avoid his curious gaze. Even if they weren’t together anymore, you knew Damiano would reject you, that was far too obvious. Even if he felt the same, after what happened, it’d take Damiano a lot of effort to ever trust someone in such an intimate way, even if that someone was you, his best friend.

“Why? It is that simple. If they’re not together, what’s stopping you? You’ll never know what could happen if you don’t try,” You turned around to look at him, fists clenched by your sides, “Listen Y/N, I know you’re scared of relationships and everything they involve but you cannot let that sto—” 

“Fine then, I’m in love with you! I can barely breathe when I’m around you because my love for you is so suffocatingly strong, and I can’t think straight either! You and your stupidly handsome face drive me insane. How’s that?” You admitted, interrupting his small speech midway, too irritated to process what you had just said. Once you did, your hand flew to your mouth and you shook your head. You wanted to say it wasn’t true, no, it was nothing more than a lie to get him to stop poking his nose into your love life. Except it wasn’t and, if you were being honest, no part of you wanted to hide it anymore.

Just like you expected, he said nothing. Damiano stayed silent for a few seconds before getting up and walking out without another word. He slammed the door on the way out so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if the door separated from its hinges.

For the weeks that followed, Damiano avoided you as much as possible. You were still his right-hand person and needed to be present at every meeting and would have to discuss any type of business with him. It used to be your favorite part of the day when you got to sit in the meeting room with Damiano and discuss plans to make the mob prosper, now it was nothing but uncomfortable because you’d do all the talking while he looked at you as if his biggest desire was to carve your heart out with his pocket knife. 

While you understood that he was still mad at Marlee and wanted nothing to do with her, you didn’t understand why he was treating you that way when you had nothing to do with it and weren’t to blame for the stupid shit his ex had tried to pull. You thought he knew that you loved him far too much to ever do anything to jeopardize his safety. Yet again, he might’ve assumed the same thing about Marlee.

You walked out of yet another unsuccessful meeting with Damiano and slammed the door as hard as you could to let him know how much his childish behavior annoyed you. Ethan was standing close to the door and you could see the shadow of a smile that was threatening to break out and illuminate his face, “Don’t you dare,” He raised his hands in defense and bit his lip to try and hide the smile that would just annoy you further.

“You two are starting to act like two teenagers and it’s fucking pathetic,” Thomas chimed in from where he was sitting on one of the couches.

“Yeah? Tell that to your friend who is giving me the silent treatment like a fucking toddler! I just want- I need to have a serious conversation with him,” You admitted and sighed as you fell on the couch right next to Thomas, head in your hands to try and cover up the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheeks.

Both men stayed silent as they watched you, Even though you could feel their stares, you decided to focus on not crying instead. The truth was, the longer Damiano spent ignoring you, the more you regretted telling him what you had been bottling up for years, it had been a mistake there was no coming back from. Unless he decided to stop acting like a kindergartener, things would never go back to the way they were.

It was frustrating to think that your friendship would go to shit just because of your confession. Being rejected by him wouldn’t have been a big deal if he had actually stayed in your room and spoken like the adult he was.

“For the record, I think he’s acting like an idiot because he’s scared,” Sighed Victoria, who had just walked into the room with an ice pack placed over her hand, “I know it’s been a while but, give him time. He’ll come around or I’ll make him, I promise.”

You gave Victoria a tight-lipped smile and nodded. You hoped more than anything that it wouldn’t have to come to getting locked up in the same room as Damiano to get him to speak to you.

Except… as more days passed, you feared it would most likely have to be that way because he was still saying nothing to you. He had only spoken once and it had been to call you out for being doing everything wrong while looking through some important documents when you were, in fact, doing everything just like he had initially requested. Now, not only had he been giving you the cold shoulder, but he had started acting like a complete jerk around you too.

You tried to distract yourself by focusing on all the work you had pending, but it wasn’t working. Every single day, no matter what you were doing, your mind still wandered back to the brown-eyed man and his stupid face, his stupid hair, and stupid smile.

Even as you stood in the middle of the kitchen, your thoughts made it difficult to bake the cookies you had been craving all week. You had started to work on the second batch after the first one came out disgustingly salty because somewhere along the process you had mistaken the salt for the sugar.  

You hated how bothered you were by the whole situation. It had affected you way more than you would’ve liked to admit. Truth be told, you had never felt sad about his rejection because it was something you had expected ever since that attraction for him first settled on your brain. It was the way he was treating you that got on your nerves. 

That was mainly the reason why you were so thankful for being alone in the house at that very moment. Apart from a few security guards here and there, you were completely alone. You allowed yourself to relax for a split second and connected your phone to the speaker system in the kitchen. You started playing one of your favorite playlists before getting back to making cookies the right way this time.

You softly swayed your body along to the music as you dumped all the ingredients on the large bowl in front of you. As you poured the flour in the bowl and mixed it with your hands, you noticed Damiano standing by the door. For some unknown reason, he scared you so bad you accidentally tipped the bowl and made a mess of the counter. 

A frustrated sigh escaped past your lips and you threw your head back, feeling defeated and irritated, “I’m sorry,” Damiano spoke up hesitantly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head and wiped your hands on the apron you had tied around your waist, “It’s fine,” You turned around so your back was to him and started wiping the counter with a damp towel. 

“You deserve so much better…” You heard him speak up over the music. His words caught you by surprise. You turned around to look at him but said nothing. You could tell he was nervous by the way his hands trembled by his sides and the way his jaw was firmly clenched.

After a few minutes of hesitation, Damiano started walking to where you were. He placed his hands on the counter by your sides, leaving you trapped in between the counter and his body. You looked into his dark eyes to maybe try and guess what was going through his mind. 

You breathed in so deeply your chest hit his. You gulped at that and tried to control your trembling hands without looking away.

“What you said the other day, did you mean it?” Damiano asked, without hesitation this time around. Your eyes widened.

“I-I… What?”

“Just answer me Y/N, please,” Damiano pleaded. He looked so desperate to know the answer, which only made your blood boil. After weeks of silence, of glares and being a jerk, he dared to just show up and demand answers?

You shook your head and pointed your finger at his chest, “How dare you?” You took a step towards him, which made Damiano take a step back, “You have no right to show up like this and ask me to give you answers after how much of an asshole you’ve been.”

He seemed taken aback by your truthful words, but you didn’t care. If he wanted to know how much truth had been behind your words that night, he’d have to hear it all, “You know I’m your best friend and you also know I’d keep up with anything you do because that’s how much I care about you, but can you stop it? I know I was stupid for telling you because of what you just went through and I’m sorry, but please don’t keep giving me the cold shoulder. I just want to fix this.”

After a few minutes of silence, you shrugged and, like it was the simplest thing in the world, spoke up, “And yeah, I meant every word.”

Your expression softened as you waited for any sort of reaction from Damiano. You expected something similar to what had happened the day you first told him. No part of you expected him to cup your face with his warm, calloused palms to bring your face closer to him once again. 

Neither did you expect to feel his soft lips pressed against yours, or the feeling of his soft hair as you brushed it back with your fingers and your eyes slowly closing as you basked on the joy and pleasure his soft touches caused.

Damiano was gentle as he held your face in between his hands, almost as if you were made of glass and he was afraid of breaking you into pieces if he didn’t hold you delicately enough. That kiss felt so intimate, like nothing you had ever felt before. Everything from the way he held you to his slow movements and touches was so much better than you could’ve ever imagined.

When he pulled away, he left you completely breathless, wordless. There was nothing you could possibly say after the way he had kissed you, so you waited for him to find the right words instead.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Damiano mumbled. He still hadn’t let go of your face, “You truly deserve better. You are so beautiful, so perfect. I’m so sorry for being such an idiot and hurting you, ignoring you. I just- I know I cannot love you as you deserve. Believe me, I want nothing more than to have you close to me all the time, to kiss your lips until you grow sick of me, but I can’t,” His voice was starting to crack as he said those words to you and you knew it was because of how he saw your face fall.

“No, no, shut up and listen to me,” You pleaded and placed your hands on top of his. You gave them a soft squeeze and let your forehead rest against his, “I know it’s hard for you to trust after what happened with her and I know it’s not going to be easy, but believe me, I’m willing to try if you are, Damiano.”

