#listen I love vito

[sibylsleaves]

rest in my arms, sleep in my bed

a quick little 6x12 coda

He looks so…soft, on Eddie’s couch. With his light gray sweatpants and his few day old stubble and his half-open mouth and his arm thrown across the back cushion like he’s just waiting for someone to sit down next to him and cuddle into his side.

When he showed up at the door, Eddie was—fucking elated, if he’s being honest. Relieved, that Buck came here, barging in the way he always does, not even waiting for Eddie to invite him inside because he knows the invitation’s always implied.

And now he’s here, and he’s fast asleep on Eddie’s couch, and Eddie doesn’t want to stop looking at him. He’s here on the couch and Eddie just wants to keep him here. Where he knows he’ll be safe. Where he can look at him, the way he couldn’t for all those days in the hospital. Those days in the hospital where looking at Buck felt like dying, and being away from Buck felt like dying, and so Eddie was just stuck in this awful purgatory, a waking nightmare.

And Eddie’s been—he’s been fucking worried, okay? Buck died. But he’s been trying to give him space to heal and process everything that happened, knowing that if he was patient, Buck would come to him.

And now here he is. And it’s everything Eddie’s wanted for days, ever since he watched Buck’s parents take him home from the hospital to a loft across town that doesn’t even have a proper couch. Well, now it does—Buck already told Eddie how his mother insisted on getting one, and that’s a whole thing Eddie can’t even touch.

But even though there is a brand new couch sitting in his loft, Buck is here, sleeping on Eddie’s couch. It’s not the first time he’s done it, and it certainly won’t be the last, but Eddie sits down with his beer and just watches him breathe for a minute, because he still remembers all too well what it felt like when he saw Buck lying on the gurney not breathing. And when he saw Buck lying in that hospital bed with a machine breathing for him.

Now his chest rises and falls on its own, and Eddie’s not really sure how something so simple can be one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen in his life, but it is.

He knows there’s more healing ahead—for Buck, for himself, for the team. He knows it’s not as simple as waking up and getting on with it. He knows this kind of thing, being that close to death, isn’t something you can just shake off. Not even Buck can. 

But he’s here. He’s breathing. He’s safe. 

And for now, sitting here in the early twilight, that’s all Eddie needs.

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

im so in love w falcone family

[moraldepraved]

the urge to add Vito Scaletta to the muse list ....

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 20 - Backstreet's Back - All Right!

Why this sat in the drafts for so long, I do not know so I apologize to everyone! I've been super busy with college and haven't had time to write much...but here we are

Today was an ABSOLUTE fever dream and we all need a little somethin somethin. So I present to you - the backstreet boys (formula 1 edition)

RACES SKIPPED ARE CANADA AND SPAIN (side note - Arthur hasn't been able to be at a race since Monaco)

Haven't been able to say this in a while but I hope you enjoy! Remember that comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated!! Love you all :D

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

You had gotten to the paddock super early once again. But that was only because Lando and Oscar has asked you to hang out, and you’d never skip out on some good times with your papaya friends. Andrea loved you and often let you sit in his office if you were bored. Actually, all of the team principals seemed to do that. 

Even Toto, which was weird considering you stole on of his driver’s car with his other driver. 

Like always, you found yourself killing some time by playing Subway Surfers. You were about to get a new high score when two shadows covered your screen, making your character get arrested. 

“Hey, you made me lose my score!” 

You were about to tear them a new one, but your face had a shocked look once you finally pointed your head up. 

“What the f-!” 

“Has anyone seen the kid?” was a question that Max did not imagine that he’d hear first thing in the morning when he arrived on Sunday. 

His eyes glanced to the corner that you were almost always in, listening to music. But, the corner was void of any rookie teammate. He looked toward Christian, who asked the initial question. 

“Have you checked her driver’s room?” 

The Brit sighed, “We checked her room, your room, hospitality, and even the Ferrari garage, Williams garage, and McLaren garage. No one has seen her, yet the log says that she’s already here because she tapped in at the entrance.” 

Well, Max was stumped. And he knew why Christian was wanting to see you. They were finally in the Red Bull Ring, the home race for the entire team. It was a big deal, and Christian didn’t want you to get overwhelmed. There was a lot on their shoulders. Charles had pole, but Max was right behind him. Charles was always strong in the Red Bull Ring, almost winning in 2019 and then winning in 2022. The Ferraris had done well the last two races, and you two needed to hold them off. Thankfully, you were right behind Max in P3, but Carlos was behind you in P4. A Ferrari sandwich if you will. 

Everyone was kind of counting on the both of you for a Red Bull 1-2. 

“Have you seen Vito or Mitch?” 

“We’re right here.”

The Dutchman turned around to see your race engineer and manager, but you were nowhere to be found. He opened his mouth to say something but Vito held out a hand. 

“Yes, we’ve already tried to call her and Arthur. Both phones went to voicemail.” 

“Oh god.” Max shivered. If you weren’t picking up, and your boyfriend wasn’t picking up. Well, he didn’t want to imagine what you were up to. Just as he was about to suggest looking in the garages again, Lando popped his head in. 

“Have any of you seen Bug? She was supposed to meet up with me and Oscar earlier and she never showed up!” the curly-haired Brit whined. 

Now, that had Max even more worried. You never skipped hanging out with your favorite Brit (after Christian) or Aussie. Before he was about to start getting a search party together, Mitch suddenly made a weird face. 

“Do any of you hear that?” 

The five went silent to try to hear whatever Mitch had heard. 

Lando’s face scrunched. “Sounds like the Backstreet Boys?” 

The group quickly walked over to the opening and didn’t know whether to be relived or just upright confused. 

Because there you were, holding a giant boombox (God only knows where you got that) with sunglasses on, with Arthur to your right and one Ollie Bearman to your left. The soundtrack was indeed Backstreet Boys, namely the 1997 hit song “Everybody.” 

As Max learned at Vegas, you definitely knew how to make an entrance. By now, most of the drivers had walked out of their garages to see the commotion. 

And much to Max’s surprise, Nico Rosberg, Mark Webber, and Jensen Button walked up to the three of you, giant smiles on their faces. The song had ended a bit ago, and you handed the now silent boombox back to the German. The Australian of the group gave both Ollie and Arthur pretty big hugs. 

“Well, Oscar lost his grid dad,” Lando said, earning a hit from said Aussie. 

“Hey! He was never my grid dad in the first place.” 

The now group of six made their way to the giant group of drivers, including but not limited to: Max, Lando, Charles, Carlos, Logan, Lewis, George, and Oscar (in no particular order). Arthur’s hand was behind your back as you enthusiastically talked to the very tall British brunet dressed in Ferrari red. 

“I cannot believe that you come here, apparently to see me, and say that you need to be in the Ferrari garage! Arthur’s even going to be in the Red Bull one!” they heard you whine as the group got closer. 

Ollie rolled his eyes. “That’s only because he’s your boy-oof. You did NOT have to hit me.” He glared down at you as he rubbed his side. 

“Yes I did.” Your arms crossed as you finally stopped in front of the giant group, who were all staring at you. “Hey guys, what’s up?” 

Lando mirrored your stance, even popping his hip out. “What’s up?” he jokingly mocking. “We were supposed to go to breakfast?” He pointed between him and Oscar. 

A look of realization glossed over your face as you looked at the papaya drivers. 

“Oooohhhh, yeah. Sorry. Uh, their fault?” You pointed at Ollie and Arthur, who both looked betrayed. 

“Our fault?” Ollie squawked. “You were the one who dragged us to breakfast!” 

“You had breakfast?” 

“Yes Lando, I had breakfast.” 

The younger Monegasque silenced you. “The big boys are talking. And then you dragged us to find Nico because you thought  he had a boombox.” 

“The big boys? Seriously Thur? I can take you any day.” You glared up at him. 

“Oh yeah?” He cocked an eyebrow and smirked down at you, getting in your face to really show the height difference. 

That’s it.

You suddenly jumped on him, bring him to the floor. The Max and Charles jumped into action, trying to get you separated. Ollie just watched with a giant grin on his face, laughing at the two of you. 

“Ollie, kindly shut up?” 

“Yes mom.”

The two of you were separated quickly, because you really didn’t have much malice toward your boyfriend. 

“I totally won.” 

“Kid, you lost horribly.” 

“Max, has anyone ever told you that you don’t have to say everything that comes to your mind?” 

Charles, Lewis, Lando, Oscar, Logan, and George all nodded in agreement while Max stared at them with wide eyes. 

“You all agree?!” 

“Can I have my drivers back please?!” Christian suddenly yelled, making everyone look at him. 

“Please take her. She’s rabid.” Arthur pushed you forward, making you take a swing at him (that he was ready for and dodged rather easily). 

You stuck your tongue out at him, before giving Ollie a hug and gently guiding him to Charles. 

Your finger pointed at the red-clad driver. “Take care of my son please, even if you are the enemy. He likes his sandwiches without the crust and needs a nap with his blanket in 5 hours.” 

“Gosse?”

“Aw you brought my blanket?” 

Ollie’s face flushed red as he realized everyone’s eyes were on him. Charles just looked worried as though someone just handed him an actual child and told him “good luck.” 

You turned to follow your team principal, who was muttering something about you giving him even more gray hairs every weekend. “By Ollie! Have fun!” 

The parade went by smoothly. You laughed a lot when Nico brought the boombox to the interviews. He had a lot of questions for you and Max, since it was the team race today, which made your anxiety skyrocket just a bit.

You and Arthur were able to have just a few minutes of alone time back in your driver’s room. 

Because this was a surprise race, Arthur didn’t have to work or be with his brother. So, he was all yours for the entirety of Sunday. However, your excitement didn’t last long as he told you that he had to go back to Switzerland for more testing right after. 

You sighed as you pressed your head against his chest, his arms around you. “If I had known that you’d be gone so much, I wouldn’t have called Seb and just have kept you as my WAG.” 

Arthur sadly smiled down at you. “I know chéri, but I like testing. It gives me a purpose.” 

Another sigh escaped your lips as you finally met his gaze. He cooed as he saw tears forming in your eyes. 

“What is wrong mon fille jolie?” 

You let a few tears escape, but they didn’t get very far as Arthur wiped them off as quickly as they fell. 

“I just miss you and I miss home,” you confessed, hiding your face in his neck as you stepped closer. Arthur gently brought you over to the couch and readjusted you so that you were just lying on his front. 

His hands gently ran through your hair. He knew you needed to be in the car soon, but he wouldn’t let you go without trying to console you. 

You continued, “And I know that we just had summer break not too long ago, but it wasn’t enough.” 

Arthur just listened, know you needed to spill to feel better. 

“Everyone is counting on me to bring in a 1-2 since it’s the home race. But the last two races weren’t the best. I barely got any points.” You muttered the last part, “I’m never going to win a race by now.” 

“Hey, none of that.” Arthur lifted your face so that you could look in his eyes. His were filled with determination. “Do you know how amazing you are? You podiumed at your first race and are fourth in the championship. As a rookie! You are incredible. Parfois j’aimerais que tu te voies comme je te vois.” (translation: Sometimes I wish you saw yourself as I see you.)

You huffed. “I still can’t understand you, but I’m hoping that was a compliment.” 

“It was.” 

He moved his head down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. At the contact, a sigh expelled from your nose. 

It felt so good to be so loved. 

If someone was to write a poem, about how Arthur looked at you and how you looked at Arthur, their pens would be void of ink and the stars would be shadowed by their words. 

The two of you were so lost in each other that a knock at the door scared you both and ended up with you on the floor. 

Mitch poked her head in before shaking it slightly. 

“I don’t even want to know what you were up to, but Y/n needs to get in the car.” 

You quickly stood, with Arthur’s help, and grabbed your helmet, making your way back into the garage. Like clockwork, the Monegasque took your headpiece and gently made sure that it was safely secure. And, with a kiss on the “forehead,” he sent you off. He could tell that you didn’t really want to get in the car. Which was understandable. It wasn’t very often that Arthur saw you not want to drive. But he knew that you were going to be amazing today. 

Starting Grid: 

Charles Leclerc 

Max Verstappen 

Y/n L/n 

Carlos Sainz 

Oscar Piastri 

Pierre Gasly 

Daniel Ricciardo 

Lewis Hamilton 

Yuki Tsunoda 

Alex Albon 

Lando Norris 

Logan Sargeant 

Valtteri Bottas 

Fernando Alonso 

George Russell 

Lance Stroll 

Zhou Guanyu 

Kevin Magnussen 

Esteban Ocon 

Nico Hulkenberg 

You rolled your tires as you waited for the lights to go out. They were tense, but that helped you be ready to press the accelerator. If you weren’t tense, you knew there’d be something wrong. If you felt high-strung outside of the car, inside was 10 times worse. 

