#finale

Pairing(s): Massimo Torricelli x Reader

 Warning(s): None, tears from your author

 A/N: Thank you sooooo so much to everyone who has read this series. I love you all immensely. Song is ‘’Hard for Me’’ by Michele Morrone. I hope every one has a very happy safe new year, thank you for sticking with me throughout this journey. 

 PART ONEPART TWOPART THREE PART FOURPART FIVEPART SIXPART SEVENPART EIGHTPART NINE PART TEN

You keep telling me that I am free to go
But I’m addicted to you
It’s a lie
It’s a lie

‘’No, absolutely not.’’

‘’And why not?’’

Cocking her head upwards, she beams at the sight of his thick eyebrows knotted together in feigned annoyance. The twinkle in his dark eyes gives him away as he grins down at her, admiring that tiny dimple that graces the left corner of her mouth whenever she laughs or smirks in mischief. Just as she is doing now. Her waves of dark hair frame her face as they bathe in this rare moment of peace. She giggles and he knows then and there that he’ll never tire of hearing it.

‘’Mario, we are absolutely not naming them ‘Brutus,’’ she sits up. His eyes immediately fell upon her proud bump, bare to see in the privacy of their little love nest. Their little miracle, their ‘’little pea’’ as she had recently coined them. Mario had been so eager to find out the sex of ‘’little pea’’, but he could not help but indulge his wife’s wishes of being surprised at the birth. They waited nearly ten years for their little miracle, a few more weeks wouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t be much longer, he constantly found himself reflecting, only a few short weeks until they would welcome little pea home.

‘’What? It’s a classic. It’s a good, strong name for a strong boy,’’ Mario leaned forward, pressing his forehead against his wife’s as she placed his hand against her stomach, maneuvering it around her smooth skin until little pea’s strong legs began kicking against his palm much to their shared delight.

‘’Bold of you to assume we’re having a boy,’’ she quirked a brow in amusement, her full lips stretched into that smile that made it hard for Mario to breathe at times.

‘’You seem pretty confident we’re not,’’ he retorted, pressing a kiss to her nose.

She smiled up at her husband, taking in his features. As the years passed by his hair had begun to thin and gray hairs speckled around the sides, although that was most likely due to the stress that accompanied his job rather than age. He was still her Mario, her strong and protective, devoted husband. Her hand cupped his cheek, her thumb stroking his tan skin.

‘’After all these years…when will you realize I’m never wrong?’’ she sighed, leaning into his embrace as little pea’s kicks settled down into more of a flutter in her stomach.

Mario scoffed, encompassing his wife in his strong arms as they laid back down on their bed. So many years had they tried for a child, each year filled with bitter disappointment and less and less hopes of ever being a family. Just when they had begun to make their peace with the possibility of never being parents, one tiny pink ‘’+’’ sign changed their lives and filled it with newfound hope.

‘’What about Alessia?’’ she pondered, staring up at the ceiling as they curled up to one another.

A small, genuine smile graced Mario’s lips. He looked down at her, kissing her forehead. ‘’I like it. I like it a lot.’’ She smiled back, sighing as she stretched out her legs, enjoying the feel of her husband’s hands running along her skin.

‘’I have been thinking…of stepping down as Torricelli’s bodyguard.’’

He felt her stiffen a bit at the confession. He knew she wasn’t a fan of his line of work. She was aware of the horrors he had witnessed since joining the Torricelli clan. More than on one occasion had she awoken to him having night terrors or had to scrub his shirts until her knuckles were sore from getting crimson stains out of them. While she hated the lifestyle that came with her husband’s job, she knew it was no use to convince him to ever leave it. As hard as it was saying goodbye to him every morning, not knowing if that would be the last time she’d ever see him, she remained loyal to him and supported him to the best of her ability. And deep down she knew that he harbored immense guilt. 

The guilt of introducing her, and now their unborn child, into the world of the mafia. That he felt less than for introducing her to this life of danger, despite the money he provided and the ostentatious lifestyle they were now capable of having. Two poor children growing up on the streets of Sicily with barely enough money to afford dinner some nights, now living in a mansion of their own thanks to one of Italy’s greatest mafia families. Yet, she wondered how different their lives could have been if they just left it all behind and moved to some unchartered island surrounded by beaches. Somewhere safe, where their child could just run and grow and be merry. Where her and Mario could grow old in a humble house and surrounded by their grandchildren. Just her, Mario, and little pea.