“You were that other person,” He confessed and got closer to kiss you once more, with as much passion as the last time. You were too concentrated on the smell of his musky cologne and the faint taste of vanilla chapstick he had surely stolen from your room to respond to his comment.

His hands fell from your face and comfortably rested on your hips as his lips attacked yours. Damiano pushed you against the counter and kept savoring the moment as if it were the first and last time he’d kiss you like that. You hoped for your sake it wouldn’t be the last.

Damiano pulled away reluctantly and unexpectedly lifted you up so you’d sit on the counter. He stood in between your legs and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Remember when I told you about the person I met the day I met Marlee?” You nodded, “That was you... Ever since I met you I’ve felt this inexplicable attraction towards you and it’s been driving me insane. I couldn’t believe it when you told me you loved me because I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

“You’ve done so much to deserve it, so so much,” You mumbled and brought him close to you to kiss him for the third time. It was such an addicting feeling and both your heart and mind were screaming to feel it again.

That time around, Damiano didn’t hesitate to lift you up once more, he carried you to his room and locked the door.

— 

It had been a few weeks since your conversation in the kitchen. Things returned back to normal after that night. Other than your relationship with Damiano, things were the same again. You had to go back to working at ungodly hours of the morning thanks to some suspicious activity Ethan had noticed. Apparently, one of the oldest members of Damiano’s mob had tried to establish a deal with an unknown subject but had been caught before he could accomplish it. 

This put you both on edge because there was someone out there desperate to break into the mob and finish it for good. At first, you thought it wasn’t more serious than whatever had happened with Marlee, but Damiano’s father proved you wrong the moment he brought you, their most loyal employee, in for questioning. 

It had been nothing too serious, at least not in comparison to what you had heard others say. In your case, it had been done mostly as a standardized protocol, to stop others from thinking there was some sort of preference or special treatment towards you just because you worked so close to Damiano. You knew almost everything Damiano did, so you were possibly the greatest source of information outside the David family and their small circle of friends.

“Amore?” Damiano asked softly as his hand caressed the exposed skin of your waist. You had been cuddling in bed for almost two hours with the excuse that you needed a break after all the hard work you’d done, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You turned around to be face to face with him and pressed a kiss to his freckled nose, “Not much. I was just remembering I need to get my ring resized again. I tried putting it on a few days ago and it didn’t fit anymore.

Damiano frowned at your words, “Your soulmate ring?”

“Mhm,” You responded simply and let your head rest on his chest. You enjoyed the feeling of warmth his body irradiated, it was soothing and the soft sound of his rhythmic heartbeat never failed to make you feel calmer.

“Soulmate rings don’t need to be resized, ever. Not that I know of, at least,” Now it was your turn to frown because, as far as you remembered, you had always gone to get your ring resized by a family friend who didn’t live too far away. No one had ever told you it wasn’t necessary.

You pulled away from his embrace and reached for the bedside table where you had been keeping the ring for the past few days. Once you turned back around, Damiano looked confused and almost scared, “Just, out of curiosity, tesoro. Have you ever taken off the ring and left it like far away for longer than a few hours?”

A giggle escaped past your lips at his silly question, “It’s just a piece of jewelry, Dami. Of course, I have, several times.”

You laughed nervously once you saw his horrified expression. Damiano was starting to scare you, but you knew better than to say something because you’d end up looking like a fool if he started laughing and told you it was all a joke. Except, it didn’t seem like one.

“Please get dressed and meet me in room five, okay? I might be going insane but I just need to make sure I’m not,” Before you could ask any questions, Damiano had already grabbed a pair of pants and a t-shirt and disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed.

You tried not to think much about his weird questions and got dressed quickly instead. You grabbed your cup of tea, which had already gone cold, and walked to meeting room five.

You opened the door and were surprised to see all your friends already sitting around the small table you’d use for informal meetings. Thomas and Victoria looked tired and Ethan’s long hair was tangled and messy. That gave you the impression that Damiano had most likely woken them all up for your impromptu meeting. 

They all looked just as confused as you felt. There were a lot of questions you wanted to ask, but Ethan beat you to it, “Okay, now that we’re all here can you fucking explain why you had to wake me up? Please.”

“Have any of you three—,” Started Damiano, referring to Thomas, Victoria and Ethan, “—tried to take off your ring for a while but have started feeling sick and weird?”

Thomas and Victoria looked at each other, confused, but nodded. Ethan did after a few seconds of thinking about it, “Yeah, there was actually this one time I went on a date and I didn’t want the girl to see the ring had turned gold, so I left it at home. Thirty minutes later I was puking everywhere. I didn’t really understand why but someone at the Soulmate Centre explained rings are an extension of the soul and they need to be close to us at all times and there are actually records of people dying after losing their rings. Why?”

Damiano looked at you and raised his eyebrows to silently ask if he could share the information with the other three guys. Once you nodded, Damiano spoke up, “Y/N doesn’t need to have it close to them and they need to get it resized every once in a while.”

Ethan shrugged his shoulders, “That’s as far as my knowledge goes. I don’t know. I think the best thing you can do is go to the SC.”

You sighed but nodded. Ethan’s explanation had started to freak you out. What if there was something terribly wrong with you? What if you were born without a ring and your parents lied to you all your life?

— 

After having a short conversation with Damiano in private, you decided to follow Ethan’s advice and go to the Soulmate Centre that was only a few minutes away from your house. He wanted to go with you or send someone to watch over you but had accepted your petition to go alone after you told him it was a private matter and you'd tell him all about it once you got back.

So there you were, on the reception of the SC, with your sweaty hands intertwined together as you tried to ignore all the dirty looks people were giving you. Everyone around knew exactly who you were and most weren't one bit pleased to see you there. While some didn't hesitate to look at you like they wanted to kill you, others were afraid to do so.

Those few minutes that passed until the lady at the desk called your name were some of the most uncomfortable of your life. Some part of you hated having the mobster title because that usually gave people the wrong idea and drove them to hate you even if you could proudly say you had done nothing illegal or violent in your whole life. You had to admit the mob wasn’t an ideal job to have morally wise, but you had found a family inside those four walls others doomed to be cursed.

You walked up to the lady. She had what you could interpret as a nervous smile as she stood behind the desk, patiently waiting for you to tell her what had brought you there in the first place. You were hesitant to communicate your issue because you were mortified of finding out a truth that should probably stay hidden.

You reached back and unclasped the chain the ring was looped through. You left it on the counter and smiled softly as you shyly spoke, “So uh, good morning, ma’am. I was hoping you could take a look at my ring, I’m slightly concerned there was something wrong with it.”

The lady nodded and removed the ring from the chain. She inspected it closely for a few minutes before nodding her head towards one of the rooms that said ‘only employees allowed’. She started walking towards it with a quick step and you saw no other choice but to follow right behind her.

She opened the door and quickly closed it with a lock once she verified you were inside, “Listen, the only reason I’m not turning you over to the authorities is because you don’t strike me as someone stupid enough to walk into an SC with a soulmate ring like this.”

Your jaw dropped in surprise at how direct she was being. For a second, you noticed her face fall before she realized it was best to keep a face that communicated seriousness instead of begging for your forgiveness or whatever people did when they pissed Damiano off.

“I don’t know who gave this to you or in which illegal market you bought this but if a higher authority sees you with this, not even Damiano David could save you from the consequences of sporting a fake ring,” She said. You honestly didn’t know how to respond because panic had started to drown out any coherent thought that tried to form on your mind.

You didn’t even try to disguise your panicked expression that time around. Instead, you focused on regulating your breathing and trying to keep all your emotions at bay before you lost control and began to hyperventilate. The other woman noticed your distress almost immediately and led you to sit down on one of the couches.

After you took a few deep breaths, you looked back at her, eager to ask thousands of questions, “How can you know they are fake?”

She sat down next to you and put the ring on your palm, “Look at the inside,” She demanded while pointing her finger to a spot on the inside edge of the ring, “They usually have something engraved inside, a code that only repeats itself twice. Whenever one loses their soulmate, this code vanishes. Your code is still there. I also used a detector to confirm my suspicions and it detected nothing.”

