#Vaffanculo: fuck off (not sure if you know Italian)

[hellsgreatestperformance]

I want the K - Accepting

@culling : A kiss while one or both parties is crying.

「 🕸️Valentino was on the warpath lately, it seemed. The moth had a myriad of various, chaotic kinky ideas mulling around. There was always a kink for something and Angel Dust, his money maker, his main star, was always involved in filming it. Certain things he could handle. Most he could disassociate with. But others created concealed unease that kept his mind conscious. The one today took more out of the spider than usual, tempting him to seek a liquid substance strong enough to beckon sleep. His entire body ached from the constant touch he endured, the fatigue that pushed past his limits and an oncoming migraine from listening to Valentino spew his venom. His cell had been buzzing ever since he left the studio. Things hadn't gone according to plan, and he was the one paying for it. He scrolled through the various texts that consequently came. His hand griping the device tightly as it shook from anger. Fuck this. He put it away and headed to the hotel.

No one was in the lobby lounging about. Nor was Husk waiting at the bar with his usual sour expression. Even Niffty must be off doing whatever she does. He helped himself to an assortment of liquors, scanning the bottles until he picked his poison. No need for a cup since he downed half the bottle then held it below his waist. Things were alright in the beginning, but took a turn for the worst faster then he imagined. So much for trust. He got what he wanted, he supposed. But the cost was greater than anticipated. And he was getting tired of it. No matter how fucked up he got, he was still valuable, desirable. His fingers clutched the bottle firmly as he moved to sit at the bar. He was so fucking tired, but too sore to sleep. And the numbing sensation would take time to settle in. So, he finished the entire bottle. At least here he had a bed to sleep in. And even though he had woken up to Niffty stealing a bit of hair, it beat his boss standing over him.

His upper arms rested on the counter, his chin set on them. With a sigh he closed his eyes. His life when he was a human was far from perfect. The shit he witnessed prepared him for the after life. And maybe he deserved the torment, since that's what hell was for, right? And it was meant to be eternal. But the one thing, no, person he missed was his sister: Molly. She was a reason for getting by and he had wanted to protect her, but he forgot to protect himself. No, he just didn't care after awhile. Molly hadn't been a contender for the addiction. It won. And he had no idea what it had done to her when she found out. If she found out. Had she even missed him? Did she wonder why? Was she pissed with him? His hands intwined with his hair and he just felt like...like shit. All of this was his fault. All of it. If he had just made better choices. If he wasn't this fucked up, stupid spider. Everything could be different. Maybe he wouldn't even be here. Maybe he'd never have even met Valentino, ugh.

He felt it. The salty liquid dwelling in his eyes, threatening to spill. And the internal faucet too deep to control. The anger, the shame, the feelings he felt all throughout the day finally pleaded. Finally declared enough was enough and forced their way out. Little droplets against the bar. This form of expression his least favorite. He wasn't supposed to cry. Men didn't cry, right? His father would say so and reprimand him. But Molly, when she had caught him she just hugged him tight. Promised everything would be alright. And for the first time in his life he allowed himself to break down before her. Arms wrapping around her for comfort as he cried against her shoulder. And what about when she had cried after? Where the fuck was he?! In this hell hole! He threw the bottle across the room, watching as it shattered against the wall. No one came. He didn't want them to. He didn't want them to see him like this. He hated it. But Smiles, cause of fucking course it was him, appeared out of nowhere. With that stupid fucking grin on his lips.

❝ What d'ya want, Smiles, I ain't in the fuckin' mood! ❞ He snapped with little remorse. ❝ Can't yuh go be creepy someplace else?! Vaffanculo! ❞ Yet the prick was just standing there smiling! Did he enjoy this? Yeah, laugh at the stupid spider for slipping up and crying over stupid bullshit. Big laugh! He flipped him off. But even caught like this, the tears didn't dry up. They had just gotten worse. Smiles had said something sweet? To him? yeah, like he was falling for that shit. This prick didn't care about him and if he did, it was only because of Charlie. He himself was their main resident and who knew if it would hurt their reputation if he split. No one came cause he was here, but could wonder what scandalous thing made him leave. The hotel was all that mattered. He'd trust Charlie and Husk way before trusting this guy.

He got up from the bar stool and walked in the Radio Demon's direction. After all, he was near the opening of the bar. ❝ Fine, fuck you! ❞ He pointed at him using his upper right hand and was taken aback when Smiles seized it. ❝ Hey, what're ya doin'? Let go 'f me! ❞ He tried to retract his arm, but Smiles just wasn't having it. The grasp was firm and it was making him uneasy. Why wouldn't he let go? His eyes drifting from the Radio Demon's to his hands a few times in panic. When Val did this, it never meant anything good. And the thoughts circulating his mind were making his heart palpitate. Even if he tried to unload his arsenal on him, he'd never succeed. And he was too panicked, too surprised by this development. Fuck, he hated feeling helpless. And when the Radio Demon pulled him closer, he closed his eyes and braced for the worse.

And the worst was...a kiss???

His eyes shot open almost instantly. Sheer confusion written on his face as he tried to process this unusual action. It had only lingered a few seconds, possibly to be certain the spider reacted. And react he did. A few steps taken back and his hand finally freed. Why in hell would Alastor of all beings kiss him? The scandal! Some sort of ulterior motive had to be lurking behind that calculated smile. Eventually Smiles spoke, revealing in his own twisted way that his persistent crying was a bother and needed to be put to an end. It seemed after that he just sat at the bar and minded his own business as if this never happened. Well good for him, but Angel still felt completely confused. The thing was, was that Smiles could have ignored it. He could have fetched someone else to take care of it for him. But the fact that Smiles himself had done it, could it be that somewhere in that fucked up mind he...cared? What could it be? Maybe he was overanalyzing it.

He went behind the bar and poured something strong for them both, placing the glasses beside one another on the counter. Then he nervously sat down beside the guy, his index finger circling the rim as he glanced over his way. ❝ ...Thanks. ❞ Was all he said beside taking a sip of the hard liquor. He wanted more than anything to ask why. Sure, Smiles said why but he felt like something was missing. Like there was more to it then meets the eye. Or maybe it's just what he wanted. There was something about Smiles that made him curious. Made him wonder what spending time with him was like. Just a thought that occasionally seeped into his mind. But he never really thought the chance to learn would come up. Smiles always seemed to disregard him, which, he supposed, made sense given his approaches, but now there felt like an opening. An opportunity to enter his world. But he kept it to himself. By tomorrow none of this little encounter would matter anyway. He finished his drink, then sighed.

❝ Uh, goodnight, Smiles. ❞ 」

[laferocia]

10 minutes of Mike Patton insulting people in italian

June 2nd 2015, Milan. Mike is on fire. Metallica were the headliners at Sonisphere.

Min 0:10: Pirla! (It's a typical Milanese insult, and it roughly means "stupid". Plural or singular, it is always "pirla").

Min 0:20: Com'è che state? Tutto bene? // How are you guys? Is everything alright? ("Com'è che state": this sentence structure is absolutely native).

Min 0:29: ma vai a cagare! (Ok, I can translate it with "Fuck off" or "go to hell" but it literallymeans "Go and take a shit". We use it a lot).

Min 0:55: Cazzarola! (It's a term we use to say "cazzo" [=dick, but in the meaning of "fuck!"] but in a less vulgar way. It's not really a swear word; in central Italy, "cazzarola" means "pot").

Min 1:02: Mike is trying to get Roddy to say "cazzarola".

Min 1:18 Ma vaffanculo! // Fuck Off!

Min 1:25: Roddy tries again with his 'cazzarola,' but with poor results.

Min 1:34: ssshhhssshhh, giriamoci (?), un po' di basso // Turn around (I'm not sure about it, sorry), some bass.

Min 1:44: coglioni! (Here we go: 'coglioni' literally means 'balls,' and we often use it to tell someone they're a complete idiot. It's a strong insult but everything depends on the context)

Min 2:08: eh, minchia! (This word is Sicilian and it means 'cazzo,' but in Milan, it's used quite a lot).

Min 2:32: Mike was explaining that in Italy, June 2nd is Republic Day, in a way similar to the Fourth of July in the US; when Roddy said, "We don't speak Italia"n, Mike replied "Devi imparare, cazzo!" = you have to learn it, damn it!

Min 3:05: scusa(temi), devo tintarmi un po'! Milano style. Che dici? // Sorry, I need to tan, Milan style. What do you think? (Mike is using the second person singular form for most of the concert, but he should have said 'scusatemi' and "cosa ne dite?". 'Devo tintarmi' doesn't exist in Italian, but it's understandable. I'm almost sure that he took 'tintarmi' from 'Tintarella di Luna' by Mina, LOL. 'Tintarella' means 'tan' in an informal way, but we say 'devo prendere la tintarella' or 'devo abbronzarmi.' I guess 'devo abbronzarmi' was too hard to remember)

Min 3:57: He was amazed by those mirrors xD but at least this time he didn't throw it at people. And Mike... Don't you know that in Italy if you break a mirror, you'll have 7 years of bad luck???

Min 5:56: daje, daje milanesi! Zen. Ti chiediamo per favore di... zen. Meditazione. Pirli! Meditazione. Coglioni! Non iniziamo se non cantate. // Come on, Milanesi! Zen. We're kindly asking you... be zen. Meditation. Pirli! Meditation. We won't start until you sing. ("Daje" is absolutely Roman style. It has many uses, but most commonly, it's a way to say 'come on').

Min 6:53: siamo felici o no? Va bene! Se non siete felici dopo questa canzone... // Are we happy or not? If we are not happy after this song...

Min 7:23: bravi merdallari! (It's a way to poke fun at metalheads; it's a blend of 'merda' (shit) and 'metallari' (metalheads). It's a very colloquial term, and Mike has used it many times over the years. If you consider that most of the crowd was there for Metallica, you'll understand why he said that).

Min 7:28: sti cazzo di milanesi, ma va a cagare! // these fucking milanese people! (see min 0:29 for "vai a cagare!")

Min 7:44: Mike tries to get Roddy to say 'ma va a cagare,' but Roddy is still stuck on 'cazzarola.'

Min 7:53: lui sta dicendo che vuole un cazzone. È vero eh, un cazzone! // He is saying he wants a big dick. It is true huh, a big dick!

Min 8:21: A guy in the crowd says, 'che Dio ti fulmini.' He's probably from Tuscany because he used 'sfulmini,' which is typical of that region. By the way, he's saying 'may God strike you' to Mike.

Min 8:36: ah coglioni! (we already knew this LOL)

Min 8:40: ma chi cazzo sta a grida'? Who the fuck is screaming? (Okay, I'm from a small town in the south of Rome, and he has a strange Roman accent for most of the concert. I could honestly cry because of this, my accent on his lips. In proper italian it should be "chi cazzo sta gridando?")

Min 8:41: The same guy from the crowd: ah stronzo! // You jerk!

Min 8:43: Volete i Metallica? Anche noi, anche noi. Abbia(te) pazienza. Puttana di hippy di merda! Ti vedo, eh! // You want Metallica? So do we, so do we. Have some patience. Shitty hippie bitch! I see you, huh. (I don't know what happened here, he was talking to some people over there I guess. And Roddy speaking spanish with no reason makes me pee myself laughing).