‘’You might step down, but I know you could never leave it for good. If not for the money, then for that little boy,’’ she hummed.

Little Massimo had always looked up to Mario. His own father loved him dearly and spent every second he could with the boy but work tended to pull him aside and left Mario to fill the role of the father more often than not. She knew Mario secretly thought the same of Massimo, and her heart ached that she could not have given him a child of his own to play soccer with or to tell stories of heroes and gods to. Until now, that is.

‘’He’s a good kid…too good for this life,’’ he thought to himself, fingers stroking the exposed skin of her back. She didn’t respond, leading him to look back down at her. They both knew it was too late, that he would carry on his father’s legacy at some point. That those sweet, innocent brown eyes would harden with age and the violence would shape him into his father and his father before him.

‘’You both are.’’

She heavily exhaled through her nose, hand cupping his cheek to force him to meet her eyes.

‘’We’re not going anywhere. We’re a family,’’ she firmly stated. Mario nodded, ignoring the terrible feeling that this was all a dream. A child’s prayer. That they were working with borrowed time. But he would allow himself to rest easy now, for her sake. He would will himself to enjoy this rare moment of bliss and light in a life where blood and crime filled every waking moment. He willed it with every atom of he possessed; that things would just remain as they were now.

‘’I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. To both of you.’’

‘’I know. But there will be a day you will stop hating yourself for trying to make a better life for them than the ones we had as children,’’ she responded, pressing a kiss to his lips, smiling as little pea gave a hearty kick in agreement.

‘’I love you so much, Isabella. Mi principessa.’’

‘’I love you too Mario.’’

I thought that it was enough
But I don’t wanna say goodbye

You awoke with a start, letting a deep sigh exit your mouth as quietly as you could. The strong arm wrapped around your midsection aided in evening your breaths as you took in your surroundings. The familiar scent that made up Massimo filled your being with instant relief despite the few stray tears that stained the beige pillowcase under your head. It wasn’t too often that you dreamt, and if you did it usually revolved around your loved ones. A faceless woman and Mario, scenarios that were impossible to remember but you tried desperately to create and unfold. The parents that you were robbed off. Dreaming of them helped heal you over the years, despite the heaviness in your chest. You quietly untangled yourself from the man heavily snoring beside you, admiring his peaceful state and noting that even with age he was still the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

The sun was beginning to peek through the curtains of your bedroom, New Zealand’s winter weather providing a nice comfortable chill. Winters, as you and Massimo quickly discovered, were one of the warmest times of the year, and your favorite. The locals had been kind, quick to consider the two of you and your son ‘’whanau’’ or ‘’extended family.’’ They showed you the ins and outs of life in rural New Zealand, sharing their language and culture. In no time, your family of three felt as though this place had been your true home all along.

The blades of grass tickled your bare feet as you took your morning stroll through the clearing. The Northern part of the country was full of them, and you found that your ritualistic morning walks through the fields did wonders for your health. Nearly twenty years had passed to the day the two of you moved to this new country with nothing but two suitcases filled with clothes and your infant son. So many birthdays passed, Christmases with Massimo dressing as Saint Nicholas in red swim trunks, graduations, staying up late on New Year’s Eve and waking up early to take the kids to school, all of it. 

You would think of these moments along with other random things as your bare feet felt the cool earth beneath you. You would think of Massimo, who was still as handsome as the day you met him. Older, but still divine in his own right, gray hairs gracing his beard and atop his head. Fine lines by the corner of his light brown eyes from so many years of happiness and laughter. You also thought of your children.

Your son would be visiting you two for Christmas break. Shit, you hoped Massimo would find the note you left instructing him to take the chicken out of the freezer for the special dinner tonight. Apparently y/s/n was bringing a girl he met at university and it was of the upmost importance that you and Massimo did not ‘’totally embarrass him’’ by bringing out the baby albums. You grinned at the thought of showing his girlfriend a particular picture of a six-year-old y/s/n mooning the camera because his father had not allowed him a second slice of pie.