All the pressure, all the doubts, all the hopes and dreams – were on your shoulders. 

And you weren’t going to let them down. 

“And it’s lights out and away we go for the 2024 Austrian Grand Prix! Charles Leclerc has a strong start in the initial few seconds, but Max Verstappen seems to be on a mission to turn this into a win. Verstappen gets down the inside and pushes Leclerc a bit wide to gain a position on the pole sitter. We both know that he will probably start to bolt in just a few corners. 

“His rookie teammate Y/n L/n seems to also have the upper hand against the other Ferrari of Carlos Sainz as she seems to do what she does best – go around the outside on that initial turn 1 and somehow make it out in front. 

“Now the track is a bit rainy, and we saw what happened the last time that happened, so we’ll keep an eye on our Red Bull number 2.” 

You felt water droplets fall into your visor as you were picking up speed on the Ferrari in front of you. You knew that this “dirty air” would be much worse than regular, since it was contaminated with water as well. 

You pressed your radio button when it seemed almost impossible to catch up to the red car. The rain had also stopped so your intermediates were getting dangerous to drive with. 

“Mitch what is the plan because I cannot catch up to Leclerc in these conditions.” 

“Do you think you can go the rest of the way in mediums?” 

You thought for a moment. You couldn’t go the rest of the way on softs, as they would degrade too quickly. And hards took forever to warm up. 

“Yeah. I can do that.” 

“Then box ahead of Max. You’ll come out right behind him. So, he’ll give you a tow and then when he boxes, you’ll do the same. Max has priority.” 

“Copy.” 

You quickly pitted the next lap. The Red Bull team seemed to be on fire as you were in and out in a few seconds. You didn’t know, but they somehow set the record for a new pit stop – 1.789 seconds. 

The crowd got excited as you suddenly appeared behind Max and in front of the number sixteen car. 

With Max in front of you, the tow was very helpful as you started to build bigger gap. You guessed that Ferrari must have messed up Charles’s pit stop as Lando’s papaya car was now behind you, instead of Charles. 

You felt bad, but that’s on his team. 

However, Lando was on much fresher tyres that you were, and he was gaining in the last ten laps of the race. You really tried to not let him overtake, but he did…with five laps to go.

Mitch suddenly came over the radio. “Don’t push it like last time. We don’t need another Suzuka. Third place will be just fine.” 

But you weren’t having any of that. You never responded and just kept at the pace you were going, trying to get the maximum out of the car. 

You hadn’t noticed, but everyone else in the garages could see that you were surprisingly gaining on Lando. Ollie watched as you were making qualifying times per lap. The crew was holding on to each other, cheering you on. With each tenth gained, the noise grew louder. 

You saw the last lap flag, and you knew you had to keep your elbows out. 

“And we are coming up on the last lap and L/n has somehow made it back into Norris’s DRS. She tried to get around the outside on the first turn, but is not successful. Yet, she’s keeping herself well in the DRS and doesn’t make try to make a move on the straights. 

“Here comes the last real corner of the circuit and only a small straight for an overtake. 

“SHE’S GOING FOR IT!

“IT’S A PHOTO FINISH…DO WE HAVE RESULTS?” 

You slowed down your car as you drove around for the cool down lap. Your finger was jamming the radio button. 

“Do we have it!?” 

Arthur was biting his fingernails as everyone in the garage was waiting for the results. The mechanics were happy with another P1 finish from Max, but they were on baited breath to see if you had almost done the impossible and finished in a 1-2 sequence. A steward walked over to the pit wall and gave Christian the paper with the results.

A giant smile crossed his face as he was the one to give you the news. 

“Congrats kid. It’s a 1-2 finish.” 

Race Results 

Max Verstappen – 25 points 

Y/n L/n – 18 points 

Lando Norris – 15 points 

Charles Leclerc – 12 points 

Carlos Sainz – 11 points 

Pierre Gasly + fastest lap – 9 points  

Oscar Piastri – 6 points 

Lewis Hamilton – 4 points 

Yuki Tsunoda – 2 points  

Alex Albon – 1 point 

Logan Sargeant 

George Russell 

Lance Stroll 

Fernando Alonso 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Valtteri Bottas 

Esteban Ocon 

Kevin Magnussen 

Zhou Guanyu 

Daniel Ricciardo 

Champions Standings

Max Verstappen – 244 points 

Charles Leclerc – 201 points 

Y/n L/n – 124 points 

Lando Norris – 115 points 

Carlos Sainz – 91 points 

Lewis Hamilton – 70 points 

Oscar Piastri – 68 points 

Alex Albon – 39 points 

George Russell – 36 points

Fernando Alonso – 35 points 

Logan Sargeant – 29 points  

Daniel Ricciardo – 23 points

Lance Stroll – 15 points 

Pierre Gasly – 12 points 

Yuki Tsunoda – 8 points 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Kevin Magnussen 

Zhou Guanyu 

Valtteri Bottas 

Esteban Ocon 

Constructors Standings 

Red Bull – 383 points 

Ferrari – 292 points 

McLaren – 194 points 

Mercedes – 106 points 

Aston Martin – 50 points 

Williams – 41 points 

Alpha Tauri – 31 points 

Alpine – 12 points 

Alpha Romeo 

Haas 

“OH YEAH BABY. LET’S GO!” you yelled over your radio. The crew in the garage stood up from their seats and began to hug each other. 

“Oh man, that was, wow! Can’t believe that. Great job everyone. Is this what winning feels like?” you asked as you took the cooldown lap, yet there was no answer. Everyone was too busy watching that final overtake and celebrating about it. 

Arthur just watched your car take a lap on the screen. He softly whispered, “I knew you could do it.” The love in his eyes could have poured out if love was a physical thing. 

Mitch came over the radio as you were beginning to pull in. “And congrats kid. You have surpassed Lewis Hamilton’s rookie point record.” 

“LET’S GO! THAT'S THE SHIT!” 

“You really need to stop hanging out with Max all the time. He’s teaching you bad words.” 

You smirked under your helmet. “I’m a girl whose friends are dominantly male. Mitch you even curse over the radio.” 

Max almost didn’t want to look at whatever car was in the second place spot. He knew you’d be devastated if you weren’t there. Last he knew, Lando was behind him with you on his tail. It was your helmet that caught his attention. His body turned to see you standing on your car in the P2 spot. 

His heart dropped, but in a good way. He watched you jump off and jump into the arms of the crew. Head pats were definitely deserved as you tried to touch as much of the team as possible. He laughed when you purposefully hung off the banner, just to get closer to the crew who were a bit further back. 

He watched you and Mitch hold out your arms (kind of like Lando and Carlos at the Singapore Grand Prix), mirror each other, and then hug it out. He swears he saw the older lady wipe away a few tears. 

Next was Christian, who gave you a big hug as Max finally made his way to the wall of crew. It was his turn for hugs, high-fives, and helmet pats. 

You had just gotten to Arthur, who held onto you a bit longer than everyone else. 

Just for the two of you, he whispered, “If you didn’t have you helmet on, I’d kiss you right here in front of all these people.” 

Your cheeks were bright red under the helmet.

Ollie, who had been able to escape from the prancing horse, had also come to congratulate you. His hug was a tag shorter than Arthur’s, but you knew he did it to make your previous hug not look as suspicious. 

You had been on the podium time and time before, but this felt different. You don’t know if it was the adrenaline, the sun, or the happiness that ran through you veins that made the trophy a bit lighter or the bubbly a bit sweeter: maybe it was all three. 

You were still hungry for a win, starving, but this was just the snack to tide you over.

Down below, Arthur and Ollie had somehow gotten a hand on the boombox once again. You could barely hear it on the podium, but you had a guess. Suddenly, the music screeched to a halt, making everyone confused. You watched as your two boys had a knowing smirk on their faces. The same smirk slowly crept on your face as well. 

You turned to Max and Lando, who looked equally confused. You held your trophy to your lips, as though it were a microphone. You pointed at the two men, and lip-synced the words. 

“BACKSTREET’S BACK -  ALL RIGHT!” 

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing 1-2 in the house! The Red Bull Ring was shining as our drivers carried home two new trophies! Congrats to y/n.89 for her first record as she surpasses Lewis Hamilton's rookie points with 124 points total!

liked by y/n.89, maxverstappen, lewishamilton, and 4,203,893 others

y/n.nation THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT

y/n_on_top that fight for the win will go in the history books mark my words

landonorris please tell your drivers to slow down so the rest of us can have a chance

charles_leclerc I second this y/n.89 idk, you all just sound like misogynists here... maxverstappen1 what she said

lewishamilton I knew someone would have to beat it. congrats kid

y/n.89 thank you Lew! (someone should take notes ahem landonorris) landonorris sure bug, sure

redbullfan 1-2! 1-2! 1-2!

y/n.lover she is legit currently in p3 for the constructor's championship...what do they feed her?

y/n.89 the tears of my enemies (Charles cries a lot) charles_leclerc HEY redbullracing lots of energy drinks and protein!

arthurxy/n Arthur back in the rb garage - too bad ollie couldn't join them

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 my boys are BACK

liked by y/n.nation, boxbox_express, change_ur_f-car, and 85,395 others

y/n&co God I've seen what you've done for others

rookiefan I kinda feel bad for her boyfriend...but at the same time Arthur is more than happy to show her off (her bf needs to take notes!!)

olliebearman MOM ON PODIUM

y/n.89 did you have a nice nap? olliebearman yes until charles_leclerc forgot my blanket y/n.89 when I find you charles_leclerc arthur_leclerc Charles you better run charles_leclerc HE'S 18?? WHY DOES HE STILL NEED A BLANKET AND NAP y/n.89 you're 26???? why do you still need to call my teammate goodnight? lestappenlove and I OOP

prema_y/n anywayyyyy the second pic is hilarious

Arthur.nation thur is glowing, wonder if he has a gf??

arthurgirly4life I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE

boxbox_express the trio no one knew we needed, but the trio that we deserve

arthur_leclerc has posted

arthur_leclerc a driver, a reserve driver, and an endurance driver walk into a bar...

liked by thurthur, ferrari_fanfest, porsche, and 102,284 others

arthur4porsche this makes no sense but it's hysterical??

y/n.89 ollie actually smacked his head on the bar

olliebearman YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T TELL - DAD, MOM IS MAKING FUN OF ME AGAIN arthur_leclerc it was funny? olliebearman grandpa? charles_leclerc yes? olliebearman not you, you forgot my blanket. the better one maxverstappen1 take that Charles

arthur&crew if max and Charles are grandpa...does that make Christian great-grandpa??

christianhorner sadly yes y/n.89 SADLY?? YOU MADE HIM CRYYYY charles_leclerc w o w , could never at Ferrari y/n.89 Charlie, you cried yesterday

redbullracing maybe the driver should become our photographer?

olliebearman has posted

olliebearman why is it that when we're together, we're always eating??

liked by ferrari, y/n.89, logansargeant, and 83,294 others

olliebear WHAT ARE THESE PICTURES I'M DYING

arthur_leclerc blocked and reported for that last picture

olliebearman why? trying to look good for someone?? arthur_leclerc say goodbye to the blanket olliebearman too late, your brother lost it :( arthur.nation HELLO??

y/n.89 I look sexy

olliebearman your boyfriend sure thinks so :D y/n.89 what Arthur said, blocked and reported

prematrio what are these comments??

y/n&co shhhhh just let them

oscarpiastri guess the invites got lost in the mail??

landonorris same here... y/n.89 you weren't in prema? kimi.antonelli thanks for the food mom! olliebearman brother? maxverstappen1 here we go again

change_ur_f-car what a time to be alive

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

To Be Alive In Summer

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Betrayal had never been in your cards, and you definitely didn't see yourself being the one responsible for the act. When having to go undercover, first comes the problem of staging your death.

WORDCOUNT: 8.3k

WARNINGS: Angst, betrayal, intense gore, violence, death, allusions to intimacy, weapons, vulgar language, recovery, torture, happy ending, etc.

A/N: The final request is finished, hope you enjoy it @l-inkage! Onto the AUs next.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You didn’t want to do it, but in this job, comfort was always an option and never a guarantee. It needed to be done. And that meant sacrifices had to be made to the dark altar of your contract with One-Four-One.

But this one just might break you in the process. 

“Are you sure that,” you pause and think over the instructions that Price had just given you—straight from the top of the line. “Are you sure that this is the best way, Sir?” 

The man’s lips are flat, eyes narrowed, he doesn’t like this either—especially if you don’t. John’s a Captain, he tallies out orders and expects people to listen without hesitation; doesn’t express his worry about their safety because that isn’t what this is about at the end of the day. It’s about keeping the good people outside of bases like these alive and breathing.

