Nirrahbrii
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Summary
Max pinched the bridge of his nose as he went into the car. Before his chauffeur could close the door, however, Daniel leant in, having rushed from the bar’s entrance.
"I forgot to tell you…" the Australian begun, his face serious and grave.
Max gritted his teeth, silently nodding for the man to continue. He couldn’t stand much more. He wanted to scream at the entire world. To run home and hide and force some sense down his own throat.
To put himself back together.
"I left a- a gift at your house. For your birthday… I planned it long ago, before-"
"Alright," Max cut him, short and harsh.
or
Charles, a high end prostitute, finds himself in the arms of a man who really, really, cares for him, despite the gun on his nightstand.
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Summary
"Besides, he’s damaged goods…"
He couldn’t move. Would have spat at the man’s face if he could. Would have scratched those fat cheeks with his dirtied nails, painting there the little crescents he had dug on his own palms.
But his owner was smiling, fat ringed hands resting on the curve of his belly, lips shining, and all Charles could do was refusing to lower his gaze.
or
Max comes back to Rome after a decade, only to fall for a pleasure slave who has suffered the blows of the very Empire which had given him everything.
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Summary
Charles nods. “Vous avez ma parole, mademoiselle.”
You have my word, Madame.You almost laugh. “La parole d’un assassin?”
The word of an assassin?But it’s Pierre who laughs. “Touché.”
Or: The Devil of Monté Carlo steps foot into your parlour to strike a deal, and against your better judgement— you accept his offer.
Or: the one where the gangster falls for the pretty baker.