Story time ^^
Ha ha, hey, everyone. It's been awhile since I've posted here, but I've been slowly becoming a fan of Commandshipping lately and have been thinking of lots of ideas for this relationship in fanfiction. This story "sort of kind of" implies it, but I might try something more direct later this week. Hope ya like ;]
“You can have him.”
It was a simple phrase, yet so powerful. I was almost surprised that it had come from my mouth. The woman standing almost half a foot taller than me snarled in a hideous fashion, disfiguring her make-up caked face even more than it had already appeared. Her expression was a repulsive concoction of egotism, fury, and shock. The clear packaging she balanced on her left hand quivered violently as she tried to keep it steady, trying to protect the Torta al Vino inside meant for two.
“W…what did you just say to me?” The voluptuous brunette questioned me in disgust, clenching the Vivienne Westwood leopard print blouse of hers. She seemed very close to tearing it from her chest, despite the fact that it had already revealed a generous amount flesh and had no need to be removed. Not only was she dumb and cheap, apparently the bimbo was deaf too.
“I said,” I began calmly, taking in a deep breath. “You can have him. Giovanni likes his girls brainless and easy. You’re just his type, lady.” Spilling out these words suddenly gave me a new sense of freedom - it was as if I had made it official, that I was done with him, done with this sort of life. Subconsciously, I tucked a stray blond curl behind my ear, yet I purposely let a wide smirk elegantly cross my lips. For once in my life, I truly felt triumphant.
“So you admit that you give up, you little brat?” The woman released a disturbing grin, her teeth clenched and stained scarlet from pressing against her pasty lipstick. “You could never compete with me anyway…I’m a full grown woman after all -”
“Yeah, you’re basically thirty five and still single. Gee, I wonder why…”
Within a split second, the woman had raised her arm in a seething frenzy, and then brought it down.
I clenched her arm as tight as I could. The woman had tried to smash the cake into my face, but I refused to allow it. Something had penetrated her eyes from that instant. Was it fear? I hope so. A little humility would be good for the witch. The luxurious cake had crashed to the floor, no longer appearing attractive or desirable. How ironic that a ruined food item could be the inanimate equivalent of a sad woman.
“Do not ever attempt to touch me again. If you try to do so next time, then you may need to get some more plastic surgery done after what I’d do to you.” After this threat from me, the woman pulled her arm away forcefully from my grasp. Tears began to dance in the outside corners of her eyes, her black eyeliner now appearing slightly stickier than before. The woman’s breathing began to become heavier, more intense.
“How dare you destroy our dessert! Do you have any idea how much money was put into that cake? It was his favorite!” The woman’s face grew red with rage, glaring down upon me in abhorrence.
“Then why don’t the two of you eat it off of the floor, you glutton,” I hissed, purring in slight amusement as I inflicted my insult deep into the braud’s low self-esteem.
“Why should I have to hear such filth from Giovanni’s little cast-away whore? He has someone new in his life now, and you, girl, can’t seem to comprehend that. I am his now, not you. You no longer have a purpose here. So you go run away now like a good little girl,” the woman laughed, towering over me and flipping her dirty sienna locks over her shoulder. She thought she had won; I begged to differ.
“First, I have a name,” I glared directly into her narrow, midnight eyes. “It’s not ‘girl,’ it’s Domino. Second, you’re completely right. I don’t have a purpose here anymore. But now, now I can leave and have a meaningful purpose elsewhere. I don’t have to obey that man’s every beck and call, nor do I have to do anything that demeans my self as a human being just to be on his good side. He will never have another Elite Officer as skilled as me, but he will always have some sort of play thing. That is your empty purpose. Not mine. Not anymore.” I began to walk right past her as she stared at me in disbelief. “You pigs enjoy your Torta al Vino.”
With that said, I continued without looking back. The woman began to shout profanities and cackle insults towards my back. That’s fine. The coward can have the last word, it doesn’t matter to me. I paid no attention to her mindless ranting, not caring at all of what she could have been possibly sputtering. Some people never learn and some people do. I believe I’m in the latter, now being more conscious of my own being and worth as a human. Faux pride isn’t confidence - it’s merely a rusted pair of shackles claiming to be new, while holding down its victim in an unbreakable grip. Confidence is the key; I have definitely found this key and unlocked myself from the deleterious shackles which had imprisoned me.