And right now that hinged on you being dead.

“Berto needs mercenaries,” Price grunts, “and any record of you needs to be wiped before we send you in.”

Vito Berto—head of a crime family that had been picking up traction in recent years, so much so that One-Four-One had to be put on it for covert reconnaissance before any more people ended up dead.

You would be sent in under the cover of an experienced mercenary; one among the ranks that Berto would need for a hostile takeover planned in three months on the Palace of Westminster in London. The House of Parliament. 

Vito was one cocky son of a bitch if he expected no one to get word of this.

Your job was to uncover the exact date, time, and the mission plan before getting out as quickly as possible. In order to do that, the soldier holding your name needed to be dead so nothing could be traced back to you, your task force, or your loved ones. 

And people needed to believe it.

“Can’t the records just be forged, Sir?” You ask, the meeting room dark and pulsing with the cold air from the vents. “What about Gaz and Soap?” Your throat closes for a moment and you speak slightly lower. “Simon?”

Price sighs and crosses his arms, fixing the stance of his feet.

“They’ll deal with it.” Inside of your pockets, your hands twitch. 

He won't. Not inwardly.  

“I…” your jaw clenched. 

Your relationship with Ghost was…strange. You’d both had your fun, of course, and you had a casual air about that sort of thing—it had happened, but nothing more could ever come of it. There was a modicum of soft care with you two; an acknowledgment of partnership in the field and out of it. 

You didn’t have to explain to people that Ghost was closer to you than others. You’d seen his face; that says enough. 

“It needs to look real,” Price explains, tilting his head down to you. “Not only for Laswell's state of mind but yours. I won’t be putting you in without giving you the best chance.” 

“You can’t tell them?”

“Negative. Security measure.” You frown, biting at your lip.

John closes his eyes and shakes his head. A second later a hand is set on your shoulder and the man leans in slightly to reassure you like a relative. You look up into your Captain’s gruff face, seeing the small amount of care he levels into his cerulean irises for you. 

He squeezes your flesh, watching hard.

“We need you for this, Trick.” The nickname was exactly why you were the only one who could do this. 

You were the first choice. No one was better at undercover work.

“How long would I be gone, Price?” Shifting out of the hold, you cross your arms and level him with a dead stare. “How long do they have to live with this lie?”

John grunts. “Less than three months, yeah? But all of it’s up to how long it takes to gather intel. Full black.” 

“Exfil point?” 

“Town five miles from Berto’s estate. Cafe with a red door near the bookstore. Woman inside’ll be your handler.” You turn away to glare at the far wall, hesitant even when you know you shouldn't be. This was your job. 

Brown eyes keep flashing behind your eyes—a skeletal mask that stares with stained glistening blood, blood you yourself feel reflected on your own visage. A shared damning of two people who would never see those great halls of the afterlife. Neither of you are good.

Simon had to understand. 

The Captain sees the shift in your expression.

“You in?” He asks you with a blank look. 

You take a deep breath, chest heavy and heart hurting. “I don’t like it,” your voice is low, monotone. “But, yeah, Sir, I’m in.”

“Good,” the man nods, hooking his thumbs into his belt. “It’ll happen in three days. Be ready.”

You watch him walk out of the room, patting you on the shoulder one last time before the door shuts behind him with a click of finality that pierces your lungs. You clear your throat and swallow down saliva, turning your face away as if ashamed. 

It’s the quiet that gets to you in that moment—the encompassing nothingness. So often you would have moments like these with Simon. Just sitting; not taking. But this silence was so different. 

This was betrayal. 

After you steady the slight tremor in your hands, you scoff and shake your head backing up a step before leaving the room; turning off the lights. 

You walk down the long hallway, feet heavy as your mind runs, and overhead the lights buzz like flies. Eyes stuck to the floor, your shoulders are hunched in with thought and your lids half-closed in a display of obvious inner turmoil. 

The shadow that waits for you, leaning against the wall, you walk past entirely—missing it and not hearing the confused call of your name behind you because of it.

“Trick!” Your hand comes up to itch at your chin, fingers pushing into your flesh. The aggressive Manchester accent slides off of you until large fingers curl into the back collar of your vest rig. 

You breathe in sharply, blinking in surprise as your feet get pulled back a step or two, pace halting as Ghost curls around your body, staring down at you. His brows are narrowed, that mask still on and the bottom fabric twisted in the obvious downward press of his lips.

“Bloody hell is wrong with you, then?” 

Sighing, you scowl and shake him off of you, moving back to allow yourself some air. Did he really have to show up now? Why was he even here, you had to ask yourself. Was he…waiting for you?

“Nothing,” you don’t look at him, speaking low. “Distracted, is all.” 

Ghost crosses his arms slowly, his brows flinching briefly as he makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Meeting go well?” 

“Fine.” He can tell something’s wrong; you know he can—he’s the best at interrogations for a reason. Ghost knows when someone is lying to him. 

You glance at his chest before you begin to open your mouth. 

What could telling him hurt? Just a hint. He’d get it—I know he would. Berto had the nickname ‘The Tanner,’ given to him by his men. When he found out anyone had double-crossed him, he’d take a large breaking knife and separate the thin layers of skin from his victims. Intel suggests he keeps them awake for all of it, stopping when they pass out only to start again when they wake back up. 

If there was any leak in this base…any at all…you wouldn’t be coming back. 

You wouldn’t be coming back to him. 

Simon’s thighs shift.

“Talk to me.” He always speaks like he doesn’t care about the answer, but you’d be a fool this far into your… relationship? To believe that he didn’t. You’d seen Simon panic over your injured body before—it told you enough. 

The easy moments and the side-eyed looks when he thought you didn’t notice or weren’t doing the same to him. 

Your fingers twitch, forcing a smirk that didn’t convince even you. Your heart was telling you to explain it to him, but your brain was firmly set behind iron doors; tongue held back by iron tongs. 

“Personal matters, Simon. Nothing you need to worry about, Big Guy.” He doesn’t look away from your eyes. Brows set in a line and that mask jeering at you; almost mocking. 

The Lieutenant doesn’t answer and your heart is visible from under your gear.

“J-just,” you stutter, face getting hot as you look away. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s…” 

Trailing off, you rub at the back of your head in a self-soothing motion. 

Simon blinks slowly and you hear a large chest-rattling sigh. He shrugs in that way only he can—a fast jerk of shoulders that looks more like he’s trying to push off a bug than simply trying to move past what you’re saying to him. 

“Doesn’t make a difference,” it does. “Garrick and MacTavish are waitin’ down at the firing range. Best get down there ‘fore one comes looking like a kicked dog.” You can still feel him digging into you. Knives and the suspicion in his tone. 

You don’t want to do this to him. Not after all that you’ve gone through together. 

“Right.” Your feet are moving before he is, planted into the floor and pushing off through the small pinches of electricity in the nerves. Pushing out a hard laugh, you try to send him a light smile. “Did you tell them to be ready to get their arses beat?” 

Simon looks down at you as he walks beside your form in large steps; arms swinging. “Haven’t seen ‘em yet. Waiting for you.” 

If it were possible to shrivel up from guilt, you’d be nothing but bones.

“O-oh,” you huff, but it sounds like all of the air has been expelled from your lungs. “You didn’t have to do that, y’know.”

Simon grunts, accent grating as he stares ahead. “Wanted to.” 

“Good. That’s nice.” You feel like screaming. “Thank you.”

It’s nearly instantaneous how fast his eyes go dark with concern. “You sure that head of yours is on straight, Trick?”

You push open the doors outside and wonder if you even have the ability to answer him; out of everyone, you can’t lie to Simon.

“No,” your lips admit quietly, self-degrading in its own right. 

A hand grabs you by the wrist and before you can slip out, you’re being pulled back into the building and pushed into a side room. 

“Hey!” You shout, eyes flashing as the door is shut behind you. You’re released and the light is immediately turned on. “Simon, what the hell are you doing?” 

“Enough,” he levels, and your arms are clasped so you’re facing his chest, looking up into his serious and hard gaze. “Fuckin’ speak to me.” 

You’re surprised at how insistent he is about this. 

“I’m not telling you anything,” you speak through stutters and he growls in his throat. His hands are like motel lava even under his gloves and above your skin—burning like a brand.

“What happened in that meeting room, Trick?”

“It’s classified,” you say, harder than intended, spitting the words with a hint of desperation. If not for your own safety, then for his, but you know that if he keeps asking then you’ll tell him the truth. 

They were going to stage your death, and they won’t be making it pretty. 

“Fuck classified,” he leans in closer, curling over you. “You’re acting like someone’s bloody taking you hostage.”

“Simon! It’s not—”

“Cut the bullshit!” You growl and try to shove away from him, struggling with glaring eyes that go sharp with the onset of tears. “Somethings got you worried and I wanna know what it is.”

Simon wasn’t the greatest at articulation, but neither were you. 

You knew he was trying to tell you he was concerned. The man was holding you tight, but not hurting you; his face close and his shoulders wide. Along your face his eyes were darting, as if he could peel back your skin and make you explain what Price had told you. 

The Captain had given the Lieutenant a look as he’d seen him waiting for you but had said nothing. That alone had tipped Ghost off to something being wrong. 

But you weren’t having it.

Yanking out of Simon’s hands, you shake your head and put on your worst glare—meeting muddy brown and huffing. 

“Mind your own business, Riley. It’s for your own good.” The man blinks in mute shock, fingers in the air twitching before they fall to his sides.

You speed-walk out of the room before he can speak, lips slightly parted at your strange behavior. 

For his own good? What in the hell did that mean? 

Simon’s jaw clenches, a grunt in his chest as he aggressively rolls his wrist. He turns to follow after. The both of you don’t talk for the rest of the day.

—

Your body shakes along with the helo as it takes off, carrying you away from the scene of gunfire down below. In your earpiece, you hear the loud calls and yelling from your friends. Gaz is calling out to Price to give him permission to move up; the Captain too busy grappling Soap to the ground. 

Ghost is taking cover behind a wall, but he’s not quiet. 

“Trick’s in the damn building!” 

No, I’m not, you want to flick on the line and tell him. Over the three days before this operation you'd barely spoken—in fact, you’d been avoiding all of them fervently by the mass amount of guilt in your stomach. 

In the nights, you hadn’t even slept, and now you’re sure it’ll take even longer too.

Their forms become tinier, and you grasp the roof’s handle as the helo rises farther and farther. 

“Price!” Simon barks. “We have to get her—”

“There’s no time!” John responds, grunting and forcing Johnny down as he spits curses and tries to call your name over the comms. You flinch violently, looking away for a moment. “We’re surrounded!”

“I can get through!” Bullets wiz through the comms, and you can nearly imagine you are down there—trapped in the house down the way after being shot and injured by hosties. But you’d never been in that house. Never been alone down the way for recon. 

You’d been at the second exfil point. Price knew it. Laswell knew it. 

But Simon had not. 

“Negative, Ghost! Keep where you are, we can get to her later. We need to—” The building you were supposed to be in explodes in a fiery wreck; a great bloom cloud going into the air as the helo shakes from the after-blast. 

You have to turn your face away, shielding your eyes. The pilot calls to see if you’re alright, but you don’t answer. All you can hear is the screams.

“Trick!”

“Simon, get back into bloody cover!” 

“Fucking Hell! Trick, answer me!” It gets too much—the bareness of his panic for you. The panting breath; the running stomp of feet.

You rip the connection from the radio on your vest and place a hand over your mouth, breathing as if you had really been in an inferno like a piece of fodder. 

Simon had already been through so much in his life, and doing this to him as well as the task force was the definition of betrayal of the loyalty you’d cultivated.

Of the love.

Because you did love him—even if you’d never say it to each other. If he found out about what you did, which he would eventually, in one way or another, he’d hate you for the rest of his life. So perhaps you were mourning, as you stare below as the helicopter takes you higher and higher up. Farther away from him. You were mourning what you had, because you knew it would never be the same. 

Simon Riley would never trust you again, and all you had to blame was yourself. 

The tiny tears dribble out of you and fall all the way down to the ground, where the man still screams for you to answer him; John barks orders with a sheen of panic in his eyes from the bare-bones ferality of the Lieutenant. Brown eyes blazed and cities burned in his pupils. 

John had underestimated the bond that the two of you shared. 

And he just might pay the price for it.

—

Getting through selection was far easier than getting through SAS training, Vito Berto seemed to only want mercenaries that had the faintest hint of the ability to hold a smuggled weapon. It made sense because if the people he was planning to send in were well-trained, it would be easier to trace to him—ability equaled a higher level of intelligence. Planning. Resources. 