Min 9:22: ah pirla! (ok he loves this one LOL)

Min 9:29: questa è l'ultima. Oh, finalmente! Sì, sto per venire pure io (looking at someone in the crowd). No, eh? Però il bocchino che fanno i mianesi (laughs) quasi quasi... Roddy, guarda. // This is the last one. Oh, finally! Yes, I'm about to come as well (looking at someone in the crowd). No, huh? But the blowjob the Milanese people give (laughs) I'm half tempted... Roddy, look. (another chaotic interaction, LOL)

Min 10: 08: Oh! Milano! Ci sono due frociacci in prima fila a petto nudo che mi... (ansima). Però lui eh (indica Roddy) No? Devi (far) crescere la barba un pochino, ragazzo mio. Insomma, grazie! // Oh! Milan! There are two shirtless fa*gots in the front row making me... (he pants). But him (pointing to Roddy), right? You need to grow a beard a little, my boy. Anyway, thanks! (That word is native and offensive, sorry Mike I don't like this one).

Min 10:40: Volete Vasco Rossi. // You want Vasco Rossi. (Vasco Rossi is a famous Italian rock star, but he is controversial because he hasn't done anything significant since (for me) at least 1998. Mike knows that metalheads hate Vasco)

NB: Min1:02, In the audience, you can hear 'porco D+o,' which is a blasphemy. In this video is missing but Mike said it while singing. You can hear him saying it at min 1:17 in this video: https://youtu.be/XXA4-MBDSqA?si=pCSMHqkBd5fCW4-4

In Italy, it's pretty normal to hear folks dropping swear words that target God, the Mother of Jesus, and the saints. This quirk in our culture might have something to do with the strong presence of the Pope and the whole Catholic thing, LOL. Anyway, despite these words being considered quite rude and definitely not for everyone, they've somehow become part of our everyday language. We use them for emphasis, to wrap up a chat, as greetings, or just as linguistic spice. Now, let me be clear, they're super vulgar, and plenty of folks find them offensive. If you use them, you might not make the best impression, but, unless you're talking to your grandma, most people won't raise an eyebrow. In that context, it doesn't sound all that strange. Coming from Mike, I admit it's quite funny. Oh, and when foreigners are learning Italian, the first lesson is often on swear words and dirty talk – it's like an unspoken rule or something.

In general, not happy about a couple of insults here and the way he involved Roddy in some jokes about his homosexuality that he couldn't understand. If he had called me a "puttana" I would have punched him in the face LOL. In this concert, Mike's Italian has declined significantly compared to the past.

[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.

[plaidbooks]

Can I request a reader x ada Sonny fic? Sonny is at the station with Liv when reader comes back from interviewing someone with Rollins/Fin and when she walks in she passes out and everyone sees. She gets taken to the hospital and Sonny finds out she’s pregnant and goes into protective dad/bf mode?

Misunderstandings

A/N: Look, anon, this took a fucking turn. But god, what I wouldn’t give for Sonny to curse angrily in Italian. Hope you enjoy! (translations at the end)

Tags: mentions of domestic abuse

Words: 1719

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @whimsicallymad @glowingmess @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @reading--mermaid

You glanced at your phone as you got a text incoming, reading through it before re-focusing on the conversation between Amanda and the newest victim in a long list of rapes. The message was just your boyfriend, Sonny, asking when you and Amanda were coming back to the station—he had to talk to you both, seeing as you were the arresting officers of the accused, Jared Donovan.

“And that’s when he attacked you?” Amanda was saying. But you were having trouble paying attention. You were lightheaded, dizzy. You could feel a cold sweat on your forehead, and you told yourself you’d grab a water and a snack from the vending machine once back at the precinct.

The interview was thankfully short; the woman didn’t have much to contribute, and Amanda gave the victim her card, telling her to call if she thought of anything.

“Well, that was a dead-end,” she huffed as she slid into the driver’s seat. You buckled up next to her, nodding absentmindedly. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine. Just a little hungry,” you forced a weak smile, hoping she’d drop it. Amanda gave you a long look before she put the car in drive and went back to the precinct.

“We’ll call in takeout; have it ready before we make it back,” she smiled at you, pulling her phone out of her pocket. You nodded, sending a text to Sonny, letting him know you were on your way.

By the time the elevator doors opened to the precinct, your legs were wobbling, your head feeling worse. Food hadn’t been delivered yet, but that was fine—water was more important right now. You made your way to the water cooler, ice-cold water sounding like the best thing ever.

Sonny was leaning against the cooler, sipping on a glass himself, when he saw you. “Hey, doll. Glad you’re back—hey, are you feeling okay? You don’t look so hot…” he trailed off, his brow furrowed as you moved closer. You opened your mouth to respond before your legs gave out. The last thing you heard was Sonny calling out your name as you lost consciousness.

***

Sonny had never felt panic like when you dropped in front of him, your limp body crashing to the ground, bouncing slightly when you hit.

“Fuck, shit, [Y/N],” he yelped, dropping his cup of water as he rushed over to you. He rolled you over onto your back, screaming, “call a bus!” as he checked you for injuries. Your cheek was already swelling up, blood leaking from a split lip and a nostril. He gingerly felt your nose, afraid it was broken. Officers and detectives alike flew into a flurry of movement as they went for first-aid kits and calling an ambulance.

“She said she was feeling a little hungry earlier, but she looked a little…off,” Amanda said, coming to kneel by him, using a tissue to wipe at your face.

“And…and you didn’t do anything?” Sonny asked.

Amanda gave him a glare. “Hey, I ordered food for when we got back here.”

That had to be it, right? Just hungry? But he had made you both breakfast that morning; you had eaten…. No, something was off…something was wrong. Sonny had enough time to work himself up into a panic when the EMTs showed up.

Olivia had a hand on Sonny’s shoulder. “I’ll let you know if we get anything in the interviews. You go to the hospital with [Y/N].” Sonny nodded, following the gurney with your unconscious body on it. “And Carisi? Give me updates.”

 **********************

You awoke in a hospital bed, face on fire, sore, swollen. Glancing around, you noticed you were alone in your room, which stung. You vaguely remembered seeing Sonny before passing out, so why wasn’t he here with you? Was he forced back to work?

A nurse came in, seeing you awake, and giving you a soft smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Morning, Ms. [Y/L/N]. How are you feeling?”

“Like I was punched in the face,” you joked. “What happened?”

The nurse looked nervous, uncomfortable. “That’s actually what I was going to ask you.”

You recognized the look in the nurses’ face; you had seen it a thousand times before when they prepped you to talk to a victim. It didn’t take much to connect the dots. “Oh, I just passed out at work! I’ve been feeling light-headed and dizzy all day…I’m probably just hungry, maybe dehydrated,” you tried to laugh it off, but she didn’t join in.

“You did have low blood sugar. And now you have a split lip and a broken nose. Thankfully, it’s not out of place, and it will heal on its own.” She shuffled uncomfortably on her feet. “Just so you know, I’ve called the police.”

“What? Why?” you asked, but she had already closed your door, heading off to go check on another patient. With an IV in your arm and your phone nowhere to be found, all you could do was lay there and wait.

 *********************

There was a knock on your door, a very familiar face peeking in, before Olivia came fully into your room, looking confused, Amanda on her heels. “This can’t be right; is this the right room?” Amanda asked the nurse who was hovering by the door. She nodded, and Liv turned to you.

“[Y/N], what’s going on here?” she asked.

You huffed, scowling at the nurse. “Well, judging by the fact that you were called, and Sonny’s not here, I can only figure my nurse assumed I was beaten by my boyfriend.” You winced, your nose hurting with how your mouth moved.

Liv and Amanda both rounded on the nurse, who said defensively, “it is protocol to call SVU if we suspect domestic—”

“I told you I passed out at work! Now where’s my boyfriend?” you asked angrily.

Amanda raised an eyebrow. “Is Carisi not here? He left the precinct with you and the EMTs—we figured he’d be here.”

Slowly, you all turned to look at the nurse. “He—he was refusing to leave the lobby, so we called the police and had him arrested….”

“You WHAT?” you yelled, reopening the wound on your lip, tasting blood.

“It’s okay, [Y/N]. You rest; we’ll get Carisi out of holding and down here,” Olivia said softly.

The nurse, who now looked even more uncomfortable, spoke into the dead-silent room. “You should be taking it easy…. Your blood sugar was low because you’re pregnant.”

 ************************

Sonny was sitting on a cold, metal bench, fuming. He didn’t like his injured girlfriend alone in the hospital. He didn’t like that he didn’t know why you had passed out. And he didn’t like the implication that he had been the one to hurt you. He had anger radiating off him in waves; so much so, that even the other criminals in lock-up were avoiding him, giving him a wide-berth.

“Hey, testa di cazzo,” Sonny called to the nearest officer. “Quando posso partire? When can I leave? I’ll pay the fucking fine, just let me leave.” The officer glanced at him, then went back to his lunch. “Ay! Vaffanculo allora!” He didn’t think cursing in Italian would help him, but it did make him feel better.

“Excuse me, do you have a Dominick Carisi Jr. in holding?” Sonny recognized Amanda’s voice and he stood, coming over to the bars.

“’Manda?” he called. She came over to him while Olivia dealt with the politics of getting him released. “Have you seen—”

“Yes, and she’s alright, Carisi. Broken nose, split lip, and, uh….” Amanda wasn’t sure how to continue, if she should tell him, or if she should let you tell him when he got there.

Sonny searched her face through the bars. “What? Tell me, please. Why’d she pass out in the first place?”

He was so desperate for information, so worried, that Amanda couldn’t keep it in. “Low blood sugar…she’s pregnant, Dom.”

 *************************

A different nurse came in—you demanded a new one after the colossal fuck-up of the other—to check your vitals. She assured you that when you fell, the baby was unharmed; you weren’t far enough along for a fall like that to hurt it. You were relieved, along with a hundred other emotions; you and Sonny did want children, but now? You weren’t even engaged yet! Oh well, you could figure that out later. Right now, you just wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself, of the child within you…and you desperately wanted to see Sonny.

As if you had willed him into existence, Sonny rushed into your room, Amanda and Olivia trailing after him, making sure he wasn’t stopped. Once they saw him lean over you, your hands clasped in his, they turned to leave with a smile and a wave.

“Are you okay, doll? Amanda said you had a broken nose, and that—that you’re pregnant.” He leaned back to search your eyes, seeing the answer written all over your face. “It’s true? You are? Oh my god,” Sonny let out a little chuckle, grinning. He wanted to kiss you, but was terrified of hurting you with your swollen face, so he settled for a kiss to the forehead. Then, he looked panicked as a thought struck him. “Is the baby safe from the fall—”

“The baby is safe, thank God,” you smiled, squeezing his hand. The smile hurt your lip and nose, but you couldn’t stop yourself—it was finally starting to sink in. You were pregnant! You were going to have a baby with Sonny!

He gently wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. “I love you so much, sweetheart. We’re going to be a family…. Merda! We need to get married! We need to get engaged!”

You laughed. “We can; we will. We have time, baby.” Sonny nodded against you, holding you to him. He looked down when you started laughing again.

“What’s so funny?”

“You got fucking arrested,” you snorted, your laughter stopping as you winced in pain.

“That’s not funny. I was worried!” he admonished.

You glanced up at him, trying not to smile. “It’s a little funny.”

 **********************

Translations:

testa di cazzo – asshole

Quando posso partire – When can I leave?

Vaffanculo allora – fuck off then

Merda - shit

[imaginesbymk]

“Sweet as Cherry Pie.”

Peaky Blinders One Shot

Summary: Y/n is Alfie Solomons’ younger sister who comes to Camden town & Small Heath. Why? She’s their secret weapon: sassy, unpredictable and insults their enemies to filth. Or maybe she’s just bored and needed the first enemy she sees to throw a comment at. Either way, Alfie couldn’t ask for a better sister.

