"The fucking balls of this man I swear to The Spectre," Chance would say if he didn't have a piece of duct tape messily slapped onto his face.
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Chance is a lucky gambler. They gamble with slot machines, cards, roulette wheels, their life, even making a "spin the wheel" customisation that would decide their meals, routines, you name it.
So when a ruthless, expressionless and extremely calculated mafia boss with a shit-eating smile decides to kidnap them personally, RIGHT IN FRONT OF EVERYONE ELSE IN THE ROUND, MIND YOU, Chance can only do so much. And 'so much' is apparently equivalent to being that same mafia boss' wingman.
How does one convince a pizza worker that he has chemistry with a terrifying mafia boss? No clue, read and find out. And most importantly, why is Chance willingly helping Mafioso? Because while everyone else is horrified of this killer's silent snaps of necks, Chance sees this big man be so pathetic over Elliot, it's not even funny. So why not help the lad out?
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⚠️ NOTES BEFORE READING ⚠️
1. Mafioso and his gang all have rabbit ears and tails... as well as behave like a rabbit sometimes-
2. This is MOSTLY Chance's perspective (not first person)
3. I use UK English, fear me Americans (ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE SORRY FOR SOME MISTAKES)
4. Smut is NOT in this fic. Suggestive themes, however, are present
5. If you think I don't ship PayCheck and DoubleFedora, you're wrong- I'm just holding back from making them polyamorous all for the sake of Chance crashing in as a third wheel and wanting credit for making the relationship work
6. PLEASE correct me if I give a character the wrong pronouns
7. If I start bringing up words in Bisaya, it's because I don't know the word for it so it'll stay there until I find the word
8. Updates are INCONSISTENT but I'll try to update weekly
9. They're not constantly IN the Forsaken area or constantly forced to go through rounds. In this fanfic, they are picked out weekly to participate in a ma
October
I loved him with everything I had. From the moment I was a teenager scribbling his name in my notebooks, to the nights I waited up for him with cold dinners and colder silences. He was my first everything-my husband, the father of my children, the quiet love of my life. I built our world with devotion, patience, and hope. But love isn't always enough, especially when you're competing with someone who seems to get the version of him you used to dream of.
I told myself he'd remember me. That one day he'd see me again. But the truth is, he already looked away-months ago. And I let it happen. Until my children saw it too. Until I couldn't unsee it.