To fit in, you made sure to miss a few of your shots, even if it made your instinctual perfectionism rise. John would have torn you a new one if you’d missed this many during your selection all those years back. Probably would have asked how a Muppet like you had gotten this far with shite aim like that.

But Berto ate it up like Sunday dinner. Gave you the nickname Cross, actually. Like the crosshair of a scope.

It was safe to say you despised him. 

But the days grew longer and the nights short with all of your running around. You’d found out that your Captain’s timeline was incorrect—the attack wasn’t in three months, it was in two. And while Berto was cocky, he wasn’t reckless. 

He somehow knew there was a breach in the ranks; you could see it by how he looked over the squads in the underground bunker, all of you hidden under rock and stone like prisoners. The man would sneer, eyes filtering back and forth from the perch. 

Sometimes you had to stop yourself from simply taking the shot presented in front of you and deal with the consequences afterward.

Price had been clear: all of the people gathered here needed to be taken care of quickly and quietly—if you snapped, the rest would disappear like roaches. Alive and biding time.

During those two months, the thoughts of Simon wouldn’t leave you. 

Moments that seeped in behind closed eyelids after you’d slunk back into bed, the USBs full of vital intel stashed into the lining of your uniform in a small hidden pocket. His twitching smile and those deep scars along his face; the ones that would never go away. 

In those moments you wondered what it would be like if you had told him how much you cared for his quiet company or his dark humor. The way he would level a hand on the small of your back off duty at the bars as a way to silently shield you from the stares from patrons. 

You’d never be able to tell him now. 

Vito “The Tanner” Berto knew of a leak, and when you came back to the bunker after sending out the multiple USB sticks, the physical files, and the first-hand accounts of what was going on—eager for just a little more to make this betrayal worth it…he was waiting. 

You could only fight off so many others, no matter how subpar the training on their part, before sheer mass overtook ability. Like a house of cards with a bowling ball, you were shoved to the ground surrounded by multiple dead bodies of those you’d taken down with you—writhing and hissing as if a feral animal. 

Restraints were leveled with your wrists; your head pulled back so your nose faced the ceiling. You only stopped struggling when the chilled barrel of a pistol was set under your chin.

Breath stilling, it was hard to understand how, even then, all that was in the front of your mind was Simon. Simon and his brown eyes. Simon and his screams when that building went up in fire and smoke.

“Trick!”

You could still hear the exact pitch and rhythm like it was yesterday.

“Cross,” Berto mutters, gun heavy as it digs into your flesh. Men pant and grapple to keep you back as you sneer and jerk your arms. “I should have known it would be you.” 

“Well,” you growl, teeth bared, “obviously you didn’t.”

A slow smirk runs on his lips. 

“No, but I’ll have to rectify this. I can’t have you getting in the way.” You can only hope that the intel gets out before the end of the second month—if not, then all of this was for nothing. 

Why couldn’t you have left when you had the chance?

“Fucking Hell! Trick, answer me!”

He was why. 

Simon—the source of all of your problems and the only person who could fix them besides yourself. It’s a sick joke really. 

Vito grabs your chin and you huff out a swift breath, heart skipping beats as he burrows his digits tightly into your skin; hard enough to leave marks. He sighs and clicks his tongue and you have to keep back a whimper as his nails create crescents along your jaw. 

“You won’t tell me anything, will you, then?”

“Negative,” you spit, heated. 

He scoffs. “Of course.” 

Berto throws your head back as you try to snap out and bite at his hand, rabid, but the man’s already gone and the mercenaries behind you yank you back like a dog on a leash. Your knees slide along the floor and you rage trying to turn around before the others are forced to shove your face into the ground. There is a distinctive snapping in your nose bridge as the concrete comes up to meet you; the tears come instinctually after—unable to be stopped as you yell in pain. 

Blood floods your nostrils and mouth, making you cough as Vito’s voice echoes in your ringing ears. 

“Let me get my knives.” 

—

They had you chained in some damp back room, the corners riddled with mold spores and the air heavy with condensation. You were tied to the ceiling—feet dangling uselessly below you and the tips of your boots dragging across the floor with a quiet scrape and a creak of metal. 

Above you, on the hook, the chains were tied so ruthlessly that you’d lost circulation to your arms entirely, nothing but an electric buzzing far inside of your bones. Akin to the static of a TV screen in between connections. Your clothes had been shredded by blades—long sections of your flesh underneath, cut away. 

Blood stains most, if not all, of the floor. It drips from your nose; it falls like rain to pool at your feet in rippling crimson. 

Simon had been your partner during required interrogation training and he was far better at it than you. The man could go for hours through the mental strain that was leveled out by other soldiers on him; stoic and silent. It was the way his eyes would blank that told you he could live through far worse—that he already had. You’d had your fair share as well, but never before had you felt as hopeless as this. 

There was a slim chance that anyone would come for you here. Laswell and Price would carry the guilt of it, but you didn’t want them to. 

The blood slips over your lips, and the taste of copper makes you gag; spitting out saliva from your lips. 

It was half your choice, after all. 

You try to slip into a happy memory as the lights fade in and out, the footsteps and mutterings outside the door of little interest anymore.

ironic, that the man with the mask of a dead person brought you comfort when so little could. 

You never got to tell him how much you loved him. A thin smile comes across your lips. 

“Shouldn’t be out here this late,” the man utters as you lay out in the field, arms and legs splayed and twitching when the long grass brushes against them. “Past curfew.”

“Like you aren't out here with me?” You raise an eyebrow, looking up at the stars now that the large base lights have been dimmed. The air is cold, and the breeze makes you shudder through a chill. But you don’t wipe that smile from your lips. “Bit hypocritical, Simon.”

You hear a low grunt. 

“Out ‘ere because you weren’t answering your damn door.” A shadow slips to your side, and the man settles down with a huff on his lips. Simon retired his combat mask for a simple balaclava instead, and he sighed long as he settled his arm on the bent form of his right leg. 

You blink over at him, raising a brow. 

“Looking for me, Ghosty?” 

“Bloody hell, Trick.” You chuckle, shifting your arms to rest on your chest as you look back at the stars far above. 

“Oh, it’s alright, Big Guy.” The man shakes his head. “I won’t tell anyone you’re going soft for me.” 

“I’m not.”

“You definitely are.”

“Trick, I’m tellin’ you to—”

“Shh!” You wave a hand in his direction, silencing him and making him blink at you in deep annoyance and confusion. Ghost’s eyes were narrowed, the black of his face paint gone and smelling like standard issue body wash. 

He must have gotten out of the shower and come to see if you were still awake before making his way outside when you never answered the door. Funny how he knew where you would be.

“Fucking what, then?” He growls, shoulders wide.

You place a finger to your ear, shifting so you’re sitting up on one elbow and facing Simon. On your face, a wide smile lingers, but on his, the dark brows narrow with knowledge of a deceitful event incoming. “Listen.” 

A silence falls, Simon’s ears twitching for something in the long grass or across the field. Nothing. Nothing but the breeze and the way your face glowed as you watched him, eyes glinting with amusement. 

After a long minute or two, he looks at you with utter bewilderment. You lean in closer, poking a finger into his bicep.

“Can you hear it, Simon?” You’re one of the few he lets call him that, though never in public.

He glares. “No.”

You flutter your digits in the air, giggles trapped in your mouth. A whisper hits the Lieutenant’s ears. “Silence.”

“Bugger off,” he hisses as you reel back and belt out laughter, holding your sides and lightly curling into yourself. “You’re worse than Johnny. Jesus.”

“Aww, c’mon!” You let your laughter die down to chuckles, sanctity of night broken, but not so between the two individuals who look at each other with brimming affection none will name. 

“You’re the one that came to find me, remember?” Your tease makes Ghost roll his eyes, looking away across the open area with its wave-like grasses.

“You’re right, then, I did,” Simon grunts, his hand coming up to rub his neck. “Mistake on my part.”

“Jerk,” a soft slap is leveled to his arm and he chuckles deeply. “But you can’t fool me, Ghosty. I know you’ll always come lookin’ for me—I’m too important to you to lose.”

“Keep kiddin’ yourself, Trickster.” He doesn’t say how he would agree with the statement, it was true after all. “I won’t be dragged into your bloody messes.”

He wouldn’t leave you behind to drown in them, even if it was as simple as you sneaking out of your bunk to watch the stars. 

You’d both known each other too long for that.

You smile over at him as he sighs before slipping off his mask, itching at his stubble with hard fingers. The air settles. No comment about it entering in on the see-through waves—there didn’t need to be one. 

“Mhm,” you hum, beaming. “You keep thinking that, Big Guy.”

“Trick!” Your memory shifts, and you sit up immediately. You’d thought you’d just heard…

Eyes dart out over the field, jumping back and forth rapidly. You look to the side, but Simon is gone entirely.

“Simon?” Heart beating, you stand fully up and turn in a fast circle, confusion and fear infecting your mind.

“Trick!” Pain sparks in your body, and you hiss and grab at your clothes. You blink so fast that you half-believe the world is ending.

“S-Simon?!” What was happening? What was hurting so bad? Where did Simon go?

“Trick, fucking wake up!”

Your eyes snap open and you instantaneously feel the burning pain inside of your ribs. 

The ground is underneath you, hard and wet from your own blood as you yowl and cough, air entering your lungs in quick bursts. 

Hands encase your cheeks, shaking your head—keeping you present. 

A skeletal mask littered with droplets of human fluid stares down at you, and behind it, panicked brown eyes slash through your psyche in the small moment between agony and confusion. 

Simon?

“Holy hell.” It’s that same Manchester accent. The same scrape of vocal cords. “Alright, Sweetheart. Keep those eyes open—keep ‘em on me, yeah?” 

What was going on? You try to open your mouth to say something but all of it is lead. Were your ribs broken? How? And why was Simon’s bottom covering pushed up to his nose; his lips stained with blood? 

The man frantically goes to press into his radio.

“This is Bravo 0-7,” he breathes, and you whimper as your throat gets clogged with congealed saliva and blood. You cough violently, gagging, and Ghost quickly turns you on your side to help you expel it. His hand is hard on your shoulder. 

“I say again, this is Bravo 0-7!” Those browns never leave you, shocked and serious. “Price, I’ve got ‘er. It’s not good; had to revive but I don’t know how long she’s got.”

Revive? You’re spacing in and out, limp, and trying to breathe. 

Simon tears open his medical pouch and begins wrapping tourniquets—packing the wounds with gauze until you can get proper medical treatment on the helo back to base. 

“Bloody…” he trails, Price barking an order over the connection to bring you out; the firefight was moving to the East to give him an opening to sneak back out. “C’mon, Trick.”

Everything swims; you want to go back to that field—those stars. 

Simon was here? Truly? The thought was hard to understand in your state. 

“S-Sim—” Your voice gurgles, and you can’t feel your legs. You had to tell him. Tell him the good and the bad; all of it.

“Don’t talk,” he growls, moving you as your body seizes in a state of static shock. “I’m getting you out of ‘ere.” You’re lifted up in one grand movement, Simon grunting as he shifts you carefully into a bridal hold. “Then you’re going to explain this to me when you’re squared. Won’t take no for an answer.” 

You could feel the anger sizzling off of him even half-conscious. The mixing emotions that convulsed into a mess of adrenaline and desperation. Forcing your eyes to stay open, you blink up at him as he glances down at you at the same time, just before he exits the door he had broken down. 

The visible skin of his lips and chin tighten; going down with the twitch of with a serious frown. Something flutters behind his eyes as he stares before glancing away and clearing his throat. 

“Eyes on me, Trickster. Don’t you dare close ‘em.” You grimace as he begins jogging, heavy boots echoing along the empty corridor as the sounds of gunfire and pandemonium sound off from the other side of the bunker. 

It was hard to push back the black at the sides of your vision; already it was seeping back in. Ghost holds you tight, unwilling to even let you slip an inch from his grip as the lights above swirl, brightening and dimming. 

“Oi!” You’re jostled, and you snap back to it, tensing as your wounds flex and pull. Simon glares. “What’d I just say?”

Your weakly poisoned grimace makes his lips twitch up. 

“Good.” 

There’s the sudden flick of a safety being clicked off, and the Lieutenant halts in a jerking of feet and a ruffle of canvas.

“I’ve heard about a Ghost making his rounds, hm?” Berto stands at the end of the hall, pistol held in front of him. “I saw an apparition disappearing to find one of its own. No worries. She’ll be a ghost, too, soon enough. Perhaps I’ll have to put you both to rest together.” 

The voice makes you go panicked, remembering the tear of flesh and the sharp blades slicing your skin away, chunks that peeled, and the long stripes of flexible tendons. Your lungs fight for breath, your head weakly slapping into Simon’s neck after an attempt to move your body. Limbs shake and battle nerves; the fabric of your brain.