Pairing: ---

Tags: swearing, mentions of violence, weapons, drug & alcohol use, smoking + s4 spoilers

Word Count: 1755 words

Author’s Note: sksmsksks this is based off a dream i had one night. it isn’t the best piece i’ve written but i love a sassy reader. one shots are not open, this is just a one shot for my 800 follower special - [milestone masterlist]

“GOOD MORNING, Alfie.” Tommy said, walking down the distillery. Well, it wasn’t that much of a good morning for Tommy, really. In fact, even though he’s very productive and professional most times, this time the man wished he was back in bed where he could be exposed in his shirtless self, waking up to see his boy with that bright smile, sharing his eyes. 

Normally, he’d be drowning in family meetings back in Small Heath, but the atmosphere in Camden town begged to differ.

“Meh, not really,” Alfie Solomons glances up at the window- the dusty, stained window pane gave in the overcast weather. He turns back to Tommy. “Mate, I’m glad we’re right on schedule. I was starting to think you got shot in your own fucking office chair back home.”

Tommy stared at the Jewish-English man, knowing Alfie was from Camden Town, how outsiders would speak ill of such towns and vice versa.

Alfie shuffles over using his cane as support and hands Tommy the tickets. “Those are the tickets to the boxing match. And in that storage unit behind you is the gateway to the clouds.”

“Kind of you. But you know I have booze at home, stored neatly and safely. I can manage without your rum.” Tommy walked in, anyway.

“I’m not giving you my rum for free, Tommy. I’m not even selling it to you,” Tommy watched as Alfie made his way to the other room of his bakery, ready to check on the AM workers as they got to work right away.

Tommy read the front labels of the bottle he picked up from one of the barrels. This man has gone a long way in his business, he couldn’t deny that. Over a hundred barrels have been shipped to God knows how many speakeasies were in Europe and America, and when Alfie Solomons received his earnings, he holds it tightly and proudly, guarding it as he cherishes his success.

Taking a bottle wouldn’t hurt, it would please him knowing he is interested in buying his product. He could even smell it from the sealed caps. He could smell it from the barrels, residue on the floor, or even from one of the workers’ breaths. He could pop it open and take a quick sniff like playing in snow. Tommy dug in his coat pockets, pulling out a stack.

“Oh, so you are fucking loaded.” Tommy whipped around, his gun already pulled from his holster, gripped and pointed to the voice inches behind him. 

The person- the woman, didn’t react, not a small gasp at the sight of the barrel of the gun nearing her face. Boldly enough, she reached over and grabbed the stack of cash from Tommy’s hand and walked away, not even remotely thinking if the man she startled would pull the trigger with her back turned. 

“Thanks, Mr. Shelby. And Alfie thanks you!” the female voice calls out.

Con artist? Someone posing as a worker? An enemy? Tommy breathed heavily, swearing left and right in his mind that he could of at least stopped whoever that was from taking his money, or yelled at her the way he usually does to anyone who worked for him because he was the boss. He was loaded, but no one would just allow someone to take a loan like that without anything afterwards, unless they were a clerk in a bank robbery.

After feeling like he was glued to the floor in that tiny space, Tommy rushed out to find Alfie back in his office with his glasses on his face, jotting notes down on a piece of paper, noticing the stack of cash sitting near the cup holder.

“Who the fuck just walked inside that storage unit and grabbed the stash right out my fucking hands?”

Tommy’s outburst of his question didn’t send Alfie into a panic. “You mean my dearest sister y/n?” Alfie got up from his seat. “She gave me the cash so I didn’t have to do it, but she didn’t even bid me a goodbye afterwards. She just plopped it on my desk and went her way. It’s not like I died or anything. I’m not fucking invisible, Tommy. You can see me, right?” 

Tommy let out a long sigh, dreading that there’s not one but two migraine-stirring bastards named Solomons, it’s enough for one he already wishes to throw a beer bottle at some times, but now another one probably much worse than if described. “You have a sister, Alfie? You never said anything about having a sister.”

“Yeah. But don’t worry, she’s sweet as cherry pie,” Alfie nods. “I brought her here, but she’s pretty homesick, so I would bid her warm welcomes if I were you.”

“Why should I?” Tommy says, frowning. “She just took my fucking money.”

“Oh, for sure.” Alfie waves the loan in front of Tommy, reminding him that y/n is no thief. “And because she knows about the vendetta between you, the Peakys and the Italians. If they come to her, she’ll roar at them, literally.”

“WHO the fuck is this, now?” Arthur stared at the woman stood next to Tommy at the foot of the small dining room where old memories held of their past meetings and heartbreaks.

“This is Y/n Solomons. She’s our messenger.” Tommy wished he never had to say that. He wished she would stop touching his fucking stuff, too. “Y/n, put down my fucking frame.”

“Oh fuck,” Polly blew out smoke from her cigarette. “There’s two of them?”

“And what is wrong with my brother?” Y/n places the frame back down on the mantel. “He’s a successful businessman. He beat a man three fucking times his size to gravel after he called me fat.”

“Y/n Solomons is our messenger. She’s also helping with updates from Aberama Gold once we get Michael out of Birmingham for now, because Luca Changretta is still out there, and he’s fucking pissed.”

“You can very hot headed sometimes, Mr. Shelby.” Later the brief introduction of their newcomer in their recent meeting was long over, she stayed back even though she was dismissed to do her work. “It’s probably because you smoke so much cigarettes that you’re starting to look like an ashtray, or of that heavy out-dated coat you wear all the time just weighs you down that your back and shoulders must hurt like hell.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Tommy said, irritated by her presence, even her just standing there at the table.

“Nothing.” Y/n sighs and heads out the door. “You know where I’ll be!” she calls.

Sweet as cherry pie, my ass. Tommy grunts and lights a cigarette.

“WHAT’S the matter?” Luca Changretta asks. “I said we had a deal.”

“Ah, you just made a deal without negotiation, now did ya?” Y/n’s brother sat on the chair, staring up at the menacing mobster holding one of the rum bottles given as a gift. “Yeah, Tommy Shelby was right about you. You plan to kill us all.” He spoke in Yiddish, and he mocks a tsking sound.

Luca smirks down, even though he didn’t know what he said, at least they both were aware of one thing; Tommy knows what kind of man I am.

“Mr. Changretta, may I speak freely?” y/n chimes in.

The Italian shrugs. “Mr. Solomons, I checked my calendar earlier and I did not read anything about today being Take Your Kid to Work Day,” and he laughs, his cousin as his henchman behind laughing along with him.

“Mate, I’d choose my next words very carefully if I were you,” Alfie says, stifling a smile. “This is my baby sister you’re talking down to, and she won’t tolerate one bit of it.”

“And I should be afraid?”

“Perhaps less afraid, more self-conscious, Mr. Changretta,” y/n replies. “Just a few minutes ago I was sensing the stench of failure, but then I saw you and your men walk in.”

Luca chuckles sarcastically. “Ouch.”

“And it’s not like we’re having a showdown right here, you didn’t need to bring your men with you unless you’re doubling their pay for just standing silently. I mean, they’re as important as Tommy Shelby’s evening sous chef.”

“Who?” Alfie had to ask.

Y/n smirks. “Exactly. Anyways, I just need to tell you that my brother’s business isn’t for sale. Alfie has worked hard and I’m proud to be his sister, supporting him. I’ll drink his rum like it’s mother’s milk if I had to. So, let my brother handle your men at the match, and you’ll take care of the two hundred barrels to be shipped to New York. Simple.”

“What do you know about business, Miss Solomons?”

“What do you know about combat, Luca? If you didn’t lack the experience, Tommy Shelby’s blood would spill fresh on your hands as we speak. How are you a soldier for the mafia if you hadn’t accomplish the vendetta yet?”

“Well-”

“Actually, don’t answer that. I’ll fall asleep.” Y/n took a step forward, lowering her smile up as his height overpowered hers. “My brother isn’t asking for much. He’s a good friend of Tommy Shelby, yet he’s helping you. You should be kissing his feet, Mr. Changretta, not abusing his generosity.”

Luca chewed the matchstick in his mouth. “Is that so?” he looks back at his men. “Porca puttana.”

“Vaffanculo, right back at you, mate. You just earned yourself another tonne to your bill. Bring tissues for both your lawyer and accountant.” Y/n turns around and grins at her older brother, who smiled warmly at her the entire time, feeling as though he was proud. If the Peaky Blinders were here, they’d share the same reaction as Luca. 

“So you both know Italian?” Luca asked as he sighs in exhaustion.

Alfie nods at Luca, who was glaring down at him for an answer. You learn from your older sibling, you become as tough as bullets and the big help as the messenger, sending a telephone call or a letter mailed to Small Heath, saying Luca Changretta is six feet tall, but shrunk four feet down when y/n opened her mouth. 

“Take it or leave it, Signore.” The Italians didn’t even need to ask where this woman got her attitude from. If you’re a Solomon, there’s perks. Y/n smiles to herself, Tommy is gonna hate and love me.

“I warned you about my baby sister, mate.” Alfie says. “Sweet as cherry pie... but with broken glass once you bite into your first slice.”

—

tag list: @ladyxblake @lotsoffandomimagines @amirahiddleston @thethyri @woahitslucyylu @myriadimagines @fangirlsarah16 @your-pixels-are-showing @lucillethings @sirkekselord @kaetastic

[fics-not-tragedies]

Italian anger

©

This fic is based on a request I got ages ago, that was sent by @queenselana​ and hopefully it’s something that fills in the need.

SUMMARY: You were offered to Santino as a gift from your family that wanted to repair their relationship with the D’Antonios. After you two got married you absolutely loathed him, but one day when you walk into the conference room in the middle of a meeting he does something that changes your opinion on him. Words:  2608; Warnings: smut and a tad bit of angst;

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@spookier-than-u; @oreofenyloetyloamina; @derangedcupcake; @geostarr; @catsmieow; @wickedlangdon; @bodhi-black; @bugalouie; @onebatch--twobatch; @fandom-lover-4; @mikaneonox; @drunkonyellow; @spadesandaces2342; @harrisongslimited; @hhighkey; @lunilate; @i-cant-remember-my-old-login; @sgt-morgan; @coloursunlimited; @childrenofthegun; @weminiaturestrawberry; @silverlambcaptain; @scarletmoon83; @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day​; @krazycags01; @charlottebonnie​; @moonlit-raven-haven​; @girl-at-the-verge​; @boopdedoop​; @jardani-jovonovich-bitch​; @ladyreapermc​; @wifeofdarklordsworld​; @mysticfluffyness​; @zombiepandajfish​; @kollover24​; @greenmanalishi​; @persephonehemingway​; @lovelycarose​;

You had been busy the whole day, managing the books for his club, filling up the orders for whatever was needed and by the time you were done, it was late to your standards. You knew Santino would kill you if he caught you still working so you decided to pack up and tell him that you were on your way to the home side of his large mansion.

You knocked on the door to the meeting room and walked in without waiting to be told to come in, you didn’t know if it was out of force of habit or that your mind was in a universe of its own. You opened the door as you were fixing the buttons of your coat and immediately regretted it.

“Santino I- nevermind,” you spoke as you turned back around to leave, a group of men stared at you as you turned. You cursed yourself as you forgot Santino had a meeting with his associates today.

“Bella, come in” you heard Santino speak in his usual stern voice. You slowly turned back around, your cheeks tinted a light shade of pink.

“I’m sorry Santino, I completely forgot-”

“Come here” Santino cut you off, and tilted his head, signalling for you to cross the group of men and walk towards the front of the table where he sat. The room was silent as you walked up, the only noise that filled the room was the clicking of your heels on the marble floor.

He patted his thigh when you stood next to him, a proud smirk on his face as he watched his men look anywhere except at you. He liked showing you off and when you sat yourself down, he whispered in your ear, “I’ll only be a few minutes, bella, then I’ll take you home.”

He had one of his hands holding your waist to ensure you didn’t fall while the other cradled a cigarette. “Right where were we?” He asked, addressing the room and continuing on with the meeting as normal.