“And with… with that code, can you tell me if my soulmate’s still alive? Or who they are?” The older lady looked at you with pity in her green eyes and shook her head.

“Unless this is the original code engraved on the real ring, there’s not much I can do for you other than telling you how your soulmate is. I need so much more information to ever give you a name,” You nodded in understanding. All you needed to know was if they were alive, that’s all you wanted.

She took your nod as a sign of approval and disappeared into another room. While you waited, you couldn’t help but secretly hope they were dead. You wanted all those weeks of bliss you had spent with Damiano to last a lifetime. He knew everything about you, from the number of scars scattered around your body to what book you had read the most times. No soulmate could learn that about you until years after meeting each other. Besides, it wouldn’t feel right. The Gods had already been too cruel for not making him your soulmate, but now that he wasn’t with Marlee and you knew he loved you just as much as you loved him… 

She walked out of the room and cleared her throat to catch your attention. You were thankful for her interruption because you were mere seconds away from bursting into tears of distress. She looked nervous to tell you what she had found out, but the way you looked at her made her spill the truth without any warning.

“Your soulmate is still somewhere out there, alive.”

— 

Damiano clutched his side with his hands as every type of curse word spilled from his mouth, “Thomas! Dammit Thomas, where the fuck are you?” He screamed and pushed the ache in his throat and side to the back of his mind as he limped towards the table where his loaded gun was placed, ready to be grabbed and shot. 

Things had been perfectly fine just ten minutes back. He had been drinking and playing pool with the boys in the basement. They were all laughing and messing around when Victoria heard the first gunshot. Thomas had been quick to dismiss it as one of the guards practicing his accuracy like they did every once in a while, so they went back to playing the game.

Then they heard it again and again and again. In that time it took the four men to walk up the stairs, people had already successfully broken into the house and they were shooting at anything that moved. The blood-red snake symbol all these people had on the masks that were covering their faces was one he had grown far too familiar with. These were the people Marlee had been conspiring with and they had managed to overthrow every single line of defense in between them and the front door.

Damiano had been in his room fetching a gun when a smoke bomb was thrown into the room. It had stopped him from seeing the person who shot him. Thankfully enough, their vision wasn’t much better either, because the bullet only grazed his side. It was still painful as hell and blood was pouring out of the wound, but it wasn’t going to be anything deadly. 

He finally got ahold of his gun after minutes of feeling around the table to try and spot it with the low amount of vision he still had. Once Damiano had it in his hands, he raised the scarf he was wearing to cover the lower part of his face to try and lower the quantity of smoke he inhaled.

He walked out of his room and into the hallway, still holding the gun firmly ready to shoot it at the first person he saw with that red symbol. Damiano opened the door to every room on the third floor. He had to shoot at one or two people before walking down to the floor below. The first room he opened was yours. His eyes went wide as he remembered you were still supposed to be at the SC. Damiano cursed under his breath. He needed to warn you not to come back but to go to your parents’ instead. Damiano opened the tracking app first, a precaution he had been insistent on taking just to make sure you both knew the other was safe. 

“Fucking hell,” Damiano mumbled as he saw that blue dot with your name above it was right on the same spot as his. You were back home.

Every thought of investigating each and every room to make sure there was no intruder flew out the window and instead he focused on trying to find you. Everything had turned chaotic on those few minutes he had been in your room, which was why it had gotten harder to get around without finding someone waiting on almost every corner for him to appear.

Damiano heard a piercing scream that made his blood go cold. You were in danger somewhere inside the large home and he desperately needed to get to you, to make sure you were safe from any danger. He knew his friends would be perfectly fine, they had their guns and several types of weaponry close-by, but he knew you didn’t. You always refused to take a gun or dagger with you whenever you went out and if they had caught you right when you had just gotten back… you’d most likely have nothing to defend yourself with.

There was no doubt in his mind that you were witty and incredibly smart, not to mention agile and great at coming up with plans on the spot, but he still needed to make sure you were alright. 

He got down on the first floor and his eyes met with a pair of blue ones he knew far too well. He let his eyes trail down to her carmine-tinted shirt. Marlee smiled at him and trailed her thumb along her jawline. That’s when he noticed her hands were also red and she had also left a trail of bloody footsteps from his office to where she was standing. His office.

Damiano didn’t hesitate to point the gun at her leg and pull the trigger. He then aimed for her other leg and shot it. She fell to the floor as an agonizing scream fell from her parted lips. Damiano was satisfied now that her stupid smile had been wiped right off her face.

He quickly ran to the office and opened the door. What he saw inside made time stop. It made all those sounds go silent. It made him feel like there was no floor beneath him to stand on. You were lying on the floor, a dagger piercing your chest.

You looked panicked, sad, like you wanted to do nothing but scream and cry, which you had started doing the moment you saw Damiano walked into the room. He didn’t know if your reaction was out of relief or if there was something else that concerned you, apart from the obvious.

“Damiano,” You spoke up weakly, The sound of your raspy voice was like a slap back into reality. He didn’t waste a second to fall to his knees right by your side. Damiano cupped your face with his trembling hands and brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“Shh. I’m here amore, I’m here,” He responded voice barely above a whisper, “I just need to find something to press against this wound I— something…” He stood up, ready to look for a rag, bandages, anything to stop the blood from rushing out of your body so quickly, but you stopped him.

You wrapped your hand around his arm and with all the strength you had brought him back down, “No hey, stop,” You mumbled, “Unless she happened to study every major artery, vein or has awfully perfect aim, I’ll be dead in minutes.”

He shook his head and wiped the tears that were starting to fall with the back of his hand. He was not giving up. Damiano was not going to let you die, “Wait, no, no. I can do this,” Damiano took his sweater and scarf off. With the help of his scarf, he applied pressure to the wound, careful not to move or dig the dagger further with his movements.

You shook your head and Damiano couldn’t help but cry harder at the desperation and panic in your eyes, “Please, Dami. Stop it, there’s no use. I-I just want you to hold me, please.”

He wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand and nodded repeatedly as he careful cradled you in his arms and moved your head to rest on his lap, “Everything’s going to be okay,” Damiano mumbled and left a long kiss on your forehead, then another one on your cheek and a last one on your lips.

You cupped his face with one of your hands and wiped the tears with your thumb. There wasn’t much left to say, not like you’d be able to talk even if you tried. Instead, you offered him one last sincere smile with all the energy you had left. 

He watched in horror as life slowly started to drain out of you as his ring simultaneously turned black. Damiano sat there for minutes after you were gone. He cried and let every frustration, confusion, and pain escape his body with a loud scream.

Damiano didn’t let go of your body until Victoria and Thomas had to forcefully pull him away and let someone else take care of you.

— 

Ethan didn’t walk into the room until he made sure every single intruder had been killed, except for Marlee, because Damiano had asked to keep her alive. When he did walk in, all he saw was Damiano with a folder in his hand and multiple pieces of paper scattered around the desk in his room. He looked pale, mortified by everything he was reading. The long-haired man didn’t understand what had gotten his friend in such a state of shock until he walked closer and looked at what seemed to be a contract.

You were Damiano’s soulmate. All your lives you had been tricked into believing you weren’t meant for each other. Your parents had made you believe you had no soulmate and Damiano had been fooled into thinking Marlee was his. You had gotten right to the bottom of it all and the secret would’ve gone to the grave with you if you hadn’t left the papers lying on his desk and if he had left his ring on the pocket of his jeans like he usually would. But now it was far too late to do anything about it.

[felicereviews]

Across 110th Street (1972) 112 minutes, Rated R

I loved this film.  It is the first movie featured in ‘TCM Underground’ and while the authors of that book encourage us to watch the movies out of order, that’s not how my brain works. 

For certain, I didn’t expect to like the movie as much as I did.  I am generally not an Anthony Quinn fan and expected to dislike this movie because he is the star.  It’s so good to be wrong sometimes.  I feel refreshed from having watched this gritty, new-to-me, neo-noir and have not stopped talking about since I watched it on Thursday.