Your blood stains the man’s gear all the way down the front. It’s dripping to the floor, down his arms and off his elbows. You’re bathing him in it—a full-body baptism of betrayal. 

“Berto,” Ghost says, accent casual despite the gun leveled at him. The name is drawn out. “Apologies, but I’m taking back what’s mine.” He tilts his head. “Scratch that, I’m not apologizing for getting back on a Bastard like you, eh? Pity I can’t hang you up like a hog, I’m proper good with a blade too, but as you can see, I’m on a crunch.” 

Vito’s face goes confused, skin scrunching. “What—”

The bang of a bullet being discharged echoes down the way. The clatter of a great expulsion of air from lungs. Stumbling. Gargles. 

The slam of a body to the ground. 

Smoke spreads up from under the clutch of your knees, where Ghost holds the abyssal body of an M19 forward, his finger lightly on the trigger before he shifts it back in well-practiced discipline. 

“Slag,” he spits. 

Simon hikes you farther into him, lending over his available body heat as you shiver. He presses his face into the top of your head, sighing in relief before starting his pace again. The man’s lips brush your flesh as your lids flutter. 

“Still with me?” You whine into his neck, fingers twitching. “I know it hurts, Love. I know. Easy with it.” 

It didn’t just hurt, it burned. Buried like the nine layers of Hell. 

He keeps whispering to you, slinking around corners and stepping into shadows. By the time he makes it outside with you, the chill of the air on the bottom of his face he didn’t even bother to re-cover, you’re tapering on the edge of oblivion again. 

Teetering like a porcelain doll on the end of the high shelf. 

“Bravo 0-6, leaving the bunker now, I need that MedEvac prepped and ready to go,” Simon speaks quickly, not wasting a single instant. 

John’s voice wafts through. “Copy, 0-7. Helo is comin’ in, be ready it’s going to get hot!” 

“Affirm. Keep it frosty down ‘ere.” There’s a low chuckle and the swift wizz of bullets. 

“Get our Trickster back in one piece, Ghost.” Simon hears the buzzing of helicopter blades in the night, a slick form descending from the dark clouds not moments later. He turns away from the flurry of air, walking hurriedly backward so the air doesn’t aggravate you. 

“Trick,” Ghost calls to you above the noise, hearing the hurried feet of medics coming out to take you from him. Your face is scrunched and you burrow into him. “I’m handing you over!” 

You try to open your eyes enough to convey your unease at that. You have to tell him. You have to explain why you had to do it. The guilt is eating you; gnawing with red teeth and gripping with devil’s claws. You have to explain that you love him even if he hates you now. 

Medics grapple you away, and you are in pain, lips peeling back to gasp sharply, thrashing. 

No!

“Fuck,” Ghost growls, pulling you away from the men as they ask him what in the bloody hell he’s doing. He doesn’t even know—all he knows is that he’s pissed at you for what you did, but never in a million years did that mean he wanted to see you in pain. 

Simon can’t lie, when he was told you were alive, the universe had held its breath. A miracle. A ruse. But alive. Alive and trapped. 

“Stop it!” He yells, caging you into him. “I’m here! I’m right here, Trickster!” 

You’re already too gone for it, not recognizing the metal of the helo as you’re settled on your back, the loud slam of the door. Fingers pull and prob as you hiss and snap, suffocating. 

Ghost holds down your shoulders, his eyes right above yours—but you’re not looking. The helo takes off

“Bloody hell,” Simon yells. “Look at me!” 

You don’t know what compels you to do so, but your eyes open just the slightest bit wider. Brown melts into your pupils, taking you in and reminding you of chilled summer nights. Simon. You pant but stop struggling. 

The medics jump into action, ripping away the remains of your shirt and pants so they can get to the wounds; assess the damage done. 

“That’s it,” Simon sighs long, swallowing. “That’s a girl. There we go, Sunshine.” 

You blink, face peeled as everything swirls far more aggressively this time. 

“Listen to me, Trick. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, you understand. You said I’d always find you, yeah?” Hands grab your cheeks. “Well, I fucking did, eh? I found you. We’re gonna fix you up, Sweetheart. It’ll all be gone by morning.” You stutter down a breath, ragged throat stretching.

“Let ‘em fix you up—”

“I love you.” 

It all fades to black, but all you remember is the sweep of horror that spreads behind the man’s eyes.

—

“You went back,” Price’s arms are crossed, and he stares at you as your fingers play with the sheets of the hospital bed. “Why?”

You sigh and rub at your face.

“Trick.”

“I felt like I needed to,” you give away, twitching your fingers out in an expression of nonchalantness. “I felt…” Your voice trailed off into a growl. “Bad.”

“Feelings aren’t a part of this, Trickster, you bloody know that,” John hisses, leaning his head closer as you glare silently. “If you’d left when you could, none of this would have fucking happened.” 

“I feel bad, Price!” You break, snapping. “I fucking know! But I-I thought if I just got a bit more intel, then this would have been worth it.” Taking a deep breath you shake your head and rub at your face, all of the bandages and stitches pulling tight. “It’s eating at me. I can’t…I can’t just act like what I lied about can be forgotten.” 

You shrug as the man listens silently, monitors beeping and the small buzz of the overhead lights. 

“Soap barely looks at me—Gaz gave me that fucking pity smile and it makes me want to scream.”

“They’ll get over it.” The Captain repeats what he said months prior firmly. “They know the Op was top priority, they’ll grow up and be back to fucking around in days.”

You scoff, muttering in a dejected tone. “He won’t.”

John is still, fixing his feet from under him as he rolls his nose and looks away slowly. 

Simon hadn’t come to visit once in the time you’d been here in the ward—four days. That fact alone makes you restless. You don’t remember what you said to him, if you said anything. But you knew that he wasn’t going to be going out of his way to be near you anymore. 

You’d taken a grenade to the relationship you’d built. Toy building blocks are scattered. 

“Simon’s…Simon,” Price ends on. You groan and itch at the IV in your hand. “He cares about you more than anyone, yeah? He just needs time. Wasn’t himself after the set-up.”

“I’ve been told,” Gaz had informed you about the Lieutenant's self-isolation after your ‘death’. The snappy orders—deathly glares. He’d gone back to the ruthless man he was in the field and instead of being directed at his enemies, it was directed at them.

Kyle explained how he’d argued with Price about how he could have gotten to you, before abruptly falling silent and stalking away as if a flip had been switched. Snake eyes and clenched fists. 

They’d heard him in the gym late at night, reaming on the punching bags. They didn’t think he slept more than three hours per day if the red lines in his eyes were anything to go by.

And then they were told that you were alive but captured, and he’d gotten worse.

You’d nearly started sobbing when the Sergeant had told you all of that.

“I betrayed his trust, Price,” you level. “I…I never wanted to do that to him. Ever. Not Simon.”

A shadow passes by the door just as the Captain grunts. “That’s the job.”

“That’s not the job I signed up for when I got into this. We don’t lie to our own.”

“‘We get dirty, the world—’” You cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘stays clean’.” Your eyes level with his. “I can do the dirty work, John, you know that. Infiltration and undercover work is what I’m good at.” The man nods slightly. “But if you ask me to betray One-Four-One’s trust again, I’m out.”

Blue eyes blink in shock, but you don’t let him speak.

“Find someone else to get fake blown up in a building. I can’t get his fucking screams out of my head.” John watches you silently, eyes narrowed. 

You meet that gaze head-on, not backing down from this.

The Captain shakes his head a minute later. “Bloody made for each other,” he mutters under his breath, grunting. Another shadow slips past going the opposite direction, probably a nurse.

Without another word John turns and exits the room, tossing a hand behind his head casually in a way to say goodbye.

You huff and roll your eyes, heat on your cheeks. 

The day wains, and you let the nurses come in to do their checkups and replace the IV. As the curtains are pulled back into place, supper sits heavy in your stomach. 

You wanted to see Simon. 

You knew it wouldn’t go well, and wouldn’t be the goody-goody outcome you prayed for…but you felt wrong without apologizing in person. It went against your morals, and already those were incredibly skewed. Maybe he’d yell, or even ignore you as if you weren’t there.

Simon wasn’t above not speaking to people he didn’t like.

You had to try.

When all was dark, you shuffled out of the hospital bed and fought the weakness of your legs. Shaking like a leaf, you walked around with only your tied gown, unapologetic of the slit down the back showing flashes of your bra and underwear. 

It wouldn’t be anything the Lieutenant hadn’t seen before.

Walking through the silence, you sigh and stand outside of his door; dread in your heart and seeping from the pulled stitches of your wounds. Your bare feet on the tile make you shiver. 

Lifting up a fist, you hesitate. 

Your hand hovers over the wood, sliding forward before you pull it back to you. Closing your eyes tight, you clench your jaw once and take a deep breath.

Knock-knock-knock. Knock-knock.

The sequence was your call sign. If you knocked like that, he would know it was you—whereas Simon's own was just a single slam of the side of his fist.

The only real problem now was that he wasn’t answering.

You stare dumbly at the barrier, blinking like a fool. It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to understand the realization that he wasn’t ignoring you—he just wasn’t in his room. 

Taking a step back, you rub the back of your neck in exasperation and hurry to the nearest exit.

“Of course,” you breathe. You know exactly where he is at a time like this.

The field holds a standing shadow, a ghost of issued fatigues with a thick jacket against the chill that leaves you shivering. Simon stares out over the training grounds with his hands in his pockets, balaclava pulled all the way down to hide him from you. 

You come to a slow halt behind him and stare. 

It’s not long before the man gunts, turning his head back from over his shoulder to look at you blankly. He knew you were there.

The eye contact stays for a long, long while—until you’re hypnotized in the shades of brown and amber and the large build that seems to broaden because of your appearance.

“I’m here to apologize.” You say it breathlessly. “I’m not asking you to hear me out, but I have to let you know I regret doing it. Price said that it was time-sensitive and I—”

Stopping yourself, you look away. It sounded too much like an excuse, you hissed to yourself. At the end of the day, it was still your acceptance that pushed the pawn forward. 

“I’m sorry, Simon,” you breathe. “I betrayed your trust.”

His eyes are piercing you, but you still can’t look at him. The man slightly turns your way. His voice was monotone and grunting out like a dog.

“You think I couldn’t handle it?” Your heart starts, and you’re shaking your head instantly.

“No.” You explain quickly—honestly. “It’s that…I didn’t want you to.” 

You hear his lips take in a quiet breath. Simon rolls his shoulders before looking away from you. Nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

“You said you loved me.” Your body freezes, jaw going slack as your face drops. You don’t speak, mute as if the air in your lungs has been stolen.

You had done…what?

All of your tricks couldn’t get you out of this one.

“I,” you force a fake laugh, hands beginning to shake. “I, what? No, I’m sure that’s not what I said. A-are you sure it wasn’t, like, an ‘I appreciate you’ or maybe a…a,” your voice catches. “A whole ‘I’m fond of you’ sort of thing…? Hm?”

Simon takes a step forward and you take one back. This was worse than torture, you decided. The pain in your pulling stitches and re-set nose was welcome here.

“Trick,” Ghost utters, and you stare hard at his neck, humming. “Stop talking.”

“Copy,” you whisper quickly, shoulders falling. 

He’s so close you can feel his body heat melting into you, and you want nothing more than to touch him. Simon’s hand comes up to your chin, and he angles it up as you stop breathing, lips parted.

“I heard you in the med ward talkin’ to Price. Was outside the door the ‘ole time.” The shadow. 

He tilts your head to the side to stare at the medical tape over the slashes in your skin. The scars won’t bother you—you had plenty of others to show as well. But Simon was…studying you. Assessing. 

His eyes blink slowly with those long pale lashes, and they slide up to you as he leans in close to your ear. Still, you stand comatose.

“You put me through a fucking heap ‘o hurt, Love.” You stare over his shoulder, not speaking, not moving. 

Simon leans back and lets go of your chin, brushing a finger over your nose and the puffy skin there.

“Never do that again.” It’s final, how he says it. But the layers of depth are plain to hear. Simon speaks low and even—gaze trapping yours like a curse. 

You know he won’t talk about the things you’ve heard. The aggression or the late-night gym trips. You’ve known him for years, and know his brain like the back of your hand.

Shivering, you nod once, content with not answering verbally to break the sanctity of the moment. Seeing Simon like this made you ease your fears. You clear your throat to push back the stuffiness.

“Thought you held grudges, Big Guy?” Nearly not heard, you mutter and pick at where the IV needle is supposed to be. 

A hand catches yours and stops you from making it bleed.

“Do,” Ghost grumbles, turning your hand over and moving his face closer until you feel his breath. “Just not with my Bird.” 