The meeting continued smoothly for a few moments and you eventually found yourself enjoying learning about this side of the business, although your heart dropped when you heard a snide comment slip out of a new member’s mouth.

“I thought whores weren’t allowed in meetings, Santino?” The man grinned, his grin morphing into a frown when nobody else laughed along with his comment. You felt Santino tense from beside you, his grip on your waist tightening, enough to possibly leave a slight mark, but not enough to hurt.

“What?” He asked, a look of pure hatred planted on his face as he narrowed his eyes at the younger man, “What the fuck did you just said?”

“No whores? Isn’t that your number one rule?” He defended as he crossed his arms against his chest and slouched down into his chair. Santino scoffed at the man, you saw him quickly clench his fist from the corner of your eye.

“Santino it’s fine, just a simple mistake” you whispered in attempt to defuse the situation.

“It’s not ok, I’m not going to tolerate you being disrespected right in front of me, especially by one of my own men” He shot back, his eyes never leaving the poor man who knew he had fucked up.

“Tutte fuori!” He demanded, “except you” he shouted, pointing his finger at the young associate, “no, faremo una piccola chiacchierata.”

Santino then turned to look at you, a softer look in his blue eyes as he whispered, “wait in the living room, it’ll only be a moment” then he gave your forehead a little kiss and waited until you had closed the door to speak again. You could hear the shouts coming from him as you walked along the corridor and you were certain you even heard the smashing of glass at one moment.

It was when the building became silent that you began to worry. You were just about to check up on Santino and the boy when you heard a knock on the door. You opened it to find the young man stood there, his head bent downwards and his hat between his hands.

“I am sincerely sorry about how I called you a few moments ago, you didn’t deserve that, I’m sure you’re a lovely lady and… well… I’m sorry.”

“And?” You heard Santino speak from behind him.

“And I’m an asshole.”

“Good, ora vaffanculo, cazzo!” Santino demanded and the man quickly walked away while your husband walked into the living room, his hands immediately going to your waist.

“You didn’t have to make it such a big deal, you know” you giggled, placing your hands on his shoulders as you looked up at him.

“Of course I did” he shot back, his lips turning up in a slight smile. You laughed at his words and gave him a quick kiss.

“Thank you” you whispered once you pulled apart.

Santino then pulled you into him and bit your lip, slipping his tongue into your mouth and kissing you in the most passionate way he could. You walked backwards slowly until your legs hit the back of your table and Santino lifted you up onto it, standing between your legs, his hands now resting on your thighs.

He moved his mouth to your neck where he placed a trail of kisses from your jaw down to the base of your neck. He squeezed your thigh before resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re all that matters to me.”

“Santi…” it was the first time you called him that and he looked at you with the softest look in his eyes you’ve ever seen. You gently cupped his large face in your hands and rested your forehead against his neck, “Baby, I know I’m not the best wife in the world, nor the one you deserve-”

“No, principessa, no” he cut you off by placing his fingers under your chin and gently lifting it up, so you could look at him, “you’re everything I need. I know you hated me at first… you loathed my presence, but for me… you were like the heavy rain after a muggy day… like the first rays of spring sun that warms the whole world. I needed you more than you thought.”

“Santi, my dear…” you breathed out and he blinked away the tears that formed in his eyes, “Santi your hand is shaking.”

“I’m still pissed off” he cackled and took a step away from you, “how could he even thought about saying that out loud?”

“Dear, it’s alright…”

“No! No it’s not! He called you una puttana! Nessuno chiamerà mia moglie così!” Santino shouted and you just took a deep breath before reaching out for his hand and pulling him closer again.

“Santino…” you murmured his name under your breath as he sprawled out his hand on your thighs.

“You, principessa” he said with this dark chuckle, as you felt felt a pair of wet lips nudge against your left lobe, with the warmth of a pink tongue tracing its contours… Making you lose all the control you had, “you belong to me.”

Santino has turned your head and was literally leaving a trail of wet saliva on your cheek as he hungrily devoured your lips, smearing that deep red lipstick all over your mouth as he turned your head towards his. You felt your cunt clench when he managed to unbutton your lavender blazer and insert a hand inside of it, revealing that you had no bra underneath as he freely tweaked a nipple that was growing hard against the hard fabric of your light violet blouse with his thumb and index finger.

Moaning inside his mouth, you managed to free your torso from his other hand affixed to your shoulder as you violently tugged at that navy blue tie. Pulling at the necktie, you managed to tighten it and almost choke him, as he violently yanked his head away from yours, separating his lips from your red-smeared mouth.

“Show me who the boss is, Santino” you growled at him as he flashed that mobster type evil grin at you…

Only for him to snake his free hand up your hair to tug at your perfectly made bun, destroying your hairstyle as he tangled his fingers around your locks… Managing to pull your head back he hovered his lips dangerously over yours, his mouth ghosting over your lips as he spoke, the tips brushing seductively as he sent vibrations down your body.

“I’ll show you who’s the boss” he said in that deep baritone Italian accent that shook you to the core.

He suddenly flipped you around and shoved you on the mahogany table, pressing your stomach flat on the surface. You hear the unbuckling of a belt as you heard your heart thumping in your ears as he violently kicked your shoes apart – wedging those expensive Loubotins from each other as he pressed that throbbing erection at your now exposed black-satin panties that came into contact with his slender fingers as he began to massage the spot where your clit should be issuing this long haunting moan from you as you closed your eyes.

“And all this time you claimed you were disgusted of me” he growled as you grit your teeth upon his mischievous digits slowly tracing the wetness of your slit, only to halfway part your panties aside - allowing him to brush the pad of his fingers on your moist cunt, “It seems like you love me doing disgusting things to you… no?”

You gritted your teeth as you felt his other hand push you flatter on the desk, as you felt his weight rest over you, “Just fuck me, darling” you gasped.

You felt your entire body shudder as he roughly nudged the head of his cock against your folds with his two fingers parting the entrance of your cunt, allowing him to slowly enter you as you found yourself struggling violently against him. But the more you thrashed your ass against his hand, the more you gritted your teeth and dug your nails, almost making marks in the expensive desk, the more he slowly eased himself into you, the wetter and aroused you become, squabbling under him as he eased his nerves and focused on fucking you.

As his every move and every inch pushed into you heightened your senses, and reminded you forcefully of the girth that he has and how much his length managed to stretched your aching pussy.

And mind you, Santino is very endowed than most men. And you knew this personally.

“C-cazzo” he hissed as he fought your retaliations, the way you tried to pull him out with jerking your hips, only for his strong hands to push you back down and his nails to dig into your hips as he slowly entered you with your slickness against his making this wet sound every time you moved against him, “Baby you’re so tight…”

You could only answer with a moan when he finally sheathed his entire length within you, causing you to heighten the loudness of your moan the moment the head of his cock hit your entrance.

And then stillness.

The only sound you can hear was the pace of your breathing and the way he panted in rhyme with the beating of his heart and that was when you began to feel his cock throbbing against your walls…

“Ohhhh!”

You began to struggle against him as he held you still by the hips, weighing down your thrashing as he rutted inside of you, the hardness of his cock causing your walls to clench around it again, eliciting this breathless moan that escaped both of your lungs as you both began to lose control…

“Fuck!” Santino growled as he began to pull out in a swift mode, only to slam back forcefully into you, causing you to wince and grit your teeth with every quick movement that involved his naked thighs slamming against your ass, causing your cheeks to bounce against his skin.

“C-cazzo” His voice suddenly sounded so melodious, strained by his anticipation, and fogged up by sex, “You… feel… so… fucking… good, principessa…” he iterated against your moans with each word accentuated by his thrusts, as he pushed his hips repeatedly against your ass, thrusting that bulging cock inside your swollen folds repeatedly as if there was no tomorrow.

In fact, if any of those newly-gained contacts that were still roaming the halls of the mansion dared to peek between the almost-closed doors of the living room, the sight they would see would be two pairs of feet pressed against the edge of a table with both hips attached to another, grinding against each other, with a hand snaked around a waist… with the string of underwear pulled down and wrapped around a slender thigh whose expensive pencil cut skirt was bunched up the waist.

And that would be enough of reason for Santino to shoot them causing another war between most of the mob families in the country.

Not to mention the mahogany room table that was beginning to shake in unison with your movements.

And with this thought, you began to shudder.

It didn’t help how your panties weren’t fully parted, with a bit of fabric snug against your folds, with your clitoral hood covered by the laced edge, biting through the skin and heightening your sexual sensations with every movement of Santino’s hips…

And to fan the flame he noticed this specific detail, as he deviously wet his finger and slowly lowered it in between your legs rubbing your clit furiously, with the textured fabric brushing hard against your bundle of nerves.

“FUCK!” You cry out as you felt your inner thighs quiver, “S-Santi… I’m gonna come!”

It wasn’t long till Santino let out this guttural groan as you closed your eyes and opened your mouth - a soundless cry escaping your lips as your juices squirted from your cunt, drenching your black underwear and staining the man’s fingers pressed against your clit.

Overcome by this sensation of your cunt clenching and tightening around his throbbing cock Santino  gave one sharp shove that completely pressed your bare thighs against the edge of the desk, the wood almost biting into your smooth skin as he released himself inside of you his juices mixing with your own arousal as he filled you up to the brim with his climax.

You both were stuck in that position for a while your husband’s body draped against yours, as your helpless twitching legs was covered by his own, his cock still throbbing within you, as you milked him of his juices, robbing him of a climax he’d been dreaming of ever since he watched you walked into the meeting.

Santino was the first to retract himself from you, the sensation of him pulling that half-erect cock from your swollen folds almost giving you another orgasm as he found the power to sit down on an ignored chair as he cleaned himself up.

You then found whatever was left of the strength in your legs to move away from the table and walk over to him, as he gestured for you to come over and sit in his lap.

“I’ll stain your pants…” you mumbled out, but he just smiled and scooped you into his embrace and you sat down in his lap, pressing your body closer to his, resting your face in the crook of his neck.

“I don’t care… I love you, principessa” his hand gently caressed your cheek.

“I love you too, Santino.”

[fr0gheart]

it girl

authors note: thank you so much requesting luv. i like this imagine but i don’t speak it so with the help of google translate. i finished this. it’s kinda short sorry but as always enjoy!

anonymous asked: thank you, could i please request a finn wolfhard headcanon where his best friend is a high end fashion model, she’s Italian and is older than him by 2-3 years? Strictly platonic no romantic feelings here. Maybe one where she’s teaching him Italian? And they’ve been best friends since they were kids? If you received this please let me know as my internet has been fucking up, thank you.

masterlist

finn and you would have met because you lived really really close together

your parents would have immigrated to vancouver from italy when you 

were 5 but you guys didn’t officially meet until you were 15 and he was 13

you and finn would kinda go to the same school but 

but then he would book roles for the 100 and supernatural

and you guys drifted apart but when he came back it just made you realize how much you missed your best friend 

by then you had started posting on instagram and you gained a pretty big following already

so by the time you were 15 

you had like 100,000 followers on instagram

and then img models reached out to you

( thats the agency bella hadid is with)

then you sky rocketed like you gained 

hundreds of thousands of followers

then by the end of the year vogue named you

‘ one of the best models under 17 ‘

so you booked fashion shows and once you turned 16

you moved to l.a. with your mom

finn was super sad but he just booked the role of mike on a stranger things

so you guys promised to meet up the second he got to l.a.

but once you got there you had no time to talk to him

but you also made a promise to each other to skype like every night

he would talk about set and how he misses you so much

and you would talk about your shoots

and you noticed finn wanted to model too so you would talk to him about modeling w you

so like you would have a shoot for yves saint laurent

and you guys would just be chilling in your dressing room

and he would be like

“ wait don’t you speak italian” 

“ yeah why?”

and he would like jolt up and his eyes would be so wide 

“ teach me”

and at first you would be like kinda iffy about it

because finn was not patient

at all he just liked getting things done, really really fast

you would just sit up and you taught him the basics

“ so hello, is ciao, how are you doing is come va, and im good is sto bene “

“ wait like chow “

and you would just die laughing 

like he wasn’t listening to you at all

but you were patient and he managed to learn a few words

he insisted you taught him how to say the swear words

“ fuck you is vaffanculo “

“ vaffanculo”

he would call josh and just start saying it repeatedly

and you would be laughing your ass off.

and josh would not understand what the fuck was going on

so you really had to explain

and josh would understand and the both of them would just

google translate swears to say to each other

finn would end the call and he would say

“ i think there’s a pizza shop nearby”

“ that’s not all italians eat finn.”

