the line cook thing burrowed its way into my brain, omg.
price laying the charm on thick to the new server. they're a tired, clearly overworked thing. he worries about them, even when they're not on the schedule. makes sure to feed them breakfast, lunch, dinner - whatever meal they're up for, and quickly learns their favorites. a few weeks in, he's scandalized to learn the diner's their third job. no wonder they're always tired! he's got to do something about it.
sorry to ramble in your ask box!
Price is absolutely in charge of the kitchen, barking orders at Ghost, Soap and any other unlucky line cooks under him. He really only stops in order to lean against the pass through and ask, "Everything alright sweetheart?" When his favorite server swings by. He's slick with it, terribly charming in a way that he probably shouldn't be.
He hates order substitutions and will send Ghost out to menace anyone trying to make massive changes to menu items. It's not a fancy restaurant by any means, but it's still well trafficked with a lot of regulars. (He might even like one or two of them) He's quick to take new staff under his wing if he thinks they're having a hard time (or if they're extra pretty) and is in fact scandalized by anyone working at the diner as a third job. He's got a meeting with the owner to talk about paying the servers more, may or may not set a loaded gun on the table during this talk.
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when i read mafia fics i get so pissed off at MC because let me have a murderous , sexy , RICH bf/husband whos very much willing to live AND die for me.. IM SHOWIN TF OUT!! but nooo y/n gotta be so humble abt it 🙄🙄 like bae why r u not maxing out that credit card when he tell u too? and most importantly WHYY ARE YOU LETTING PEOPLE TALK TO YOU CRAZY???
yall know tht tiktok sound " my man kill people." that would be me all day LMAO and im beating btches up because who's going to jail when my man has the whole police force by the neck??? not me
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gangsta fairytale (shanks x reader)
cw/tw: mafia/gang setting, age gap (shanks 39, reader 22), fem reader, kidnapping (brief), not exactly a sugar daddy but he we love extravagant flauntings of wealth & financial security, smut lol, piv sex, size kink (he’s 6’6 like cmon LMAO), exhibitionism, we cum inside cause its fun inside, breeding kink, dacryphillia, nickname for reader is “buttercup, and pretty girl” unprotected sex, slightly public sex? Smol mention, belly bulge
part 2 -- part 3
At a club on a thursday night cause you wanted to go, but your friends aren’t free till the weekend and you couldn’t wait. But of course that means it’s mostly a sausage party even tho girls get in free before ten cause it’s still a thursday. And every sausage in the party wants your attention
You’re at the bar nursing a drink wondering why you even came and start debating to leave when a very not sleezy looking guy comes up to you and asks “you wanna know my favorite number?” right before leaning way too close to whisper in your ear “69” before you can even turn to scowl at him
Shanks who grabs the hand that’s about to grab your waist (unbeknownst to you) and leans down to ask the guy “you wanna know my favorite number?” his voice is so heavy you can feel the vibration in your own chest despite the blaring music. You turn around to see an absolute tree of a man and you don’t know if your fight or flight or fuck is kicking in
The guy scurries off cause like….its fucking shanks
Instead of being a bigger fish to outsleeze the guy he asks if you’re alright. You just kinda nod and give a half-assed “yeah” with your eyes mostly down and away from him. He just nods back and taps the bar as he gets ready to leave going “well be safe out here” and it’s that that has you asking him to stay. You insist you wanna buy him a drink and it’s not too hard to convince him to stay for free alcohol so he does.
He compliments your fit casually and is your face warm? No, it’s the alcohol silly. You start talking about all the annoying guys here and how “uncouth” they are (he raises his eyebrows at that one) as you just complain about how “there’s piss in the dating pool.” you wonder if you’ll just have to find the “least shitty” person and settle with them
He starts talking less as you enter your tirade. Eyeing you down and going “well if you don’t mind hanging out with this old fart, i can show you how we did dating back in the day.” you try to give him your snapchat but he doesn’t have it and can’t work it even when you get him to download it, so you just give him your number instead
He tells you to shoot him a text that you got home safe and you think it’s cheesy but you do it anyway
The date is super nice, he takes you to this really nice cafe you’ve been meaning to go to. It’s kinda strange cause the menu doesn’t have prices so it’s hard to choose (being a college student and all) but he assures you he’ll cover the bill and to eat your heart out. After that he takes you on a ferry ride and talks about history on every part of the waterfront. It’s then that you find out he’s in love with the sea and the taste of adventure, but he’s (mostly) settled down nowadays. You hope you can go on an adventure with him one day
You two spend a lot of time talking together (you mostly about your classes and professor drama, him mostly about his adventures in his youth, it’s then that he tells you he’s 39) and spend the waning hours of daylight shoreside, and as the sun sets he maps out the stars for you
“Not to be too forward, but i’d love to steal more of your time.”