I was excited to see Burt Young in the opening scene.  Young is a classic Italian character actor who I instantly recognized but he was gunned down before he says a word.  Two black ‘cops’ who we quickly find out are not cops - rob the mob for $300,000 - and kill two actual cops.

The whole movie takes place in Harlem - real Harlem with real people - real buildings - real sound - real desperation and poverty.  Quinn is the seasoned detective and Yaphett Koto is the educated superior officer.  The two clash over methods and neither is very successful at solving the case.

In one scene - the mob lets on to the new superior officer that they have been paying Quinn off for many years.  The new guy doesn’t flinch but Quinn does - he worries for his pension and his future and what would happen to him if someone were to rat him out.  He makes excuses - and tries to minimize what he’s done.

Oh my - and another favourite scene was when the mob boss’ son-in-law goes into Harlem to see the bad-guy-in-charge there about what happened to his father-in-law’s money.  The bad-guy-in-charge, played by Richard Ward, is so good.  His gravelly voice is menacing as he yells at the son-in-law and says, “you ain’t never gonna make it - what are you 40-45 - you were a punk errand boy when you married the boss’ daughter and you’re still a punk errand boy”.  Freaking classic mental torture - I really loved it.

Across 110th Street is unexpected and refreshing.  It makes me a little sad that this movie came out in the same year as The Godfather but 110th Street is never discussed as the same class of film.  To me it is better than The Godfather because everything in the movie happens to real people.  And the ending - the ENDING!  An entire movie can be ruined by a stupid ending.  Across 110th Street has a fantastic ending.

I read on IMDB that Quinn wanted the trifecta - Sammy Davis, Jr., Harry Belafonte, and Sidney Poitier in the lead roles.  But Harlem said no - those are Hollywood names.  I’m not saying it would have been bad - but it would have been a different movie - sort of white washed and sanitized rather than the dirty crime thriller this turned out to be.

Dirty 70′s crime drama is my 3rd favorite film genre. 

I rented the DVD from the library - it was super easy to find.  I only wish I had heard of it sooner.  But now is also a good time to learn about it since it fit right in to this cult series.

[hops-hunny]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 6

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: mentions of sex, suggestive conversations, fluff, fingering, soft smut

A/N: A little treat for the horndogs <3

"O-oh god! It's too big Nev, 's not gonna...c-can't-"

"Oh It's going to fit, don't worry pretty girl. Daddy's gonna fuck you so good. You want that, don't you baby?" He asked, cooing as she nodded frantically, tongue lulled out the side of her mouth. Neville had barely gotten past the tip before she began whining, crying about how big he was. He couldn’t help but lose control, shoving himself deep inside her, pistoning his hips at an ungodly pace. His eyes lingered on her chest, entranced by the hypnotic sway that they had due to his thrust. Pinning her hands to the bed, their eyes locked in an intense moment. 

“O-oh fuck princess, you’re so tight. You gonna cum? Hm? Gonna make a-”

“Nev?” he snapped up, a heavy gasp leaving his lips as looked to his side. (Y/n) sat there, a confused look on her face. “Are you alright? I think you were having a nightmare. You kept making a bunch of noises in your sleep!” he felt his face flush, clearing his throat as he looked away from her. His heart began to race as she climbed into his lap, turning his face towards hers. He looked at her, hoping his nerves weren't clear on his face. Due to the snickers he heard in the background, he was certain it was obvious to just about everyone but her what the issue was. 

“Hey um, petal, you might wanna move.” he whispered to her, trying to keep her hips from his troubled area.

“Why?” she asked, tilting her head once more as she moved back. Her eyes widened at the newfound breeze on her rear due to her skirt being lifted up. Not sure of what the cause was she moved back slightly, gasping at the feeling of something hard and long against her ass. Suddenly it all set in, he was- “O-oh. I’m sorry Nev.” she squeaked, quickly hopping from his lap. She smoothed down her skirt, clearing her throat as she eyed everyone in the room awkwardly. While the pair seemed flustered, the team couldn’t get enough of the interaction.

“Well I guess it’s clear why you’re the boss now.” Fred said, laughing as he motioned to the large tent in the man’s pants. George gave him a low five, joining him in his laughter as Neville glared at them all. Who were they to make him feel embarrassed? Standing up he adjusted the tent in his pants but despite his efforts, his dick was still prominent through his slacks.

“Poor (Y/n). She’s not gonna live to see another day after that thi-”

“Would you lot quit it?! When the fuck are we landing?” Neville growled at the bunch, causing the laughter to cease. Everyone knew what it was like to deal with an enraged Neville and that was the last thing they wanted. If the plane hadn't already landed, he’d shoot it right out the sky.

“We’ve actually just landed, boss. I was going to tell you before this little…situation that just occurred. Your bags have already been brought to the villa to ensure we have maximum time to scope out the museum.” Harrison said, giving the man a nod. He hummed, giving him a nod. “In the meantime, the city is yours to roam girls. We’ll be sending two men with you for your safety.” he snapped his fingers and two tall men appeared, their scary appearance paired with “tourist” clothing. What was supposed to be a disguise was just a funny sight of two muscle heads in brightly colored floral shirts. The (h/c) haired girl walked over to the leader, tugging on his sleeve some. He looked down at her, face softening at the pout on her face.

“Will we be able to spend some time together eventually? I know this is technically a work trip for you but I-I’d really like to spend time with you.” she said, making his heart melt. She never failed to make his heart burst, unreasonably cute without even trying. He had already planned on making time for her but now it wasn’t just something on his list, but his main priority. Stroking her cheek gently he put a soft kiss on her forehead.

“ ‘Course petal. In the meantime,” he leaned down sucking on the skin below her ear as he let out a chuckle, “Why don’t you go buy yourself something pretty for me?” her eyes widened but she nodded regardless, looking at him with a shocked expression as he pulled away. Before she could respond Twyla began to drag her, yanking her down the stairs of the jet.

“Come on babes! We’ve got some shopping to do.”

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

“Was it really necessary to send them with us?” (Y/n) whispered, looking over her shoulder at the two large men that had been following them from a distance. “I mean, everyone’s looking!” she hissed, pointing to a group of people that were pointing and whispering to them. Twyla shrugged, a subtle skip to her walk.

“Just means we look important! You worry too much, babes. We’re on an expense paid trip to Italy and we don’t have to pay for any of these clothes? There could literally be an angry mob after us and that still wouldn’t kill my mood!” she sighed, still noticing the girl’s tense mood. “Plus, Neville would want you to enjoy yourself. Speaking of him…” she grabbed the girl’s hand, walking into the lingerie store on the left. She looked at her confused.

“Why are we here? Nev already bought me underwear.” she asked, following Twyla as she began to grab different sets off the racks. Another layer of confusion was added on when she noticed that she wasn’t grabbing her own size. Twyla let out a snort, throwing the small pile that she had somehow amassed into her arms.

“Don’t be ridiculous! You’re telling me after today’s little ordeal that you haven’t noticed? Your hottie has definitely been thinking of banging your brains out.” she said, giggling at the girl’s bashful expression. “I’m only telling the truth! And judging by your reactions, you’ve been thinking about it too.” she pondered her words for a moment. It wasn’t not not true. She most certainly had thought about Neville in more unsavory ways. Even before their reuniting, (Y/n) always thought about him as she attempted to get herself off, imagining they were his hands touching her bringing her to a well deserved climax. However anytime she’d get close, she’d become overwhelmed with the thought that what she had been doing was shameful. Masturbating to her old crush from school? What could be more dirty?

“I-I guess I have thought about it once or twice..” she admitted. “B-but I don’t have the balls to just walk out in something like this! What if he laughs at me?” Twyla gawked at the girl, blinking repeatedly. She could not believe her ears.

“Are you kidding me?! The only sound that will be leaving that man’s mouth is the sound of him telling you to get on your knees.” she responded, turning back around to look through the racks for more. “Plus, it’s not like you have to pounce on the man. All I’m saying is wait for the right time, maybe after a nice dinner or something then boom, whip out the goods. You’ve got everything to gain and nothing to lose. If that’s all then let’s check out then go get massages! I’m making you pamper yourself this trip. Merlin knows you need a break.”