“ are you sure? “

so you guys would go get pizza

and he would obviously order pepperoni like the bland boi he is

and you would get some spinach, cheese and like crazy combo

and finn would be like supes weirded out

he would obviously try and sneak bites of your food

“ finn stop it” and you would just kind of smack his hand away

and he would like frown the entire time

until you just gave him your pizza 

“ grazie”

and you would just be like astonished

“ wow good job finn”

directory

[phxse-shifter]

Love Fool [Chapter 3- Final]

Summary: Elaine is accused by many of trying to betray Dr. X because she refused PROJECT-X. Eventually, he began to believe those accusations, forcing her to prove her loyalty. A rewrite of the original story posted on my art blog.

Chapter 3: Elaine begins to wallow in sorrow, missing Dr. X. It takes a push from a familiar pair to get him to make up with Elaine.

*There will be an epilogue to this story.

Word count: 1780

A month passes, and Elaine delves deeper and deeper into sorrow.

She can no longer recreate the image of her husband smiling, nor can she remember what it was like for him to hold and kiss her. They have not spoken since she left that night, and anything that had to be asked of her or addressed to her was told through Kaito or Sharon. It became as if they were strangers. All of this grew the sorrow in Elaine’s heart. It exhausted her to the point of no return. Even the power she’d gained through this no longer pleased her. It made her bitter and cold, and she told everyone not to speak with her unless it was absolutely necessary.

Elaine spent her time locked away in her suite, ordering food and other necessities when she needed it, and then lying in her bed for hours on end, not even so much as flipping on the television on for white noise. She was left to cry alone, wishing that there could be some way to fix this situation. No matter how many times she thought of scenarios to mend her pain, she felt the execution to initiate said scenarios did not exist. So, Elaine would lie down and do nothing.

Her sorrow eventually caused her to look dull and unkempt, with her eyes red from crying and her hair a mess. She no longer chose to freshen herself up, and only kept herself from getting sick by eating small meals and drinking water, nothing else. Usually, the one to deliver these meals would be Sharon, and she would try to talk with Elaine to get her to come out, but it would never work. Elaine would thank her, and excuse herself, once again locking herself in.

There was no reason to come out to see anyone, nor was there any reason to work and do research. She normally conducted such things with her husband, so without him, it was pointless. Elaine was not needed and hence, she would stay secluded, only called upon if it were a dire emergency. After all, it was a month since these events and nothing changed about her situation.

Elaine reached into a bowl for the last bit of grapes she had but frowned when she realized there was none left. It was still fairly early and not yet dinner time, so she would not be able to get her meal just yet. Sighing, she called for Sharon, and on the phone, asked her to bring a large bowl of themalong with water when she had the chance. When she got conformation, she hung up and plopped back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

---

Of all the things Dr. X expected, a hard cover dictionary to his face was the least on his list. Rather, it was nonexistent.

Sharon fumed, glaring at him. It took all of Kaito’s strength to prevent his wife from throwing a textbook on archeology at him next, holding her firmly in place while Dr. X looked at her in shock and anger.

“Daichi. Explain yourself! NOW!”

“You are a complete and utter moron,” Sharon hissed. “You have your WIFE secluded and wasting away in a suite and you have no goddamn remorse nor do you even want to TRY to rekindle your relationship with her!”

Dr. X grit his teeth. He didn’t need to be reminded that Elaine basically thought of him as so repulsive that she didn’t even to see his face, especially from Kaito and Sharon, who were ones to openly express their love for one another in public.

“It’s none of your business! Remove yourselves from my office!”

“Vaffanculo! I will not remove myself! You will see to Elaine and you WILL make up with her!”

Kaito sighed. Whenever Sharon broke out her Italian, she meant business. All of this yelling was about to give him a headache. He released Sharon, giving her a small glare as to say ‘do not throw another textbook’ and turned to the moving cart which had a sealed bowl of grapes and a glass of water on it and took both off of the cart, and placed both in front of Dr. X on his desk. When he looked at Kaito in confusion, it took all of his strength to not roll his eyes.

“Dr. Elaine asked Sharon to give her some grapes and water. She’s been doing this for the last month,” Kaito explained. “She eats very little meals, and does not come out of her suite as you obviously know. It’s very unhealthy. You will give these to her and speak with her and make sure that she cleans herself up. Sharon isn’t the only one who’s pissed off by your actions.”

“What exactly do you mean by your last statement?” Dr. X asked him darkly.

“Exactly as it sounds. Go see your wife. If Dr. Elaine does not get her food, we will know. Don’t knock, but use this card she gave us in order to enter. If you knock, she will not answer.”

Kaito placed the card on his desk and then took Sharon’s hand and left immediately without another word, leaving Dr. X to stare at the bowl of grapes and ice cold water as if the pair was foreign items he’s never seen before. He buried his face in his hands. He would have to see her, but he was not ready to do so. All of this time, he wanted to see her. He wanted to make up with her, but he didn’t know how. Now he was being forced to.

He missed Elaine, but he was terrible at this. He was a mess just as she was. Knowing Elaine was eating small means and refused to come out, even for experiments pained him. She truly did not want to see him. Because of his suspicion and lack of better judgment, he accused his wife of trying to betray him, and thus completely severed their strong connection with one another. It would be a long process to mend that connection.

Would Elaine even want to see him? Would she slam the door in his face, and yell at him to get out? Since he last saw her in their suite, she made it clear that she did not want to see him. He didn’t have time to think fully on what he would say to her or how he would even be able to explain himself. Elaine was waiting for her food, and she would get suspicious if it wasn’t sent to her.

Taking a deep breath, he stands, taking the card, grapes and water and going to the suite number that was on the card. He dreaded to see her unprepared, and didn’t know how he himself would react once seeing his wife again. For once, he was at a loss. He was confused, he didn’t know what to do. His thoughts get the better of him, so much so he almost misses the door where he’s supposed to enter.

A shaky hand places the keycard in it’s slot, opening the door. When he enters, he does not immediately see Elaine, which worries him.

“I’m in the bathroom,” Elaine says casually, thinking it was Sharon that entered. “Bring it in here, please.”

Hearing her voice made him smile. He couldn’t help it. He loved to listen to Elaine. Her voice was strong and powerful, yet laced with a sweetness only he could hear. It reminded him of when she would hum when he held her, nuzzling into his chest.

“Please hurry. I’m hungry,” she calls out.

He takes a deep breath, and slowly enters the bathroom with the grapes and water. When he sees Elaine, his eyes widen.

She was lying as if she was lifeless in a large bathtub, staring at the lights. When she turns her head to finally face him, she gasps and sits up with water splashing on the floor. He was prepared to get yelled at, but it never comes. Instead, Elaine just stares at him. It prompts him to approach her and hand her the grapes . Elaine opened the container and ate them greedily, and then took the water and drank as if her life depended on it.

“Thank you.”

He nodded, looking at the ground. He still didn’t know what he could possibly say to her, hence the silence that followed for a good couple of minutes. Then, he reaches his hand out to stroke her cheek. He expected her to pull away, but instead, Elaine nuzzled his hand softly. Feeling his touch again, she could not help it. He smiled when she did not pull away. Seeing this smile, Elaine’s eyes widened.

“…I miss you,” he says to her. “I really miss you. I miss being around you. I miss hearing your voice. I miss holding you. I’m sorry. My words are quite a mess, aren’t they? I don’t know what to do. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I wish I could say more. I’m trying to find the proper explanation, but I can’t. I am truly at a loss.”

“It’s okay,” Elaine said simply. “It’s fine.”

This time, he frowns.

“No. It’s not. It’s not okay. I hurt you, and I should not have. Because of my fucking indecision and vulnerability, you’re here in this tub dead to the world.”

Elaine could not get a word in as he continued. She could see he was visibly shaken, and the look of despair on his face as well as some odd redness on his face didn’t help, either.

“For a month I did not come to you. I did not try to come to you. It took Sharon yelling at me for me to come to you. That’s pathetic. I did not come to you, and let you stay here, getting more and more sorrowful. I will understand if you… If you wish for me to leave but… I am sorry, Elaine, I am a bit selfish. Even after all of this, I am selfish.”

She tilted her head in confusion. How was he being selfish?

She lets out a small sound as he cups both of her cheeks. He tries to force himself to keep composure, but he cannot. The tears, which look so out of place on his cheeks roll down.

“I love you. I love you, my Elaine… Please do not go. Please do not leave me.”

And just like that, Elaine broke down. Her shaky hands wrap around her husband.

“I love my Casimir,” she sobbed. “I love my Casimir so, so much!”

[achanceofprecipisatan]

Meet my oc killjoy Glitter Pistol.

I don't know at what point it became running away.

I didn't have a plan, or any clue where I was going, I just went for a run to clear my head, and never came back.

I got to zone three, where I'd normally turn back, and I just kept going, feet digging into the road that quickly dissipated into sand. I shut my eyes against the sun and ran until my heartbeat replaced my emotions.

Then I ran into someone. Literally. Bump. Crash. Me head over heels into the sand.

I looked up at them from the ground, and initially I was scared, due to the ray guns pointed at my head and the non-regulation clothes in vibrant red and green vibe.

"Who are you?" Red asks.

I swallowed. "Who are you?"

They echange a look, guns still pointed at me. Despite the fear, I was starting to appreciate the colours. They were bright and alluring in a way you'd never get in Battery City.

"Im Fun Ghoul," Green says, eventually. "They're Party Poison."

Somehow I was oblivious to the fact I'd just met two of the Four. I had a sheltered childhood and it was not paying off.

"I'm As-" I began.

"-No." Fun Ghoul interrupts. "Your killjoy name?"

"My killjoy name?" In any other situation I'd laugh.

"You can think about it, if you like. Its what you want to be."

"Like a persona?"

"Sure." Party Poison said.

"That is," Fun Ghoul continued. "If you want to stay in the zones? You can, of course go back."

I hadn't even considered the zones as an option. I needed to take a moment to think about it rationally and-

"-Of course I'm staying," I blurted.

Party Poison grinned. "You are?"

"I wasn't planning on it," I admit. "But I can't live there anymore."

Maybe it was that point it became running away. Or maybe it had already shifted to coming home.

It took weeks to get a name.

"I want it to mean something," I told Ghoul, amidst one patrol.

"It always does, even subconsciously. Or, at least, it comes to mean something."

"What does Fun Ghoul mean?"

"It means more now, because I chose it to become my name, so it holds meaning and memories from that," I nodded. "But originally it came from my Nonno,"

"Your Nonno?"

"My fathers father. He was the only person I knew who remembered pre-apocalypse, like before any of it. Fun Ghoul is a play on words. Its cool because, y'know, a fun ghost. But also it kind of sounds like Vaffanculo, 'fuck off' in Italian."

"I don't want my name to come from my past."

"Each to their own.” He shrugged. “So what was your first opinion of your present? Us?"