This is my lesson.
Yet I have much more to learn.
“You can have him.”
It was a simple phrase, yet so powerful. I was almost surprised that it had come from my mouth. The woman standing almost half a foot taller than me snarled in a hideous fashion, disfiguring her make-up caked face even more than it had already appeared. Her expression was a repulsive concoction of egotism, fury, and shock. The clear packaging she balanced on her left hand quivered violently as she tried to keep it steady, trying to protect the Torta al Vino inside meant for two.
“W…what did you just say to me?” The voluptuous brunette questioned me in disgust, clenching the Vivienne Westwood leopard print blouse of hers. She seemed very close to tearing it from her chest, despite the fact that it had already revealed a generous amount flesh and had no need to be removed. Not only was she dumb and cheap, apparently the bimbo was deaf too.
“I said,” I began calmly, taking in a deep breath. “You can have him. Giovanni likes his girls brainless and easy. You’re just his type, lady.” Spilling out these words suddenly gave me a new sense of freedom - it was as if I had made it official, that I was done with him, done with this sort of life. Subconsciously, I tucked a stray blond curl behind my ear, yet I purposely let a wide smirk elegantly cross my lips. For once in my life, I truly felt triumphant.
“So you admit that you give up, you little brat?” The woman released a disturbing grin, her teeth clenched and stained scarlet from pressing against her pasty lipstick. “You could never compete with me anyway…I’m a full grown woman after all -”
“Yeah, you’re basically thirty five and still single. Gee, I wonder why…”
Within a split second, the woman had raised her arm in a seething frenzy, and then brought it down.
I clenched her arm as tight as I could. The woman had tried to smash the cake into my face, but I refused to allow it. Something had penetrated her eyes from that instant. Was it fear? I hope so. A little humility would be good for the witch. The luxurious cake had crashed to the floor, no longer appearing attractive or desirable. How ironic that a ruined food item could be the inanimate equivalent of a sad woman.
“Do not ever attempt to touch me again. If you try to do so next time, then you may need to get some more plastic surgery done after what I’d do to you.” After this threat from me, the woman pulled her arm away forcefully from my grasp. Tears began to dance in the outside corners of her eyes, her black eyeliner now appearing slightly stickier than before. The woman’s breathing began to become heavier, more intense.
“How dare you destroy our dessert! Do you have any idea how much money was put into that cake? It was his favorite!” The woman’s face grew red with rage, glaring down upon me in abhorrence.
“Then why don’t the two of you eat it off of the floor, you glutton,” I hissed, purring in slight amusement as I inflicted my insult deep into the braud’s low self-esteem.
“Why should I have to hear such filth from Giovanni’s little cast-away whore? He has someone new in his life now, and you, girl, can’t seem to comprehend that. I am his now, not you. You no longer have a purpose here. So you go run away now like a good little girl,” the woman laughed, towering over me and flipping her dirty sienna locks over her shoulder. She thought she had won; I begged to differ.
“First, I have a name,” I glared directly into her narrow, midnight eyes. “It’s not ‘girl,’ it’s Domino. Second, you’re completely right. I don’t have a purpose here anymore. But now, now I can leave and have a meaningful purpose elsewhere. I don’t have to obey that man’s every beck and call, nor do I have to do anything that demeans my self as a human being just to be on his good side. He will never have another Elite Officer as skilled as me, but he will always have some sort of play thing. That is your empty purpose. Not mine. Not anymore.” I began to walk right past her as she stared at me in disbelief. “You pigs enjoy your Torta al Vino.”
With that said, I continued without looking back. The woman began to shout profanities and cackle insults towards my back. That’s fine. The coward can have the last word, it doesn’t matter to me. I paid no attention to her mindless ranting, not caring at all of what she could have been possibly sputtering. Some people never learn and some people do. I believe I’m in the latter, now being more conscious of my own being and worth as a human. Faux pride isn’t confidence - it’s merely a rusted pair of shackles claiming to be new, while holding down its victim in an unbreakable grip. Confidence is the key; I have definitely found this key and unlocked myself from the deleterious shackles which had imprisoned me.
This is my lesson.
Yet I have much more to learn.