daddys girl

Soph let out an exhale at his words, but this conversation ain't over. And it was one she was dreading. She moved quietly behind her son, Sal on her heels as she pushed into his room. The boy was half dressed in his PJs, the task they were doing when Sal knocked on her door. "Here Zj," She said as she picked up the shirt and pulled it over his head and fed his arms through the sleeves. "Okay bed time, little man." She said as she picked the boy up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. She setleed the boy under his covers and got him all tucked in. She could feel Sal's gaze on her with each step. "Goodnight my sweet boy." She said softly before pulling his bed room door closed.

her sister's offer brought something tender to the muscles around romy's eyes. she did remember how soph had a sharpened skill for physical defense; how she could throw a punch and block a hit, while romy had insisted she could disarm a man with only her words. a sharp wit and confident tone, she was now confronting, couldn't protect your vital organs. an actual, physical shield they were not.

Soph let out an exhale as she moved to the couch and sat down. Z was sat on the floor right infront of the TV, lost in his own little world. "I think you are gonna want to sit for this one." She said with a dry laugh. Soph knew Romy wasn't involved in the MC business, and while she knew she could trust her sister, she didn't want to burden her with those type of problems. They were heavy. "Both." She said with a laugh. "Okay but this goes no where, well I told Jay about the recent bash stuff, but he doesn't know this wasn't the first time... and he doesn't know about.... Sal"

Soph could do no wrong in Jason's eyes. Didn't matter what she did. Or how bad she fucked up. He'd bury the body. He'd take the bullet. She was his baby sister—his blood, the little blonde whirlwind of scraped knees and attitude who used to follow him around the gym. And the only good thing his mother ever gave him. He’d be damned before he let anybody—not even Soph herself—think that she wasn’t good enough.

Soph rolled her eyes, but there wasn't any hate to it. "Fucking Bash is not something I want to own, Jay. Its more like something I want to forget ever happened." She let out an exhale. "Actually, lets just not talk about that anymore." she was sure, eh would be okay with that. She tiled her head back and looked at the ceiling. "I'm just.... disappointed in my self."

"I didn't mean to scare you." Brooklyn said softly, "My mom always said I needed a bell or some shit." She laughed softly. She had a way of sneaking up on people; she was light on her feet. If she weren't wearing heels, you probably couldn't hear her coming. Brooklyn was dressed down in her usual outfits. She had on a thin spaghetti strap tank top, no bra, yes, the piercings are showing, and a soft pair of PJ shorts that hugged her ass nicely, with a little bit of cheek falling out. Granted, she didn't think anyone would be here. "That was nice of you. She's been looking a tad rough the past few days." Brooklyn was sure others had noticed. Brooklyn felt her cheeks heat when Angel called her pretty. "It was just getting a little load in there, I was trynna sleep, so I figured I'd take a walk. I'm not in the dancing on tables mood."

" SCARE ME? NAH. CALL it a pleasant surprise. " angel hums, wiping their hands on their apron -- while they will their eyes not to appear hungry. they could be respectful, even if the thoughts swirling through their mind like a tornado are far from it. they settle with their tongue coming to rest in the crevice of their left cheek as their only reaction for a moment, leaning against their latest project. " it's a good thing in this life, i think. y'can strike when they least expect it. " pretty and deadly, as angel had come to learn in their time, were more than just a lethal combination. as much as they pretended to be all tough, those were the kinds of women that haunted them. left their mark more than any ruby red lipstick ever could. " can y'blame her? she's got lots t'be worried about. we all deserve a break every now 'n then. " besides, as their vice president, she needed to keep her head in the game. but, angel had noticed some interesting glances exchanged between her and their road captain as of late. " oh? somethin' on your mind? " they question. perhaps it was time for them to lock up for real anyway -- considering their actual hours were long over by now. soph wasn't the only one that needed to keep their head on straight. " i've got a good set of ears. or so i've been told -- when i'm choosing to use 'em. "

Brooklyn looked away at their words, willing the blush to leave her face as fast as it came. Brooklyn had been back six weeks now and every time she entered the same room as Angel, she found it harder to breath. There was something about them that just took her breath away. Maybe it was the mystery or maybe the curiosity. Sure, she had found girls attractive before but she always told herself it was in a platonic type of way. Then there was the matters of her heart, and with each passing day she told herself she had to at least try moving on, even if she did that the past three years and go no where. “Oh for sure. Now I just need to brush up on my fighting skills and maybe I’ll be a real threat.” She said with a shy laugh.