(Y/n) was thankful for Twyla’s pep talk knowing the blonde was right. Neville would like anything she did; it was just a matter of when she should do it.

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

And pampering they had done. (Y/n) and Twyla had been to just about every ritzy spot Italy had to offer them. After their shopping trip, the taller girl had taken them to get massages. It was funny how the masseuse instantly knew it was her first time from the abundance of knots in her back and when the man was done? She was most certainly an inch taller! They also had gone for manicures (despite having done that a few days ago..). Being bold she decided to get a set out of her comfort zone which she was beyond satisfied with. But the hot Italian sun combined with all the running around had tired her out, resulting in the driver bringing them to the villa.

The villa wasn’t as big as Neville’s second manor but was still insanely big. After the bodyguard had carried her bags to her room for her, she climbed into the brand new silk robe she had gotten, laying on the bed drinking the smoothie the maid had gotten for her. It was nice, just being able to relax. Throughout her years of working, (Y/n) rarely took off days. A lot of the time she’d even cover shifts for employees that couldn’t make it and even when the bakery was closed she would come in, fixing things up and tidying up mindlessly. Numerous times Twyla had caught the girl there when she wasn’t supposed to be and forced her to go home out of concern for her health.

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of the bedroom door opening, widening with enthusiasm as she saw the tattooed man in the doorway, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Hopping up she ran over to him, jumping into his arms which he gladly accepted, holding her tightly. “I missed you.”

He smiled, setting the flowers down to hold her better before placing a soft peck to her lips. “I missed you too, love. I left early so I could spend some time with you.” his eyes moved to the bags in the corner of the room, chuckling at the large pile. “I’m guessing your shopping trip was successful?” she felt her face heat up at his lack of knowledge of the lingerie that lay within one of them.

“I guess you could say that. Come, come! I wanna relax with you.” she began dragging him over to the bed, straddling him once he was situated. They sat in a comfortable silence with Neville holding the girl close to his chest, just appreciating the closeness he had with her. Since they’re reunion, every intimate moment, be it sexual or not, had been interrupted by some instance where he was needed somewhere else. He hadn’t been able to spend nearly as much time as he wanted with her but now he had her all to himself. His hands rubbed at her back gently until he got bored, deciding to test the waters. He knew it’d take a while before they’d get anywhere near what happened in his dream but he was willing to wait. He’d do anything to be able to touch her, feel her in a way that was less than innocent. As he gripped at her ass with one hand he brought the other one up to her cheek, cupping it as he pulled her into a deep and sensual kiss.

She gladly accepted, kissing back as she brought herself closer to him, playing with the bits of loose hair at the base of his neck. He began to nibble on her lip before pulling away, trailing open mouthed kisses down her neck. A mewl sounded from her, causing him to pull away slowly. Gripping at her waist above her robe, he gazed into her eyes intently. “You wearin’ anything under here?” he asked, watching as she looked down, shaking her head. “No? God you’re making it so hard for me to not just fuck you right here.” he sighed some, reaching for the ties on her robe. He stopped, looking at her once more for confirmation. She nodded frantically before stopping, feeling slightly embarrassed from how eager she was. With one soft tug, her robe was undone revealing her soft supple breast which he instantly went for. With his lips wrapped around one he began to lick and suck at the other, both of them moaning in unison. After a while of him teasing her sensitive nubs she began to grow impatient, rocking her hips against his gently as she let out a soft whimper.

“P-please..” she moaned breathlessly, not too sure of what she wanted. All she knew was that she wanted something, anything. Everything he did had her near her edge, from his kisses to his tongue and she needed to feel more. Pulling away he looked at her, thinking for a moment before pulling the two of them up.

“I wanna try something,” he said, positioning in front of the mirror. “He pushed back the fabric of her robe, putting her pussy on full display. His pants tightened at the sight of her glistening folds which she avoided in the mirror. Neville gripped her chin gently, positioning it to look at her bits in the mirror, chuckling at her wide eyes, pupils fully blown with arousal. With his other hand, he began to massage up and down her thighs. He watched as her legs grew weak, shaking with anticipation. Trailing his fingers near her sex, tracing small patterns on the inside of her thighs. 

He patted the side of her cheek with two fingers, pulling her attention away from herself to make eye contact with him through the glass. “Open up.” he whispered, small praises of approval leaving his mouth as she did. He took his thick digits, slowly pushing past her kiss stung lips. His eyes watched in the mirror as they entered her wet little mouth, groaning at the feeling of her soft tongue gliding along the underside of them. Pushing them a little further, she gagged, eyes tearing up. She looked so pretty with tears in her eyes, already fucked out before he had even put them in. It was hard to tell who wanted it more at this point but as Neville finally slid a finger into her folds, it was obvious. Hot tears fell down her face, already overwhelmed from it all. Pumping his finger in and out, his eyes flickered between her fucked out face and her pussy, juices already coating her thighs. Moving his face to her neck, he began to suck and kiss on her neck.

(Y/n) was becoming more and more desperate by the moment. She had subconsciously begun to play with her tits, rubbing and tugging on her nipples. “M-more, Nev please!” she begged to which he instantly complied, sliding another finger in. He began to work her open more, scissoring and stretching his fingers inside of her. Once her muscle had relaxed once again, he began to speed up his moment, the heel of his palm creating a slapping noise each time it’d meet her pussy.

“Merlin, baby, you’re soaked. Your messy little cunt’s just eating my fingers.” he purred out, chuckling deeply as he felt her clench at his words. Who knew his pretty little princess would get worked up so easily, slowly reaching her peak just from a few fingers and words? He used his other hand to rub at her clit, causing her knees to buckle, falling back onto him for support. He loved how much she relied on him, becoming a needy mess just for him. He curled his fingers up, aiming for her spot until he found it causing her to let out a loud cry, gripping onto his arm tightly. Neville watched as her face scrunched up, tears streaming down her face.

“N-need to….need ta….O-oh god Nev! I’m gonna-” before she could finish her eyes widened before snapping close, head falling back onto his shoulder as she rutted her hips against his fingers, whimpering as she rode out her high. He continued to rub at her clit, fingering her cunt until she began to whine, pushing him away. He smirked some, admiring her fucked out expression in the mirror. Her eyes were shut, pants  puffy lips. He licked his lips at the sight of her cunt, sensitive and fucked out, messy and cum covered from her orgasm. As he pulled his fingers out, he had to stop himself from letting out a string of curses at the way her cream began to run hot down her legs along with the bit that had gathered on his fingers. Lifting them to his face he wasted no time, sucking and licking on them. He moaned softly, continuing to clean them thoroughly, not stopping until the only thing that remained was the salty taste of his own flesh.

“You look so pretty when you cum, flower.” he muttered, smiling as the girl just let out a soft ‘mhm’, half asleep and barely able to process his words. He took off her robe, lifting her up as he began to carry her to their private bathroom, letting out a content sigh at the events that had just happened. Although he hadn’t been able to get off himself, he was more than happy being able to just please her. 

Afterall, it was what he wanted more than anything, to have his flower live in absolute happiness and pleasure.

PREVIOUS||NEXT

TAGSLIST: @vayeya11 @pink-hufflepuff @clancyscookies @elemental-of-magic @beewitchedlou @simpforremuslupin @mottergirl99 @princesslaiahg  @nevillelongbottomsgirlfriend @redpanda-poetry @vibingaesthetically

[mobscene-updates]

ADMIN NOTE. Activity check one.

So, whilst this is primarily an updates page, it will also be where the new, more stringent activity checks will take place. It was discussed briefly before now, but here is where I will formally cover the process of what the new rules will be. If things improve, they’ll drop back down again and be less strict, but until then, these are compulsory, and I shan’t be lenient in the same way I have been until now. 

If you have not already requested a hiatus, it is too late. You can’t wait until you know there’s trouble to do it. If you know you’re going to be busy and away from the group, you know, and you have the time to let me know.

Those excluded from this round of activity checks due to a pre-discussed hiatus are:

Lina

Lia

Mina

Sam

Bri

Mari

Italian characters (indefinitely)

These hiatuses are now concluded. To be exempt from the next activity check, you must come to me and request another. Hiatuses will no longer be open-ended. They will last a maximum of two weeks, and you must check in at the end of this period so that I know you haven’t just disappeared entirely. If you have no interest in coming back after this time, that’s fine, but it’s just helpful to know so I don’t hang around waiting forever. 