His balaclava is suddenly up to his nose, and those lips that had been covered in your blood previously situated themselves perfectly to yours. 

You gasp, arm outstretched beside you in shock. 

You’d kissed him before, but this felt different. More intimate. Simon’s arms slip around your waist, and you retaliate by locking your shaking arms behind his back, feeling the gentle passes of his lips. 

Mouth to mouth, you breathe each other in as if grasping for the other’s soul in desperation. A desperation that tells you how much the beast of a man around you was terrified of your death and the body he had to carry into the helo—of the lengths he would go to stave death from touching your tender flesh. 

No, only he was allowed to do that, and he was a reaper in his own right.

A small death that infected you at every breath puffing into your mouth, every whine and whimper he could draw like water to swallow down as ambrosia. Nectar of the Gods, and it was right there in his arms. Back. Alive. 

To be alive in the summer field of this old military base was to accept that death, and into it, hope that the few moments you had together truly made a difference. 

Simon would hold you there—and when that was done, wrap you in his jacket and carry your battered body back inside; watching your swollen lips and the wide eyes as they gaze back at him. 

Because he could hate you all he wanted for this, for the lies, for the way you made him care…but the both of you would still be alive to do so.

He guessed that was all that mattered.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @l-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Mafia Trilogy !Yandere¡

Ranked On Insanity

A/N: This is purely my opinion on them. We all interpret their characters differently so don’t come at me if you don’t like their placements. I’m trying to be kind of accurate to their characters but also do fan service…I’m stressed so plz 😪

Requests open: 24/7

Warnings: Yandere and toxic themes.

Masterlist

I’m ranking them in three different categories…

Delulu to not as delulu

Batshit and completely delusional

These are the men who are at the point of no return….They are willing to do anything to get you at any cost. I do not say this lightly like I mean they are willing to do anything

My boy John has the entire c.i.a. at his very disposal and you think he won’t use it to find you??? He’s going to get you. Sam will too,, He’ll send out multiple men to come hunt you down if you even dare to hide from him. They do not give a flying duck if you don’t even have romantic interest in them, you are their darling. That’s the end of discussion.

Whatever they want you to do, you’re going to do it. There’s no rationalization with these two. Lincoln and Tom give them all the talks they want but they will not listen. Pushed to the brink enough and their friends are not safe either from their delusional thinking.

You already saw what Sam did to Paulie…imagine what he’d do for his darling. Not the ideal men for normal girls. You will be tormented every single step of your relationship with either one of these men.

No effort is made to hide their sinister behaviors and your eyes will bear witness to their horrific atrocities. If you push them too far they might even harm you eventually. There is no escaping or telling what their insanity will make them do.)

Sam Trapani

John Donovan

Pretty fucking crazy but is in a weird gray area between the other two

They are in the middle. Paulie is already an irrational brute and Vito is a traumatized Soldier, so they are definitely operating weirdly.

They both have similar desires of wanting a partner but have been dealt an unlucky hand when it comes to dating so when you came along…they couldn’t let you go. Their obsession comes from a place of codependency..they need you sooo badly and they cannot go back to their old cold life without you.

They really do care about their darling, truly. They’ll do whatever they can to organically win over your love and trust. Sure they will be super touchy, maybe a little too bossy or over protective of you but they mean well… they truly want to be the “chill bf” but who are they kidding??? They are cray cray in the membrane.

At any moment they can and will snap…their delusions will get the best of them if pushed to that point. If they feel like you’re going to leave or are constantly rejecting them, they will do a full 180 and turn into the previous bunch. They are extremely accusatory and feel like you’re constantly trying to cheat or leave them. Tons of arguments and unsavory punishments.

I can’t say they’d do exactly all the same things as the previous much like they’d never physically hurt you or make you watch their crimes but they are damn near close to being like them…

Paulie Lombardo

Vito Scaletta

Average Mafia Member

These men are still very much Yandere and are willing to kill and fuck shit up for you but aren’t as delusional as the rest. Like on average people terms they are very yandere but in comparison to other members of the mob…eh.

I know this is going to piss hella people off but I can’t imagine any of these three holding you against your will or being overly passionate about their darling.

Your safety comes first and they are more go with the flow kind of men. Especially Lincoln and Tommy, despite their desires, your wishes come first. Joe is just Joe, he cares a lot about you but on average he’s like fuck it…it’s your life girl-. Forced intimacy and everything isn’t their thing.

If you really weren’t romantically feeling them they’d just become platonic yanderes and make sure you’re safe from a distance. If any moment you changed your mind they’d be right there waiting to give you the world but if not they really won’t do too much about it. These men would have to have been romantically invested in you for years for them to snap and become like the rest .)

Tommy Angelo

Lincoln Clay

Joe Barbaro

[urfavmafioso]

i love mafia 2 so much to a point where i’d be going for a sunset walk, a night drive or just staring off into nice clouds, listening to emotional music as i think to myself “i am so glad mafia 2 exists because it’s so beautiful and the best thing ever”

and then i’d be thinking about how grateful i am for the beautiful friends i made in the fandom as i stare off into such gorgeous scenery ✨

i’d make my everyday outfits somewhat vito coded while thinking about mafia 2 every minute and hour

i even recently bought custom made jewellery for everyday wear that says “vito” on it

oh yea by the way, here are my random background edits:

[melodicaprils]

alright everyone. its time for the long awaited mikesys headcanons!!

(no applause)

uh anyway (warning spoilers for my fic that i have not posted) (also most hc r based off of real evidence!!)

chester:

introject of dead father

he acts like what a 5 year olds perspective of what an old man is bc young mike never rlly knew his father

formed first

can b as secretive as mike for some topics

loves rlly old books n cares for them like theyre babies

does care abt the system a lot, he just doesnt show it easily

is actually rlly good at masking

is "too old for love"

color i chose for him is gray

svetlana:

trans n lesbian!!!!!!

physical protector

formed 3rd, around the same time as manitoba

showed up bc the sys' not mentally stable mom was pushing them too much into their gymnastics (also she prob wanted a girl)

has trouble w/ taking breaks from practice

loves "girly" stuff like dressing up n makeup

trash at masking

color i chose for her is pink

vito:

trauma holder, but calls himself the "social protector"

remembers all the physical trauma

has dysthymia (which im pretty sure is like major depression, but its less severe n lasts way longer)

last to form

beats himself up abt anne marias whole "left u for a rock" thing

wears a mask w/ a smile for hours at a time

actually rlly sweet n caring

hates his physical appearance

writes poems (this isnt shown in the show i just think it would b funky)

decent at masking

showed up cuz mike got rejected by the only person who cared abt him

color i chose for him is red

manitoba:

internal self helper

not a fictive, hes just like that

based his whole personality on old australian sexist movies

secretly thinks its funny when ppl dont understand his australian slang

least traumatized

color is light brown

mal:

persecutor + trauma holder (but then bc of a real redemption arc that really occured hes now just a protector + trauma holder)

remembers all the mental trauma

reset button? what reset button? systems cant just reset their brain, silly

trash at cooking, like anything can be burnt to a crisp

listens to breakcore (specifically breakcore covers of classical songs)

was y the system went to juvie

main host for the entire time there

hated it after a while

like many former persecutors, he thought what he was doing was best for the body

doesnt actually hate the system (except for mike i mean what)

secretly enjoyed it when zoey treated him lovingly cuz she thought he was mike

color is dark blue

[oesker]

username song game

rules: put a song for every letter in your username

o - our last summer by abba

e - everybody loves me by onerepublic

s - somewhere only we know by keane

k - kids in the sky by das kope

e - everybody loves somebody by dean martin

r - rumour has it by adele

@pretentiouswreckingball thank youu ly i’ll listen to all the songs you wrote😈😈

i love tag games soo much

and tags @cosmiconstellations @murderoushagthesequel @werewolfenthusiast @likeprongstostars @chace-vito <333

[td-rarepairs]

Someone already talked abt malcody but I want to talk about it MORE because malcody is literally my fav rare pair, I just love a ball of hate falling in love with ball of sunshine and being like "GODDD WHYYY". mal would absolutely hate the fact that he loves this loser geek and cody is just like "I can fix him :)))"

the other alters would constantly tease mal about his crush (especially vito) he's like the little brother they pick on, mike tries to be more nice about it though and actually gives advice but mal probably never listens

I also love the idea of an au where cody is in all stars and mal is trying to be evil but he starts falling in love with cody and is like "NO I CAN LET THIS GET IN THE WAY OF MY PLANS" you can even go into an angst route where cody falls in love with mal but mal gets erased

Anyways tldr: MALCODY SUPREMACY!!! EVERYONE SHIP MALCODY!!!!!

.

[philipjohnclapp]

dudeee could you write headcanons on a female cky member who’s dating knox? it’s literally my dream but i’m terrible at writing my own stuff 🥹

( it would also be sick if you write about how her relationship is with everyone — especially vito cause he’s fucking hilarious — cause i imagine her being on cky and jackass *the tv show and movies* )

CKY member dating Knoxville Headcanons

A/N: I have zero idea what I’m doing, but I decided to include my favorite of the cky guys. Circulated towards more CKY as a whole and not Jackass simply because I didn’t wanna portray what is overdone already with Y/N. I hope you are satisfied, and once again my inbox is open. I love doing headcanons! Remember I’ll write anything for any fandom. I’m willing to do another part with more CKY, or turn this into a fic, also, I could do another part with the Jackass guys. Been working on this for a while, my bad for taking so long.

CKY Band Headcanons:

- Knoxville is jealous, I mean since he saw you in CKY. He gets jealous because of how close the guys are to you, and overall because of how much time they spend with you.

- Going along with the jealous thing whenever any of the guys are touching you in any way he gets all snappy and jealous.

- He makes it obvious too, and the guys have definitely gotten their asses handed to them a few times.

- Most of the time you intervene before it can happen.

- For the life of you, you can’t get Knoxville to like Jess. He doesn’t hate the guy, but even when things are just normal he’s still pissy.

- Knoxville definitely wishes you two met sooner, and he rambles on about it even if it wasn’t physically possible for you to meet sooner.

- He often jokes about making his own band just with you in it so he could have you all to himself.

- Definitely finds you being in a band sexually appealing.

- He’s absolutely amazed whenever you’re playing an instrument or singing.

- Sometimes he likes to join in even though he can’t sing or play for the life of him. At least he thinks he can’t sing, when he tries it sorta has a southern drawl to it and it just drives you wild as well.

- His accent is definitely more heavy when you’re around, and he’ll exaggerate it just because he knows how much you like it.

- When around the guys he always is touching you in some shape or form.

- He’s like a helicopter mom.

- Will try to go to every one of your concerts and definitely owns at least three of every merch item.

- Can't fight, but WILL fight fans who are creepy to you.

- Whenever you’re touring with the guys and he can’t go with you, bet your ass your phones are ringing non stop off the hook, and if you don’t answer? Well, he’ll harass the guys.

- He’s definitely gotten blocked by some of them.

- Definitely tried to make a shitty song for you once for Valentine’s Day; it was horrible, but you loved it.

- He definitely burns CDs with different songs for you.

- Try to listen to heavy rock and such to fit in with your music taste, and in return you listen to some of his country shit.

- Most of the time y’all just bounce back to The Ramones and such.

- You two listen to a whole bunch of parody music together, like an ungodly amount.

CKY Movie Headcanons:

- Before you two met you were already in CKY, so you bet when you two started dating he rewatched the first few movies practically a million times.

- With the newer ones he always follows you around set, he’s definitely like your runner boy.

- When the guys go too far you bet your ass there’s clips of him going to the extreme.

- Definitely gets super jealous, especially because of how hansy the guys can be with you.

- If you and the guys are going drinking you bet your ass he’s tagging along, because of his jealousy and the fact he always wants to be around you.

- It’s also because he may or may not trust most of the guys you hang around, but he does trust Bam's parents.

- Always I mean ALWAYS french kisses you, and just overall gets heated with you around the guys.

- Has no shame, even one time he made a joke that they could watch.

- One night when things got specifically really heated, Bam tried to redeem that card. It did not go well, he got punched in the jaw.

Relationship with other CKY members:

Bam Margera:

- You two are tight, no surprise there cause you are.

- He hates that you’re with Johnny and when he’s not around he always asks you why you’re with him.

- He definitely secretly likes you.

- Even though he doesn’t like Johnny, you two are still close because all in all you were close with Bam before you ever were close with Johnny.

- Bam definitely brings that fact up when he’s talking to Johnny, Johnny absolutely hates it.

- He says he wishes he met you sooner [even though he grew up in shit fuck Tennessee.]

- You definitely were the one to teach Bam how to do his eyeliner, made him fall in love with it too.