"Vibrancy? Colours? Freedom? Fucking terrifying because you had guns?"

"You can incorporate all of that,"

"How about..." I pause to think. "Glitter Pistol?"

"You came up with that on the spot?" He sounded impressed.

"Yeah, and now it has this memory attached to it. So it already means something."

[littlemissheartfilia]

Son of the Don Ch 2

Part(s):  [1]   [2]

Pairing(s): Stingue, eventual yukinerva and orfus, possible gajevy or nalu

Setting: New York City by Long Island 1935.

Summary: With a rise in murder cases, poverty, drunken brawls, and thievery Sting Eucliffe is watching his city go up in flames. The Great War killed everyone else he knew. The stock market crash destroyed any hope America had left. In such difficult times Sting struggles to fight off the past and to find a hope that’ll keep him going.

After ten years in a foreign country Rogue Cheney finds himself at the bottom of the world’s pit of despair. Yet he can’t seem to find the emotion to care. Even if he could it would serve the future Don of the Cheney Clan no good. His father has a business to run. And he has a lot to learn.

September 2, 1935

Sting stared down the pale, dark haired man in front of him. It was probably rude of him to just insert himself in the other man’s space when he so clearly didn’t want to be bothered. But Sting took one look at the sneer on his face and couldn’t help but to smile wider.

Distance and distrust attracted him for whatever stupid reason he could never fathom. If Sting was honest with himself, he figured it was really because that kind of emotion never led to anything but sex just for the hell of it. There were no complicated feelings involved, no worries about doing anything more than just providing a service and getting one in return. And there was no risk that Sting could grow attached just to watch them leave. Or worse.

The other man however didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm. Still, Sting was sure he got the hint of what exactly it was Sting wanted from him. And his first impression was that this man was someone like him-someone who could do rough no feelings attached sex. Sometimes Sting was too good at picking out the fucked up ones. The ones so alike to him that he could get them to agree to whatever he wanted.

“Vaffanculo. I don’t agree with your kind of filth,” he said and Sting sucked in a breath to feign being hurt. The other man’s voice was soft, a little rough around the edges, but still pleasant. He also had a hint of an Italian accent, one that seemed to be faded with years but came out guttural and vehement when he spoke his native tongue. Sting was intrigued.

“Ah, see that’s what you wanna say because you don’t want anyone seein’ what we do here. Well, don’t worry, man-buns, I don’t kiss and tell,” Sting said, eyeballing the man’s luscious black hair that was falling over one half of his face perfectly. It brought even more attention to his already gaunt cheeks.

His target stopped looking at Sting but his white knuckles seemed to relax as he turned his glass of bourbon in his hand. Sting licked his lips and pushed the shot glass closer to his target. He had filled it to the brim with the same gin he had watched the bartender pour for the man. So he knew it wasn’t out of the man’s taste.

Sting leaned in as he slid the cup closer. “I told you my name, you could grace me with yours over another drink?”

The other man laughed dryly. “Sting is not a name. This it’s a pour imitation of an alias. Makes you sound like a-” he paused searching for the word. “Twit,” he said. Sting couldn’t tell if he paused for effect or because he couldn’t remember the word but both options had an extremely weighted impact on his chest that he wasn’t expecting. Sting took the challenge, and without a word, sat down on the barstool beside him. “Ah, I have not even accepted your drink yet. Why are you sitt-”

“Because I want to hear more about this mysterious man who just insulted me,” Sting interrupted. He quirked an eyebrow and pointed again to the shot of gin. “To be frank, though, I’m going to keep that for myself if you don’t want it?”

They shared a moment looking into each others eyes. Then his mystery man grabbed the gin and downed it in one gulp. When he slammed the shot glass back down on the table he looked Sting in the eye and said, “Since we are sharing fake names, you may call me Rogue.”

Sting let a laugh escape him. Victory number one. “Who said that wasn’t my real name, huh?”

Rogue signed to the bartender that he wanted two more drinks before he turned to Sting and said, “I see a lot more names than you do, I can spot a fake identity from a mile away.”

For a moment Sting let his smile falter. Half of his tactic when flirting required some sort of fake childhood or career identity. People just didn’t seem too fond of the truth, Sting included. But he wasn’t one to give up. And if he could wrangle this one it could be his greatest catch to date.

Slyly, Sting grabbed his shot of gin as the bartender slid one towards them both. Raising one eyebrow he said, “Hm, you’ll have to show me sometime. How you do that trick with the fake identity.”

To his surprise Rogue almost smiled. Just before the corners of his mouth could curl up, however, he looked away and seemed to force a frown. “Listen, whatever you want from this I’m not interested. You seem like nice man, Sting. There must be other men you can harass here, no?”

Sting let his inhibitions go, throwing out a hearty one syllable laugh. “You’d be surprised. I’d like to say I’m rather good at picking out the dicky ones but everyone’s so damn stoic these days.”

Rogue scoffed. “Are you saying I’m not?”

Sting shrugged, putting his hands together as he leaned on the counter and began bouncing his leg on the step of the stool. “Oh no, you’re the most hard to read man in this joint. But I like a good gamble every now and then.”

There was a long moment where Rogue stared into Stings eyes, each pupil flicking swiftly back and forth. Sting felt a funny feeling in that moment. He knew Rogue was attractive from afar but up close Sting was getting goosebumps. More because of the way Rogues hazel eyes seemed to glow red under the orange fluorescents.

With such unrestricted access into Rogues complexion Sting could see the almost youthful glow of his skin that tried to show through his oblong face. But those eyes. They sparkled and dimmed at the same time. Like someone had placed a glass cover across a long emptied space, in an attempt to illusion that life still existed in those hazel irises.

Finally Rogue took a sip of his bourbon and gave him a smirk. “You took a pretty big gamble. What if I told you I was heir to a crime syndicate?” Sting’s grin faded so quickly that Rogue flinched. Before he could respond Rogue spoke up again. “I’m joking, don’t look so stiff, ah?”

Sting found his voice again and managed a dry, nervous chuckle. “Sorry. Not so smooth to admit, but I have a bad history with members of crime syndicates.”

Rogue scoffed, “I’m not here to share sob stories. Are we going to do this or not?” Rogue said and downed the last of his drink.

Stings eyes shot wide open. “What?”

Rogue turned in his chair and honestly looked annoyed as he said, “First you are persistent, then you are oblivious? If I wanted sex I could pay someone to do it better.”

It took all of Stings self control not to flush right then and there. After downing his last shot he hopped off his stool and offered Rogue a wink, saying, “No need, man-buns. Meet me behind the bar in five.” Sting fished a dollar bill from his pocket and flashed the tip at the bartender who took it without even looking. Then he strut away from Rogue, making sure his head of blonde hair was bouncing with every step he took.

The back alley was dark, it took a while for Sting’s eyes to adjust. When they did he was aware of two things. One, the cracked pavement was still damp from the days rain hours prior; and two, he was beginning to feel happy, like he was floating on cloud nine. The alcohol was doing its job.

He smoked one cigarette while he waited for Rogue to join him. It was better they were both seen leaving separately. Attracted less eyes. While he inhaled the bitter smoke he couldn’t stop smiling. For some reason this catch of the day was a good one. Sting just hoped he fucked as good as he looked.

When Rogue finally joined him he flicked the cigarette into a puddle and turned to him. Sting opened his mouth and was halfway into saying “So, how do you like it?” when Rogue pushed him against a wall and clashed their mouths together.

Rough? Sting thought. He could do rough. Rogue’s breathing was raspy and hot against his mouth. He parted his lips wide to suck on the whole of Sting’s mouth. He was earned with Sting’s tongue sliding fluidly against his.

Sting allowed himself one small moan, he didn’t want to seem too into it but he wanted Rogue to know that he wanted more. Rogue’s hands traveled around Sting’s shoulders slipping under the neckline of his button up. With one hand he unbuttoned Sting’s shirt and with the other he forcefully yanked Sting’s collar down over his shoulder.

Sting never took his mouth away from Rogue’s, they both breathed heavily into each other like rabid animals. Sting’s fingers wandered to Rogue’s waistline where they fiddled with his belt buckle, already slipping inside and getting a touch of the soft, silky skin underneath.

At the same time that Rogue had Sting’s shirt unbuttoned and hanging off his arms, Sting had flung his belt buckle to the side, grabbed the waistline of his slacks, and yanked him closer.

There was a moment where Rogue stopped kissing to rest his forehead on Sting’s. Those piercing brown eyes still sparkled with red specks in the outside light and this time Sting felt them boring a hole into his skull. Some say a look that harsh means someone’s undressing you with their eyes. But to Sting it felt like Rogue was peeling him. Scraping back every layer of broken, scarred skin to see the gelatinous mess that pulsed in his heart. Though he hated that it did, it took Sting’s breath away.

While he stared intensely Rogue’s hands roamed their way down Sting’s back side, now rubbing into his newly exposed skin. His hands met with Sting’s ass and he squeezed without warning. Sting gave him a sudden smirk while he grabbed his collar and undid Rogue's button up shirt.

With a flourish Rogue shrugged both his open jacket and his collared shirt to the ground, uncaring that they landed in a puddle. Sting let his hands roam the milky expanse of Rogue’s backside, still playing with the hem of his pants.

Rogue grabbed his hair and pulled, while Sting unzipped his pants. He smirked as his hand reached under the cotton underwear and began to rub against Rogue’s cock. His smirk grew when he felt Rogue’s hard on coming through.

Suddenly Rogue pushed him once more against the wall. He ignored the pain that shot through his shoulder as he collided with the brick. Rogue gave him a glare as he stepped closer to breathe heavily into his face.

“No,” he said, his accent coming back thickly. Rogue shifted on his feet just to be closer to Sting although their bare chests were already pressed together. Rogue glared at him with his hand on the back of his waist and those eyes that tore him apart.

“I don’t get fucked,” Rogue continued, nipping at Sting’s bottom lip with his teeth.

Sting let out a dry laugh. He reached to grab at Rogue’s exposed penis, earning a slight gasp from him. Rogue seemed to raise higher until he towered over Sting.

“Don’t you, man-buns?” Sting played, enjoying the pressure of Rogue’s cock as it rose into his hand and against his thigh.

“Turn around,” Rogue demanded, his eyes never breaking contact. “I will fuck you properly.”

Sting couldn’t help the rush of exhilaration that washed over him when Rogue’s Italian accent drawled on those words. He was used to rough sex. He was used to one night stands. What he wasn’t used to was actually feeling something more than just the hot rush of desire. Still Sting blamed it on the heat of the moment. There was no way a complete stranger could make him actually feel something like this.

But the more Rogue’s hands roamed his body, the harsher they groped him. Their tongues intertwined again but this time Rogue’s mouth kissed its way down Sting’s neck. He bent his head back and leaned into Rogue only to have the other turn him around and push him into the wet bricks.

Rogue leaned into him, pressing his throbbing member into Sting’s back and began massaging the skin around his cock until finally, finally his fingers wrapped around Sting’s manhood. “Fuck-” Sting let out on a breathy moan.

Rogue nibbled a bit at his ear, his hot breath leaving a fog next to his cheek that sent chills down his spine. “Let’s get this over with,” he whispered in a husky voice that was surprisingly sexy. “I hope you’re stretched today.”

“Just fuck me,” Sting said over his shoulder. Rogue took his liberties as he smirked kisses into the back of Sting’s neck. He reached his hands around the waistline of Sting’s pants and ripped them down to expose his ass.

Rogue braced a hand on the wet brick of the building but that was about as much warning as Sting got before Rogue was pressing inside him. An overwhelming feeling of excitement swept through him and Sting rocked back into him, moaning when his cock roamed deeper inside. A hot wave of pleasure made Sting’s toes curl as he hit his prostate. Sting’s back arched, Rogue grabbed at his hair, keeping him bent in euphoria. With Rogue’s other hand on Sting’s cock he rubbed the skin and kept Sting pressed against him.