So you guys go on another date. And another. And an—
Part of you wonders if/when he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend, but you don’t wanna do the “what are we?” talk, so instead you do your best to enjoy whatever it is you do have. No matter how many times he grabs you by the chin to face him when you’re looking off into the distance asking “what’s up, buttercup?” you just give the same variation of nothing answers. He knows what you want, but he’s scared to give it to you cause of who he is. If only you knew.
You’re walking down the street one day and try to ignore the scurrying behind you. You knew you should’ve left the library earlier, as the days are getting shorter, but the project is due this friday and—
You can’t even scream properly since they cover your mouth first. Your keys are between your fingers, but they grabbed your wrists at the same time. You’re blindfolded and gagged, delicately (as possible) placed in the backseat of a car. They keep saying how perfect you are for their boss and a bag of rocks drops from your stomach to your ass
They take you inside a building, up an elevator and blah blah blah, they take your blindfold off and “present” you to their…
“Shanks!”
“Watch your mouth!” one of them is about to smack you for the disrespect but shanks stops him with a raise of his hand and gives a sign to untie you. You run to him on his ridiculously fancy chair and hop in his arms crying about how these guys kidnapped you and were going to send you to some creep
He asks if you’re hurt, his frown lines pressed into his face as he realizes how bad you’re trembling. He holds you close when you look at him with tears in your eyes, wobbly lips, and a shaky voice saying you’re fine.
If looks could kill, the pair would’ve been incinerated on the spot. But they can’t. So shanks sends them away for a more effective method. They’re never seen again.
It’s then that he says he tells you that he’s the boss. You don’t understand at first until he explains that he’s “inherited” the title since the passing of his father as the crowned prince of the organization
While you’re trying to process it, he explains that that’s why he never asked you to become official with him. That and he didn’t wanna “steal your youth” away from you. But after you beg to stay with him despite it all, he sighs and says he has to be a “real man and stop pussyfitting around.” you’re his girl, and he should’ve been man enough to admit it and take care of you like he should have
Yall are official now. :)
@honeeslust here ya go!
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Schneider is SICILIAN, not Italian. YOU ARE WRITING HER WRONG.
Yes, this post is directed towards YOU, fan fiction authors!! And— yes, I will admit, it sounds a little confusing, but I’ll elaborate.
Schneider is an immigrant from Sicily, which, in all due respects to everybody who writes her speaking standard Italian, HAS ITS OWN LANGUAGE!! (Or dialect..? Aye aye aye, I am not awake enough to perpetuate one side or another of a centuries-old argument.)
For more information, you can go to a website somewhere on the interwebs (like this one!: https://mangolanguages.com/resources-articles/sicilian-and-italian-whats-the-difference/) or simply take a look at Schneider’s wiki page!
So, sí, Reverse 1999 officially makes the distinguishment here: her mother tongue is Sicilian!
The next time you pick up your keyboard (or.. phone, if that’s your thing?) to write a fic, stay away from the Italian google translate screen— as tempting as it may be!— and go to a website like Glosbe instead to use the Sicilian translator there; given you’re trying to write a vulnerable moment where she expresses herself in the first language she’s ever learned to.
I apologize if anything in this post is overly fired-up or aggressive. My family (particularly my grandfather) have been looked at like they were insane when they spoke Neapolitan in the middle of Rome, so the distinguishment between Italian and its sister languages is very important to me— as well as other Italian fans of the game, I’m sure.
That’s all for this post! Happy writing :3
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Red West: “I knew the guys who were hassling Elvis, they were on the football squad. The guys who were giving Elvis a hard time were not really bad guys, just a bit noisy and stuff. But when I saw Elvis’s face, it just triggered something inside of me. I mean we were just kids and they weren't gonna kill him or anything, but there was that look of real fear on his face. He was looking like a frightened little animal and I just couldn’t stand seeing it. When you're very poor, you tend to let everyone look after their own troubles, but that face of Elvis’s, I can see it to this day. And I saw that face like that many times later, and it always had the same effect on me. It just churned something up inside of me. It’s a child’s face and it asks for help… and somehow, you know, that year, 1952, put me in a role of Elvis’s protector. It’s a job I took on readily and I had a lot of fun doing it and a lot of heartbreak. Sometimes he was like a damned spoiled child who needed to be spanked, and other times he was just so helpless and needing of help it was like he was your own child. And even now, I still feel it’s my job, even if I never see him again…”
excerpt from “Elvis: What Happened?” By Red and Sonny West, along with Dave Hebler
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