Having your daughter had been easier, admittedly. By the time you fell pregnant with y/d/n the three of you had set roots down in your home. Y/s/n was in school and old enough to help out with his baby sister and you and Massimo had settled into comfortable careers and your neighbors acted as adopted grandparents to your children. She was a spitting image of you, but she had her father’s pride that often served as the source of numerous insignificant fights between the two. Y/s/n resembled a perfect blend of his parents but had developed your reserved and empathetic nature while y/d/n could bring the former boss of the Torricelli clan to his knees with one glare. . .most of the time.

Other times your mind drifted to things that needed to be done around the house, of the ocean, of the handful of genuine friends your little family had made over the years. Years of therapy and the occasional call with your therapist allowed you to also reflect on the past without the tight restraints of anxiety and fear restricting your breathing. Instead, you reflected on happier times. Like the way Mario would sigh in content after each sip of his black coffee. Or the rose garden that you adored so much. Or even as a child the way your pseudo-parents laughed as you ran along the shore, jumping over waves and feeling the sand between your toes.

You found yourself constantly repeating the process of making peace with the past. How the horror and the beauty of it all could both coexist and live in your memories. The good and the bad could both exist and remain true, and the guilt did not have to plague your being as it had done so in your youth. The ghosts of the past no longer filled you with dread but would rather greet you and walk alongside you like old friends. That’s the thing about dealing with ghosts, they could only hold power over you if allowed them to.

You sat down on a mossy log, sighing as you took in the smell of sea salt and fresh grass. Occasionally a few Kaimanawa horses would cautiously graze the fields, only to quickly gallop away as if they had never been there, much like the ghosts of your past.

Y/d/n would be running late for dinner, as she had begun volunteering at a local retirement center between graduating high school and making the move down South for college. Medical school was clear in her future, while her older brother preferred studying World History to become a professor one day. Admittedly, both Massimo and you had full hearts that swelled with pride at your two children who grew up exactly the way the two of you had desperately hoped for; normal. A peaceful smile graced your lips, hands brushing away a few strands of hair that danced in the wind.

‘’You’re not very inconspicuous, dear,’’ you called out, only to be greeted by a pair of strong arms wrapping around your shoulders and lips pressed against your temple.

‘’Yeah, well once you’ve been married for 19 years, you tend to abandon being inconspicuous,’’ Massimo retorted, coaxing a playful scoff from you. You had some faded love bites from the other night that would greatly argue against that sentiment. The two of you had gotten older, but the sexual appetite seemingly only increased with age. You glanced down at the ring that had been resting on your left hand, the sparkle of the diamond would always draw attention in the sunlight. The two of you rested in comfortable silence, laying your head against his shoulder as you both watched the way the sun bounced off the turquoise waves.

‘’Your son is bringing a girl home for dinner tonight,’’ you murmured.

‘’I just got off the phone with him, apparently it’s serious,’’ Massimo responded, a shadow of a smirk on his face and playful wiggle of his dark brows led you to playfully swat at his chest.

‘’Be nice, he’s nervous. I’m sure you can attempt to remember when we were young and you’d get flustered around me.’’

‘’Remember? Principessa, to this day you still take my breath away.’’

‘’Yes because whenever I try to cook the house nearly always bursts into flames,’’ you joked, earning a deep laugh from your husband, his chest vibrating against the side of your face.

‘’Y/d/n will be late again, I’m sure. She got that trait from you,’’ you added, squealing as he jokingly pinched your thigh.

‘’I wasn’t the one who took her sweet time getting to the hospital.’’

You grinned at the memory. So much laughter. So many wonderful moments. A stark contrast as to how the two of you had met. Almost comically different from where you two began. Life had just been so easy following the fire, following the move here. Like everything just fell into place the moment you got out of Italy.

Both of your wedding bands glistened in the sun as the sounds of the waves echoed throughout the crisp air.

‘’Are you happy?’’ you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Massimo nodded, his head, knowing that your question did not mean if he was happy simply in this moment.

‘’I’m happy…you happy?’’

Happy. The word you had been chasing and dancing with your whole lives. The word you wanted so desperately to fill your children’s lives with, and you both knew you had succeeded when they thought their parents were a normal, boring middle-aged couple who had met somewhere in Europe and moved to New Zealand for a better life. You succeeded in concealing the past and all of its’ demons. A pandora’s box of secrets and violence, locked away but never forgotten. You both raised wonderful children who were beginning to take on the world and make it their own. The two of you were so beautiful together, Massimo was such a devoted father.