A grunt escaped Rogue’s lips as he thrust once...twice, Sting’s body pulsing with the rhythm.

They were one for those minutes of ecstasy. their bodies moved in sync, thrusting together, flushing hot with pleasure. With each push Rogue was getting rougher, tugging on Sting’s hair, keeping his body pinned to the brick.

They were so close to climax when Sting looked over his shoulder and gave Rogue’s arm a playful bite, sucking his lips on the sweaty skin. Rogue growled, a gurgling sound that escaped from the back of his throat. He pushed harder into Sting this time, causing him to gasp as pain split up his rear.

Rogue was hurting him now, tugging so hard on his hair that clumps of blonde locks pulled free and Sting was feeling overwhelming pleasure mixed strangely with worsening pain. Sting sucked in a breath, his stimulated prostate was still making his vision swim. Rogue’s head was right next to him. Sting turned and moaned into his ear, trying to sloppily nibble on the lobe.

But Rogue pulled away too soon. Too suddenly. He yelled in frustration, then pulled out roughly and shoved Sting away from him.

Sting was left panting, his rear throbbing from the pain and his lips swollen and dry. By the time he turned around Rogue was already shrugging on his jacket and shirt, turned away from him.

Sting flashed him a smirk while he pulled his pants up and fished a cigarette out of the pocket of his torn off shirt. “Maybe, next time I’ll have to show you the other way,” he said smiling around the stick.

Rogue didn’t even spare him a glance as he buttoned up only his jacket, enough to look presentable, and began walking away. “Don’t hold your breath,” he said, his footsteps fading away down the alley.

Sting watched him walk, cigarette burning. Rogue had a very distinct gait. He walked with confidence; head held high, with hands in his pockets, as if each step was another step into glory.

Something inside Sting’s gut twisted. He hadn’t expected that out of tonight. It was supposed to be nothing but a quick hook up. Yet still, he couldn’t stop this sinking feeling from whirling his insides together. He had felt something during that. Something more than just sex but maybe that was just him.

Sting briefly allowed himself to wonder why Rogue had ended it so quickly. He was angry...Sting had felt the emotion radiate off him before he pulled out. He looked away when Rogue rounded the corner. He took one more drag of his cigarette, and blowing out the smoke he let all his inhibitions go with it.

September 3, 1935

“Well you look particularly happier today?” a cheery voice said as Sting walked into the station. He looked around the precinct. The sun through the blinded windows came through and shone golden on the mahogany desks. The usual morning crowd was shuffling around but it wasn’t Yukino who had greeted him. Sitting at the desk next to Yukino’s was the busty blonde who had been a new hire at the precinct for about a week, Lucy Heartfillia.

Sting hadn’t really paid much attention to her before but she seemed to be able to integrate herself among the male officers well enough. Sting silently admired that about her. Not enough to actually try and get to know her though. But it seemed Lucy was capable of doing that herself.

Sting looked at her with a raised eyebrow as he took a bite from his morning sandwich. “O’ yea?” he asked. “How do you know that, bunny blonde?” Sting joked with the nickname she had gotten the first day on the job. The good news about her embarrassment that day was that Sting was reminded to never let anyone sew bunny rabbits into his underwear then lose a contact on the floor for thirty minutes.

Lucy pouted a bit at the nickname but by now Sting was sure she was getting the idea that she wouldn’t shake it. “Every guy I’ve met carries that same face after he’s had a good night.” She gave Sting a little wink and he inhaled so quickly he nearly choked on the bread.

Suddenly someone’s hand whacked his back hard as he tried to control his coughing. He could hear Lucy snickering under the racket that the station had become. “If you let every girl get to you like that, Sting, your nighttime is gonna end up real messy.” One of his co-workers, a police officer, Natsu Dragneel said in a loud voice.

Sting groaned as he managed to stop choking. The thing about Natsu was that nothing was subtle. And everything he did was loud. It made him an outspoken person which was sometimes a good thing for keeping his morals in line. But not right now.

Sting pounded a fist on his chest. “Fuc-fuck off, Dragneel,” he croaked out. Which sent Natsu's head back in laughter. Meanwhile Sting took his leave amidst his chuckling co-workers, saving himself from further embarrassment. He was about to walk into his office to start the day when Lucy called to him again.

“Oh, Detective Eucliffe?” she called, rushing up to Sting where he stood with the door open. Sting turned and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to speak. “I was looking into those files-the ones about the murders-”

Sting narrowed his eyes. “Who let you see those?” he demanded nearly making the poor secretary flinch. “Those are sensitive cases. Only office-” Sting stopped himself short. Because a certain pink haired someone had suddenly disappeared from the room. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Lucy scuffed the toe of her heels into the linoleum floor. “Natsu?” he asked.

Lucy nodded slightly, sheepishly. “He was just asking for my advice trying to solve the case but Detective I think I may have figured something out.”

Sting looked around the office, some of the morning workforce was still shuffling in. Sting spoke quickly, “Get in my office. We don’t discuss sensitive cases out in the open.”

Lucy beamed at him as he held the door open and she rushed inside. He closed it with finality, moving next to the blinds by the door and completely blocking off the rest of the precinct so they could talk in private.

Sting whirled around but before he could speak Lucy began rambling. “I knew it was weird that there were so little leads on these cases and especially with the new one-about that little girl? So I started asking around-“

“Lucy, you what?” Sting burst out. Lucy looked like she’d just been slapped as she stared at him. Before she could try defending herself Sting spoke again. “First of all, asking around about murder cases is a sure fire way to get yourself killed. If you attract even one wrong ear your life could be in danger. These aren’t petty thieves, Heartfilia. They could kill you.”

Lucy seemed to huff at his words but she crossed her arms and continued in a steady voice. “I know how to keep myself safe, Detective. A case this empty can’t be solved alone and there’s a few people who owe me favors.”

Sting widened his eyes. He walked around Lucy until he was bracing his hands on his desk and said, “I don’t want to know what ‘owe you favors’ means. Just tell me what you got.”

A smile that shouldn’t have been there appeared on Lucy’s face. She practically bounced on her heels as she rushed to take a seat on the other side of Stings desk.

“Damien Rogers, remember him?”

Sting already felt his patience wearing thin. “The informant from the case and a suspect for arrest, yes of course I remember him, what’s your point?”

Lucy shifted in her seat and seemed to take Stings harsh tone in stride. “Well, not many people knew him but he had a family apparently, his wife and a kid-little boy I think. I got a tip early this morning that someone who was a friend of the family didn’t see any of them return home last night.”

Sting intertwined his fingers together and sat back in his chair, letting it squeak harshly as he put his whole pressure on it. Lucy paused for a moment but soon she kept talking at a mile a minute. “I found that odd, that our one informant mysteriously vanishes before we can question him-“

Sting sighed. “Heartfillia, Damien Rogers was already skipping town. If you had read the case files you would have known-”

“No, Detective, he wasn’t.” Lucy corrected and Sting forced himself to hold his tongue. “Damien told everyone he was out of town to throw our scent off him, but he was here, in New York the entire time. That friend of the family told me Damien was in hiding.”

“From the police?”

Lucy made a strange face. “Not exactly. Apparently before Damien vanished-” she put quotes around the word. “-he let slip that some dangerous people were after him.”

“Dangerous people?” Sting pried.

Lucy just nodded. “He didn’t say exactly who but it sounded like an organized crime unit.”

Sting thought for a moment. He had almost been expecting organized crime to pop into this case at some point. However he hesitated to accept that as the truth. The reality of it was never that simple, and Sting hardly even knew Lucy. How could he know her intel was backed and not just the fancy tales of a dreamer?

Sting sat forward, grabbing a pen from the holder on his desk and flipped open a drawer so he could fetch a pad of writing paper. “What’s the name of your informant?”

Lucy cocked her head a bit. “You don’t trust my word?”

Sting gave her a long look before replying. “Heartfillia, I don’t trust anyone. If every government operative trusted the word of any Tom, Dick or Stanley that passed his way there wouldn’t be any truth to the world. Why don’t you give me the name of your informant and I can question them myself.”

Lucy shook her head then. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that.”

Sting flicked the pen back and forth in his hand aggressively. “See, that makes me trust you even less. Chief may just fire us all if he’s hounded anymore about this case. I need names and people.”

Lucy was stubborn, Sting would give her that. But he needed to do well on this case. Whether or not Chief would take his anger out on the precinct was debatable, but Sting was certain that he would be the first one to go.

Lucy sighed as she crossed her arms and legs, a representation of her obstinacy. “I can’t give you that name. But I can help you find someone else who could chase Rogers down?”

Sting sighed, “Alright fine, give me a name.”

Lucy shook her head once more. “Again, I can’t give you that. I’ll take you to them instead.”

Sting slammed his pen back down on the desk, finally having enough. “Dammit, Heartfillia, we don’t have time for this-”

Lucy stood up, ready to face Sting’s impatience. “Listen to me, Detective. My informants-” She closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself. “-the people I know, are some pretty powerful people who know even more powerful people. They have to be careful who they talk to.”

“This all sounds way too cloak and dagger to be legal, what the fuck are you in on, Heartfillia?”

“I’m not in on anything-Listen, I’m trying to help you and this case!”

Sting suppressed a groan and had to compose himself before he replied. “If you end up getting us killed, know that it’ll be your fault.”

Lucy smirked at him. “A woman has her own ways of handling things, Detective. You won’t be disappointed.”

Sting sneered. “I’ll be the judge of that, get back to work Heartfillia. We’ll talk after the day is done.”

Without another word Lucy made her way out of his office. As soon as the door closed Sting let out another sigh and walked over to the whiskey on his table. I’m going to need something stronger to get through today, he thought.

Rogue Cheney sat in the cold leather of his father’s office chair. The upholstery was pulled so tightly over the plush lining that Rogue’s nails left indents when his hands gripped the arms a little too harshly. He sat as straight as he could in the presence of his father. The fireplace was flickering brightly in the early morning light. It was starting to get darker by the day and that almost unnerved Rogue, as if the sun itself didn’t want to wake up in the morning.

“And you thought bringing a boy here was a good idea?” Skiadrum murmured. Pacing as he spoke, not once looking over at Rogue as he sat, stiff as a board, in the only office chair here.

“He didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Rogue countered.

“That’s what orphanages are for, idiota! We have contacts in place to handle such things.” Skiadrum shouted, flinging his hands in the air in exasperation. “What are we supposed to do with a- a- bambino, huh?”

Rogue hid away the little bit of anger that was bubbling underneath him. His father was right, he knew that. Rogue shouldn’t have brought the child here. Usually he wouldn’t have hesitated to drop useless cargo off on whoever else was willing to handle it. But Rogue didn’t do that and for the life of him he still couldn’t figure out why?

“I will take care of him, padre.”

“Faresti meglio, or else I find an alternative.” Skiadrum said, finally turning to Rogue and clasping his hands behind his back with a firm stance.

Rogue swallowed despite his stoic nature. He knew what a horrible alternative his father could provide. And somehow the thought displeased him. “Of course, cappo.”

Italian:

Vaffanculo - Fuck off

Idiota - Idiot

Bambino - Child

Faresti meglio - You’d better

Cappo - Boss

Padre - father

[iammarylastar]

1. D-Day, 0957.

“Morning Cup!”

I stop in my tracks, hearing my name shouted from behind.

It’s become common for me to be greeted in every corner of the streets of the military camp base, women seem to appreciate my stunning self.

Blame my body for that.

I’m grateful for that aura of mine, which assures me good and beautiful company when I’m fed up with my mates.