-You did eyeliner for the first time on him as a joke, he was supposed to hate it, but he did not. Surprise!

Jess Margera:

- Your boyfriend likes him a whole lot more, and Jess doesn’t overstep boundaries.

- You love him to bits.

- You two platonically cuddle all the time, and it gets Bam so jealous.

- By now Johnny figured out that he really couldn’t do a thing about it, he’s over it.

- Sometimes if you two end up cuddling Johnny will just straight up join.

- Yor some reason he always calls the middle, it’s weird.

- Jess introduced you to most of your favorite singers (somehow)

- You two definitely have similar music tastes.

Ryan Dunn:

- Definitely drink together.

- He’s like a brother to you, like cmon.

- Definitely protective over you, but in a sibling type of way.

- He’s like your ride or die.

- Twin flame for real.

- You definitely bash him for his music taste.

- He bashed you for your taste in men.

- So far (he believes) Knoxville is the best guy you’ve dated.

- You’ve dated a lot of shit bags.

- Definitely pranks the shit outta you.

- Steal your cigarettes, like you never have any.

- You two do a lot of stunts together, Jackass and CKY.

- Still, you won’t share a room with him. He reeks.

Vito:

- He’s like an uncle to you, or a second father in his own weird way.

- You definitely do a whole lot of pranking to him when with Bam.

- Though, you of course do a whole lot on your own too.

- He can’t ever hold a grudge against you.

- Though he has tried (and failed) running after you one time, while Bam jumped on him from behind.

- It was funny.

- Still, you two have a good bond.

- Definitely watch different television shows together.

- Gets along with Knoxville.

Chris Raab:

- Let’s be honest, he is like an annoying little brother to you.

- Though, sometimes you call him Sid jokingly because he looks like the Sid from Toy Story.

- He got tired of it, it was funny at first though.

- Definitely do odd things together. Always up to the most weird things.

- You probably wear his clothes, sometimes.

- Definitely like to sit and listen to music together though.

- Even though Chris Raab probably falls asleep halfway through it.

[kevotsuka]

I want to hear more pregnant Bezz thoughts of yours. What's his pregnancy like? Cravings? Illness? What does he do most of the time? You mentioned he isolated himself, does he get sad when lonely? Does Pecco visit him and help him with stuff? Does Bezz attempt to remember who the father could be and contact him? How does Bezz feel isolating himself when he's usually a very social person? Any preg!bezz thoughts you have, I love your cute au 🩵🩵

ANON I'm sorry I'm so late but my head has lately decided go to a writing strike HSHSHSHS but I've been listening to Alejandra Guzman, Cristina Aguilera and RBD in loop and now I'm better

You have very VERY important questions.  Preg! Bezz has been spinning like a piece of spicy chicken in my brain and im go and talking to a bunch of moms to project my man into their problems wuwuwu

This answer is going to be too long and a mess, I'm so sorry orz orz orz

(and each pregnancy is completely unique. What is normal for one person may be a sign of absolute danger for another. Always remember to go to your trusted gynecologist/obstetrician!)

1. What's his pregnancy like? Cravings? Illness?

He craves Japanese food but is banned from sushi!  He is an unhappy Bezz when people told him that sushi is dangerous for the baby.  Beyond that, he doesn't really have food cravings, he just eats a lot (and then throws up because he feels guilty for eating so much. He has more problems with food than cravings. TCA/Eating Disorder Bezz is very personal to me- but it's going to therapy and continuing with a new nutritionist!)

About symptoms.  At first he thinks it's an asymptomatic pregnancy, and it's more like the pregnancy is camouflaging itself.

Like. He's throwing up his guts, but he think “its relates it to the end of the season and the stress causes that in him” (even though he's no longer in line for the championship) (and he's never thrown up from stress before).  He then feels fatigued and can't sleep, but that's all because he travels a lot, jet lag and all that.  He misses his dog and cries looking at his photos. He has belly cramps, but it's probably something he ate in the paddock when he had a sudden aversion to the smell of chicken and he couldn't eat anything from the hospitality.

On top of that, his painkillers are kicking him between physical therapy.

When the season ends and his body has a chance to catch up, all the symptoms hit him like a truck. Headaches, heartburn, constipation and generally the desire to die to end the torment of him. He is also bloated…? and feels like shit. The bug is charging for every fall he had at the end of the season, or at least that's what Bezz thinks as he gets up for the second time in the night to urinate at the end of the second trimester or when he has to drink his calcium-fortified milk -very expensive and he hates the taste-.  The bug is really demanding with they needs!

2. What does he do most of the time? You mentioned he isolated himself, does he get sad when lonely?

I said “practically vanished from the face of the earth.”  He wasn't really alone, he is a family man, and of course he returned to his childhood home!  His older sister was very happy for him!  (The youngest offered him a rue tea as soon as he mentioned that he are pregnant, before Marco clarified that he was going to keep it- wait “Laura, how do you know that these are abortifacients?” “Oh Marco, don't ask questions for which you don't want answers.")

 (i'm sorry i love his sisters so much hshshs)

But yeah, he feels so lonely because he went from spending almost all the time with his team or the people at the ranch, not just the other riders, and now is just his family and his new “medical crew” (obstetrician, psychologist, nutritionist).

Also, He is an unemployed man!  At least until Valentino calls him and tells him he has something for him to do at the academy (like Migno, lol)

He can't help in the mechanical workshop (although now that Vito goes to the races with him, I wonder what's happened with that), so he goes with his mom to do the administrative work.

 He hates it so much :)

Those first months are torture for him and his family. His two sisters capitulated as soon as they could and left (they have a life to, Marco!). When he's not helping his mom or learning to become expert in Excel, he's watching old seasons of MotoGP, F1, and NBA. He stays at home mostly. He gets in a bad mood about it, but he prefers it to having to face his friends :(

But he can now recite by heart the podiums of every MotoGP and F1 race from 2007 and 2008!

3. Does Pecco visit him and help him with stuff?

Yeah! Bezz calls Pecco to tell him because he knows he can't run away forever for his friends, but he calls him at week 15 which is a long time past the period for a termination of pregnancy (wait, are abortions even legal in Italy?).  He called pecco when he say himself “there is no turning back from this.”

 (He's a fool...)

Pecco, once he discovers that Bezz is no longer going to lock himself in and respond to his messages (although not those from the academy's WhatsApp group...), finds out his home address and appears from time to time to check on him and take him out to eat Japanese food (but not sushi :c).  He texts him constantly and listen to Marco when he calls him to tell him something about how horrible he feels and how none of the websites he's seen talk enough about back pain (they do, he doesn't really read a lot).

Bezz is also ignoring the absolute circus that is the 2024 season because he feels rubbish not being there, and Pecco is happy not to touch on the topic at all because talking about the season is talking about Martín and Márquez and no, thanks.

 Pecco invites himself to the baby reveal date in the obstetrician (Marco doesn't throw a reveal party, booo) and together they discover that the bug that Bezz is having will be a little boy.

It's Pecco who brings Luca and Franky when Bezz says he's ready to mention it to more people (after finding out the sex of the baby).  Luca is the obvious choice for everything and Franky is Franky, so he has to be there. And they go on a shopping trip - with Pecco’s bonus - so they don't have time to process anything at all.

Franky keeps trying to buy VR46-themed things (why are there so many?) while Luca asks the -no- innocent question of “who is the father?”

4. Does Bezz attempt to remember who the father could be and contact him?

NOW. THIS QUESTION.

Short answer: no :)

Long answer: To each person who asks, Bezz will say a very eloquent “I am the father of the baby :D”.  He admits that he had sex with a lot of people at that time and doesn't remember most of them, so it's not worth looking for the child's other father. The bug is his, he is carrying it in his body and they don't need anyone else.

REAL Answer: Marco absolutely has an idea who the father is and will DIE before telling anyone, not even his family.  He will take that secret to the grave.  When his little bug is born and grows with brown eyes and to have curly brown hair, no one will ask about it anymore.

(when the boy grows up to have blue eyes and straight hair, people have QUESTIONS. Marco is not answering.)

 SORRY IT'S SO LONG it's just- pregbez

[neonpixel-pixie]

🖤 Love letter for Vito Scaletta 🖤

NOTE: hello angels, i know my tumblr is not as active as i would like it to be, but i have lack of ideas and also nearly none time since school & socializing. (if anyone is waiting for moodboard or aesthetic, i will try my best to find my time this months). at least my creative writing class gave me some idea for some kind of postable material. we were supposed to write a love letters & from some reasons i decided to write one for vito scaletta. i know it is not the best one, but it was much fun to do it and i really gave a lot of feelings into it. i hope you will enjoy it and if you like it let me know in comments (maybe i will make more posts like that if you will be interested). ~ neonpixel-pixie 🧚🏻‍♀️✨

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My dearest Vito, About three hours ago, I have returned to Empire Bay after months away to spend the Christmas holidays with you, and guess what?! From your "great" friends, I found out that you ended up in prison because of your "amazing" job. Didn't I tell you to be careful before I left to Stanford? And didn't I also tell you that my parents can financially support us until you find a decently paid job? But no! Mr. Scaletta had to be as stubborn as always and not listen to me, right?! Oh, Vito, I love you so much, but why are you such an idiot? Why are you doing this to me... and on Christmas of all times?! Do you know how scared I was when you suddenly stopped writing letters to me and answering calls? I've spent nights crying because I thought you might have found someone else since we last saw each other! I know you're not like that. After all, you kept your promises like a decent man everytime. So I reassured myself thinking you must just be very busy. But despite that, I imagined the worst scenarios every day, either contemplating pulling out the hair of anyone who even looks at you or whinned like a fool for hours - not that I'm not doing that while I'm writing this letter too... and the fact that I'm writing it in your apartment doesn't really help my mood, especially when I imagine how we could spend time together today after endless waiting. You wouldn't believe how excited I was to finally see your face in person and not only on a few photographs I secretly grabbed from you before the start of the winter semester. And when I imagine that we could spend the holidays baking and decorating gingerbreads while listening to Christmas songs by Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin, it breaks my heart. The only thing currently keeping me somewhat sane is the scent of your cologne, whiskey, and cigarettes, which still lingers in the rooms and reminds me so much of your sweet embrace and passionate kisses. At least it warms my soul a bit and gives me hope that you'll get out soon from that hell on earth, and I'll feel the warmth of your embrace again. I promise that while I'm in town, I'll stop by to see you whenever possible. I love you and please take care of yourself. I'm afraid for you. Yours beloved, M. ♥

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 4 - They Call Me Kid

AN : So second person won the poll so I guess I will continue in this POV…I love seeing comments so keep at it. And don’t forget that I have a tag list, so just ask if you can be put on it! Enjoy! 

The blare of the alarm from your phone was not fun to wake up to. Arthur had told you many times to change it, but you never listened. If there was a nice tune that was supposed to wake you up, you never would. A sleepy groan escaped your lips as you stretched. You wanted to rub your eyes, but you knew better. Taking a shower was the first thing on your agenda. 

The shower was definitely smaller than the one you had back home, but it would have to do. The water pressure wasn’t great either. You just hoped that the water wouldn’t leave your hair feeling greasy all day. At least you could use the hair dryer. It didn’t take long for the water to warm up. Your muscles instantly relaxed under the stream of heat. 

You definitely fit into the category of “girls who love molten lava water temperature.” Cold showers, or just any cold water, were not your thing. Your trainer often had to force you to get into the ice bath. 

The water helped the sleepiness go away, but a red bull would really get the job done. Knowing the time crunch, you quickly washed and conditioned your hair, along with shaving and exfoliating. You needed to make a good impression on the first day. 

Drying your hair barely took anytime. Since you knew that the simulator would be a big part of today, you forwent the contacts and decided to use your glasses. 

The real driving started on Sunday. Which, you couldn’t help but be excited for. However, you knew how to use a sim, but not the physical car. 

The basics would only help you out so much. 

You shook your head, trying to get out of the oncoming detrimental mindset. You needed music. And there was only one song that you knew would help. 

“Hey Siri, play Life is a Highway by Rascal Flats.” 

The female AI voice responded, “Now playing, Life is a Highway by Rascal Flatts.” 

The familiar sound of the drums and eclectic guitar filled the small bathroom. Your head started to bob as you began your skin care routine. Your makeup didn’t take long since you had decided to go with your glasses. 

“I’LL BE THERE WHEN THE LIGHT COMES IN – JUST TELL ‘EM WE’RE SURVIVORS!” 

Your hands pretended to play an air guitar as you jumped on your bed. You flung your hair left and right at you went into the chorus. 

“LIFE IS A HIGHWAY, WELL I WANNA RIDE IT ALL NIGHT LONG!” 