He was your best friend; you had realized at some point early on in your marriage. Friendship, it turned out, had been the basis for your relationship. Not lust. Not greed. Not vengeance. Friendship. The two of you had been given a life of lies and crime at birth, but in one another found something worth growing old for and worth leaving it all behind.

Both of you defeated the odds and made a home for yourselves and a blissful marriage filled with love and passion and patience. How could you simply limit what you were feeling to just one simple, but powerful word? ‘’Happy.’’ Neither of you were all that experienced in happiness, prior to having your children of course. Or truth. Or normalcy.

You analyzed Massimo’s face as he broke his gaze from the ocean to stare down at you. The face you woke up next to every morning and kissed before falling asleep at night. The one person who loved you without question as equitably as you loved them. Your Massimo. A soft smile found its’ way back home to your face as you leaned in to meet your husband in a kiss. Maybe, just for him, you could allow yourself to ease into the simple, powerful world.

‘’I’m happy.’’

And I think you should know
That I won’t let it go

Y/d/n sighed as she made her way down the halls, ready to check out for the day. Untying her thick hair from the tight pony tail, she sighed and rubbed at the stiffness in her neck. She knew her parents would tease her relentlessly about her ‘’impeccable timing’’ at the dinner table later on. She still had to change clothes and shoes and at least try to look presentable for her brother and his new beau. She groaned, readying herself for the night ahead.

‘’Alessia?’’ a soft-spoken voice called out, making her tense up and twirl around with furrowed brows. Was one of her mother’s friends here?

‘’Ma’am?’’ she questioned, entering the room of one of the many residents. An elderly woman, probably entering her mid-eighties sat in a bed, her white hair pulled into a tight bun.

‘’A-Alessia? Is it you?’’ her meek voice called out, hands shakily reaching towards her.

‘’No ma’am, I’m y/d/n,’’ she smiled down at the woman, taking one of her hands with both of her own in an attempt to comfort her.

‘’Y-you look so familiar,’’ the old woman whispered, eyes squinting only slightly as she gazed into the young woman’s eyes. ‘’You remind me so much…I-I lost her, I don’t know where she went,’’ her sad eyes conveyed years of pain. Honey brown eyes, similar to her own shiny with unshed tears.

Y/d/n smiled sadly, stroking the older woman’s hands and listening with an empathetic ear. Alessia wasn’t a common name around these parts, which left y/d/n feeling confused and slightly unsettled as she comforted the elderly woman who, although never having met her, felt. . .different. As though she had known her without knowing her.

‘’Who did you lose?’’

‘’My daughter…she was so tiny. Little pea.’’

The older woman sighed, shaking her head and laying back down into the crisp white sheets, running a shaky hand down her face as she collected her thoughts.

‘’If you’d like, I can come by tomorrow and visit you? I’d love to be friends and get to know you more,’’ y/d/n offered, earning a small smile from the woman.

‘’Thank you, Alessia.’’

‘’My name is y/d/n, ma’am.’’ The older woman smiled, settling back into her bed before resting her eyes, trying to dismiss a feeling of uncertainty brewing in the back of her mind.

‘’My name is Isabella.’’

Y/d/n smiled kindly, nodding her head as she tried to search the archives of her young mind. Who was she? Why did she look so familiar?

‘’I’ll be back tomorrow, Isabella.’’

The elder woman offered a sad smile, but a spark of hope illuminated her honey brown eyes.

‘’You will?’’

She was already halfway out of the room, turning back to give a grin that showcased the dimple on the left-hand side of her cheek.

‘’For you, a thousand times over.’’

It was like a million times
I’m singing a lullaby
And I think you should know
That I won’t let it go

THE END…

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Pistols: Season 1/ Episode 6 “Track 6: Who Killed Bambi?” [Finale] – Recap/ Review (with Spoilers)
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We’ve come to the chaotic end of not only the show but the Sex Pistols as a band.
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https://tinyurl.com/25tgjfcu

wanna know the craziest thing about season 15 episode 20?

that dean knew the vampire girl’s name

Jenny?

even though her name was never even used once in the only episode she appeared in

back in season 1 episode 20

and she had a grudge against him?

even though she never interacted with him

but they played it like they were old romantic fling or something

guess the writers really couldn’t risk Dean dying with any hint of gay