I love them like my own bros, but there’s no Louis, Phil nor Mac when there’s Nora, Emily or Madeline. 

Fuck you guys!

My eyes spot the latest person I’d like to meet today. 

Michelle. Michelle damn crazy Minelli.

We’ve slept together once or twice last month and now, she’s more like a pain in my ass than a bitch on my cock.

She’s been harassing me for weeks to date or meet her parents; she’s been talking shit like engagement ring or marriage or I don’t know what bullshit only female can focus on more than the 20 seconds I usually gave her. 

Hopefully, my eyes always switch down to her breasts and I marvel at those two beautiful mounds that bounce rhythmically with her rambling, as she speaks out loud and shakes her hands and arms like the good Italian immigrant she is.

My head nods yes at whatever she says while my mind flies to the nonetheless sweet memories of us having sex.

I hate her. She’s like the chewing gum that sticks under your shoe, or the stinky dog shit you can’t get rid of.

But today, I love her. It’s a matter of time but my life will change today. Thanks to that hot, crazy chick.

Not now, of course. As she starts to jog towards me with that ridiculous gait of hers, perched on too high heels, I try to escape her.

I wish I could disappear or turn into dust, anything to not talk to her or see her face.

I feel like eyeing her boobs will not be enough this time. 

“Michelle! Nice to see you! You make the Sunshine look so pale, didn’t she, hey Cup?”

I glare at that asshole that’s Mac. He knows everything about anything of my life, since we share the same room. His favourite hobby is to throw salt on my wounds and stab me in the back. Bastard. 

“Maaaaac!” She whines with that annoying voice. “You make me bluuuush!” She waves her hands before her face like to cool down the air around her face.

Mac winks at me and goes on with fake flattery about her dress colour, which elicits more overplayed ‘Oh my Gooood’ and ‘Maaac pleaaaaase!’

Please, Mac, Jesus, someone, shut her up!

“Blahblahblah, blah blah, blahblah…” she starts to speak to me but I’m already gone.

Dead or dumb, whatever.

I just come back to Earth as she puts a coffee cup in my hand, saying her favourite lame joke for the thousandth time.

“I brought you a cup, Cup!“ 

Then throws her head back, to let out her hysteric laugh which sounds more like a hyena’s than a human being’s.

"That woman knows to treat you well Cup, I can’t understand why you still hesitate to marry her!” Mac opens once again his dirty mouth.

I throw him another death glare, but see with relief that Mrs Pain in my ass turns to face him and giggles before going on with her verbal diarrhea. 

And this happens. 

My eyes land on an angel. 

She’s walking the other side of the street, half hidden by the cars that are parked over there.

Beautiful is not enough to describe her face. Words fail me to tell what I’m feeling right now and my knees get weak under me.

For the first time in my damn life, my dick doesn’t react to the view of such a goddess but my heart does. And it’s the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced. 

The way her long straight hair waves around her delicate features undoes me in way I can’t neither explain nor understand. 

My heart screams inside my chest and its rhythm starts to panic, while my mouth goes dry like I ate a ton of sand. My brain turns into dust instantly, bringing my self-confidence down with it. I feel dizzy and just want to burst into tears.

Someone will tell me later that’s called love at the first sight, but I’m sure it’s more than that.

Something that hasn’t been named yet because no fucking body has ever felt this before.

Call me a fool but I can already feel the softness of her skin under my fingertips and I swear I can smell her intoxicating natural fragrance from where I stand.

Who’s that girl that stole my heart and soul in a blink of an eye? What has she done to me? I’m a bloke, I’m a fucking pilot from the US army, I flying the hugest bombardier like it’s a fucking bike, I go without fear almost every day on dangerous missions that are most of the time close to suicide one’s, and I’m just turned into a fragile pussy after just a glance to…

Fuck I’m struggling with words. No word fits her.

“Cup! Are you listening to me?”

“No.” I blurt out, not realizing what shit I’m getting into.

“Hey Honey!” She snaps her fingers before my face, wasting the perfect view I have on my girl.

“I was telling you my parents wanted to have you for lunch on Sunday, after the office. What do you think?”

I move her hand from my face the most gentle I can, never taking my eyes off my gorgeous angel.

“Not on your life." 

Go to hell Michelle.

"What? Cup! Cup!” She tries to turns my face to her, grabbing my chin, but I harshly yank her arm away.

My patience have run out. Nobody is allowed to stay between my mysterious girl and me.

“ Who are you drooling at? Hey, I’m still here, your girlfriend! Look at me!”

I don’t budge. Nothing could distract me from staring at my bright diamond, especially not that agitated mosquito buzzing around my ears.

“Don’t you dare gawk at another ass than mine! Who’s that bitch? So you’re cheating on me? Fuck you!”

The hyena yells at me.

“Shut up Michelle. Go fuck yourself. ”

Just shut up and leave me alone. 

Mistake. I just unleashed the beast.

I wanted nothing more than stay in that nice daydream but the hurricane next to me turns into category 5.

She starts to howl what sounds like Italian gibberish to which I don’t give a shit: all the fuss she’s making ends up drawing attention on us.

“Bastardo! Sei proprio un stronzo! ”

My angel stops in her tracks the other side of the street and notices us.

Notices me.

A huge smirk lightens my face and so does hers.

It’s like her sweet gaze asks me if I’m in trouble. I glance at the fury screaming next to me and shake my head no, a pout on my lips.

“Nothing to be worried about.”

I silently tell her.

Her eyebrows frown the cutest way, saying “that’s not what it looks like.”

I shrug lightly, rising mine

“This? Naaah drop it, she’s crazy.”

I’m in heaven, silently chatting with my angel, even with the Devil spitting her poison out on me.

Crazy Michelle is spinning her wheels, starting to move her arms and hands frantically, hitting my arm relentlessly, showering me with more strange love words.

“To odio, figlio di puttana! Vaffanculo  stupido tu e la tua sgualdrina!”

She’s making big gestures, yelling at me with her hands, and purposely or not, hits the cup of coffee, spreading the whole hot liquid all over my shirt.

My mysterious girl can’t help but chuckle, politely hiding it behind her hand. All I can do is shrug my shoulders again, lifting my hands up in defeat, while the crazy chick turns on her heels and finally leaves.

“Good luck with your new crush Cup. She’s not for you anyway.”

Mac’s arm wraps around my neck and squeezes, pulling me down as this idiot places a kiss on my cheek.

“That was a hell of a break up man. It seems you’re not too desperate of losing crazy Michelle!”

He laughs in my ear.

Still laughing to herself and surely at me, the new love of my life, my new sunshine waves at me, like to say

“Nice to meet you”

I wave back at her, stupidly smirking, stupidly covered with coffee, stupidly happy.

“My pleasure” I mouth at her, before watching her walk away until she disappears around the corner.

“Who’s that girl? I’ve never saw her before.” Mac says, surely drooling at that stunning piece of ass walking away. 

“She’s my wife. But she doesn’t know it yet.” I state.

Mac bursts into laughter before ruffling my hair. 

“Yeah bro, she’s the new love of your life for the next two weeks. I started to know you, butterfly!”

No you don’t know me, man. She will be the one. She will be mine until the end. I swear. Till my dying day.

@jaihardy @jaicourtneyseyes @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @captstefanbrandt @pernilleals @pathybo @frecklefaceb @societalfailure @kenzieam @oddsnendsfanfics @sajess98 @jojuarez26 Thx to my beta girl @tigpooh67

[mckenzierossistory]

Solo

Los Angeles, Ca

Club

Someone is knocking on the door. “McKenzie,” I sat in the chair, wearing sunglasses; I had to play my partner to busted this mother fucker. I know in the music industry because of how many albums I have out and my mamas. I knew that I would be singing with Haley and Halestorm. “Come in” Trooper is on the sofa, being the usual self, a fucking prick that we know he is; he leans up, moving his position to make sure I'm safe. “Sorry, McKenzie Halestorm is canceled. They are sick. They said you could sing their music.”

I nodded; I got Trooper’s eye contact l knew that the manager at the club is dirty. So is the owner. He is a Navy Seal that my Daddy worked with during their mission; I asked my Daddy will he know it's me. Of course, Daddy told me to be a bitch and very dangerous make sure he sees my gun all time, not to trust the fucker. Trooper looked at me knew that l have an idea how to sing that one song long Daddy keeps his cool. Nick walked in, kissing my cheek. I make a face as he did it; the manager watched us very closely, Nick whispered to me. “You know that you want me.” I lean to him said in Italian, “Vaffanculo” (Fuck you). Nick leans towards me. “I will do worry, McKenzie.” I start to roll my eyes. “McKenzie, are you ready” I got up wearing a pair of jeans, and I had a very sexy bra that shows off my cleavage and big over shirt that the selves are roll-up; I had a few bracelets on with a ring on my finger. My hair straight out walking with Trooper and Nick to the stage, j saw one of my closest friends who love watching Ashley Lynn blush; he comes over, shaking Trooper’s hand. “Good to see you, man.” Nick watched from the other side. I close my eyes getting ready for this set; this is for the military; I picked a perfect song, “Church Bells, Carrie Underwood.” Daddy stood close to watch his old unit buddy. He points to Nick to protect him. Daddy's gut telling him that he will go to what's the most important to him. Then l went to “I Hope, Gabby Barrett” I had my eyes on Daddy's old unit buddy. He tries to grab me. I step on his hand very hard; he yelled that my ass is his. Then all l heard a gunshot; I pulled out my gun, shooting Daddy's buddy in his should and his knee, making sure he can't run. The NCSI is there with agents now we know how some of the missing militaries is missing in action #TBC

[usuallypleasantprince]

Read Crash (Billionaire #2)(29) online free by Vanessa Waltz

Crash (Billionaire #2)(29) Author: Vanessa Waltz

“Vaffanculo!”

The man scuttled away like a roach.

“Fucking paparazzi,” he roared.

I shuddered at the thought that our pictures would be blasted over social media websites. “Aren’t you used to it by now?”

“Never.”

While Will steamed about the run-in with the pap, I looked around for restaurants. Having no idea what was good, I suggested things at random. Will said he knew a great place so I took his hand and followed his lead. We entered a dingy looking restaurant with a very humble interior and a surly waiter, however, Will assured me that the food was great.

I watched him in fascination as he conversed with the waiter in rapid-fire Italian, picking out only a few words from my mediocre Spanish. “Si prego” was a phrase that I heard repeated often, but I wasn’t sure what it meant.

“Where did you learn it?” I asked when the waiter left.

“Italian school on Saturdays until I was about sixteen.” He rolled his eyes. “Never used it except with my parents and grandparents, when they were still alive.”

The waiter returned with a small carafe of wine. He poured me a glass but Will waved him off when he tried to fill his glass. I knew that Will didn’t drink, but I didn’t exactly know why.

“I thought you might like their house wine,” Will explained.

I took a sip and found it to be wonderfully dry, like Chianti. “It’s great. Do you want to try it?”

He licked his lips as if... Read here: Read Crash (Billionaire #2)(29) online free by Vanessa Waltz #Romance #BillionaireRomance #New-Adult #Young-Adult #Series #fantasy #Vampires #Others #Sci-Fi #Thriller #Horror #Classics #OldList #Mystery #Authors #Crash(Billionaire#2)(29) #54 pages: #Previous #UnfinishedHeroseries #ColoradoMountainseries #Chaosseries #TheSinclairsseries #TheYoungElitesseries #BillionairesandBridesmaidsseries #JustOneDayseries #SinnersonTourseries #AThousandLetters #WastedWords #MyNotSoPerfectLife #Caraval(Caraval#1) #TheSunIsAlsoaStar #Everything,Everything #DevilinSpring(TheRavenels#3) #MarryingWinterborne(TheRavenels#2)