"Okay, okay, if you insist." He said playfully. "But yes, anything for my little girl. I want to see my princess." He really did love that little girl like she was his own, but he knew some day the truth would come out. "Well, hopefully my being here helps." He said softly as he reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. "You won't be sad forever. I know it sucks, but ... it won't be forever. Eventually, you'll learn how to be happy even though she is gone."

starter:   jia   &   brooklyn   pierce   [   @fracturedlcve   ] setting:   mid-morning

Brooklyn opened the door and greeted Jiq quickly before the questions started. "Do you mean Jason?" She asked somberly as she wrapped her arms around her. "Uh yeah." She nodded slowly. There was the night at the club, the first time they ran into eachother, the time she shoved him in the chest and shouted fuck you at him before kissing him. Then there was the ball, where they shared a dance. Then there was L.A. "We ran into eachother a few times. He, um, he drove me back to L.A to pick up the last of my belongings, and we had a good talk." She paused, "He doesn't know you helped me." She let out an exhale. "But I don't want to keep it from him. He knows about almost everything now... the stalker. Miles wanted to make sure I got away quietly before telling him. Turns out... Miles played us both."

starter:   yasemin   &   tatianna   santoro   [   @fracturedlcve   ] setting:   antonio's   and   tatianna's   house   ;   morning

Tatianna was skeptical of most people who showed up at her front door. Maybe it had to do with the fact that it really wasn't hers. This place, it was Santoro, and she was fake at best. Sure, she had married into the family and taken residence in this place that was too big for just the two of them, but she also knew people didn't show up here without a purpose. "You think?" She said as she cocked her head to the side to match her popped out hip. "Well, Antonio isn't here right now." If she were looking for her husband, she would have to try something else to track him down. Then the woman continued on, and the words irritated her. Tatianna crossed her arms. "No." She said, no thanks on the end of it or anything. "My husband is wrong." She said simply.

antonio’s gaze lifted slowly from the paperwork spread across his desk the moment grayson entered the office, dark eyes settling on him with the kind of sharp observation that made most men straighten instinctively beneath it. and frankly, grayson looked terrible. not just tired. hollowed out. there were shadows beneath his eyes, tension sitting wrong in his posture, grief clinging to him in a way antonio recognized immediately because he saw pieces of it in the mirror every morning now. still, recognition did not soften the situation. antonio leaned back slightly in his chair, fingers steepled briefly beneath his chin before he exhaled quietly through his nose. “you look like shit,” he said plainly, voice calm rather than cruel because antonio had never been one to dress hard truths in softer language than necessary. his eyes lingered on grayson for another moment afterward, studying him carefully. he remembered the kid grayson used to be. remembered him running through the santoro house beside vinny and josephina after his father died, too young to understand fully what that loss meant yet old enough to carry it anyway. antonio had looked at him then the same way he looked at most people folded into their family, as something now belonging to his responsibility. and maybe that was part of why this entire situation irritated him more deeply than he cared to admit. because grayson was not just another capo causing problems. he was family in all the complicated, dangerous ways that word existed within the santoros. “and no,” antonio continued evenly after a beat, finally setting the papers in his hand aside fully now. “asking how i am would be stupid. we both know the answer.” a faint silence settled between them then before antonio’s jaw tightened subtly. “what i don’t know,” he said calmly, “is why i’m hearing about you putting your hands on nicky and frightening rosa.” there was no rise in his voice. no dramatic anger. somehow that made it worse. antonio remained composed where other men might have exploded, gaze fixed steadily on grayson in that controlled way that demanded accountability rather than emotion. “before you answer, understand something for me first.” his tone lowered slightly then, quieter and sharper all at once. “i know exactly who nicky is. i know he provokes people because he inherited the unfortunate belief that antagonizing everyone around him somehow makes him untouchable. and accusing you of killing josephina…” a faint pause followed there, something colder settling briefly behind antonio’s eyes. “that was never going to end well.” because antonio himself had nearly put his fist through walls over less these past few weeks. grief had teeth. he understood that intimately now.

Wilder let out a dry laugh, "Thanks." But Antonio was right, the man looked like ass. The drugs were starting to take a toll on him, as were his decisions. The last few days weighed heavily on him, and it wasn't just Josephina's death or Nicky's words. Grayson stood there and took in Antonio's gaze as he looked him over, studying Grayson before delivering more words. Wilder had always been at the Santoro house even before his parents died. He was over every day playing with the other kids, video games, sports, and messing around in the backyard. He remembers looking up to Antonio as the cool older brother, wanting to be just like him. "Yeah..." he drew out before adding. "Same." The family was wounded and trying to heal. They all lost a part of themselves with Josie's death. Probably because they are dramatic and like to run their mouths. The words were about to tumble out of his mouth before Anotnio stopped him to continue on. Wilder stood there, like the obedient little soldier, and listened to every word. "Sorry, boss, didn't mean for it to look bad on your part," and he meant that, every damn word. Because he idolized Antonio, even if he didn't act like it sometimes. Maybe his sister was right about him, because standing here with his tail tucked between his legs didn't feel great. He didn't want Antonio to be upset or angry with him. +