WHAT CONSTITUTES ACTIVITY?

What is required for activity is now changing. 

One reply a week to a coffee shop starter that you end up waiting another week to continue, just so you don’t technically break the activity limit, is no longer good enough. You have to be here, actively pushing forward the general plot of the group, or, if that’s not the case, showing examples of genuine character development in the meantime. This might sound daunting, but it isn’t. If you think it is, that might be a good sign that you just don’t have the time to dedicate to a group setting anymore. If the dash gets stagnant, and if people are waiting too long for replies on important threads, it just doesn’t work out.

I will list some examples of what passes as good activity, and also, bad. Please note, however, the bad is not always to be discouraged. (Read for further information.)

It simply can’t be all that’s happening. 

GOOD: 

Mob-related plots. Anything criminal, no matter how small, particularly if it ends up being a multi-faction thread, is fantastic. They often open doors for others to react to what’s happened, or for the subsequent planning of retaliation. I’m not talking about big plot drops like people being assassinated or things getting blown up, those come in moderation. But this is a role play about organized crime. I want to see more of it. 

Darker starters. The same starter in a different setting over and over again isn’t going to get anyone excited. Think outside of the box. Make it more Mob-related. If you’re a neutral, witness a crime. Get caught up in something you shouldn’t, and potentially face some consequences for it depending on who replies. If you play a gangster, put your character in a precarious situation and open it up to opposing factions only. Wander into an enemy establishment and cause a fuss. Have someone spot you with a weapon. Pass commentary on politics and see who you can rile up. There are plenty of options to explore if you can give it a little thought. 

Multi-person threads (ie. more than two participants) that create a more interesting social dynamic on the dash. They end up being more fun, and that in itself stokes muse for everyone involved, including those reading. Plan a drunk night out where everyone gets smashed and dragged into drama. Drunk text your boss. Black out, accidentally wander into enemy territory with your boys, and end up in a fast-paced thread between two sides trying to work your way out of it. Some of our most memorable Mob moments came from threads like these. It brings everyone together in character, as well as out, and both are important.

Self paras. If you have the kind of character that doesn’t routinely end up in drama, that’s fine too. Balance social/family heavy threads with self paras. There are plenty of opportunities for character development outside of crime heavy plots. If you’re having a particularly difficult time placing them into what’s currently happening, perhaps try another angle. Maybe some internal monologue about the events in question (especially when news stories start breaking on the Advocate again.) A self para about an important moment from their past that you wish to explore in further detail. A memory with a character important to them. Past trauma, past relationships, insights into family. Deep-dives that make both yourself, and everybody else, feel more connected to the character you play. Let’s get invested in each other’s work again. 

Event planning. Again, this is limited in its frequency, but planning events is a great way to spark an activity surge, so anybody who puts the effort into this, and subsequently being around to host it, gets an immediate activity pass for those two weeks. Bonus points if you can somehow work a nice mob drama plot drop into it.

BAD: 

Text threads. These are absolutely invaluable. I’m not discouraging them in the slightest, because they’re great for social development, and especially for the quick transfer of information between characters. They just can’t be all you’re doing. They will not count toward any form of activity check; seven-day limit included.

Vague starters and replies. ‘I’m sorry, did you say something?’ Don’t always make the other person do all the work. If you’re writing the starter, put the effort in to directing it somewhere. The same with your replies. When you read them back before posting, make sure that they add direction and motion to the thread. Are you giving something for your partner to respond to? No? Then perhaps consider rewriting it so that this changes. Give what you want in return. 

Instagram/social media posts. I love these, and once again, they play a fun and interesting part on the dash. Particularly for breaking personal news to the wider audience. This isn’t me saying don’t use them, because we all like to see little snippets into our characters’ lives, and they’re certainly fun to create. Just make sure they’re not the only thing you’re doing. 

Posting only closed starters. These are infinitely important, particularly for pre-established plots, but by their very nature, they close you off to other people. If you are going to post a mass of closed starters, be sure to post an open as well, or reply to as many open starters as is feasible, to balance it out. A poor closed to open starter ratio is exactly what ends up in bubble role playing. If you can’t handle posting open starters because you can’t keep up, maybe drop a character to limit the workload. Also if you’re going to post an open, be sure to actually respond to the replies you’re getting. I will now be policing open starters to check this. Posting a starter and getting four responses, only to continue with none of the threads after that, is unacceptable. You’re wasting the time of people who put the effort into replying. I am not yet policing those who only post opens, and don’t reply to any of the ones in the tag, but if you don’t start changing it, I will send out warnings. 

SO WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?

It means, from here on out, everybody is going to need to be a little bit more conscious about what they’re giving to the dash.

There will still be a seven day activity limit.

On top of that, though, there will now be an extra activity check once every two weeks to assess the quality of this activity. So, you might not technically have been inactive for more than a week, but have you actually contributed? (See good vs. bad activity examples above.) You will be required to submit at least one example of meaningful activity to me. Self paras, contributions to plots, an important thread with somebody that showed some development for your character. I think you understand what I mean by this point in the post. 

There will be a master list of every character linked in a moment. Beside it will be two dates. The date that you last submitted this information to me, and the date the next submission needs to reach me by. This can be done at any time. There will be no specific dates for activity checks. Some of you could owe me on a Wednesday, some of you could owe me on a Saturday, it doesn’t matter, as long as it’s at least once every two weeks. You can also submit early. For example, if you posted a self para five days ago, but you fancy posting another and submitting that to me, too, you’ll have your limit extended two weeks from beyond the point at which you submitted the second self para to me. 

If you have any questions about what any of this means, you can reach me via the main, tumblr messenger here, or on Skype.

I will be posting an example within the next few hours courtesy of Alexa so you can see what I’m looking for, and also how these posts will happen, and subsequently contribute to making this page a good place to keep up with all the important happenings on the dash.

YOU ALL HAVE UNTIL THURSDAY TO COMPLETE THE FIRST CHECK.

No exceptions. No hiatus requests. 

Thank you.  

[neerons]

Some of Eisuke Ichinomiya's best quotes

“A person who falls for money will betray for money.” (—Eisuke to Baba)

"Get away from my woman NOW." (—Eisuke to Yuma).

"I finish my work as soon as I possibly can so I can come home and take my woman in my arms". (—Eisuke to Yuma)

“What else do we need besides each other, anyway ?”

“Hold your head high, and tell them you're my woman. There's absolutely no reason for you to feel inferior.” (—Eisuke's thoughts)

“The way you were so open with all of your emotions was refreshing. Because I had always been taught... to have a poker face so that no one else would truly know what I was thinking.”

“I wasn't telling the truth when I said I bought this so that you'd look worthy enough to stand by my side. I bought it because I thought it would look beautiful on you. And you're the first woman I've ever felt that about before.”

“I could never lie about my feelings for you.”

“You could read something more difficult than magazines. I know you're capable of it.”

“(...) you need to tell me if all this attention gets to be too much for you.”

"I don't ever play to lose and you're my goddess of victory."

"Because you are my beautiful, shining beacon who shows me the way." (—Eisuke's thoughts)

"It made me realize just how much I love touching you."

"You think I'd keep around a woman I didn't love ?"

"Just take it one step at a time. You're the only woman in this entire world I'll ever wait for."

"MC's food is delicious. I never get tired of eating it". (—Eisuke to the bidders/Not his route)

"That was pretty amazing when you told off Carolina. I wish Soryu and the others could've seen it".

"You always take everything so seriously and blush. It's so adorable."

"Yes. You are beautiful..."

"Everything that's mine is yours".

"I like...your voice..."

"God, I love the sound of your voice."

"Keep my woman's name out of your mouth, you son of a bitch." (—Eisuke to random guy)

"Remember. No one ever does anything perfectly the first time. It's about practicing over and over again, and slowly getting better. (...) No one's an expert overnight. Don't be afraid to make mistakes. Hold your head high."