You, however, were stopped once there was a knock on the door. You quickly turned the music off before clamoring down from the bed. You almost tripped on a loose shoe as you quickly opened the door. 

Standing there was Vito. He took in your appearance before smirking. He pushed passed you and walked further into the room. 

“Well ok then,” you muttered, “just let yourself in I guess.” You ran a hand through your hair, trying to tame the fly aways from your one person concert. 

“Heard you singing down the hallway.” Your mouth gaped. 

“No you did not.” Your shoulders brushed as you walked back into the bathroom. You heard him chuckle as he sat down on your stomped on bed. You quickly finished up. Grabbing your bag, you let Vito know that you were ready. He stood up and walked to the door, with you following behind him. 

You said a quick good morning to the desk workers before walking out the sliding doors. Outside, a nice SUV with tinted was waiting. 

“Front seat or back seat?” you asked. 

“Back.” 

Your hand reached for the back handle and popped the door open. The driver turned around a bit and gave you a smile as you slid on the nice leather. You greeted him before he turned around. The car started to move a bit as you put your seatbelt on. 

“What is on the agenda for today?” you ask Vito as he pulls out a fancy tablet. It looked very similar to the one that Christian had yesterday afternoon. 

“So you have a simulator run, then a suit fitting, and then you need to quickly decide on a helmet design. You could use your current one, but it’s Vegas,” Vito replies. 

“Viva Las Vegas,” you murmured the tune. “When do I need to send in a helmet design?” 

“Probably by the end of the day. They mentioned they needed it soon.” 

“Gotcha.” You quickly took out your phone to start looking over saved designs that you had. Scrolling through your ideas, a couple stood out to you. You reached over to show Vito a few pictures. “Do you think it’s too early for this one?” A bright red and yellow helmet was on display. 

Vito only laughed. “Quite possibly.” He took your phone and scrolled through the rest of the designs. “Your current helmet is white and silver. Do you want to continue or do you want to go with a darker shade?” 

You let out a hmmm. “Let’s keep it white,” you pulled your lip in between your teeth, “and can we add the sparkles?” You were basically a child when it came to glitter. 

“Sure kid.” Vito seemed to screenshot the design and send it to an unknown number. You were satisfied with what you picked. You just couldn’t wait to use the rest of them. You had one picked out for your first actual race, one for COTA, one for Halloween, one for…you got pulled out of your thoughts when the car stopped. 

The building, once again, was very impressive. You could get used to the view. At this point, you never wanted anything to be different. You heard the unbuckling of Vito’s seatbelt and followed suit. You both used the back entrance once again to get into the building. You guessed that RB was very particular about what news they wanted to get out and what news they wanted to keep secret. 

Passing the posters, you felt better about the future. You would be up there, if it was the last thing you did. This time, you followed Vito down a different hallway than the first time. Through a door at the end of the hallway, the two of you entered a giant room with multiple sims. Your heart started to race. You couldn’t decipher if it was from anxiety or excitement. 

Vito continued to walk forward with you hot on his heals. You didn’t want to get too far from him, but your eyes caught the new DMG-1. Even Dams didn’t have this grand of machinery. You had strayed just enough from Vito to be “alone,” but you were still close. Your eyes raced over the sim. Excitement started to buzz in your veins. Your hands itched to touch the wheel. It was all impressive. You didn’t expect anything less from the all-time dominant team. 

“You like it?” A voice interrupted your thoughts. 

You turned your head and your eyes met a pair of brown ones. A woman, taller than you, in an official RB polo stood with one of those tablets. 

You could only nod your head, eyes glistening like a kid in a candy store. This is basically your candy.  

“It-it’s amazing,” you stuttered, suddenly feeling shy. 

The woman let out a small laugh before putting a hand out between the two of you. You grasped the hand firmly as she shook yours. 

“Michelle Williams, your Race Engineer. I’m here to see how you do on the sim.” She gave you a nice smile. 

“Nice to meet you Miss Williams,” you shyly said. This time, her laugh was a little louder as she waved her hands. 

“None of that, people often call me Mitch, and I want you to do as well. You have anything you want me to call you by?” 

Your head cocked. With eyes shifting quickly to Vito, you answered, “They call me kid. I don’t know why, but Vito started calling me that during F2 and it kinda just stuck.” Your shoulders shrugged. You knew exactly why he called you that. You had just turned 17 days before your first F2 debut. You were a kid. Thus, the nickname still stuck. 

She nodded. “Alright kid. You want to show me what you can do?” 

Your eyes widened. “Right now?” 

“Yep. Don’t worry about the others. They’re here for other things. It’s just going to be me and you. A test run for the real thing if you will.” Her smile was comforting. 

You took a deep breath and took a step towards the simulator. You carefully climbed into the machine with the help of Mitch. Once you had gotten situated, you pulled the straps down and buckled in. Mitch handed you a headset and explained that she would have one as well on the outside to get you used to her talking. 

She started up the sim from the outside. You were now in your element. 

From your headset, Mitch talked, “Ok kid. We’re going to do a couple of laps in Vegas to get you used to the layout. How does that sound?” 

You replied, “Sounds good Mitch. Just so you know, I have a borderline photographic memory, so I think I can have it memorized by the first lap” There was a reason for your dominance on the F2 tracks. Tiny details that people might forget after a lap were always noticed by you. Because of your communication with the team, you were able to overcome things that sent drivers into the barriers. 

“Sounds good. Ok, starting the first lap, stand by.” 

You inhaled and exhaled before pressing on the pedals. It was definitely harder than an F2 car, but you could manage. Taking things slowly, you took your time to get the layout of the track and how it felt. You were able to communicate a few things with Mitch as you leisurely drove around. After about 7-10 laps of just driver, Mitch told you to line the car up with the animated P1 spot. 

What you didn’t know, was that the rest of the crew, including Christian had gathered around to see how you did. Vito stood with bated breath. He knew you could do it. 

From you headset came, “This is ‘for real’ now kid. Let’s set an official lap time for the simulator.” 

“Yes ma’am.” You wanted to mock salute, but you needed to focus. You shifted down in your seat to make yourself smaller. 

Once the animated lights changed green, your pretend tires spun as the car accelerated at an amazing speed. You weren’t expecting it but you accepted it with open arms. This is what you were meant to do. 

You eyes stayed laser focused on the track as you went around the first corner. This track definitely had a lot of straights, and you knew that the track was going to be colder than normal. You commanded the car with excellence. You hadn’t even realized that you had already gone around the track. 

Christian leaned over to Vito, “Where’d you find this kid?” 

Vito could only smile and shrug his shoulders. 

You were pulled out of your mindset when Mitch spoke in the headset, “And that is an excellent time of 1 minute and 32 point 799 seconds. Well done kid.” You could practically hear her smile, which made you smile in return. 

“Do I need to go another time?” you asked as you taxied the “car” around the circuit. 

“That’s all for today. I think you need to go with your manager for the suit fitting.” 

“Thanks Mitch.” 

“No problem kid.” 

You parked the pretend car and looked up at the time and smiled. A click caught your attention as a photographer had his camera to his face. He sheepishly smiled as he brought the camera down. 

“Could you send me that?” you asked him as you unbuckled the seatbelts. He nodded and walked away. As you climbed down out of the sim, you finally noticed the crowd. You averted your eyes as you walked over to Vito and Christian. 

“Nice to see you again Mr. Horner,” you said as Vito passed you a water bottle, which you chugged gratefully. 

“Mega job there kid,” he paused, “I can call you that right?” You never would have thought that the great Christian Horner would be hesitant about things like that. 

You let out a little laugh, “Yes sir. Seems like it sticks with me wherever I end up.” You poked Vito in the side. The three of you talked for a bit. Things about the upcoming schedule were discussed before you had a question. 

“Am I meeting Max and Checo at Vegas, or will I meet them before?” 

Christian brought his hand to his chin. “I think we’re going to fly you down on Tuesday and we can all go out to eat.”

“Does, um, Max know yet?” You really didn’t want him to meet you for the first time and just then find out that you were going to be his teammate. Your worries must have shown on your face as Christian put his hand on your shoulder. 

“He already knows. He knows what it’s like, being young and all.” 

“And he doesn’t care that I’m…” you trailed off, leaving the words unspoken. 

Christian gave you a sympathetic look. “Kid, he’s eager to meet you. The guy likes a challenge and I think he’s ready for a new dynamic.” 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Ok, thank you.” 

“No problem kid. I think though that you are needed in room 3A for a suit fitting.” He pointed in the direction of the room. 

You thanked him and walked over to the door, with a new found confidence you didn’t know you had. 

Opening the door, you were met with another man and a woman. 

“Hey kid. You ready for your fitting?” the woman asked. 

“I was born ready.” 

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @digitalizeduniqueness @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @alwaysboredsworld

[ask-the-mikeys]

what gender of music the alters listen to?

Music genre? Well, I dunno. I just listen to whatever- Mike

Video game soundtracks, and sludge metal/grunge.- Mal

Svetlana loves pop! Like Marina and Lady Gaga!-Svetlana

Hiphop and rap- Vito

Mostly horrorcore and a bit of country-Manitoba

Darn kids…what happened to the good ol days of music! -Chester

(Mal Svet and Mani are so me core)

[dontbesoweirdkira]

I know it was kind of covered in your how many children would they have, but I want to know how Sam, Vito and Paulie would handle taking care and raising kids. I think it would be chaotic

A/N: let’s pretend this didn’t come out months later and at 1am.🫣 didn’t add Vito because I already spoke on him being a father.

Warnings: none super fluffy

Requests: open 24/7

Masterlist

Sam

I think Sam would be a rather stoic and emotionally absent dad. I’ve mentioned before that he absolutely loved his kids and would give them the world but he’s just flawed.

He’s terrified of being a bad father and his kids resenting him when he gets older so in turn he just shuts down a little bit.

I don’t think any of the mafia one characters had *great* fathers and so Sam is definitely struggling with navigating through fatherhood. Especially if he has daughters. He doesn’t know how or where to start with taking care of a little girl and he would push that more into the mother. He’d be a standard over protective dad who doubles as the walking atm.

I think with boys he’d have a bit of an easier time. At first when they are little he’s kind of stand-offish. That is an unknown territory for him and he’s never been good with babies or toddlers. He hates the crying, the diapers, the mess and all that. Getting down to their level is slightly uncomfortable for him to do aswell.

I like to think when they get older tho maybe around 7 or 8 he starts to lighten the load for his wife. Probably try to find more time away from the mob so he can actually get to know them. He’d take his kids out shooting, to sports games/races, to get ice cream and most importantly to meet the family.

I can imagine his kids being sneaky menaces. I just know one would sneak under the table during a meeting and bite Tommy’s ankle. Or steal candies from shops nearby while Sam is preoccupied.

I personally see sam as kind of like the older brother of the trio and new recruits of the mob. He’s an old soul and is rather good at teaching things. But—when the it comes down to it he can be a bit goofy and let himself go. I think he’s that way too with his boys. His dating and life advice are a bit….unconventional to say the least lol.

With time he’ll understand that it’s okay to be vulnerable with them and to show them more that he loves them. A few mess ups won’t change the undying love his boys have for him.

Paulie

The fun dad that everyone absolutely wanted growing up.

Paulie isn’t a perfect father by any means and he has a lot of work he needs to do on himself but he truly is a family man at heart. That’s all he’s ever wanted in his entire life and it’s the whole reason he joined the mob is to actually have people around him that “cared”.

Now he finally gets to be and provide everything that he never had growing up. Unlike Sammy, I think Paulie loveeees when his children are babies/toddlers. He loves getting down on the floor with them and playing pretend games. He’ll gladly listen to his baby girl talk about her dollies or his son boast about his trains all day. It brings him so much joy.

He never got to really have a childhood and for him this is finally his time to experience all the wonderful bliss of being a child.

He’s actually really great at calming the children down for nap time and poopy diapers doesn’t phase this gangster in the slightest. Anything beats working for the don.

Speaking of the mob, he would flip his absolute sh*t if he found out any of his kids tried joining or dating in the mob… he wants them to have a clean and happy life. Paulie has seen far too much death and heinous abuse to ever want that for his own.

As far as being serious and able to have teaching moments, I think this is where Sam has him beat. Paulie sometimes doesn’t want to get into the nitty gritty of things, he wants his babies to stay innocent forever. He doesn’t like having to correct them or be the bad cop ever. His children being upset with him kills him. Paulie just so desperately wants to be the good dad they can brag about to all their friends, he only wants them to have good memories.

Having the kids work at the pizza shop with him is a great way for him to install discipline and good morals into them while they can still have fun together.

Speaking of the pizza shop and chaos, lord help him. They have to clean for hours after each shift because they have frequent food fights😭