"The only time I can taste the flavor of anything is when I'm with her." (—Eisuke's thoughts)

“(...) My life would be completely meaningless without her. I couldn't bear it." (—Eisuke's thoughts)

“The minute I made you mine, I was prepared to take care of you for the rest of my life."

"You look like you've got something on your mind. I'm here if you need to talk." (—Eisuke to MC/Not his route)

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I made love to you because I wanted to.”

“I doubt anyone else could be as perfect as me when it comes to work, anyway. I mentally pat myself on the back (...)” (—Eisuke’s thoughts)

“The daughter of an Italian mob boss threatened you, and you didn’t back down.”

“I never get sick of you. You’re special.”

“I don’t mind if she tells me no in bed. Especially not if she says it with pleasure.” (—Eisuke’s thoughts)

“Does she really not want me to make love to her?” (—Eisuke’s thoughts)

“Your fantasy is to treat me like a pet? Who are you, Ota?”

“I wouldn’t take her even if you gave her to me for free.” (—Eisuke talking about MC/ Not his route)

“I would fall into the depths of hell with her if I had to.” (—Eisuke talking about MC)

“We can dance with clothes on... or off.” (—Eisuke’s VIP Room)

“I hate the heat, but I like when you make me hot.” (—Eisuke’s VIP Room)

“Help me calm down. ...You know what I mean.” (—Eisuke’s VIP Room)

“It’s too boring when I’m not able to see you.” (—Eisuke’s VIP Room)

“Entertain me... You wonderful woman, you.” (—Eisuke’s VIP Room)

“I love watching you sleep naked.” (—Eisuke’s VIP Room)

“It’s only natural to get wrinkles and grey hair as you age. But I’m always going to love you, no matter what.”

“I have every intention of spending the rest of my life with her, no matter how either of us change. And honestly... I can’t wait to grow old with her.” (—Eisuke’s thoughts)

“(...) every little thing you do turns me on so much.” (—Eisuke’s thoughts)

“I want you so badly, MC...”

“I’ll never get sick of this... Nothing in the world could ever feel better than the pleasure I get... when I become one with the woman I Iove.” (—Eisuke’s thoughts)

“I would never say no to your kisses.”

“You’re so adorable.”

“I always want to be with you.”

“I can’t live my life without MC by my side.”

“Why are you so quiet? You’re my woman. Speak freely.”

“If I could pick the very last thing I see before I leave this earth... I hope it’s your beautiful smile.” (—Eisuke’s thoughts)

“I’ll only say this once, so listen carefully. Marry me, MC. Say yes. (...) ...We’re going to be a family, right?”

“She’s the only one who’s allowed to order me around.” (—Eisuke talking about MC)

“I want you on top tonight.”

“Don’t you care at all? (—Eisuke talking about MC to Ota/ Not his route)

“You’re gorgeous enough to wear anything.”

“(...) It’s a woman far stronger and more clever than you will ever be.” (—Eisuke talking about his MC to the MK MC)

“If you want a man, just say so. I’ll satisfy you so good that you won’t ever want to look at another man.”

“I’ll buy you anything. The stars, the moon. Anything you want.”

“Did I just hear you talking to yourself out there? Just come inside.”

“You’ve already given me everything I ever wanted.”

“You are my weakness... I need and depend on you every single day.” (—Eisuke’s thoughts)

“Just act as you always do. Like the best girlfriend ever.”

“We’ve probably been burning more calories than you’ve been taking in.”

“How many times do you think we’ve made love?”

“You’re such a good woman... You can ask me for whatever you want.”

“You have a smart little mouth on you sometimes, you know? I’m not interested in women with low self-esteem. I can always tell by the look on your face when you’re not feeling confident. I like it when you speak up for yourself.”

“Thank you so much for being born and coming into my life... I’m going to make love to you all night long to celebrate you being born.”

“An object’s price doesn’t determine its worth.”

“(...) I love you more than anything.”

“Here, the men give the women they love presents, remember?”

“I’d be lying if I said her bare skin didn’t catch my attention. I take off my jacket and climb on top of her, peering into her eyes teasingly.” (—Eisuke’s thoughts about MC/ Ota’s route)

“Honestly, I’m surprised that she says the exact same thing I was thinking. She understands what the guests want and expresses her opinion clearly. She’s got good instincts. It’s always nice to hear someone who shares my perspective. But it’s refreshing to hear someone express their own ideas frankly. ...That’s why you’re a mafia princess.” (—Eisuke’s thoughts about MC/ Soryu’s route)

“Aren’t you nervous, being alone in my room with me?” (—Eisuke to MC/ Not his route)

“Time to satisfy this greedy little girl. I’m sure she can’t wait until bed anyway. So I might as well start right here and now.” (—Eisuke’s thoughts)

“I’ll destroy anyone who dares to touch what’s mine.”

“I don’t tell women to scream with delight when they see me. They just do.”

“You and I will watch. Sit next to me.” (—Eisuke to MC/ Rhion’s route)

“MC went down there to rescue you. You’d better get out of there and bring her back alive.” (—Eisuke to Rhion/ Rhion’s route)

“It’s just a meeting place for a bunch of rich and famous idiots who are drowning in their own money.” (—Eisuke’s thoughts about the auctions)

“Selling a person against their wishes is human trafficking, which is definitely in bad taste. I’m curious about that woman. An image of a man looking up at the stage with a creepy smile on his face appears on the monitor. That guy is really disturbing...” (—Eisuke’s thoughts)

“(...) Your hands are very neat, probably because of your job.”

“Nothing good ever happens to me when Soryu smiles like that.” (—Eisuke’s thoughts)

“She truly is a good person... She really sees people for who they are... More so than I expected. She’s so open with her emotions... I guess people like her really do exist. I’m always surrounded by people who closely guard their emotions, so MC is like a breath of fresh air for me. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m one of those people who guard their emotions...” (—Eisuke’s thoughts)

“Dogs... Why aren’t dogs ever friendly with me? I like dogs, too... Compared to a dog, MC is way more friendly with me.” (—Eisuke’s thoughts)

“I don’t know if he’s seduced you or threatened you or what. But if you come clean with me now, nothing bad will happen to you.” (—Eisuke to MC/ Hikaru’s route)

“There is no room in our lives for you and your sad, childish crush. Stay away from MC.” (—Eisuke to a random guy)

“She's not the girl who could only chase after me anymore... MC's so much stronger now.” (—Eisuke's thoughts)

“You think elementary school will be easy just because you can read and write. Don’t assume you’re smarter than the other children. While you may have a head start, they could easily work hard and pass you by.” (—Eisuke to Eito)

“Eito is more outgoing and sociable than I am. I’m sure he’ll do well in kindergarten.”

“So? Where’s the man you’re cheating on me with? I’m going to kill him.”

“I’d rather get wet by you than by water.” (—His VIP room)

“She doesn’t need to know… …which of us wants the other more.” (—Eisuke’s thoughts about MC)

“Heheh. I like it when you’re sassy.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Whumptober Day 13: Chemical Pneumonia

CW: Medical whump, sick whumpee, intimate whumpers, pet whump, dehumanization

Giovanni Rossi belongs to @slaintetowhump, and Ridley Lordin belongs to @moose-teeth. Both are used with permission.

“Vanni…” Ridley’s voice held an edge of something Connor had never heard before, and he struggled to focus on it, to define it, to give it a name. His hand on Connor’s forehead was cool and dry, and Connor’s skin was soaked in sweat where he lay on a cot in a room somewhere back behind the kitchen. 

“I know,” Rossi said, sitting in a chair, staring off out a window, flicking at his thumbnail with his finger. Connor’s eyes moved that way, went unfocused, struggled to see Rossi with any clarity. The mob boss sat leaning forward, his suit rumbled and wrinkled, and something about that meant something. There was something in his face that Connor didn’t understand, either. Something new.

“Vanni, they thought he was you.”

“I know, Ridley!” Rossi never snapped at Ridley, but here it was, and Connor forced in a hitching, shaky inhale around the tremendous, inescapable weight pressing down on him, determined to keep breathing long enough to understand. “I know they did.”

“And they fucking poisoned him and then dumped him to fucking die-”

“I know!” The two men went silent for a second, Ridley staring with shock at Rossi and Rossi glaring furious towards the window without looking back. 

Connor’s breath, rattling in his struggling lungs, was the only sound in the room beyond the soft beeping of a machine that Connor thought might be tracking… something. There were numbers on the machine, and it connected to something clipped onto his finger. The number went up, sometimes, or down, sometimes. There was an IV line with two bags dripping something into his arm, too. He couldn’t see the numbers, but they could. When the bags were low, or the numbers on the machine went down, they brought back the medic. 

“Did they think he was you when they poisoned him? Were they trying to kill you?” Ridley’s voice was low, but it wasn’t angry, and Connor couldn’t understand why. Ridley’s fury should be burning through him, a wildfire that could kill Connor and Demetri if they weren’t careful. A cheerful destruction that would tame Ridley’s temper only by damaging whatever happened to be in his way. But… that wasn’t what Connor heard in his voice, the voice he loved most in the world.

Because he had to. Because he was trained to.

“I don’t… I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Rossi’s eyes narrowed a little, then he seemed to force himself to relax, all at once. His hair was mussed from running his hands back through it, a bit flopping over his forehead. “I’d guess-... more likely they meant to kill him for not being me.”

Connor had never seen Rossi look so… off before. He whined and pushed his head up into Ridley’s hand, his sweaty black hair against the cool dry palm of his master, and swallowed just to feel the safety of his collar around his throat. The straps of the clear mask currently covering his nose and mouth felt like the straps of a muzzle, for a second, and he almost welcomed the feeling.

I wouldn’t punish you with the muzzle if I didn’t want you to not have to wear it one day, kitten.

“Please-” Connor’s voice was weak, barely a hoarse whisper. Both men looked at him, at once, and Connor’s eyes traveled lazily from one to the other and back again. 

“Sssshhh.” Ridley Lordin’s voice held tenderness, and nothing else, as he stroked over Connor’s hair, let his fingers run soothingly through it. It was terrifying, the lack of anger, that he was devoid of the maliciousness that Connor associated with being protected. “Sssshhh, kitten, you’re okay. It’ll be okay. The medic said we’ll know if you’re out of the woods soon, yeah? Just hold on for me and try to get some rest.”

I’m only supposed to rest when you say-

Connor tried to form new words, but his voice wouldn’t cooperate with his brain’s need to speak. All he could manage was a whistle.

The medic had been the one to listen to Connor’s lungs first, while Ridley and Rossi had stood to the side, after he’d been located dumped in front of Ridley’s company’s skyscraper. Connor didn’t remember that part. He’d woken up fighting for every hint of oxygen, already in a car speeding back to the house in the country, with Ridley’s hand in the center of his back, between his shoulder blades. 

Then there had been nothing, again, for a while. Then something - the house, the little room they put Connor and Demetri in when they were too injured to go to the basement or in their masters’ bed. 

He’d woken up, more or less. Connor’s eyes had managed to focus long enough to notice that Rossi stood in the doorway while Ridley and the medic looked him over. Rossi held the little bell that was normally hooked on Connor’s collar, rolling it between thumb and forefinger over and over again, muffling its gentle chime. Then Connor had had to close his eyes - keeping them open was too much work, too much effort.

The medic had listened to Connor’s breathing with the cool of the stethoscope against his front, and his back, and then they’d looked up at their employers, expression cool and carefully devoid of feeling. Have you ever heard a death rattle before?

No, Ridley said at the same time Rossi said, Couple of times.

Well, you’re hearing it now. 

Ridley had reacted with something like surprise - Rossi hadn’t. Rossi, after all, knew what the sound meant before the medic ever said it out loud. 

Connor’s bell had dropped to the floor, and Rossi stepped on it, swearing softly in Italian. The crunch of the metal being flattened under the weight of Rossi’s boot and his anger had been enough to make Connor flinch, and begin to cough and cough, forcing out air when he couldn’t breathe in. 

The machine they’d already hooked up to him began to beep, high-pitched and fast, and there was swearing and movement, and Connor’s eyes didn’t open for a while. When they did, he had something strapped over his nose and mouth, and breathing was a little easier - and the machine was beeping softly, far more calmly, somewhere behind and to the left.

He’d come back to the medic saying, softly, someone stays in the room with him until he’s out of the woods, if you want him to live.

He’s mine, Ridley said, but there was a tremor to his usual certainty. I fucking want him to fucking live, Cain.

My husband’s pet isn’t going to die from this. Rossi’s accent was thicker, intruding into his usual unmoved cool. 

Then I suggest you assign someone to sit here with him until he stops needing help to breathe. The medic never betrayed even the slightest tremble of anxiety in their calm, even voice.

How long is that going to take?

He’s coughing up blood and his lips are blue. I’ll do my best, but-

He better fucking live, Cain, if you want to fucking live. Ridley’s voice had been vicious, his rage threaded through with that strange feeling Connor couldn’t name.

Now the two of them both sat in the room with him, and Connor didn’t understand the looks on their faces. He didn’t understand the edge that came with their conversation. He couldn’t seem to get a hold on how they kept looking at him. Had he done something wrong? He couldn’t remember - he’d been going with Rossi to the fighting rings, and they’d stopped somewhere for breakfast, and someone had come up to Connor… 

Most of that part was gone, a blur. 

They’d worn masks, but one, who had torn his off when he realized it wasn’t Giovanni Rossi he’d kidnapped at all.

He’d been dumped in front of Ridley’s building shortly after, but not until they’d made him… what? Breathe something? Drink something? That part was lost, so much of it was lost, so much…

Connor must have dropped back out again. He opened his eyes and Ridley and Rossi were sitting together, not apart. Bleary black eyes traveled up over their faces. His breaths felt less like labor, and more natural. The mask was still strapped to his face, hissing cool oxygen into his throat, down into his lungs, to be soaked up and spread through his bloodstream. His heart had stopped pounding with desperate effort to spread what little breath he had. 

His fingers twitched, and Connor moved on hand to grip into Ridley’s pants, thumb moving over the soft, expensive pinstripe. 

Ridley looked up, and Connor stared, sure he must be hallucinating.

Were there shadows under Ridley’s eyes? Had he not been sleeping?

“Hey, kitten,” Ridley said, gently, and his hand was back in Connor’s hair. He relaxed into the touch, eyes fluttering closed and then open again. “You sound a little better, huh?”

“He does,” Rossi confirmed. He looked tired, too, and Connor’s eyebrows knitted together. There was a sense of golden light, pinkish-tinged, and he turned his head enough to see the window. 

“M-morning…?” He managed, muffled by the oxygen mask, lips moving slowly.

“Yeah, buddy.” Ridley gave a little laugh. “Yeah, it’s morning. But Cain says you’re over the worst of it, so it’s uphill from here on out, kitten.”

“You… awake all night?” His voice was a whispery, raspy nothing-sound, and how they could hear him over the machine beep and the hiss of oxygen was beyond him, but they did. 

Rossi snorted, but a slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. “We were.”

“... both of you?”

“Both of us.” Rossi sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, and then he laid his hand over Ridley’s, on Connor’s hair. Connor found himself trying, and failing, to purr. All he managed was a weak, broken rumble. “There he is. You’re going to feel better in no time, precious boy.”

“Then we’re going to figure out who did this, and we’ll fucking kill them,” Ridley said, and Connor saw a reassuring flare of his anger behind his comforting smile, and relaxed a little. If Ridley was angry at someone else, that was good. That was what… that was good. 

“Why… up?”

Rossi laughed, but it was a dry, exhausted sound. “Because we were worried about you, Connor.”

Connor frowned, but their expressions, their conversations, Rossi’s boot crushing Connor’s bell under his heel, Ridley’s hand on his forehead and the sensation-memory of a kiss pressed between Connor’s eyes… 

What he hadn’t understood was that they were worried about him.

They collared him, and kept him, and that collar - being owned - meant he was safe. Meant they would kill for him, because only they were allowed to hurt him. And after this… they would kill for him. To keep him safe.

To keep him safe, to be hurt only by them.

Connor breathed out, and his eyes closed again.

Safe.

As close to safe as he would ever be again… until they were tired of him.

--

@burtlederp @astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary