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Just Like A Pill

Chapter Text

"That's so fucking cheap. Who does this guy really think he is?" the blue haired man across from Prosciutto scowled.

The sun's light shone in through the blinds that were pulled over the windows of the safe house. Inside, a group of lethal men of varying social backgrounds were discussing the recent changes made to their pay.

Not only were they the most capable and specially trained branch of Passione, Prosciutto thought, they were also the most dangerous. One would think that for most,  deducting pay from a group of hitmen wouldn't be an ethical idea, but this was Passione, where almost everyone in the gang had inherited spiritual extensions of their soul that would do their bidding for them. Therefore, nothing in the gang was really normal, or ethical for that matter.

"I say it is what it is," Formaggio chimed in.

Illuso, who was leaning against the wall, saw the perfect opportunity to tease Formaggio like he usually did. It was as if a day didn't go by where those two weren't at each other's throats with harsh jokes and snide comments.

"The man child is right," he said, earning a stern glare from Formaggio. "Bitching about it isn't going to solve the problem,"

Prosciutto rolled his eyes. He knew that this would be the beginning of another petty fight between those two. They were acting as if they were still in highschool, losing their cool over the tiniest comment. He found it quite unbecoming of two men who were trained professionals, to be fighting like toddlers on a playground.

"Who are you calling a man child?" Formaggio quickly retorted.

"Can you two fucking focus for more than five seconds?" Ghiaccio spat.

"Ghiaccio has a point. This is serious, and Risotto has yet to explain the situation to it's fullest," Prosciutto added.

"Well I'm sorry, your highness," Illuso drawled.

Thankfully, Formaggio fell into a bitter silence, and ceased all argument. Though, that didn't stop him from casually flipping Illuso the bird from the other side of the room. Prosciutto sighed. He guessed he really wouldn't be able to escape the tension as long as those two were in the same room together. According to what Risotto had just announced, there was about to be even more tension between the group. And this time, it wasn't Illuso's or Formaggio's fault.

"Thank you, Prosciutto, I'll take it from here," Risotto said.

Prosciutto gave Risotto a nod of acknowledgement, happy that he had de-escalated the situation long enough for his leader to begin talking again.

"You all know I don't like to be the bearer of bad news, and I really wish I had something different to tell you, but I don't," he spoke calmly.

Prosciutto watched as Risotto's hands, nails decorated with chipped black nail polish, began to hand some sheets of paper over to Ghiaccio, whom then passed them on to everyone else.

"What I just handed you is a summary of what we usually spend amongst ourselves. Things to keep this meeting area, necessities, etcetera. I also included how much we could be saving if we all stopped buying things we didn't need," he continued.

Prosciutto retrieved his own paper from Pesci and examined the words on the paper closely, taking into consideration how hard Risotto must have worked in order to come up with a summary like this. Prosciutto didn't really know how to build up savings, and each time the boss took an axe to their pay, he suffered more and more. He figured that since they were all young, no one else in the group really knew what they were doing with the money they received from missions either.

Though Risotto was close in age with the rest of them, he was an old soul. So, Prosciutto assumed that Risotto must have more experience on things such as this, based on how he addressed the situation.

"I think that if we cut down on things that aren't necessities, all of us will have enough money so that it'll be at least liveable," Risotto concluded.

He gave everyone time to skim over the summary on the sheet of paper, and then opened the floor for questions or comments. Most of the comments, however, were just groans and complaints about how they wouldn't be able to afford nice clothing, or cars, or something else insignificant considering their current situation.

Pesci was the first to ask a question. He looked at Prosciutto first to make sure it was okay, and smiled when the blonde gave him a nod of approval. He turned to Risotto, brown eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Do we have to follow everything on the list? Some of these things I really can't live without," he said.

Prosciutto took a double take at the list, and saw that overly expensive food was considered not to be a necessity. He guessed that Pesci didn't want to have to give up heading to his favourite restaurant for lunch every week. He made a mental note to teach Pesci the importance of being flexible. He saw the other man visibly relax when Risotto spoke next.

"All the things on this list are just suggestions. You don't have to follow each and every one," he explained. "Although, I do want for everyone to try to adapt to these rough conditions, just until things are better for us,"

"But what if things never get better for us?" Sorbet asked from his corner of the room.

Prosciutto wasn't surprised. That man always liked to play devil's advocate. He looked over at Sorbet, and saw he was sitting with Gelato in his lap, the both of them intertwined like two figures in an abstract painting.

Illuso had always teased them about being together, about how they were always touching each other, and standing near each other. He never had any ill intent, Illuso was a smart man and Prosciutto thought that he was trying to get the others to see the truth. Weeks after the teasing started, Sorbet and Gelato came out as a couple.

He watched Gelato stroke the exposed skin of Sorbet's chest as the man talked. It was clearly a display that they belonged to each other, wholeheartedly.
He was snapped out of his own thoughts when Ghiaccio spoke.

"Yeah. Things have been like this for a while, and it doesn't seem like the boss is going to give us the pay we deserve any time soon. He already cut corners so many times," the man vented.

Some of the others hummed in agreement.

"I hear your concerns, and I'm trying my best to work things out. I never said that this would be an easy thing to do," Risotto replied.

"Well yeah it isn't easy. We train hard, we work twice as such, and we're being paid basically peanuts," Sorbet said.

"What else can we really do?" Illuso asked. "Doing a shitty job just won't cut it. Just because the boss cuts corners doesn't mean we have to,"

Sorbet frowned deeply, he didn't seem to have a rebuttal for what Illuso had just said.

"Still, it's fucking bullshit," Ghiaccio said as he stared at the paper he was given.

Prosciutto shrugged. He was upset about their pay being cut, just like the rest of the group. But if Risotto wanted him to live by his suggestions just until money wasn't so tight, he felt like he would be able to do it. After all, being in the group had many rewards, so it was worthwhile to stay even if it meant less income.

"It's not like he's asking us to starve ourselves. He's just asking that we cut back on the things we don't need," Prosciutto said.

He looked at Risotto and locked eyes with him, black and red staring back into his own blue ones. He just wanted Risotto to know that no matter what, he was on his side.

"But we do need some of these things mentioned on the list," Pesci insisted.

Prosciutto frowned and shook his head.

"You don't have to eat gourmet food every day, Pesci. I'm sure that you'll live to see another day if you just go without for a little bit,"

"I'm sorry. You're completely right, aniki,"

Ghiaccio cleared his throat.
"I hate to break it to you, but Pesci is right, Prosciutto," he said.

Prosciutto shifted his gaze over to the blue haired man. He was holding the paper still, glaring at it as if it had committed some moral crime against him.

"It says here that suppressants aren't a necessity. I think that's wrong, Risotto. I've been using suppressants for years, I don't think I can just stop them," Ghiaccio said.

The men all fell into a puzzled silence. Usually, Melone would be the one to mention the elephant in the room, but Ghiaccio had tackled it all on his own. Things that happened between alphas and omegas weren't really discussed in the mafia, especially since it was seen as a taboo for an omega to be involved in gang violence.
People often said that the mafia was no place for an omega, but people like Ghiaccio and Gelato were proving all of them wrong with every breath they took.

Prosciutto himself was an omega, and he had been taking suppressants for a few years as well. They had recently been established in Italy, and popularized within gangs due to the fact that all the physical aspects of being an alpha or an omega was a hindrance to the work they did. However, it was seen as completely acceptable among civilians to wish not to take suppressants. He knew that many alphas didn't.

Prosciutto wanted to show Risotto that he had resolve, that he was willing to do anything for the sake of the group, but he was starting to agree with Ghiaccio. As an omega, life was hard enough without the constant nagging of physical needs. There were also the assholes everywhere who treated alphas like the scum of the earth solely based on bodily functions that they couldn't control. While it didn't completely eradicate symptoms, suppressants made the physical side of being an omega easier to handle.

Risotto finally decided to speak up.
"The conditions of the list can be discussed further today. The list isn't final, and I'm not expecting any of you to do all of the things on it," he said.

Ghiaccio sighed softly and cursed under his breath. He had never seen him look so stressed out. From omega to omega, he guessed he understood Ghiaccio's thought process. Without an alpha, most parts of being an omega were absolute hell, like nature was punishing them for being born a certain way. If someone had threatened to take away his suppressants, he wouldn't be too happy about it either.

He glanced over at Sorbet and Gelato, who were still pushed up close together in their chair in the corner of the room. He felt a slight pang of jealousy. He could only dream of what it must feel like to have an alpha by his side, and not have to worry about popping a pill every day to mute what nature had given him.

"Maybe it's a good idea to stay away from trying to restrict the use of suppressants," Melone spoke up. "Have you ever seen an omega in heat? It could get pretty crazy for whoever is around them during that time~" he licked his lips.

Ghiaccio glared daggers at Melone, who just chuckled once he saw.

"Stop being such a fucking pervert, this is serious," he scolded.

"I don't think he's trying to be perverted, Ghiaccio. I agree with what he was trying to say," Prosciutto said.

'No matter how tasteless he was about saying it' he wanted to add. He should have added it, Melone was nothing but promiscuous and suggestive on most days. At least today it seemed like he decided to tone it down a little bit, for the sake of sparing everyone the awkwardness of talking about sexual things with teammates.

"I think we should all come to an agreement then," Formaggio said. "No one should have to come off suppressants unless they want to,"

Illuso scoffed.

"Formaggio, you're a beta. What would you know about suppressants? You'd never need to take them," he sneered.

"He wouldn't need to, but at least he's being considerate about the people who do," Ghiaccio hissed back at Illuso.

Prosciutto could sense another argument forming. He tried to cut it short before it escalated past the point of no return.

"I'm sure everyone has their thoughts. But really, I think it's up to the person to tell Risotto what they think is right for them, and to work out a solution from there," he said.

"Who died and made you king?" Illuso asked.

"He's just saying his opinion, shit for brains. I wouldn't expect an alpha to respect that, though," Formaggio barked.

Prosciutto looked down at his manicured nails. He really tried to stop it, but he could feel a fight breaking out regardless. Right now, the safe house felt like a kettle on the stove, the temperature rising and rising until the bubbling water threatened to spill out. It was as if there was something in the air that made everyone prone to arguing with each other every time Risotto brought up the topic of money.

It was no secret at all that some members of the group were particularly greedy. Not that it was his place to judge, but Prosciutto thought that things would run a lot smoother if certain teammates weren't so money hungry. He was sure that was what Risotto was thinking as well. There was always a common instigator. Certain people were the fuel, and other people would always be the one spark that would set everything up in flames. But that was life in the mafia. At the end of the day, they all had to trust each other with their lives, and no amount of bickering and fighting could ever change that.

The men all sat and talked about the summary Risotto had made, picking out the positives and negatives, dissecting it completely to figure out a way they could all live without spending everything they had.
Of course, they all had to think about their personal lives as well. Everyone knew that once you were in a gang, the gang became your personal life as well, but all of them had apartments and flats to worry about.

A point brought up by Formaggio, is that he had his cats to look after.

They couldn't just live like they had no life outside of the safe house, they had to take their own needs into consideration.

About an hour passed, and it became very apparent that all of them, including Risotto, were frustrated about the outcome of their lengthy conversation.
And so there they stayed, some not even paying attention, some giving out half baked ideas on how to save more money, loosely guided by Risotto's list.
Prosciutto glanced over at Pesci, who was picking the nail polish off of his fingernails. He recognized it as boredom.

Formaggio was sitting with his legs propped up on the table, watching the ceiling fan spin.

"I'm hungry, can we order food?" he asked.

"We aren't done talking here. Plus, didn't you just say ordering food costs more than making it yourself?" Ghiaccio asked.

"It was just an idea," Formaggio grumbled.

Prosciutto felt his own stomach grumble just at the mention of food. They had been sitting together for a long time discussing business after all. He had been in the same position for so long that it became uncomfortable. He arched his back until he felt it crack slightly, then he reverted back to his previous position on the couch.

"I could eat," Pesci said. "Can we order pizza?"

"I thought we said we weren't going to order food anymore," Prosciutto said.

"If no one is ordering, I'm just gonna go home, because I'm starving," said Formaggio.

"You always leave so early, you little shit," Illuso grunted.

"You two, please," Risotto pleaded.

The man's voice had caught Prosciutto's attention. Risotto was leaned over slightly in his seat, and pinching his nose bridge. It felt bad to see his leader under this much stress. Prosciutto couldn't imagine what it must feel like to be in Risotto's shoes. He was sure he wouldn't have been able to do half of the things Risotto accomplished all on his own. They should have all been thanking him, but instead they were being general nuisances.

"Can you not go five minutes without being at each other's necks? Doesn't it get tiring? You're stressing Risotto out more than he needs to be," he said.

"I'm sure your voice achieves more than just that in a matter of minutes, Prosciutto," Illuso snapped back.

Prosciutto huffed. He wasn't happy about being verbally assaulted by Illuso, but as long as Risotto was around, he remained well mannered and remembered to keep his temper under control. He just wished his team members had incentive to start doing the same.
He watched as Formaggio rose from his seat and let out a deep sigh.

"I think this conversation is pretty much over. It's no use running in circles and wasting time. I'm going home," he said.

Illuso rolled his eyes as Formaggio walked past him to the exit.

"Risotto, are you just gonna let that piece of shit leave like that?" he asked.

Risotto didn't reply, or even acknowledge that Illuso had spoken.

Melone stood up next, dusting himself off.

"Not that I have anything better to do, Ris, but I'm gonna head out as well. I think all of us are out of ideas," he said.

Prosciutto watched as the man took his leave. This seemed to get Pesci's attention, because he had stopped picking off his nail polish and was looking at the blonde with pleading eyes.

Prosciutto knew that his younger partner probably wanted to go home as well, but he wouldn't allow it. He was going to stay until Risotto called the meeting off. By the looks of it, Risotto seemed too stressed to care that the others had left. He didn't want to leave his leader in his time of need.

Sorbet shifted in his seat, disturbing Gelato, who was relaxing.

"Risotto, this is bullshit and you know it. They're trying to pull the wool over your eyes and you're just letting them," he growled.

The remainder of the group was silent. Sorbet and Gelato were the oldest in the group, older than Risotto. That being said, they had the most experience in the gang, and were the most ruthless killers of them all. Everyone knew that the both of them, especially Sorbet, didn't appreciate being sold short. Those two were the best of the best and they were aware of it. Prosciutto had known Sorbet for years and he still found the man absolutely fear inspiring. Maybe it was his sharp features, or his stand ability. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was tall and he was an alpha.

"We are highly trained professionals, we've gotten full control over our stands and know how to use them to get the job done flawlessly. I don't think it's fair that we're treated like small offense criminals," he spoke firmly.

Everyone knew that once Sorbet spoke in that tone, he was serious and there was no getting him to back down from his stance. Even Risotto wouldn't be able to change his mind, and the two of them were good friends.

"What can I do? It's not like we could unionize or something, that would ensure we would be excommunicated," Risotto said.

"Well if we applied pressure higher up they would have to stop ignoring us,"

"You have to look at the bigger picture, Sorbet. Passione is bigger than any of us know. If we did that, the boss would gladly have one of his goons come and kill us off,"

Sorbet stood up from his seat with Gelato gently tugging on his arm to try and pull him back down, a neglected look on his face. It didn't seem like Sorbet was about to leave, no. Instead, he was attempting to make himself look bigger, probably to drive the point home. It wasn't entirely uncommon for the alphas of the group to try intimidation tactics while they were arguing, but Prosciutto still never got used to it. The sight of the dark haired killer standing at full attention made the hair at the back of Prosciutto's neck rise. He guessed that what Risotto had just said to Sorbet was the spark that would ignite a fight between the two alphas. Even Ghiaccio was visibly concerned. Sorbet was one of the only people who had the gall to challenge Risotto. Prosciutto thought it had to be an issue with dominance for sure.

"How many people have you faced in battle, Risotto? Are you saying to me that if someone were to attack us, you don't think we would be prepared?" Sorbet snapped.

Risotto remained seated, his face determined, but his tone smooth and tame.

"That's not what I said. I meant that it wouldn't be a wise idea to try and fight with the boss about our pay right now, because we don't know how he will react," he said.

"We can't just sit here with our thumbs up our you-know-whats. We have to take action or no one will take us seriously and this is just going to continue! Is that what you want for us Risotto?"

Finally, the strapping man rose from his seat as well, eye to eye with Sorbet.

"That is enough." he shouted.

Pesci cowered a little, Illuso and Ghiaccio both sat quietly, appearing stunned. In the silence that followed
Prosciutto swore he could have heard the ticking of the wall clock in the room.

"I need for you all to trust me. This situation isn't going to get any better if you all direct your aggression towards me. I am not your enemy," stated Risotto.

Sorbet was quiet, but he remained stoic.

"Fighting fire with fire isn't going to work. If we become the aggressors, Passione is going to find a way to exterminate us. What we need to do is keep our heads down and do our jobs to prove to the boss we are capable," he continued.

Prosciutto was smiling inside. Every day, he was reminded why Risotto was their leader in the first place. The man always seemed to know what to do, and thought of every possible horizon they could reach based on certain actions. He was intelligent and experienced, and no situation would ever rob him of that. Not even their current one.

Sorbet looked defeated. He looked back at his lover, and then at everyone else in the room.

"Come on, one of you has to agree with me," he said.

Ghiaccio and Illuso refused to meet the tall man's gaze. Pesci began to fiddle with his hands nervously.
Sorbet frowned.

"Oh, I see how it is. All of you are cowards," he said. "Whatever. I'm leaving. Risotto, I really thought you were better than this,"

And with that, he was out the door.

Gelato was still curled up on the seat, looking utterly confused and upset. Prosciutto wondered why the other hadn't tried to stop Sorbet from blowing his top like that. Could it be that Sorbet's omega was afraid of his own alpha? Or maybe he was too in love with Sorbet to see the faults in the man's logic. The omega stood, and looked over at Risotto.

"He really means well. He's only angry because he cares," he explained with poise.

Risotto hummed a response and flopped back down in his chair with an air of exhaustion.

"I trust you, Risotto. But I think you should at least consider what Sorbet said. I apologize on his behalf for how he lost his temper," he said.

Gelato followed Sorbet's path out the door.

And then there were five.

The rest of them sat there in silence for a little bit, the words of the couple still hanging in the air. Illuso was the first to break the silence, and he did it in the worst way possible.

"Well shit. Omegas, am I right Risotto? Always agreeing with their alpha no matter the circumstances,"

Both he and Ghiaccio shot him a dirty look. Oh if only looks could kill. They didn't even have to say anything to him. He kept his eyes on his feet after that, seeming ashamed.

"You really know how to make a bad situation worse, don't you Illuso," Ghiaccio mumbled.

Illuso didn't answer, it seemed like for once, the man had swallowed his pride.
Ghiaccio sighed and watched the door as if he stared at it long enough, their team members would come back.

"I don't agree with Sorbet, but he had some pretty valid points. And Gelato probably thinks that he's right not only because Sorbet is his alpha, but because they've known each other for so long," Ghiaccio explained. "Not everything is black and white, Illuso."

Prosciutto nodded in agreement, glancing over at Risotto to make sure the other man was okay. He was sitting with his head in his hands, hiding his face. He knew better than anyone not to bother him when he was like this. He decided it would be best to leave soon, so Risotto could clear his head in peace.
He stood up, causing Pesci to follow his actions.

"Risotto, I'm going to head out so you can have some peace and quiet," he spoke, even though he was sure Risotto wasn't going to reply in his current state.

The blonde walked towards the door with Pesci close behind him, his heels clicking loudly on the hardwood floors. Just before he left, however, he turned to look over at the alpha leaning against the wall.
Illuso spotted Prosciutto looking at him and he held his scrutinizing gaze.

"Ghiaccio is right, Illuso," he spoke, tearing his gaze away from Risotto. "They have a bond stronger than you could even begin to understand. Only an omega can understand the bond they have with an alpha,"



̶S̶e̶r̶g̶i̶o̶ ̶A̶l̶t̶e̶r̶a̶ Sorbet
Knife Called Lust
Sorbet is no stranger to murder. He grew up in an area where it wasn't uncommon to hear and see about crime every single day. When he was just a boy, he committed his first crime out of self defense, which consequently lead to the development of his stand, Knife Called Lust. The stand allows him to throw knives with ultimate precision and accuracy, killing his victims 89% of the time. A taste for violence and a need for a large income lead him into joining Passione.


̶G̶a̶b̶r̶i̶e̶l̶e̶ ̶C̶a̶r̶a̶n̶g̶i̶ Gelato
Wiped Out
Gelato struggled with his mental health and abuse for most of his life. As a teenager, he ran away from home and ended up joining the gang with Sorbet, who he had a very close bond with. Through his experience in Passione, he learned how to control his stand, Wiped Out. The stand made it so that his victims would drown while on land, because all of the water in their bodies had been pulled into their lungs.

Chapter Text

The water cascaded between Prosciutto's shoulder blades, down his back, and went swirling into the drain as it flowed down the rest of his body. Often times, the shower was the only place he could ever get some peace and quiet. His life was always hectic. It seemed like trouble saught him out, hid in every single corner waiting for the right moment to pounce. Although today, he had some alone time.

There were no new missions to worry about, and Pesci was off doing his own thing, so Prosciutto intended to run a couple of errands before returning home to relax. He believed he deserved it too, after the stressful conversation he had with his teammates just a couple of days ago.

After a while, the blonde shut off the shower and got out, wrapping a towel around his slender form. He then went to his room and picked out something cute to wear. When he joined the mafia, he learned quickly that it was best not to stand out, and to try and blend in with the rest of society. However, no one said that blending in had to be dull and boring.

He pulled on some black tube pants and a yellow button up blouse. He finished the look by styling his hair in it's usual braided fashion, not a single strand out of place.

The blonde man took a glance outside his window and saw that the sun was shining. It looked nice enough outside, so he decided he would just walk instead of driving. He left the house, with a list of things at the back of his mind that he needed to complete before the day was over.

Prosciutto almost felt like a civilian on their day off work as he walked the busy streets of Naples. The people that passed him by barely took notice of him, as they were too enthralled with their own lives. Vendors on the streets tried to get him to buy what they were selling. For once, Prosciutto had a slight feeling of normalcy.

However he knew that behind closed doors, this feeling would fade, and that he had to remain on high alert for any enemies, no matter what location he was in.

He continued walking until he finally reached his desired location. It was a small, clean clinic a small travel away from he and Pesci's house, which happened to be practically the only place in Naples where he could purchase suppressant pills.

Omegas typically had to take them daily, and they were quite expensive. Early this morning when he was taking his dose, he realized he only had enough left to last him one more week, and he figured that he might as well go and refill the prescription before he ran out.
He headed over to the front desk of the pharmacy, where there was a young eager looking pharmacist waiting to help the customers. As he was greeted, he stated her business and presented her with the prescription he wanted to refill. The woman frowned.

"I hate to inform you, but the price for these have just skyrocketed," she stated. "Just thought I would let you know before you pay,"

Prosciutto raised a brow curiously.

"Oh? How come?" he asked.

"Supply and demand. There's a shortage in Italy right now, so the price has gone up nearly double," she replied.

"Geez...well I didn't walk all this way just for nothing. Tell me what's the damage," he said.

Prosciutto assumed he had enough cash in his wallet to pay for the pills, and even if he didn't, he would just put it on his card. He couldn't go without them, so he didn't care about the price. That was until the pharmacist told him how much it would cost. He felt his stomach sink.

"Wow that's...that is a lot," he mumbled, astonished.

Prosciutto began to consider his options. While he did need the pills, he remembered what Risotto said about trying to save money. He knew it would be a while until he and the rest of the crew saw a mission that would pay generously. Additionally, he didn't want to spend a lot of money knowing that he could be in a situation where he would need it more than he needed his suppressants. He didn't want to stay in the clinic longer than he needed to, so he made the decision that he thought was the best.

"You know what? It's alright, never mind," he said.

He knew it appeared cheap to suddenly cancel the transaction after hearing the price, but Prosciutto had bigger things to worry about other than a stranger judging him for his financial decisions.

As the blonde made his way out of the clinic and walked down the street, he instantly began to panic.
The pills came in little packets that had to be taken daily. Seven pills wouldn't last him very long, and he knew that. He almost considered going back inside the clinic and paying the price, but it was far too late to do that now.

Suppressants were very important to most omegas, because their physical characteristics caused life to be strenuous.

There were the overwhelming scents that would be produced by everyone, which the pills would easily take care of. Also, there was the fact that omegas were typically prone to being paranoid and skeptical of the people around them. Pills made for omegas would lessen the  intensity of those instincts.

Heats were a living hell for omegas if there wasn't an alpha, or at least a beta to guide them through it. Suppressants paused heats entirely, or at least dampened the worst symptoms. Prosciutto couldn't remember the last time he had been in heat, but he remembered how it felt.

There were times where his entire body felt like it was on fire, his lower body would cramp up, and even something as gentle as arousal became painful and irritating. The only thing that would help him get through it was having an alpha with him, but Prosciutto had been single for years now, and he didn't think that would change. He wasn't one to just go searching for a random alpha when he was in heat either.

On the topic of his relationship status, he unconsciously touched the back of his neck, where he knew the small faded tattoo of a butterfly was hiding underneath his collar. He cringed internally whenever he thought of the origin, or of what his life was like when he got it.

He quickly shook it off and went back to his original train of thought. He would run out of pills very soon, and he wasn't sure that there was a way out of the situation he had just put himself into. To Prosciutto, suppressants meant he had control. The pills gave him full control over his bodily urges and sensations, so that they wouldn't get the better of him. In society, many people still thought it was acceptable behaviour to treat omegas as inferior.

La Squadra was pretty accepting of omegas, considering that there were a total of three and no one batted an eye except for maybe Illuso, who was always making off-handed comments. And perhaps Melone, but he couldn't really help it that he was perverted.

Prosciutto shivered as he remembered the way the man had talked about omegas in heat. He found it absolutely degrading.

He didn't want to give any of his teammates a reason not to respect him. He thought that if he showed any of the stereotypical aspects of being an omega, everyone would see him as nothing but just that.

A whiney, anxious omega in a place where he didn't belong.

Therefore, he couldn't tell anyone about his predicament. He would face this alone and find a way to deal with the consequences later. He was sure that the group would get a good mission soon, so he would have money to buy what he needed.

The only other omega he knew that didn't take suppressants was Gelato, but that was because he had Sorbet. When Prosciutto recalled how the two of them were always close to each other, always touching each other, he felt a light pull at his heart strings. Since his last relationship, the man had always convinced himself that he was alright with being single, that he was independent and didn't need anyone else. Although, when he saw two lovers together in any circumstance, some primal part of him silently longed for a chance to feel what they felt.
The mafia was no place for love any how. The dirty deeds done within the confines of the gang proved to him that love simply couldn't exist in a world so cold. Maybe Sorbet and Gelato were the only exception to this rule.

Prosciutto couldn't imagine anyone falling in love with him.

As he walked, he caught sight of a convenience store, and he stepped inside briefly. He picked up a pack of cigarettes and paid for them at the front. He had been trying to stay away from cigarettes for a while, because his gross habit made Pesci upset. The stress from the past and present merged together in an ugly amalgamation that had ultimately ruined his day, so he felt like he deserved a cigarette. Plus, he hadn't smoked in almost two weeks, so he figured one pack wouldn't hurt, and he would stop when it was done.

He left the store and went to the corner of a street, where he leaned against a building and pulled out one of the cigarettes from the package. He held it between his pink lips while he fished around in his pocket for a lighter. He always carried one on him, just in case. He lit the cigarette and let the smoke into his system, letting it take away his stress.




Prosciutto and the others were back at the safe house again, discussing other details. The blonde still hadn't bought more suppressants, and it had been a few days since he had gone to the clinic. For the time being, he thought he would be able to get away with only taking half a pill every day. At least then, they would last him longer and maybe soon he would be paid a substantial amount so he could fill his prescription. Although he wasn't sure if taking half was working, because he found himself becoming more jittery as the days passed.

Prosciutto had gone through the entire pack of cigarettes in a day, and then went through two more on the second day. By the third day, which was today, he was already on his fourth pack. He really had no excuse to be smoking this much, especially after he said he would stop, but it took some of the edge off. After all, he was supposed to face the brunt of his bad decisions alone, and oh how all the stress in his life was driving him to infect his lungs with the addictive substance.

The man snuck outside onto the deck so he could smoke in peace, not wanting anyone to heckle him for restarting his unhealthy cooing mechanism. As he was about to light the cigarette, he heard a deep voice from behind him.

"I thought you quit smoking," Risotto said.

Prosciutto jumped and turned around quickly. He swore that no one else was out here with him, and he hadn't even heard Risotto approach him. He assumed that the man had used his power to hide himself for a brief moment until he wanted to be revealed to Prosciutto.

"Oh, Risotto. I didn't think you were here," Prosciutto said as the man walked closer to him.

Risotto was only a few inches taller than him, but whenever the man was near him he couldn't help but feel small. Red irises gazed into his own, and the stare felt deep, maybe even scrutinizing. Prosciutto wasn't scared, oh no. Sure, Risotto intimidated most people, but he had known the other man for so long that all he felt when looking at him was utter respect and care. And right now, he felt a hint of embarrassment that he was caught smoking. His cheeks flushed.

Prosciutto had recently made it to two weeks without having a cigarette, and now he was ruining that streak, desecrating his own display of self control. He said he would quit for Pesci's sake, but apparently he couldn't even pull that off. Prosciutto figured he could live with disappointing Pesci, but he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he disappointed Risotto.

"I know I said I'd quit...smoking isn't a very economic habit anyways," he mumbled.

Even though he knew he would regret it later, he threw the fresh cigarette on the ground.

"It's no problem," said Risotto. "I take it that you need an outlet for your stress. I could leave if you wanted privacy,"

Prosciutto shook his head rapidly.

"No! No. Really, it's alright, stay," he said.

He cleared his throat, trying not to seem too eager for Risotto's company. Deep down he knew that's all he really wanted.
He watched as the taller man leaned against the railing of the deck, eyes on the horizon. He wasn't wearing his hat, and the wind was making a mess of his silver locks.

Prosciutto thought to himself about how out of all the years he's known Risotto, he didn't know what his natural hair colour was. He ignored that thought for now, thinking it was a silly question to ask.

He mimicked his superior's actions, leaning against the railing with his elbows resting on it, arms slightly extended over it. When he looked closer at Risotto, he realized the man looked tired. Lost, even. There were dark circles under his eyes.

"Are you doing okay?" he asked.

Risotto looked over at him and raised a brow.

"Hm? I'm fine, there's no need to be so concerned, Prosciutto," Risotto answered gently.

Prosciutto nodded, but some part of him felt like that wasn't the truth. Maybe it was his instinct, or simply his deep concern for the other man.

"Really, this must be such a hard time for the rest of you," Risotto continued. "Not just with the money situation, but with everything else you guys have go face in life as well,"

Prosciutto listened and frowned slightly. He loved that Risotto cared so much for the rest of them, but the thought of the man losing sleep over it made him upset.

"We can adapt. It won't be that hard for us Ris. All of us have been in the mafia for years. We're resilient," Prosciutto assured him.

"Still, I feel like Sorbet is sort of right,"

"How so?"

"What if I'm not doing enough to get people to pay us properly? What if we are just becoming some big joke to Passione,"

Prosciutto hesitated before placing his hand on Risotto's back. He was never that good at comforting others, and the fact that it was Risotto standing in front of him now, opening up about how he felt, was surreal to him. Risotto was a stoic man, and in all the years Prosciutto had known him, he had talked about his feelings only a handful of times.

Prosciutto understood. He was the same way after all, not wanting to burden anyone else with his feelings. But whenever Risotto needed someone to confide in, he was always glad the other man would choose him.
Risotto, though stressed, seemed comforted by the hand on his back. He could feel his muscles relax under his slender hand. Prosciutto thought maybe all he needed was to know someone else was there for him.

"I know you're doing your best. And I trust you, as more than just a subordinate. I'm here to listen to you" he said.

Risotto hesitated before sighing.

"There's nothing much to say. I'm just a bit worried about what will become of us," the man explained."Not only because Passione doesn't seem to be taking us seriously, but because now that I've been trying to save money I realize how expensive everything is. I don't want you all to go broke,"

Prosciutto stayed silent and examined Risotto's disgruntled expression. He wasn't aware that the man cared this much. It seemed like Risotto caught on to his slight confusion, and he elaborated.

"I know most of you have expensive tastes, that's why I'm worried. Did you know there's a shortage of suppressants and the price went up? I can't even afford to keep myself on them anymore," he said.

Prosciutto felt his heart skip a beat. Who would have thought his superior would end up in the same situation as he was in right now. He thought about how Risotto must have felt the same amount of panic he felt in the days prior.

The tall man shrugged Prosciutto's hand off of his back and stood up straight.

"Anyways. I didn't mean to pull you into my problems. It isn't like you would understand that much anyways," he said.

Prosciutto knew that statement wasn't made to offend him, but his heart sank nonetheless. He wanted the other to feel comfortable enough to talk to him about his stressors without feeling like he had to stop or cut himself short. He believed that he would understand better than anyone, he had known Risotto for much longer than anyone else in the group. He couldn't tell him that, though. So instead, he said;

"It's fine. I'm always here to listen to you. Passione will probably raise our pay when we complete more missions. Whatever road you decide to take us downI will follow you, Risotto,"

Risotto nodded and walked back into the safe house, leaving Prosciutto behind with the weight of his own thoughts heavy on his shoulders.



R̶a̶f̶f̶a̶e̶l̶o̶ ̶N̶e̶r̶i̶ Risotto Nero
Risotto could not return to being a normal civilian after he had brutally murdered the drunk driver that killed his cousin. Once he obtained his stand, the only thing he saw fit was to join the mafia. Grief still haunts him, but he doesn't like to show it.

Chapter Text

The blonde walked into the safe house, the smell of cigarettes trailing behind him. After their chat on the deck a couple of days ago, Risotto had called another meeting to discuss the fact that Passione wasn't willing to give them control over territories, which made him unhappy. Most of the other teammates put that issue on the backburner, only caring about the fact that they weren't being paid properly, but something about the way Risotto talked about the issue made Prosciutto think that wasn't the case with him.

After the meeting, he and a few of the others decided to stay at the safe house. It wasn't uncommon for them to do, especially if they had nowhere else to be.
The blonde sat down beside Pesci, who crinkled his nose at the scent of smoke. Prosciutto pretended not to notice.

The habit of taking half a pill a day was beginning to take a toll on him physically. He felt like he needed to smoke to cope with the new sensations he was feeling.

For instance, without the dampening effect of the suppressants, he was able to pick up on the scents of his team mates.

Illuso's was strong, almost like sage or incense. It was the first thing that hit him when he walked inside.
Then there was Ghiaccio's sweeter scent, which was heavily muted because the other was still on suppressants. It was like liquorice.
Pesci was a beta, so he couldn't really detect much of a smell. Plus, he was used to being around the younger man, so maybe he was desensitized to it.
It felt foreign to suddenly be able to sense these things again, and feigning ignorance to them was quite exhausting.

The three other men had been watching TV, and it didn't seem like any of the others were there at the moment.

"Since when do you all watch the news?" he scoffed. "It's all full of liar politicians and bad reports anyways,"

Pesci shrugged in response.

Prosciutto sighed and watched the television half heartedly. Though his eyes were glued to it, the contents of the media were the least of his concern. He noticed that Risotto was gone as well without telling anyone where he went. No one else seemed to be that concerned about his whereabouts, however.

The news played a small segment about how the decrease in supply of suppressant pills was causing them to be unattainable for most in Italy. A frown tugged at the corner of his lips. It was like no matter how he tried, he couldn't escape the reality of his own situation.

He heard Illuso exhale sharply.
"I don't get why people feel the need to go on suppressants anyways. Why fix something that's not broken?" he asked.

"For the same reason people take pain killers for headaches. Nothing is technically wrong with your head, it just makes dealing with the pain easier," Ghiaccio responded curtly.

"You consider the way your body naturally is to be a headache," Illuso asked.

Ghiaccio, clearly annoyed, decided to deepen the argument. Prosciutto sure hoped that Illuso was aware he was digging his own grave by trying to argue with Ghiaccio.

"Actually, I do Illuso," he said. "And so what? It's no one's business but mine,"

"You were the one whining about how you needed your suppressants just a few days ago. So you sort of made it everyone's business," spoke Illuso.

Before Ghiaccio could respond, Prosciutto hushed both of them.

"I'm trying to watch the news,"

"Aniki, I thought you didn't like the news," Pesci spoke up.

"I don't, Pesci. I'm just trying to get those two to shut up," Prosciutto explained briefly, gaining a glare from the two aforementioned men.

Despite his efforts, Illuso kept on poking the metaphorical bear. Bothering Ghiaccio about something was worse than poking a literal bear in Prosciutto's eyes. He guessed some people would never learn.

"What's so bad about heats anyways that makes omegas want to block out all their senses completely?" he asked.

"What is it about you that makes you find it compelling to be so annoying?" Ghiaccio retorted. Nevertheless, he answered Illuso's question. "Heats are painful, and they interfere with gang work. I wouldn't expect you to understand that though,"

Illuso huffed.
" It's just heat. Alphas have ruts, what's the difference?"

"The difference is that life in general is way worse and more intense for omegas,"

The conversation between the two seemed to have piqued Pesci's interest, because he was looking between the two of them as they spoke, brown eyes darting around like he was watching a game of tennis.
Prosciutto still hadn't said anything, and for the record, he didn't want to. He would rather be talking about anything else. He felt as if every single day, the universe was rubbing it in his face that soon, he would revert back to his original state without his suppressants.

That was a thought that scared him.

"You guys, fighting about it doesn't solve anything," Pesci said.

"I'm not fighting. If I wanted to fight Illuso, I would have already punched him without any hesitation," Ghiaccio stated.

"You wish," Illuso said. "All you're doing is whining about how omegas have it worse. Well, you have  it completely wrong. Other than heats, what's so bad about being an omega?"

"Literally any other aspect of our lives," Ghiaccio answered.

"I'm sure both sides both have negatives," Pesci spoke innocently.

Prosciutto was proud of the younger male for voicing his opinion, but he really didn't think he needed to insert himself into that conversation. He guessed it was just the way Pesci was taught that made him want to satisfy both of them.

Betas were typically non-confrontational and laid back. They didn't get heats or ruts, but they always seemed to know when an alpha and omega was going through one, and they would comfort then through it. Pesci was a person who wanted to make everyone happy.

"Omegas have more negatives than alphas. That's why we need suppressants," Ghiaccio explained. "People are always treating us like objects, or like we're fragile children no matter where we go. Alphas don't have to worry about random people in the street who will yell disgusting things at them, or having to demand respect from others,"

Illuso sat in annoyed silence, clearly not having another argument.

"How about you two just agree to disagree?" Pesci suggested.

"I just don't see the big deal of it all," Illuso said. "I don't take suppressants. Neither do Sorbet and Gelato. They seem fine,"

Ghiaccio frowned deeply.
"That's different. Gelato has an alpha, it's easier for him to get through heats," he hissed.

"You say that like you don't have a perfectly good alpha right here," Illusio teased.

Most of them were used to his antics by now, but that didn't stop Ghiaccio from blowing a fuse every time Illusio said something smart.

"As if I'd ever pair up with you, you fucking half wit. I'd rather die!" he spat.

Pesci looked to Prosciutto for help, not knowing exactly what to do now that the conversation had gotten more hostile.

"What do you think Prosciutto? Which side has it worse?"

The blonde sighed, not wanting to be involved in their stupidity, but he provided an answer nonetheless.

"I think both alphas and omegas have negative sides to their lives, and you can't really determine which one has it worse because everyone has their personal biases," he answered.

This answer seemed to appease Pesci, but the other two were unimpressed. Prosciutto's answer wasn't based on his true feelings at all; he actually wanted the fighting to stop probably more than Pesci did. He felt more irritable than usual, and he didn't want to spend the rest of his evening hearing Ghiaccio scream at Illuso for making some smart ass comment.

Instead, he turned to Ghiaccio in hopes of drawing his attention away from the topic.

"Hey, do you know where Risotto and the others are?" he asked.

"Well as second in command, I know where Risotto is, but I can't really tell you that because it's private," Ghiaccio answered.

Prosciutto felt jealousy bubble inside the pit of his stomach.

Ghiaccio became second in command not too long ago, by nomination and a majority vote. He understood why Risotto would entrust his information with Ghiaccio. The man was precise, tough, and an excellent assassin. Anyone with a brain could see that Ghiaccio deserved to be considered a superior.
However, that didn't stop Prosciutto's emotions from getting the better of him. He had known Risotto for longer, worked by his side and seen different sides of the man that he was sure the other teammates had no idea about. If the second in command wasn't Ghiaccio at the moment, he thought it could have been him.

Prosciutto always had a sense of pride that Risotto would tell him some secrets that he never told the rest of the crew. He thought it meant the man trusted him far more than anyone else. Now, since Risotto was at some secret location that only Ghiaccio knew about, the man was starting to doubt that Risotto trusted him that much in the first place.

"And what about the others?" he asked again, trying to ignore his feelings of envy for the other man.

"Well, Formaggio is probably out gambling again. You know how stupid he tends to get when he's stressed out," Ghiaccio muttered.

Prosciutto nodded in agreement. He was pretty sure that Formaggio had some sort of gambling problem that he refused to talk to anyone about. It was a vicious cycle; he would get money, spend it all on things he didn't need, go to the casino, and blow it all away like it didn't matter.

The blonde was very familiar with how addictions worked, but he still found Formaggio's habits quite childish, especially in times like this where they needed to be saving money.

"Although, I don't know where Sorbet, Gelato, or Melone are," the other man continued. "They didn't tell me where they were going when they left,"

"You know how those three are. They're probably doing the dance with no pants," Illuso snickered.

Ghiaccio took a pillow from the couch and threw it at Illuso harshly, only causing the man's laughter to get louder. Prosciutto cringed at the bad euphemism, pinching his nose bridge.

"With each other???" Pesci asked, seeming utterly confused.

"No! Don't listen to Illuso, he's being an ass," Prosciutto snapped.

He didn't like that Illuso was such a bad influence. He was worse than Melone on some days. Always making the worst jokes at the wrong time.

"That doesn't even make any sense! People always say when you shack up with someone it's the 'dance with no pants', but sex is nothing like dancing" Ghiaccio complained.

"Geez, it was just a joke, no need to over think it," Illuso said.

Prosciutto rolled his eyes at the two men.

"Well it wasn't a very funny one. Please, try to be more professional. We're adults trained to kill, not middle schoolers,"

"You both need to lighten up a little. Everyone has had a big stick up their butt since Risotto announced a bunch of bad news. Being mad all the time isn't going to help, I was just trying to make things more lively," Illuso explained.

"Everyone has a right to be mad," Pesci chimed in.

Prosciutto nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, especially with you making shitty jokes all the time," Ghiaccio added.

Illuso crossed his arms and sighed deeply with a defeated expression on his face.

"Fine, whatever," he said.

The man stood up, walking past Prosciutto to the nearest mirror. The smell of sage lingered in his nostrils even after Illuso had disappeared into the mirror world.

Prosciutto cleared his throat and looked over at Ghiaccio, who was still seething. He guessed it was best to leave him alone for now, he didn't want to anger the man any further. Illuso's scent made the need to smoke rise up in the blonde again, so he stood up and adjusted his blazer.

"I'm going for a walk," he said.

Before anyone could protest or reply, he had headed out the door of the safe house, leaving Ghiaccio and Pesci behind. He needed to escape the tension and the overbearing scent of the alpha in the house so that he could clear his head.

The cold air was refreshing and cool on Prosciutto's skin. The night sky had just begun to turn a marvelous shade of navy blue, a contrast to the bright stars against it. He began to walk, without any real destination. He didn't want to go home, but he didn't want to stay at the safe house either. His mind went entirely numb as his feet seemed to move on their own accord. When he snapped out of his trance, he saw that his body had taken him out to the busier part of the city that was alive with lights, cars, and commotion.

The city was beautiful at night, but the awe inspiring effect seemed to be lost on Prosciutto, because he knew what sort of things would happen in the dark shadows of alleyways.

The blonde continued to walk, his hands in his pockets. His right hand ghosted over the glossy package of cigarettes he had hidden in his pocket, the temptation sky rocketing briefly as he felt the cardboard container. He stopped to sit on one of the benches, pulling out the cigarettes and his lighter.
He put the cigarette between his lips and cupped his hand around it, trying not to let the wind blow out the meek flame of his lighter.

Suddenly, something in the shop directly across the street from him caught his eye.
It was a coffee shop-- not a very popular one, as it was known and feared amongst civilians for housing gang activity. In the dead of the night, the shop should have been empty, but the lights were on and he could clearly see the shape of three familiar figures through the windows.

Sorbet, Gelato, and Melone.


  ̶G̶i̶a̶n̶c̶a̶r̶l̶o̶ ̶L̶u̶o̶n̶i̶ Ghiaccio
White Album
Ghiaccio is a natural born leader. His family was involved with Passione, but never climbed up the social ladder. He wanted more, and was always doubted because he was an omega. However, he worked his way up to being a well trained, highly paid (for the time being) hitman out of pure spite.

Chapter Text

The assassin started the day as per usual.
A cup of coffee, half of a suppressant pill, and a cigarette.

He sat near the window in his living room, watching as the sky turned from lavender to orange. It was pretty early in the morning, and Risotto had called for everyone to meet during breakfast. Prosciutto was an early bird, and Pesci wasn't up yet so he was enjoying the silence of the morning, where no one would interrupt his thoughts or judge him for smoking in the house.

Prosciutto was officially down to only two more pills, and there was no saying when a new mission would be assigned to him so that he could get paid. He considered going back to the clinic and putting himself in expense, but he had been thinking about what Illuso had said a couple of days ago about how a bunch of them were not on any kind of suppressant.

He thought that if most civilians in Italy didn't use them, then it couldn't be that horrible to start living without them.

Prosciutto then thought about the only omega in their group who didn't take medication, who was Sorbet. He was well liked among the other teammates because he was kind to them, but a lot of them didn't respect him that much. He wondered if it had to do with the fact that he was an omega, or with the fact that he was money hungry and cold blooded when it came to his work, just like his boyfriend.

He heard a set of footsteps going through the house, so he assumed Pesci probably woke up. He panicked and dropped the cigarette into his coffee to put it out.
The other man trudged into the living room, still in his pajamas. He gave Prosciutto a half hearted good morning and went to the kitchen to go get something to eat.

"Hey, Pesci. Don't bother to eat, Risotto wanted to meet everyone somewhere for breakfast," Prosciutto said.

"Oh, really?" he asked, peeking his head back into the living room. "I thought he wanted to save money and such,"

Prosciutto shrugged. "Maybe it's like a last supper type thing. We go out to eat together one last time before we can't anymore,"

Pesci nodded and walked towards Prosciutto. He saw the teacup on the window sill and picked it up.

"Let me put this in the sink for you," he said.

Prosciutto allowed him to pick it up, hoping the other man wouldn't look into the cup, but Pesci's face had already gone sour when he saw the damp cigarette floating in quarter cup of coffee.

"So you are smoking again...I thought you said you would stop," he mumbled.

"I did," Prosciutto snapped, making Pesci flinch.

"I'm sorry I just...I thought you said self control was important,"

"It is. There are just some things in life that you aren't going to understand, Pesci. There are contradictions everywhere. Not everything is black and white,"

Pesci didn't look like he understood, but he nodded anyways, and disappeared into the kitchen with the cup.

Prosciutto sighed and rubbed his temples idly. He didn't understand himself either. He knew it was self sabotage, but it seemed like destroying himself was the only thing he was good at. He remembered that this was the type of attitude that nearly had him killed before he joined the mafia. He entertained the thought of telling Pesci what was really going on with him, but he wanted to keep his image of strength and intelligence alive. Pesci needed Prosciutto to be strong for the both of them, until he learned how to be strong for himself.

As he waited for Pesci to finish getting ready, he walked to the mirror in the living room and observed his appearance. He made sure his hair was still neat, and he tied a silk scarf around his neck, covering his tattoo. The purple colour of the scarf stood out against his black v neck.

No matter how he felt inside, Prosciutto always liked to look his best. Being stressed wasn't a reason to step outside the house looking like a wreck, at least in his opinion.

Soon, Pesci joined him downstairs and the two of them made their way to the location Risotto sent them to have breakfast.

It was a different place that neither of them had gone to, a little diner out of the way of everything else.
He hadn't heard of it before, so he assumed it was less fancy and more cost effective.

A small bell chimed as the two of them walked into the diner, and the smell of freshly baked bread immediately hit Prosciutto in the nose.

Pesci looked around a bit and frowned.

"This place looks a bit cheap," he mumbled.

"Shut it Pesci. Not every breakfast has to be five stars," Prosciutto said.

At a table in the far corner of the dinner sat the rest of their teammates, except Sorbet and Gelato.
Risotto waved them over, and Prosciutto walked up to the table, taking the empty seat next to his superior.

"Good morning Risotto," he said.

"Good morning to you as well. It looks like we have almost everyone here," Risotto said.

There were still two empty seats where Sorbet and Gelato were supposed to be.

"In light of recent events, I wanted to invite everyone out to eat. I thought that eating together might get rid of some of the tension," Risotto explained.

Prosciutto looked around at everyone else. They're faces hung low, and most of them looked like they weren't even paying attention. He wished that everything in life could be fixed by simply sharing a meal together, but that didn't seem like the case.

"Does anyone know where Sorbet and Gelato are? I wanted to wait for everyone to get here before we started eating," Risotto said.

The rest of the group just shrugged.

"We can wait for them. I don't mind," Melone said.

Prosciutto narrowed his eyes at Melone. Ever since the night he saw him with the other two in the coffee shop, he had been suspicious of Melone. He remembered vividly how the three of them seemed to be talking about something important. Sorbet's face had contorted into an angry expression as he talked, and Gelato and Melone were nodding, agreeing to whatever he had said.

He hadn't approached him at all. He actually didn't know what to do, but after all the talk Sorbet was throwing around about how Passione was disrespecting them, he knew that whatever the three of them talked about in the coffee shop that night couldn't have been good. Prosciutto didn't want to tell anyone about it yet. He wanted to make sure that the three of them had no ill intent towards Passione, or more importantly Risotto.

The men began to make small talk as they waited, trying to keep the conversation light.

"Formaggio, what were you up to last night? You look really tired," Illuso said.

The other man was sitting with his chin leaning against his hand, his eyes barely open. He mumbled a short reply of having a few drinks and staying up a bit too late, with a sad expression. Formaggio was a terrible liar, anyone with a brain could see that he was lying through his teeth. Prosciutto assumed the he had been out gambling all night, and had probably blown away a large sum of his money.

The blonde's gaze shifted to Melone, who was sitting across from him. He was playing with his phone, seeming oblivious to Ghiaccio's cold stare. Prosciutto cleared his throat, and Melone looked up. He glanced between the two omegas.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's disrespectful to have your phone out at the table," Ghiaccio said.

Melone rolled his eyes and put his phone away to appease Ghiaccio.

"Are you my mother?" he asked, in a tone that was no way near confrontational. It sounded like he was trying to talk up a chick in a bar.

"I'm just saying, it's rude," Ghiaccio complained.

Prosciutto nodded in agreement.
"Try to live in the moment. Make conversation. What did you do for the past few nights, Melone? Go anywhere special?" he asked.

Prosciutto didn't typically show interest in Melone's activities outside of what they did in the safe house, but that didn't stop Melone from telling everyone about the perverted things without being prompted. At some point, everyone including Prosciutto stopped asking Melone what he did, because they knew the man would tell them his unsolicited stories regardless.
Melone seemed to know this as well, because he had raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

"You really want to know how my week went?~" the man cooed.

If Prosciutto wasn't trying to draw information out of Melone, he would have gagged.

"Well to be honest, I didn't do anything too special. I barely even went out actually," he continued.

Ghiaccio let out a sigh of relief, thankful that Melone hadn't gone off on one of his smutty anecdotes.

Meanwhile, Prosciutto's blood was boiling, because he knew for a fact that Melone was lying through his teeth. This just proved to him that he definitely had something to hide. He needed to gather more information, so he could tell Risotto to prepare for whatever was to come next from those three. He let his mind wander to all the dreadful possibilities, all of which lead to La Squadra's ultimate demise. The others seemed oblivious to Prosciutto's anxiety.

"It's good you didn't go out. It saves money," Illuso said.

"Well that should be easy for you to say. You barely show your face outside your mirror world," Formaggio stated.

Illuso just shrugged in response.
"I'm not really a people person,"

"What does that even mean? 'People person'? Aren't we all people?" Ghiaccio asked.

"It's not meant for you to take literally,"

The men all continued to chatter amongst themselves, the friction between them dying down a little bit.
Though, the two most silent people at the table were Prosciutto and Risotto.

Prosciutto only said small lines here and there when he had to, feeling too suspicious of everybody to speak much. He figured that if Melone was sneaking around behind the capo's back, then someone else had to be as well. It was just a matter of figuring out who.
He glanced over at Risotto, who had his hands folded neatly, watching the other men make friendly banter.
Prosciutto realized that he hadn't said a thing since he asked if anyone knew the whereabouts of the couple.

"Risotto, are you feeling okay?" Prosciutto asked.

Risotto looked as if he had been shaken out of his thoughts. His gaze sent a shiver down the blonde's spine for reasons unknown to him.

"I'm fine, I'm just a bit concerned. Where are Sorbet and Gelato? I told them to come here early," he said.

Prosciutto's heart ached for his capo.

The man had taken the time out of his day to organize their meet up, to get everyone out of their haze, and this is what he was repaid with. At least three off his supposedly loyal teammates were congregating behind his back, and two of them didn't even bother to show their faces when he tried to do something nice for them. Furthermore, he knew that Risotto respected Sorbet and Gelato, and that fact made it all the more inconsiderate on their part.

He couldn't believe that after all Risotto went through for the team, and after how long they had known each other, that they would even think about betraying him.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to hit someone, he wanted to point out Melone right now and say
' There! There is one of the men preying on your downfall! '

But he couldn't.

He didn't have enough information to call the others out as heretics just yet. He wouldn't want to risk saying the wrong thing, and trivializing his relationship with Risotto.

Prosciutto didn't know how to answer. He frowned a bit, and instead of trying aimlessly to console Risotto, he turned to the other men instead. This would serve as a chance to test their loyalty.

"Does anyone know where Sorbet and Gelato are? Time is passing by, we can't sit and wait for them forever," he said.

The other men paused their conversation and exchanged quizzical glances, as if they were waiting on one another to provide an answer. Prosciutto saw Melone avert his eyes.

"Well what a big help you guys are," he muttered. "Risotto, I don't think they're coming. I'm sorry,"

Risotto nodded solemnly, though Prosciutto could tell that he was disappointed.

The latter called one of the waitresses over and he said that they were all ready to order. One by one they ordered their food, and the waitress went off to give the order to the chef for preparation.
Prosciutto couldn't help but notice that Formaggio was the only one out of all of them that didn't order anything to eat.

"It's too bad Sorbet and Gelato aren't coming," Pesci sighed.

"It can't be helped," said Formaggio. "They're missing out,"

"Maybe they're just too cheap to come and enjoy breakfast with us," Illuso said.

Prosciutto glanced over at Risotto and saw that he didn't seem very pleased with the comments that were being made. He huffed.

"Maybe they shouldn't have been invited to begin with, since they think they have better things to do," he sneered.

This made Pesci frown and Illuso raise an eyebrow.

"What are you implying?" the brunette asked.

"Just shut up about Sorbet and Gelato, alright?" he snapped.

It was loud enough to grab the attention of other customers inside the diner. Upon realizing this, his cheeks turned a slight shade of pink.

"That's cold, even for you, Prosciutto," Formaggio said.

"Yeah, what did those two do to you to make you so bitter all of a sudden?" Illuso asked.

"Didn't I just tell you to shut up? We're here to eat breakfast with our capo. They didn't show, so we can just stop talking about them," Prosciutto growled.

No one knew how to respond to the sudden burst of anger from Prosciutto. He looked down at the table, not wanting to meet the eyes of his superior.
' It's not what they did to me, it's what they could potentially do to hurt Risotto '
he wanted to say.

But he bit his tongue, and sat in silence until the food arrived. He had ordered a standard breakfast around these parts. Espresso and an average looking pastry.
Prosciutto watched with a dejected look as everyone started eating with their heads down. He realized that through the commotion he caused, he ruined the relaxing vibe for everyone else, including Risotto. It was too late for him to apologize or explain himself now, so he sat silently with his plate of food, wishing that he could go home.

He then saw that out of everyone, Formaggio was the only one who didn't have a plate in front of him. He wondered why he hadn't ordered anything before when the waitress came around.

"Formaggio, why didn't you get anything?" he asked.

Instead of answering, the man cast his gaze down to the floor, and everyone got the hint.
The poor fool must have lost all his money making stupid bets in a casino last night.

"Don't worry about it Formaggio," Risotto spoke suddenly. "I'll pay for whatever you get. Just don't make it too expensive,"

Prosciutto looked down at his own untouched breakfast. Taking only half a pill earlier this morning had turned his stomach sour, and nothing looked appetizing in the slightest to him. He would have offered it to the hungry man sitting across from him, to save Risotto some money, but he figured it would be demeaning to shove his un-eaten food in front of Formaggio like he was giving scraps to a dog.

He pushed it aside and leaned his cheek against the palm of his cold hand. The fire that was sparked inside earlier him had been doused, and all he felt now was confusion and worry. He couldn't think of a clear reason why Sorbet, Gelato, and Melone met up at that coffee shop that one evening, or what Melone's motive was for lying to them about where he had been. The more he thought, the more unsure and distraught he became.

Prosciutto wanted nothing more in that moment than to curl up in a warm blanket and forget the world. For some reason, the image of his capo's face appeared in his mind when he thought of warmth.

"Aren't you going to eat, Prosciutto?"
The deep timbre of Risotto's voice rang through his thoughts.

The blonde looked up at the other for the first time in a while, and he studied his face briefly. Most people would find Risotto intimidating because of his build, how tall he was, and not to mention those stunning eyes. Prosciutto had gotten used to looking into the man's eyes, and he found that almost every single time he did, he felt like he was at home.

"I'm not that hungry," he answered softly.

Risotto's eyes seemed go scan Prosciutto for a while. Prosciutto froze, hoping the other couldn't tell what was wrong with him by just looking at him. When Risotto nodded, he was both relieved and stunned with how paranoid he was being.

Since he wasn't eating his food, he just passed it over to Pesci so it wouldn't go to waste.
The other man didn't really like coffee, so when he sipped the creamy liquid he made a sour face.
The other men couldn't help but chuckle a little, their infectious laughter making even the capo laugh. A small smile spread across Prosciutto's face. Seeing Risotto laugh was almost as rare as seeing a shooting star.

While the others ate, Prosciutto basically waited for them to finish. Risotto insisted on covering the bill for everyone instead of splitting the bill like usual, because he thought it wouldn't be fair that he paid for Formaggio and not for everyone else.

"You're too generous, Risotto," Prosciutto said.

He looked over at Pesci and gave him his best ' mom-stare '.
"Say thank you to the capo, Pesci,"

"Thanks Risotto," Pesci said with a small smile.
Everyone else muttered their thanks and began to leave the diner.

Prosciutto remained seated, watching them.

"Aren't you coming Prosciutto? Some of the others said they were going to hang out at Melone's place," Pesci said.

Prosciutto's lips curled into a deep frown at the mere mention of the other man.

"You go on ahead Pesci. I'll probably meet you guys there," he said.

The younger of the two nodded, and he followed the rest of the hitmen out the door, the little bell ringing once more as they exited.
Risotto had also stayed behind, as he was waiting for the bill to come.

"You could have gone with them you know. I'm just going to head back home," he said.

Prosciutto shook his head.
"I didn't feel like going yet. Plus, I wanted to make sure you're okay with the bill. We could split it between the two of us," he said.

"That wouldn't be necessary, I think I can handle it,"

The waitress came and set the bill down, and Risotto was visibly surprised at the cost. Prosciutto immediately went into his wallet to retrieve whatever money he had inside. He paused when Risotto placed his hand gently on top of Prosciutto's. It was a simple action, but it made his heartbeat speed up nonetheless.

" Please, I can pay," Risotto said.

Prosciutto was too stupefied to argue, and he put his wallet away and watched him pay for their meal.

"I'm sorry that Sorbet and Gelato couldn't make it," Prosciutto said quietly.

He also wanted to apologize for making an ass out of himself, but he couldn't formulate the words properly inside his head. His heart was still beating hard inside his chest, and large moths had made a home inside his stomach.

"It's fine. I'm not sad about it or anything, I'm just sort of worried," Risotto replied.

"Worried? Why?"

Prosciutto couldn't begin to imagine why Risotto would be worried for potential traitors. Technically, he didn't know their true motives, but even then, Sorbet and Gelato weren't exactly the best apples in the bunch.

"It's not like them to not show up without at least telling me," Risotto said. "I'm worried I might have said something that offended them, or something worse,"

Prosciutto felt like he would explode. He could keep secrets, sure, but not without sacrificing his own sanity. Two important secrets was close to his limit, and he didn't know how long he could keep himself from telling Risotto what he had seen that night.

"Have you heard anything from them? You seemed pretty angry that they didn't show up," Risotto continued.

"I haven't heard anything from them in a while," he said.

"Well whatever the reason is that they didn't show, I hope that they're okay. I just wanted everyone to be less stressed out,"

Prosciutto's gaze shifted to Risotto's hands on the table. Some part of him deep inside wanted to take them in his own and hold them. He snapped his eyes away from them, trying to shake the thought from his mind.

"You've been doing your best, Risotto. I think everyone appreciates your efforts. I know I sure do," he said.

"That's a relief to hear. Everyone looks up to me for solutions and answers. It's a lot of pressure sometimes. I know that the work we do is nothing but pressure, but I just feel like all of us could use a break,,"

Prosciutto nodded in agreement.
"I understand where you're coming from,"

"You know, Prosciutto, you're the only one I've ever talked to about stuff like this," he said.

The blonde's eyes widened, feeling genuinely surprised. He remembered how a week ago, he was jealous because if seemed like Risotto trusted Ghiaccio more than he trusted anyone else in the group. Hearing verbal confirmation that he was the one Risotto trusted most ignited pride deep inside of him. He tried his best to hide the smug smile that came to his face upon hearing this. He wanted so badly to rub it in Ghiaccio's face, but some things were best kept between two people.

"I'm glad that you can trust me," Prosciutto said with a gentle smile.

The two of them stood up and made their way towards the door of the diner. They got outside, and Prosciutto was about to say goodbye before Risotto stopped him.

"I don't mean to come off as weird but, you smell sort of different," Risotto said.

Prosciutto froze up, not sure how to answer without incriminating himself. He hadn't told anyone about his situation, not even Pesci. He didn't want Risotto to find out because he feared the other man would start treating him differently.

"Do I?" Prosciutto asked, trying not to let his voice reveal what he wanted to keep hidden.

Risotto nodded and moved closer to the smaller man.
"I don't know how to explain it," he mumbled.

He leaned down and he started sniffing the scarf Prosciutto was wearing, right near his scent glands. Due to the close proximity, he could smell Risotto as well. A harsh metallic smell enveloped him.
Like steel and pine trees.
No, sweat? Salt?
Prosciutto furrowed his brow, and the realization dawned on him.

An alpha at the end of a rut.

He panicked and stepped back quickly, nervously adjusting the scarf around his neck.

"It was nice to have breakfast with you Risotto, I better get going," he spoke quickly.

Without giving the alpha any time to reply, he pivoted on his heel and went in the opposite direction. His stomach was twisting around madly, and his heart felt like it would pop right out of his chest.

 He started questioning his own sense of smell. Maybe taking half a pill wasn't doing anything for him in the long run, because he swore that he could smell the scent of a rut. He hadn't really noticed it before, but Prosciutto was sure that was what it was. Heat blossomed down below at the thought of Risotto being in a rut, and how close the other had been to his scent glands.

Prosciutto really needed a cigarette now to get his mind off of it.

He didn't feel like joining the others at Melone's place, so he just began walking home.
As Prosciutto walked down the road, one thought in particular stuck out to him like a sore thumb. It was the way Risotto smelled. Buried under his natural steely musk was a scent that didn't belong.

The scent of an omega.



  ̶I̶v̶a̶n̶o̶ ̶S̶i̶c̶i̶l̶i̶a̶n̶o̶ Illuso
Man in the Mirror
With his enigmatic stand, Illuso was an great addition to the hitman team. Though intelligent, he lacks social skills and often comes off as rude or arrogant. He doesn't talk about who he was before Passione often.

Chapter Text

Another meeting was called at the safe house, first thing in the morning.

Prosciutto, who had finally ran out of his suppressant pills, felt that he was royally fucked.

For the past few years he never went a day without taking them, and now that he had stopped cold turkey he feared that his depreciating condition would draw the attention of the others. Earlier in the morning while they were getting ready to leave, Pesci gave him a questioning look. He wondered if the other could tell how dizzy and afraid he was, or if he was giving off a stronger scent than usual.

He arrived at the safe house right on time nonetheless, cologne caked onto his scent glands so that there would be no risk of anyone else noticing his scent. The blonde took a seat on the empty couch and tried to make himself appear smaller, not wanting to be noticed by anyone.

Slowly, the rest of the hitmen began to file into the room and take their usual seats. Risotto came in last, and he sat down right next to Prosciutto.

Usually, Prosciutto wouldn't have minded if the capo took a seat beside him. Sometimes it even made him feel special that he was graced with Risotto's presence. But in this moment, all Prosciutto could think about was how good Risotto smelled. The scent of the alpha created a tight knot in his abdomen, and Prosciutto could do nothing but scold himself internally for thinking about his leader in such an unprofessional context.

"Now that everyone's here, we can begin," Risotto spoke. "The boss has given us orders to kill off rogue stand users within Passione," he said.

"Oh, so now the boss needs us," Sorbet scoffed.

Gelato and Melone exchanged glances.
Ghiaccio hushed them, then proceeded to show the rest of the group pictures of the men they were supposed to kill from a large file book he was keeping. Prosciutto envied how organized the man was.

"Who are these guys anyways?" Formaggio asked.

The man was sitting on the floor, seeming all too relaxed for someone that was discussing murder. On the chair near him was Illuso, letting Formaggio keep his arm propped up on the chair. The hitmen looked more like docile cats more than well...hitmen. Prosciutto thanked whoever was watching them from up above that the two of them decided to behave like civil human beings for once.

"They're just some small time drug operatives. Apparently they decided it was a good idea to embezzle funds. So the boss thinks they're expendable," Ghiaccio explained.

"The man really must have eyes and ears everywhere if he heard about small time rookies like those," Illuso said.

"Isn't that the point of the mob? Talk shit get hit," Formaggio stated.

"Make no mistake, these guys aren't rookies, Risotto said. "They're very strong stand users, so we need to come up with a strategy in order to take them out. I might send more than one of you to handle them,"

Formaggio perked up.
"I could go, I haven't had anything good in a while,"

"With a useless stand like yours? You wouldn't stand a chance," Illuso chuckled.

"I could perhaps be of some use," Melone said.

"Melone's weird ass stand wouldn't be able to do anything either if these guys are as strong as you say they are," Formaggio whined.

"Actually, we could use Baby Face's tracking abilities. I never said that finding these men would be easy," Risotto said.

Prosciutto kept his eyes on Risotto as he talked, and for a minute, it was like everyone else in the room had disappeared. Time had stopped. He gazed at his leader's tan skin, and thought about the stand that was hiding underneath it. Wriggling, squirming, waiting. He would never want to end up on Risotto's business end. For as long as he's known the man, Metallica and it's ability had always terrified him to his core.

His eyes fixated on Risotto's lips. They moved, but no sound came out. All Prosciutto was thinking about was how good those lips would feel against his own.

"Prosciutto." Ghiaccio snapped, making the blonde jump.

"Yes?" he asked.

He hoped it wasn't obvious that he had been checking the capo out. He couldn't believe that he had gotten so distracted that he completely zoned out of the conversation. It was most likely Risotto's scent that set him off like that. It still smelled like the alpha was in a rut, and to omegas, the scent was almost intoxicating.

He tried focusing on literally anything else-- the scenery outside of the window, the slow turning of the squeaky cieling fan, the decaying plant that was neglected on a table in the hallway just out of sight. Nothing would stop his thoughts from trailing back to Risotto. He felt utterly helpless until someone pulled him out of his thoughts yet again, calling him by name.

"Are you alright bro? You've been acting sort of weird this morning," Pesci whispered.

Prosciutto just glared at Pesci, trying to signal that now was not the time to be asking such questions. Ghiaccio was in the middle of talking after all, and he didn't want to draw unwanted attention to himself.

"I was asking you if you agreed with Risotto that you should accompany Melone," Ghiaccio said.

"I think your stand ability would be perfect for this mission," Risotto added.

Prosciutto looked at Melone and his mouth twisted into a small frown. As flattered as he was that Risotto thought his abilities would be needed, he still didn't trust the other man.

"With all due respect Risotto, I usually work together with Pesci," he said.

"I'm aware, but this mission really isn't for...the faint of heart,"

Pesci looked down. The comment clearly hurt his already fragile feelings.

Prosciutto sighed softly.
"If you need me to go, I will do as you say,"

If Risotto truly wanted him to go on this mission, he would go only for his leader's sake; but not without being extremely passive aggressive about the whole situation. Prosciutto absolutely hated being forced to work with someone that he didn't like. Melone was on thin ice with him to begin with, and catching him going behind Risotto's back was what caused the ice to finally crack beneath the alpha's feet.

At least now, they would be paid and he would have enough money to buy his suppressants and put this whole ordeal behind him.

"How much is he paying us to do this?" Illuso asked.

" 5,000,000 lire," Risotto answered.

"That's so cheap," Ghiaccio muttered. "It isn't fair. And to make matters worse, he's paying us  after we get the job done, so there's really no guarantee of money,"

"At least it's something," Pesci said softly.

Prosciutto couldn't help but notice that Sorbet and Gelato had barely talked for the entire meeting. They just kept glancing at each other with knowing looks, as if they could communicate telepathically. This was a definite red flag to Prosciutto, alarms were going off in his head.

"So it's decided then. Prosciutto and Melone are going to get rid of these guys?" Formaggio asked.

He seemed upset that the other two got to go on the mission instead of him. Prosciutto thought that he most likely needed a larger cut of the money to replenish what he lost when he went gambling. Or maybe it was to get more money so he could spend it all gambling once again. Formaggio didn't learn from his mistakes.

Prosciutto would have rather stayed behind than go on the mission, even though he needed the money. He didn't want to spend any time with Melone if he was a probable traitor. There was a possibility that being alone with him would be dangerous. In addition to this, he wasn't feeling all that great. His stomach was doing somersaults and if he stood up too fast the room would spin. It was withdrawal symptoms from not taking his pills. He didn't want Risotto to think he was unqualified for the job, though.

This alone is what made him follow Melone outside to his bike and get on behind him. He placed the spare helmet on his head, trying not to get annoyed by the way it disturbed his smooth hair.

Melone reved up the bike.
"You better hold onto me if you don't want to fall off~" he cooed.

Prosciutto turned up his nose stubbornly. He was too close for comfort already, and he didn't want to pick up on Melone's scent more than he already was.
When Prosciutto refused to hold onto him, Melone just pulled out the driveway of the safe house and sped off down the road.  The ends of his long hair stuck out of his helmet and blew in the wind.

Prosciutto clutched the sides of his seat for dear life, hoping that he wouldn't be thrown off the bike from the sheer speed. Even if he was about to, he would never even entertain the thought of grabbing onto Melone.




 The sun was setting beautifully on the land down below, and a gentle breeze rustled the loose strands of Prosciutto's hair. Beside him, Melone was typing away at Baby Face, which just appeared as a laptop at the moment. He was trying to track down the enemy, but they hadn't found him yet, so Prosciutto was basically doing nothing.

They had settled in a remote area for now in order for Melone to have the chance to work out the location.
The blonde watched as Melone's slender fingers hit different keys of his odd stand. Though he was looking at them, it was as if he didn't really see them, and didn't register when Melone said something to him. Prosciutto's mind was everywhere but the mission right now, he felt dizzy, and sick to his stomach.

He thought it had something to do with being off his pills for the first time in a long time. After they left the safe house, he was feeling relatively okay, but as soon as they had stopped, the terrible feeling started to creep up on him again. On top of this, all he could smell was Melone's scent. It was sweet like marshmallows and burning firewood. He wasn't sure if the other man used suppressors or not. It wasn't uncommon for alphas to completely ignore taking the pills, because ruts didn't last very long in most cases, and they were less intense than heats. He just assumed that he didn't use them due to how open Melone was about his sexuality. At least it never seemed to distract him from the task at hand.

"Prosciutto, are you even listening to me?" Melone's annoyed tone cut through Prosciutto's muddled thoughts like a knife.

He tore his gaze away from Melone's hands and towards the other's face.

"Is something wrong with you? You've been acting off lately," he said, sounding genuinely concerned.

Prosciutto pouted.
"I should be saying the same about you," he replied in a snarky tone.

He hadn't meant for his thoughts to influence how he responded, and he definitely didn't mean to start an argument, but the words slipped right out of them. He hoped that this pay cheque would be enough for him to afford his suppressants, so maybe he would be able to focus better.

Melone was obviously confused by Prosciutto's statement. He furrowed his brow and paused his incessant typing.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You've been acting weirder than usual," Prosciutto answered. "Sneaking behind Risotto's back,"

Melone seemed unimpressed by that. He looked away from Prosciutto and resumed typing.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said.

"Don't play dumb with me. I saw you that night with Sorbet and Gelato. It looked to me as if you were talking about something very important. Something you didn't want the others to hear,"

The other man let out a deep sigh and closed his lap top stand with a harsh snap.

"So," he purred deviously. "Are you going to run along to your alpha and tell him what you thought you saw? Without any proof?"

Prosciutto felt his face get hot. The tone of Melone's voice and the way his stare cut right into his being did things to him that he thought impossible. He swallowed hard and tried not to let his voice waver when he spoke.

" My alpha?" he repeated.

"Well, you always trail behind Risotto like a lost little puppy, so I assumed he had to be your alpha," Melone replied.

"He is not my alpha. I don't belong to anybody." Prosciutto insisted firmly.

This is what Prosciutto insisted was true. No one owned him, he was a solitary omega and he was fine with that. But whenever he was around Risotto, his knees felt weak. His heart started to beat faster just at the thought of Risotto being his.

 It was as if his whole body was rejecting what his mind was trying to tell him. He feared that Melone could tell, too. Due to the nature of his stand and all the information the man had collected about compatibility and attraction, these small cues were easy for Melone to pick up on.

"What Sorbet, Gelato, and I talked about is none of your business." Melone said.

He could tell Melone was serious, because the mischievous sparkle in his eye was suddenly gone.

"Your loyalty should be to Risotto," he argued.

"My loyalty is to La Squadra." Melone spoke with triumph. "That includes Sorbet and Gelato. What we talked about will remain confidential until they decide they want to tell the rest of the crew. I would have done the same for anyone else,"

Prosciutto stared at the man, feeling defeated. He couldn't agree with Melone, but he knew that pressing the issue wouldn't get him any further. He could see that the alpha was set in his own beliefs, and the secret of whatever Sorbet and Gelato were planning would remain just that-- a secret.

Prosciutto couldn't help but feel foolish, like he had somehow failed Risotto by not being able to extract the information from Melone. He knew that Risotto, and the others were under a lot of stress because of the decrease in pay. He wanted to protect Risotto from additional stress, and prevent anything worse from happening. It was the least he could do after all Risotto had done for him.

"Risotto sent us both on this mission. That means he trusts us both not to mess it all up. That should speak volumes to you. If Risotto trusts me, why shouldn't you?" Melone asked.

Prosciutto was silent. He had nothing more to say that would help his case.

"I'm really concerned about you. Snapping on me like that is uncharacteristic. I mean you do go poking your big nose where it doesn't belong, but it isn't like you to be so paranoid. Are you sure you're okay? Or do I need to call Risotto and tell him you're not capable of completing the mission?" he continued.

"No!" Prosciutto snapped hastily. "I mean, I'm just fine. No need to call Risotto,"

Melone gave him a once over before sighing and reopening Baby Face.

"If you insist. Just try to focus on the mission now," he said.

Prosciutto looked down. He would rather suffer the consequences of not having any pills than have to admit to Risotto that he couldn't complete a mission.

"One more thing, Melone,"

"Mm? What's that?"

"My nose isn't big."

Melone just chuckled and continued typing away.
Soon enough, he saw a red light start to blink on the computer-esque stand.

"I found the location. Let's follow it," Melone said.

Prosciutto gave a quaint nod.

Melone stood up and dusted himself off. He quickly jumped back onto the motorcycle, Prosciutto not far behind him. This time, Prosciutto felt comfortable enough to put his arms around Melone so that he wouldn't fall off. He wasn't sure if he completely trusted Melone, but a mission was a mission, and he couldn't let anything get in the way of what he needed to do.

He was doing this for Risotto.

The two men began their journey towards their target as the sun disappeared below the horizon.


  ̶M̶a̶r̶c̶o̶ ̶M̶i̶l̶a̶n̶o̶ Melone
Baby Face
Melone keeps his past, as well as many other things, locked tight in a vault inside his mind. He belongs entirely to La Squadra, and has no qualms about expressing his loyalty to his fellow teammates.

Chapter Text

When Prosciutto thought about the past-- which he rarely liked to do in the first place-- he was in disbelief of how a few years could change a person completely.

The fading butterfly tattoo on his neck was a perfect example of his past life. It was faded, hard to remember, out of sight and out of mind. But it existed, and was a part of Prosciutto nonetheless.

When people took a good look at the intimidating blonde man in the present day, the profession of a glass blower didn't really come to mind. For Prosciutto as well, it was hard to believe that just a few years ago, that was his reality.

He was young and bright eyed, with a niche skill that he believed would take him far in life. He wanted nothing more but to have his very own shop, and sell his artistic creations. Even for other dreamers like himself, the aspiration was pretty far fetched and non palatable. His sentiments were especially wasted on his parents.

Prosciutto came from a long line of people who worked for the ministry of law and justice. His parents wanted him to follow in their footsteps, join the chain of judges and billwriters and attorneys. He knew that they would pay for his schooling if he did as well. However, Prosciutto simply didn't want that for himself.

It wasn't that he was trying to be disobedient or rebellious, the man had his heart set on selling his art in a small shop in the heart of Naples. So he paid his way through a private skills school on his own, because once his mind was set to something he liked to see it through.

That was where he met his first ever love, who's very name chilled Prosciutto to the very core even years later.

His first love had been a man, as well as his mentor. Their relationship was very taboo at the time, so they had been keeping it under wraps. For two men to love each other wasn't unheard of, but it wasn't respected by many people either, which caused Prosciutto to feel very closed off and ashamed about his sexuality.
His mentor taught him how to open up more, and inspired Prosciutto to keep chasing his dreams. Part of him would always be grateful to the other man for initiating his awakening. He remembered the older man's sweet comments about Prosciutto's unremarkable work, gentle and innocent touches when they were in public. But he also remembered how that same sweet voice would whisper into his ear, the tender but strong arms grasping every part of him.
It was everything he could have dreamed of, everything he could have wanted.

That was what made him stay when he found out about his lover's...other habits.

Before then, Prosciutto had never touched drugs. He never intended to, and didn't even feel pressured when the other man would do them right in front of him.
He assured Prosciutto that there was nothing to worry about.

' I would never get caught '
' I would never make you do them '
' I will always be safe '

Prosciutto remembered himself saying those three lines like a mantra to himself through his daily life. Whenever he was home alone, wondering where his lover was. Whenever he would walk to the other man's apartment, secretly fearing he would find him face down in a pile of coke. It never seemed to interfere with their relationship or his mentor's work, so he grew desensitized to it after a while.
Little did he know that this would be the start of his trip into a downward spiral.

These were the thoughts going through Prosciutto's head while on the back of Melone's motorcycle, heading home at nearly two in the morning. The two of them were silent, as there was nothing left to say. So the blonde was left alone with his thoughts while they drove the distance back to the safe house. He held onto the other man loosely, trying to avoid touching the blood soaked parts of his clothing. The wind made Prosciutto shiver.

He didn't like remembering his past, but for some reason, whenever something happened to him, all the memories would come spewing out of his subconscious as if they had happened yesterday. As if the metaphorical wounds were as fresh as his quite literal wounds.

Blood stains were always such a bitch to get out of his dress shirts.

Prosciutto was naïve.

He liked to think that he had grown out of that bright-eyed-dreamer phase, but he hadn't. He just evolved to another form of dreaming.

His dreams of selling his art were crushed as easily as crushing glass under ones foot.
His lover had broken up with him after a few months. To any other twenty year old, this wouldn't have been so impactful, but Prosciutto wasn't like any other twenty year old.

It was his first ever relationship, and he clung to the man because it was the first time he had loved and felt loved in return. That's why he ignored the drugs and the cheating and the general taboo of them being together. Looking back on the situation now, Prosciutto figured that the other man just wanted to fool around with a twenty-something. It couldn't have been genuine love.

So his mentor left Prosciutto, taking the promise of getting him a shop where he could sell his art with him.

Without something or someone to cling onto, his resolve quickly broke and he quit glass blowing all together. This decision was the fork in the road that lead him to Passione, to Risotto.

Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he had never met his mentor/lover, or if he had never quit glass blowing. Well, for one, his shirt wouldn't be drenched in his own blood right now.

The younger version of himself didn't know how to cope with feeling empty. He always scrambled to find distractions, trying to fill the gaping hole in his heart with whatever he had on hand; liquor, partying, sex.

None of it was ever enough.

Until one night, he came face to face with the devil itself. One of the little tabs that looked like candy that his ex would always have. He had seen them countless times before, and his ex seemed to have so much fun while he was on them, so Prosciutto thought;

Why not?

To this day, he still couldn't remember that night in full detail, but he knew one thing for sure; those drugs made him feel like he wasn't empty anymore.
The hollow place inside him was replaced by a tingling sensation, and visions of unimaginable colours. Lonely hours merged into fun moments where he never felt alone. He had the feeling the drugs have him to keep him company. He didn't stop at LSD, he used almost every drug that would guarantee him that sweet escape. It didn't matter where it came from, if people were selling, he was buying. He sold away his life to an addiction that would just keep taking and taking, until he was absolutely destitute.

His landlords always kicked him out for not paying rent on time, so he spent most of his leisure at an old beach house where people would go to score drugs. If he had no money-- which was the case most of the time-- he would beg and grovel and whine, hoping someone would find him pathetic enough to give him a bump, but it never worked.

Eventually he got sick of it, and got into a physical altercation with one of the dealers. Needless to say, a scrawny social reject in withdrawal didn't last a chance in a fight with a tall buff man with lots of his buddies around. Prosciutto remembered being beaten to a pulp, and even being stabbed.

Today, being injured was just another part of his job, and it didn't bother him that much anymore. But to younger Prosciutto, the stab wound was enough to manifest his stand. At the eleventh hour, bleeding out on the ground, The Grateful Dead was there for him. It was like one of the hellions from his worst drug trip had come to life and was standing right in front of him, tentacles writhing in a sinister motion.

His first murder was a group of people.
Blown away effortlessly by the effects of a rookie stand user, their bodies turning into nothing but wrinkled skin and bones. Knowing more about his stand now, he was sure that if his body temperature hadn't dropped from losing blood, he would have been consumed by his own stand's wrath as well.
He dragged himself away from the scene and passed out. The deaths were so mysterious that no one thought it was murder.

Everyone was wondering how a bunch of people who were at the peak or their youth could end up withered and lying dead by the seashore in only a matter of 24 hours. Prosciutto had been fixed up at the hospital, and he had to stay there while he healed from the stab wound. That was when he met Risotto.

Apparently, the four people he killed had been a part of some rival gang to Passione, and by killing them off he inadvertently alerted the gang of his existence.
Prosciutto figured that Passione knew the bizarre deaths had to be the work of a stand user, and he was the only one even remotely near the scene at the time, so it made sense to question him. Who new that the head of a hitman team would hear about him and want to have him on his side.

The man came to him, like an angel of darkness, a reaper waiting to claim another soul. But he didn't come to the hospital to claim anything. He came with a proposal.

Back then, Prosciutto was just an addict in withdrawal, aching to get our of the hospital so he could drug himself into a stupor.

' Do you even know what you're capable of? ' Risotto had asked him, the blinding fluorescent lights of the hospital room making it impossible for him to look the tall man directly in the face.

Prosciutto always wondered what Risotto could have possibly seen in him, a trembling addict in a hospital bed. Whatever he saw, he was just lucky that Risotto didn't consider him an enemy. He could have very well just ended Prosciutto in that hospital and no one would have an issue with it. No one would even know.
Instead of taking a life, however, Risotto gave him one. He offered Prosciutto a spot on his hitman team, given that he cleaned up his act and stayed away from drugs. How ironic it was, that the hands hands of a man that brought death and despair, were the same hands that pulled the young omega out of the darkest parts of his life.

For once in his life, sitting in that hospital bed, Prosciutto was glad that he was sober.

He knew that if he were any traces of drugs in his system, he would have brushed Risotto off completely and continued down his path of self destruction.
He felt that he owed the man his life, because since then, he found his resolve once more and hadn't touched hard drugs in years. Prosciutto was still very much a dreamer, but he didn't dream of sparkling glass figures in the windows of a small corner shop anymore. He dreamt of showing Risotto just how much that day meant to him, showing him that his efforts made of getting him clean were not wasted.

It was why he carried out all his objectives with cold efficiency.
It was why he hammered it into Pesci's head that he needed to be confident in his own abilities, and have resolve.
It was why it hurt the man deeply to return to the safe house without completing the mission.

Out of all the wounds Prosciutto received that night, the one in his pride ached the most. This mission was crucial for the team. They were having a dry spell and they all needed the money. Now that the men they were supposed to kill were still out there, they wouldn't receive a single cent. Prosciutto could already imagine the disappointment on Risotto's face when he would have to tell him of his failure.
He didn't want to have to tell the man who did so much for him that he couldn't pay the favour back.

As Melone's bike pulled into the driveway of the safe house, he felt his stomach sink. He barely registered the other man's voice, telling him to take off his helmet to head inside. Or his body seeming to move on it's own accord, climbing off of the motorcycle and taking his helmet off, placing it in its rightful position.
The way he limped inside, or the way Pesci embraced him, or the way he was pulled into another dark room by a faceless body.

Hands gripped at his ruined blazer and pulled it off. The same thing happened to the shirt he was wearing. He felt a cold object being dabbed lightly on his wounds in an attempt to clean up the blood that caked his skin. Someone was cleaning his wounds.
Those roughly scarred, yet gentle hands roamed Prosciutto's body and placed bandages and gauze on the places that needed it the most.

Next thing he knew, he was being laid down on a soft mattress, the helping hands pulling the blankets over his shivering form.

"The good news is that your wounds aren't very bad. I cleaned them and put gauze on them. You should be fixed up very soon," the deep voice explained.

Prosciutto could only manage to grunt in response.

"Get some rest. We'll talk about the mission when you wake up," the voice spoke again.

The hands pulled away from his body, leaving him alone in the cold dark room.






The blonde's eyes fluttered open some time late in the morning. Sun was shining through the blinds, hitting him perfectly in his face. He groaned and sat up slowly, a dull pain radiating all over his body. He recalled the events of the night before and his heart ached.

He had failed a mission that Risotto thought he could have completed.


The man he basically owed his entire life to.

Prosciutto sighed and he pulled the blankets off, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to get up. He realized he was shirtless and his wounds were covered in bandages and gauze. He didn't know who took care of his wounds for him, but he figured it was possibly Pesci. The younger man was always worrying about him after all.

In his half awake haze, the events of last night slowly rolled back into his mind. The fact that  Risotto was the one that fixed his injuries caused the man  nothing but shame. Even though Risotto had seen Prosciutto in his weakest moments before, he still tried to avoid it. He didn't want the other man to view him as pathetic or destitute. Even so, the memory of Risotto's hands travelling gingerly across his body made his cheeks feel hot.

He rose from the bed and went to the bathroom connected to the room, splashing his face with cold water in an attempt to cool the blood that was like lava under his skin. He  tried his best to avoid aggravating the violet bruises. Once he was finished he walked back out to the room again, and looked around.

Prosciutto noticed the chair beside the bed and saw that his shirt and blazer from the night before was now free of blood stains and set out for him. He pulled on the shirt alone, since the blazer was pretty much torn to shreds. In a mirror in the room, he neatened up his hair that had become disheveled in the fight, and even more so when he slept.

It wasn't much, but at least he looked somewhat presentable.

He walked out of the small bedroom and went to the kitchen. They usually had snacks and coffee stocked up in there in the case that they all had to spend multiple days or nights in the safe house. However, when Prosciutto opened the fridge and went through the cupboards, he found nothing. He guessed that no one bothered to buy anything for the safe house since they were all struggling to keep things orderly at their actual apartments. With a deep sigh, he went to the living room.

Ghiaccio, Illuso, and Risotto were already awake. Ghiaccio glared at Prosciutto as he made his way over to the nearest seat and sat down. Prosciutto kept his eyes downcast, not meeting anyone's gaze. Even though he couldn't see it, he knew very well that Ghiaccio's eyes were boring holes into his form.
Pesci was still asleep on the couch, snoring softly. As the rest of the hitman team walked into the living room, he nudged Pesci awake, the man yelping and sitting up at attention quickly.

Prosciutto made eye contact with Melone, who looked just as battered and bruised as he did. Although, the alpha didn't seem one but guilty about it. His face was cold and emotionless, calculating.
Risotto cleared his throat, beginning his spiel.

"Alright. I just wanted to wait for everyone to be awake before I started talking. As you all know, our targets weren't captured and killed last night like we planned. I want Prosciutto and Melone to explain what happened before we make any decisions about how we go about dealing with this," he said.

Everyone's eyes shifted over to the two males. Prosciutto swallowed thickly.

He felt like he was being put on trial and the eyes looking at him were his judge and jury. If he said the wrong thing, he would be put on death row. Things in the mafia were often a matter of life and death after all.

Melone spoke first.

"I tracked their location and we followed it. It was in a warehouse somewhere remote. There were so many places to hide inside the warehouse that when we attacked, they just dispersed," he explained.

"That's when I used The Grateful Dead to try and snuff them out," Prosciutto chimed in. "I was sure that it would do the job properly, but then one of them attacked Melone from behind. That's when I realized there were more of them than I though and...they hadn't aged one bit,"

"How??? That doesn't make any sense," Ghiaccio spat.

"My stand power has a loophole, if you don't recall. If a person's body is cold, they won't be aged at all. Sometimes I can use it as a strength, sometimes it's a drawback," Prosciutto explained.

"It looks like this time it was a drawback," Ghiaccio mumbled.

"Needless to say, the warehouse was cold as shit. Prosciutto's stand was pretty much obsolete," Melone added.

Prosciutto frowned a bit. That comment was just rubbing salt in the wound.

"It can't be helped. It was an honest mistake," Formaggio said.

"We can't afford mistakes," Ghiaccio snapped.

Prosciutto winced. The sound of the other man's voice was like nails against a chalk board. Like everything else in the world since he stopped taking his pills, it was overwhelming. The only ones who hadn't said anything yet were Pesci, Illuso, Sorbet, and Gelato.
The two lovers seemed generally disinterested with what was happening, and kept giving each other strange looks, as if they were communicating within their minds like telepaths.

"So what you're saying is, you went into the warehouse without gauging how many people were in there, your stand ability failed, and you were ambushed so you couldn't fight back?" Risotto asked.

It was a simple question, asked politely. Risotto only wanted the facts, but it still felt like an insult to Prosciutto.

"Yes sir,"

"Fucking amateurs!" Ghiaccio yelled.

Prosciutto finally looked up at the man, seeing that he was red in the face, a vein bulging out of his neck. Risotto and Ghiaccio sure were a classic duo. Good cop and bad cop. He could see now why Ghiaccio got to be second in command and he didn't.

"Did it ever occur to you that you should check how many of those fuckers were in the warehouse?? Or maybe to get out of the warehouse where Prosciutto's stand would have worked. Or I don't know, use your surroundings to your advantage? You could have picked up a crowbar, hiden, anything but what you two did last night." he scolded.

Everyone was silent. They knew better than to interrupt Ghiaccio when he was this angry.

"Now these people know that we have our eyes on them, and if they're smart they'll be better prepared for us than the last time!" he ranted. "You two practically invented worse case scenario! I knew that putting you two together would be a terrible idea!"

Prosciutto felt a lump in his throat, hurting his jaw and making it hard for him to breathe. The lump turned into a small noise that was then emerging from him. It was quiet, but loud enough to draw everyone's attention. It was an omegan cry, an embarrassing whimper that now alerted everyone that he was feeling threatened. It shocked Ghiaccio into silence.
Prosciutto slapped his hands onto his mouth, his face burning with embarrassment. The noise had come out of him without him even realizing, or having to think about it.

"I'm sorry I-- excuse me," he spoke shakily.

He rushed out of the living room and went outside where the sun's rays and fresh air hit him immediately.
Inside, the crew were loud enough to hear, arguing about how it was Ghiaccio's fault that Prosciutto was scared into making a cry. Prosciutto huffed and hurriedly pulled out his cigarettes, shoving one into his mouth and lighting it.

It didn't matter who's fault it was. He was the one who made a cry in front of a group of trained killers, one of which was Risotto fucking Nero.
He was absolutely humiliated.

As he took a drag of the cigarette he heard the door of the house open and close behind him. He didn't even look to see who it was.

"Go away. I'm trying to enjoy the outdoors," he spoke flatly.

"There's not much to enjoy. It's just grass as far as the eye can see," said the voice from behind him.

Prosciutto turned around in shock and dismay to see Risotto standing there. The man came to stand beside him, looking up into the sky for a brief moment. He seemed unsure of what to say, which was quite uncharacteristic of him. Prosciutto knew what was coming.

"So back there when you--"

"Don't. Please, with all due respect Risotto, I don't want to talk about it right now."

Risotto said nothing for a while, but drew in a breath to start up another topic.

"I just want to say that I don't blame you or Melone for what happened yesterday. It was an honest mistake, and it can be fixed," he said.

Prosciutto sighed softly.
"Thank you Risotto," he said. "That really means a lot,"
"I know you're under a lot of stress right now, if you need me I'm right here for you," he said.

Prosciutto couldn't even reply before Risotto pulled him into a hug, a thing the man rarely did for anyone. He guessed it was just alpha instincts. He did just make a cry in front of everyone after all. Still, it caught him off guard and made him drop his cigarette. He was nuzzled right into the taller man's bare chest, the skin warm and soft. The steely scent that made him go wild enveloped him, and he smelled hints of yet another omega on Risotto's clothes.

In a flash he pushed Risotto away, the other man looking betrayed and confused. Prosciutto couldn't explain why, but the thought of another omega rubbing up on Risotto made his blood boil.

"I think I'm just going to head home if that's okay with you," he spoke coolly.

Risotto nodded a little.
"I would like you to stay, but if you want to head home you can. Just be very careful, you don't know if other enemies are looking for you now," he said.

Prosciutto then left the safe house and Risotto, the other man feeling confused and utterly clueless as to why the blonde would push him away.

Shockingly for Prosciutto, he didn't dwell on the events of the meeting. He didn't care that Ghiaccio had yelled at him in front of his teammates, or that he made a cry, or that he stormed out of the house and shoved Risotto away from him. What was really on his mind was Risotto himself. He felt that by failing the mission, he had failed the very man who saved him from himself.

All the way home it was like there was a little creature sitting on his shoulder and whispering  it's statements into his ear.

' You failed him. He hates you '
' He won't respect you anymore once he finds out your secret '
' Do you ever wonder why his clothes smell like an omega? Isn't it obvious? '
' You pushed away the only person who offered you comfort '

The thoughts were relentless. As he walked into his apartment, he went straight to his room. He thought that if he got a little more sleep it would shut his mind up and he would be able to think about something that wasn't Risotto. 

He pulled off his clothes, neglecting them on the floor and flopped down onto the mattress. He couldn't be bothered to find the proper place for the dirty clothes or change into something more casual. He wrapped himself up in the blanket and curled up, immediately trying to force himself into unconsciousness.

After a while of tossing and turning, Prosciutto grew extremely restless. His stomach was cramping, probably on account of not having breakfast this morning. Plus, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about Risotto. The man laid there underneath the blankets, sulking and moping.
Just as his cry had come earlier that day, tears came just as easy. They rolled down Prosciutto's face, all the buildup of feelings that he hid or refused to talk about.
He couldn't quite decipher why he was crying, all of his thoughts dissipated once the tears came, replaced instead with a deep yearning.

He heard a knock on the door of his room and jumped a bit. The door was cracked open a bit, a familiar face standing there. He didn't know exactly when Pesci had arrived home, but now the younger man was staring at Prosciutto like he was a lost puppy. He hated letting the other see him cry.

Pesci didn't talk as he walked into the room and sat next to the quivering man on the bed. Prosciutto let himself be scooped up in his soft arms. For some reason, it felt like this was exactly what he needed. Pesci was familiar, and had little to no scent, it wasn't overwhelming in the least. This was the first time in a long time that he let Pesci see him like this. But now more than ever, Prosciutto just wanted to be held.
He stayed in his ' brother's ' arms, and cried himself to sleep.



P̶a̶t̶r̶i̶z̶i̶o̶ ̶D̶e̶l̶l̶u̶c̶i̶ Prosciutto
The Grateful Dead
He was a lowlife junkie before he was taken in by Passione. He feels he owes his life to the gang and to Risotto Nero, the man that helped him get clean.


- Terminology -

Suppressants: a pill taken daily by alphas and omegas to reduce the effects of their dynamic. Betas need not take this pill because they do not go through heats or ruts.

Cry: a noise made frequently by young children and less by adult omegas, which sounds like a chirp or a whimper. A cry lets others nearby know that the individual is in distress, or feels threatened. It is considered embarrassing for an adult omega to make a cry.

Chapter Text

Risotto's house was dark and sleek inside, as if it were reflecting the man himself. His tastes were apparent in his style of furniture and wall decorations. The house was large, smelling faintly of Risotto's scent and the mixed up scent of many strangers. It was nice and clean, it was just a shame that it would have to be their permanent meeting place.

A few days after Prosciutto and Melone's incident at the warehouse, it was decided that Risotto and Ghiaccio were going to take on the mission together. While that made Prosciutto insanely envious, he guessed it was for the best. Risotto and Ghiaccio were the members of the group with the best focus after all. Plus, it wasn't good to leave a mission undone. He and Melone had failed, there was no erasing that fact.

He chalked his failure up to being off the pill, and how it affected his daily life. His sense of smell had greatly improved, and not only was he able to smell his teammates, but strangers as well. Every day when he walked down the street, Prosciutto was bombarded with new scents everywhere. There was also the fact that he acted more paranoid around others, and was slowly becoming more protective of those he cared for most-- in this case, it was Pesci and Risotto.

He couldn't remember how he ever handled his dynamic before he was on suppressants. These sensations, thoughts, and feelings were slowly eating away at his resolve, pushing him to tell someone about what he was experiencing. He secretly hoped that he would never have the gall to tell anyone, and that it would remain a secret forever.

He at least made an effort to cut back on the smoking, for Pesci's sake. He wouldn't want to drive off one of the only people who comforted him in his time of need. It was Prosciutto's way of saying he was grateful-- without actually saying it to the younger man's face of course.

Once Risotto and Ghiaccio had completed the mission, they were given meager payment. Risotto shared his earnings with everyone else, which Prosciutto found both admirable and unbelievably naïve. He wished that Risotto could see the true nature of everyone's actions, he wished he could know that when Sorbet and Gelato collected their share of the money and left quickly, it was most likely out of malice.

Prosciutto had also failed to obtain more information about what the men were planning. Since confronting Melone, he knew that if he wanted an answer, he would have to retrieve it out of those two.

The blonde claimed not to be afraid of anything, since he had seen the darkest sides of Passione, both as a druggie civilian and an elite assassin. However, if there was one thing he was afraid of, it would have to be the energy coming off Sorbet and Gelato. The two of them were a cut-throat power couple. Every mission they had together, they completed in the most crude way imaginable. Anyone would be able to tell that they were proud of the work they did, and expected full payment for it.

Prosciutto himself didn't know much about the two, except that they had known each other for a very long time. They were rarely apart from each other, they even lived together. If Prosciutto wanted to ask one of them, he would most likely be asking both, because getting them alone wasn't easy. Alone, the two of them were still intimidating, but together they were downright terrifying.

Sorbet was tall, even taller than Risotto. The man practically looked down his nose at everyone. Talking to the alpha felt like trying to converse with a wolf-- still and quiet in the moment, but ready to pounce at any time.

Gelato, though his features were more gentle and feminine, was the wolf in sheep's clothing. The she-wolf pressing herself against her mate's chin, appearing to be hiding herself when in reality she is protecting her mate's neck from offenders and preparing to bite.

The two of them looked out for each other like any couple would, they were untouchable. Prosciutto felt hopeless in his quest to draw out the information he required to call them out. So he remained imobile, stuck between a rock and a hard place.

The rest of the group seemed that way too.

After they had received their earnings, Risotto announced that he would have to get rid of the safe house, the very house that served as their hideout, the roof over their head on a cold night, their second home, for years. None of them were enthused about having to sell the house.

"This is for the best. We can find another piece of land once we have enough funds," Risotto explained.

"We could find another piece of land, sure, but nothing could ever replace the memories we have here," Formaggio said.

"Oh, look who's getting sentimental," Illuso mocked.

Everyone knew Formaggio was right though. The group did have a lot of memories within the walls of that house. Prosciutto liked to think that when they weren't out on a mission or discussing business, they were just normal civilians. The house was like their sanctuary where no one, not even the mafia, could see them.

They were free to be who they wanted.

Illuso and Formaggio were able to carry on their banter, Pesci was able to play his card games he loved so much, Melone was able whatever it was that he did in his free time. Sorbet and Gelato were free to be close to each other, and the capo was able to sit back and listen to music. They were like one big, slightly dysfunctional family.

Now that they officially had to sell the safe house, it felt like the family was falling apart. Everyone was on edge, saddened, disappointed even. They started seeing each other less and less. It had been weeks since they sold the safe house on the market, along with all the furniture in it as well.

Risotto was the one to call a meeting at his house to discuss what they should do with the money they had from selling everything. It was determined then and there that until they had another place to call their hideout, Risotto's house was the meeting place.
It's not that they didn't know where each other's apartment was, it was just that they spent most of their time in the safe house that they didn't really feel a need to visit each other that much.

Prosciutto had been in Risotto's house only a small number of times, but each time, it only felt stranger. The musical themed wall art and pictures of different bands added a personal touch to the house that their hideaway didn't have. It reminded Prosciutto that Risotto was indeed a human with likes and dislikes, and not some immaculate being.

They were all seated in the capo's living room, trying to make their ideas snowball into one final decision. Prosciutto, however, felt tired and distracted. He wanted nothing more but to get away from the topic of money. He still wasn't able to buy what he needed, so in his mind it didn't really matter as long as they all had a roof over their head and food to eat. That wasn't the case for everyone in the group though. Sorbet and Gelato were sulking in almost every meeting, and even Ghiaccio began to turn.

"I'm heading out for a walk. All this talk about money is making me dizzy," he said.

"Need a cigarette break, hmm Prosciutto?" Illuso asked.

"Shut it. I told you I was trying to quit,"

"He is trying to quit," Pesci retorted, quick to have his brother's back.

Prosciutto gave Pesci a silent nod in thanks, and he walked towards the door. He saw Risotto's eyes follow him as he exited the house.

Ever since that day he embarrassed himself and Risotto hugged him, he began to think more deeply about his feelings towards the man. He never really asked himself why he became so jealous when he smelled another omega on Risotto, or when Ghiaccio was appointed as second in command. He didn't believe it was considered normal to think of the capo so tenderly. There was a difference between respect and downright infatuation.

So was he infatuated?

That was the burning question that festered inside of him as he walked down the streets of Naples, his hands in his pockets. He could blame circumstance, or his lack of suppressants all he wanted. It didn't erase the fact that he had deep emotions for Risotto, something deeper than comradery.

He caught sight of a neon sign, one of the letters flashing irregularly. It was the sign of a coffee shop, which he had a personal attachment to.

He recalled Risotto taking him here for some coffee shortly after he had gotten out of the hospital and joined Passione. He was in withdrawal, and coffee was one of the things that kept his mind off of drugs, albeit for only a moment.

Wanting to experience the fond memory once more, he walked into the cafe and ordered an espresso. The air smelled of coffee beans and the sweet pastries sold with them. He could also sense the dynamics of strangers. That would take a lot of getting used to. He wondered if anyone else could smell his scent. Since no one could really pick up on their own scents, he didn't know how strong it was. He figured it couldn't be that strong, because his teammates were still acting relatively normal towards him.

He thought about the other day where Risotto almost smelled his scent gland and he blushed darkly. Could Risotto tell what was going on with him? Maybe alphas had a better sense of smell than any other dynamic, Prosciutto couldn't say for sure.

He picked up his coffee from the front and found a seat in the caffee, watching the events that unfolded outside the window. A child with a toy airplane in their hands ran past the cafe, swirling the aircraft around in the air. Mothers walked with their children in strollers, and teenagers strutted down the road with a large group of friends, soaking in their youth. It reminded him of a time when he too, was innocent.

The coffee was mediocre at best, but he remembered it to be the best coffee in the world. It most likely had to do with the fact that he enjoyed the coffee with Risotto beside him. He wished he could spend more time one on one with Risotto like that again. He would have asked, but he figured that it wasn't appropriate to ask someone out for coffee in the middle of a financial crisis.

As he sipped the warm liquid, his phone began to buzz. The male sighed heavily and just ignored it. He hadnt even been out for an hour yet and someone was already trying to reach him. He figured it was just Pesci, who was always texting him for stupid reasons. The only reason Prosciutto had a phone anyway was to keep up with business. Otherwise, he would have gotten rid of the damned thing already.

He continued to drink his coffee and drift off into a world where nothing mattered. There were no rules, he could go up to whoever he wanted to and profess his undying love without fear of rejection, retaliation, consequences, abandonment. He wished that he could fit all of his feelings about Risotto neatly into their own categories, but everything surrounding the man confused him greatly.

Prosciutto had been single since the day his first love left him. Other than a few one night stands, he had no one to really call his own. The more time passed, the more he grew increasingly curious as to what it would be like to belong to someone again, and to have someone belong to him.

Prosciutto stayed in this wishful state until his coffee was all finished. He went back up to the front and ordered some pastries for later. He knew that Pesci had a horrendous sweet tooth.

As he walked out of the cafe, he noticed the sky was a beautiful shade of pink. He didn't realize he had been in the cafe for so long. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open, seeing a bunch of missed calls and texts from Ghiaccio. The other man didn't call him out of the blue, so he assumed it had to be about something important. Since Ghiaccio blew up at him about failing the mission, the two of them stayed away from each other, not wanting to make things awkward. However, business was business. And those missed calls most likely meant business. He called him back quickly, waiting for him to pick up.

"Prosciutto? Where have you been, I've been calling you forever!" he immediately snapped.

"My apologies. What's the matter?" Prosciutto  asked.

"Formaggio got evicted,"






Prosciutto made his way to Risotto's apartment hastily. As he walked inside the door, it was almost like he could feel the tension in the air. He sighed and set the pastries he had on a small hallway table. He was in for an earful and he knew it. The man went to the living room, where the rest of the hitman team were sitting, Formaggio with his head in his hands. Sorbet was sitting next to him and rubbing his back. He shot Prosciutto a stern look, presumably for coming in late and not answering Ghiaccio's calls. Prosciutto couldn't help but frown.

"When did this all happen?" Sorbet asked.

"A few days ago...I tried staying at an old friend's place but...I quickly realized I don't really have much friends," Formaggio answered.

"Well that's not true. You have us," Pesci said hopefully.

"Pesci is right. Why didn't you tell us?" Risotto asked.

Before he could even reply, Illuso spoke up.
"Because he doesn't want to admit to his gambling addiction," he said.

Prosciutto glared at the alpha.
"You don't shoot a man when he's down Illuso."

"Pretty ironic coming from you. Isn't that our entire job?" Ghiaccio asked. "Plus Illuso has a point. If you had a problem you could have come to us sooner instead of waiting for it to get this bad!"

Prosciutto knew that Ghiaccio had a habit of yelling whenever he cared deeply about something or someone, but in this situation, he didn't think that yelling was the answer. It was making him feel anxious, and he wasn't even the one facing Ghiaccio's wrath.

"Illuso is right..." Formaggio said softly.

Even Illuso seemed surprised by this.

"I do have a problem. I couldn't tell you guys because I felt like you would judge me. I wish I had told someone sooner, it didn't have to escalate this way," he continued.

It was odd seeing Formaggio look so down. He was almost always suave and relaxed, a semi-permanent smile on his face. Everyone in the team could sense that he had an addiction, but didn't think it would be this serious. Prosciutto felt a pang of guilt that he didn't think to help sooner.

"Do you have anywhere to stay?" Sorbet asked.
Formaggio shook his head.

"I was couch surfing before, people didn't seem to like me staying in their house. And I didn't want to bother any of you to let me stay at your place,"

"How much money do you have left? Were you smart enough to at least think twice before gambling away your entire life?!" Ghiaccio hissed.

Formaggio was silent, clearly not knowing how to tell Ghiaccio what everyone could see was true. He probably didn't have a dollar to his name.

"Why now? Why'd you choose to tell us now?" Illuso asked in an accusatory tone.

"I guess I just realized I couldn't do this alone...I have no where else to go," Formaggio replied.

There was a brief pause, and then Illuso sighed.

"I can't do this Formaggio. You pretend that everything is okay, that it will work itself out in the end. But really what you're doing is refusing to acknowledge the bigger problem. I can't help you," Illuso said sternly.

The dark haired man walked out of the room, stone faced. As he passed Prosciutto, he looked at him, eyes deep and intense.

"You could learn from this too," he whispered.

"What?" Prosciutto asked.

Illuso left the house before he could offer a reply. The blonde was left to try and decipher the cryptic message that Illuso had whispered to him. His attention was quickly brought back to the situation at hand when Formaggio let out a defeated sigh.
It didn't seem like anyone else knew what to do. Everyone had their own worries and problems, and adding Formaggio's problems to that mixture didn't jive well with the pre-existing ones. Just like Illuso, the others seemed like they wouldnt help-- or didn't know how to.

Prosciutto glanced over at Risotto, who was standing with his arms crossed. With tenderness, he remembered how Risotto took him under his wing even in his darkest hour. How he reminded him to stay clean, essentially making him who he was today. Prosciutto could never thank Risotto enough. He couldn't gift his kindness back to him, but there was something else he
could do.

"If you wanted, Formaggio, you can come stay with Pesci and I until you get back on your feet," he said.

Formaggio looked up at him, eyes glistening with tears. He had never seen Formaggio even close to crying before.

"You would really do that for me?" the man asked.

"Well of course. I'm your friend,"

A slow smile spread across Formaggio's face.
"I appreciate it,"

Since it was starting to get late, the others decided they should all head home. The only thing that would be different was that Formaggio would be trailing along with Pesci and Prosciutto.

After the events of today, all he wanted to do was take a hot shower and head to bed. Before that, though, he had to make sure his guest was comfortable.
He lead Formaggio to a small room on the first floor of their condo, which was reserved for guests. It had a bed and was sparsely decorated, which should be more than enough for a man who didn't have a place to lay his head prior to this.

"This is where you can sleep," he said to Formaggio, who looked around the room.

The beta took Prosciutto's hands, an expression on his face that the blonde seldom saw.

"I really can't thank you enough for this," he said.

"If you need help you can always come to me, and the rest of us for that matter. I know you would have done the same for me,"

Prosciutto smiled softly. It made him happy to know that he was helping someone similar to the way Risotto had helped him all those years ago.

"Make yourself at home. I'm going to get ready for bed," he said.

He left Formaggio to his own devices and went up to his own room, shutting the door. He stripped his expensive clothing and let his hair down in preparation for his shower. Prosciutto walked into his connecting bathroom and gingerly stepped into the shower, letting the water hit him. The warmth soaked him all over, numbing his mind only for one perplexing thought to pop up out of the blue. It was what Illuso had said to him before he left Risotto's apartment.

' You could learn from this too '

What exactly was the other man implying? What was he supposed to learn from another man's destitution and failure to ask for help when the time was right?
Prosciutto had already been down the road of depravity, he didn't think he had anything else to learn concerning that area of life. As he worked his slender fingers through his long hair, he tried to forget what Illuso said. Though intelligent, he wasn't well versed when it came to social situations. Tonight, in the way Illuso had criticized Formaggio, was a prime example of that.

Once the bathroom had filled with steam, Prosciutto turned off the shower and hopped out, wrapping a towel around himself. He walked back into his room, searching his drawers for some pajamas to wear. Pesci and Formaggio joking around in the guest room was audible from inside the confines of his room. He thought maybe Pesci was excited to have a guest over. They didn't get many visitors after all.

He quickly pulled on his clothes and wrapped a towel around his wet hair before heading to the guest room. The door was cracked open, and sure enough, Pesci and Formaggio were in there joking around. Prosciutto cleared his throat loudly, causing Pesci to jump.
Prosciutto leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms.

"Pesci, leave our poor guest alone and let him get some shut eye," he said.

Pesci hung his head, but obeyed nonetheless. He mumbled a soft ' good night ' to Formaggio before leaving the room.

"Good night Formaggio. If you need us, our rooms are right upstairs," Prosciutto said.

He was about to leave when Formaggio spoke up.
"Wait, I wanted to talk to you a little bit,"

Prosciutto turned to face the other man, raising his eyebrow.

"I just wanted to say that you're a good man,  and I understand why Risotto speaks so highly of you. I know I'm not in a position to be making promises to anyone, but if you ever need anything in the future, I'm your guy," he said.

Prosciutto nodded, a small smile gracing his face.

He left the guest room and walked back to his own,
the smile still lingering on his lips.
What Formaggio had said was very nice, especially one detail of his words.

The fact that Risotto talked highly of him.

To know that despite his shortcomings, Risotto still respected him, was absolute bliss. This one fact brought Prosciutto endless amounts of pleasure.
As he went to sleep that night, he thought about his capo, romanticizing what it might be like to tell him how highly he felt about him as well.



  ̶L̶u̶c̶i̶a̶n̶o̶ ̶F̶l̶o̶r̶e̶n̶t̶i̶n̶o̶ Formaggio
Little Feet
His gambling problem got him into a lot of bad situations with Passione operatives, and he found himself in debt. He turned to working for Passione in order to pay off said debt.



  ̶S̶a̶n̶d̶r̶o̶ ̶P̶r̶e̶s̶s̶u̶t̶i̶ Pesci
Beach Boy
A distant cousin of Prosciutto, who entered the mafia at only 15 to act as a look out. With training from Prosciutto, along with the manifestation of his stand, he became a hit man. Though Pesci and Prosciutto aren't very close in age, they act like brothers.

Chapter Text

In Risotto's living room, the gangsters sat around each other, discussing their next business move.
They had been contacted once more, offered a random sum of money to kill off another small group of people that they didn't know and or care about. Risotto wanted to decide their next plan of action.

Needless to say, Prosciutto and Melone wouldn't be going on another mission for a while. His injuries had healed up just fine, but he didn't think that Ghiaccio would let Risotto send the two of them anywhere again without throwing a giant tantrum.
When he thought back to that day, Prosciutto still felt nothing but guilt and shame for making his failure and incompetence obvious to everyone else. However, there was also the fact that Risotto still respected him, and still thought very highly of him. And this is what was on Prosciutto's mind, even in the midst of an important conversation. That, and the rest of his physical sensations.

Metal and pineneedles.

That's what the air smelled like around Prosciutto, and truth be told, it was overwhelming. Risotto's scent was intense and it made him quiver, made him think corruptions, made him want.
But what exactly was it that he wanted?

Whenever he asked himself that question, every coherent thought in his mind turned to static. Despite not having knowledge on what his emotions truly meant, everything else in the world was just white noise compared to his feelings for Risotto.

Ghiaccio snapped his fingers in front of Prosciutto's face, causing him to blink rapidly.
When had his eyes become so dry and irritated?

His gaze shifted towards the other men, finding that all of them were staring at him. His blood ran cold. Prosciutto bad been prone to zoning out lately, and he rarely ever remembered what he was doing by the time he came to. He really hoped he hadn't said anything weird out loud, or had been staring at the capo for too long.

That wouldn't have gone unnoticed by most.

"What is it? Why are you all looking at me like I have two heads?" he asked.

They hesitated to speak.

Pesci was the one that took the risk.
"I'm not trying to be mean when I say this, bro, don't look so great right now," he spoke quietly.

Prosciutto wasn't sure how to respond. He didn't want to have to admit that he wasn't able to focus due to something as trivial as feelings or senses.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it." he mumbled.

Pesci and the rest of the crew seem unmoved. Illuso in particular was looking at him like a wolf watches a rabbit. His gaze made his hands feel clammy. The blonde rose from his seat, and has he did, the room started to spin. He held his ground and excused himself politely before walking off quickly to the bathroom. He needed to find a way to focus more, so that the other men wouldn't recognize his problems. He figured that a bit of cold water would do the trick.

Prosciutto shut the bathroom door and turned the lock, wanting privacy. One would be surprised at the amount of times the others just walked in on each other in the bathroom. It was as if the men had no taste or manners at all.

He turned around groggily to face the mirror and quickly found that Pesci was right. Between the dark circles under his eyes or the sweat beading on his pale, discolored skin, he couldn't figure out which made him appear worse. He looked like absolute shit.
The blonde sighed deeply and turned on the cold water, splashing it generously over his face. Once he was finished, he shut off the faucet and gazed at his soaking face in the mirror. He felt slightly more awake, but now he was dripping wet. He sighed softly at his reflection, and was surprised to see that it seemed to sigh in return.

His surprised expression in the mirror shifted and deformed until it didn't look like him at all. A new face made it's way out of the mirror, a familiar torso and body following after it.
Instinctively, Prosciutto began to hit Illuso, punches falling onto hard muscle.

"Jesus Christ what the fuck, Illuso!" Prosciutto yelled.

"Relax! I just came to check if you were okay," Illuso explained, guarding himself from Prosciutto's uncharacteristically weak attacks.

"I could have been actually using the bathroom you freak! You could have knocked!" Prosciutto scolded.

He only stopped his barrage when Illuso grabbed onto his wrists harshly, bringing the man closer to him. The smell of sage invaded his nostrils.

"What the fuck?! Let me go!"

"Then stop hitting me and listen."

Prosciutto's heart was beating out of his chest,  way too much adrenaline coursing through his veins. It made him want to get far away from Illuso, to hit him, to kick him, to bite him. But this was his teammate, who he realistically shouldn't be afraid of. Thus, he stopped moving long enough for Illuso to release his grip. Prosciutto wrenched his hands away from the alpha, rubbing his now sore wrists.

"What do you have to tell me that's so important that you couldn't wait for me to come out of the fucking bathroom?" Prosciutto asked.

"I didn't want to say it in front of the others because I didn't want you to be embarrassed. But I can tell something is up with you," Illuso said, failing to elaborate.

Prosciutto swallowed dryly and stepped further away from the hitman, hoping, praying that Illuso didn't mean what he thought he meant.

"What are you saying?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"I think you know exactly what I'm saying, Prosciutto. All of us have known you long enough to see that something is definitely up. Do you think I really wouldn't notice how you stare for too long, or how you smell different now?"

Prosciutto wasn't sure how to reply in a way that wasn't incriminating. He settled on remaining silent.

"Listen, I'm not going to tell anyone. That's your job. I just wanted to warn you that if you don't, you'll end up in a situation similar to Formaggio, wishing you had told someone earlier. You know deep down that you can't face it alone," the man continued.

"Whatever. You don't know me as well as you think." Prosciutto said.

He exited the bathroom hurriedly, neglecting to dry his face. He just wanted to be away from Illuso and the scent of sage which was too much for him to handle at the moment. Prosciutto thought the other male had way too much nerve and not enough taste. Even if Illuso was only trying to help, he was entitled to his privacy.

He wiped his face with some paper towels he found in the kitchen, cringing internally as the rough material caressed his face like a witch's palm. He then made his way back into the living room, where he noticed that two of his teammates were missing.

"Where are Sorbet and Gelato?" Prosciutto asked.

"On the mission. We said we were going to send them, remember?" Formaggio asked from his relaxed position on Risotto's couch. "Damn Prosciutto, you really weren't listening,"

"I was listening. I just needed a moment, that's all." Prosciutto snapped.

He took a seat next to Ghiaccio, who was leafing through one of Risotto's magazines. Melone was sitting on the floor with his laptop, Pesci was in the kitchen, and the capo was next to Formaggio on the couch. Everyone seemed too preoccupied with something else to be focused on Prosciutto. He silently thanked the higher beings that they all dropped the topic for the time being at least.

The blonde gazed at the window. The blinds were pulled down over it-- a habit everyone in the hitman team were prone to, due to the need for secrecy -- but he could still see the silhouettes of what was going on outside. The shadow of a tree danced in the wind, it's leaves doing a similar twirling motion.
Prosciutto heard Risotto clear his throat, and his attention was drawn back to the man, for maybe the hundredth time that day.

"I'm heading out. As per usual, Ghiaccio is in charge," Risotto said.

Prosciutto felt his insides wither at the last part of that sentence.

"Please attempt not to burn down my house while I'm gone," he added.

The tall man rose from the couch and walked out of the living room. His footsteps were followed by the sound of the front door closing and locking, and then, silence.
Prosciutto glanced over at the man who was supposedly in charge of all of them now that Risotto wasn't present. Ghiaccio was staring at the pages of the magazine, but his caramel eyes weren't moving an inch, he wasn't reading it. Prosciutto guessed the magazine wasn't to his taste anyways, and Ghiaccio was most likely just using it to distract himself from being angry. He sighed and he looked back to the shadow tree swaying in the wind.

"Where does Risotto even go at times like this?" he asked absently.

Without missing a beat, the man beside him replied;
"You know I can't tell you that, Prosciutto,"

Prosciutto frowned. He knew it was a bad idea to piss off the second in command, but he couldn't help being curious. After all, no one knew where the capo went except for Ghiaccio, so if anyone were to tell, it had to be him. Prosciutto still felt a tad awkward when talking to Ghiaccio after the events of his failed mission. The other man seemed to have forgotten all about it, but Prosciutto couldn't put it behind him just yet. He felt like he had something to prove. He wanted to prove to Ghiaccio that even if he was second in command, they were on equal ground, and that he too deserved to know where the capo always took off to.

"It wouldn't kill you to just tell us. It's not like we don't know the man," Prosciutto pressed on, earning a cold glare from the icy man.

"Well consider this; I don't want to tell you. It may be true that we all know him, but he told me not to say anything about it," Ghiaccio said.

He huffed and flipped the page of his magazine loudly.
Melone, intrigued by the potential of having another secret to keep, had looked up from his computer.

"Come on Ghia~ if a tree falls in a forest, does it make a sound?" Melone chimed in.

For once, Prosciutto was actually glad the man was so nosey.

"Shut your damn mouth Melone. That doesn't make any sense." Ghiaccio retorted.

"In context, it means that if the capo isn't here to know you told us, he won't find out you told us. So there's no harm in saying what you know," Prosciutto explained.

A confused and slightly annoyed expression grew apparent on Ghiaccio's face, and Prosciutto knew instantly he had won. There was no way Ghiaccio could argue himself out of this one.

"That's the worst idiom you could have ever used," the blue haired male mumbled in defeat. "How am I supposed to be sure you blabber mouths won't tell him I gave you information?"

"You don't. Isn't the whole point of this team to trust each other anyways?" Formaggio asked, a half hearted contribution to their argument.

Ghiaccio was visibly hesitant, but he opened his mouth to speak anyways. Prosciutto was on the edge of his seat quite literally, waiting to  hear what it was that Risotto wanted to keep so secret from everybody else.

"It's sort of a private matter...that's why he didn't want me to tell anyone," he said.

"Why did he tell you?" Prosciutto asked.

Ghiaccio shrugged. "Well someone has to know where he goes, just incase. And who better than second in command?"

"Just get to the point already," Formaggio complained.

Prosciutto shared the same sentiment. He was getting more antsy by the second.

"I'm getting there! Be patient!" Ghiaccio snapped. "I'm just letting you know that it's a sensitive issue and you guys really shouldn't confront him about it,"

The rest of the men waited in silence for Ghiaccio to finish saying his piece.

"Risotto gave up paying for suppressants to save money, so he's been roughing it. So whenever he gets...alpha urges...he needs to go out to...relieve them," he explained.

Prosciutto was silent. Instantly, jealousy began to rise in his stomach, and his ears grew hot. It made sense now, the dull scent of an omega on Risotto's clothes, in his house. The way he smelled like sweat, an alpha in a rut. Everything he was questioning about the man was starting to come together now.

Melone's laughter rang through his thoughts.
"That's it? He just leaves to go fuck and blow steam? That's not that bad Ghiaccio,"

"Don't be so crass! Risotto has been doing everything in his power to make sure that he saves money while still maintaining things on his end. It can't be easy. Going out just happens to be one of the ways he copes," Ghiaccio said.

"Well I'll be damned. Even the capo has to get some I guess," Formaggio said.

"I said shut it!" Ghiaccio warned.

The three men began to bicker, Prosciutto just sitting like a silent observer to their antics. The man said nothing, but in reality his mind was racing, coming up with infinite conclusions and ideas at once. The envy that infected his blood was too much for him to handle. It was as if he had short cuircuted, looking at nothing, offering no response to what Ghiaccio told him. The miniscule amount of food he ate that day was already starting to curdle in his stomach upon hearing the terrible news. Worst of all, Prosciutto couldn't pinpoint exactly why the truth made him feel this way. All he knew for sure was that it wasn't appropriate.

Once the jealousy had plataued, he was filled with an incredulous need to know each and every detail of the things Risotto did, the type of people he saw, where he went. He wanted to know what type of omega his capo was interested in, because a part of him, a part he usually kept locked away, wished to use the information to become precisely what Risotto wanted. Prosciutto needed to feel like someone wanted him, and he felt this was his worst vice. Nevertheless, he walked off the cliff in the edge of his mind into the waters of a downward spiral.

"Does he go to different people every time or is it the same person?" Prosciutto asked.

Ghiaccio furrowed his brow.
"How the fuck should I know? I don't keep a detailed journal about all the people Risotto sees,"

"How long has he been doing this for?" Prosciutto continued with a sense of urgency. Every fibre of his being burned to know what Risotto was doing with those other omegas.

"Looks like someone has a bad case of jealously~" teased Melone.

"Yeah. You're acting like you're his girlfriend or something," added Formaggio.

Prosciutto balled his hands into fists, a deep scarlet hue appearing on his face.
"I am not jealous!" he growled.

The other men were stunned into silence by the aggression in the omega's voice. Admittedly, Prosciutto yelled a lot, whether it was at Pesci or another teammate. He yelled especially on missions, where confidence and careful action were gravely needed. Around the others in a casual setting, he usually liked to keep a level head.  He rarely if ever screamed at the other men over miniscule things such as teasing, and he only realized his fault when the room fell quiet.

"I-I mean, I'm just curious," he stuttered in a low voice.

This made Melone grin. One of his classic, slow, perverted grins.

"It's okay to have a crush you know Prosciutto~ We won't tell anyone, will we boys?" he asked.

"I don't really care to tell," Formaggio spoke indifferently.

Ghiaccio nodded in agreement.

Prosciutto however, felt that they were just waiting for him to drop his guard and tell them about his true feelings so they could tear him apart, or sell him out to Risotto. Half of him wanted very badly for Risotto to know, because it was a burden to keep his feelings hidden for so long. The other more logical half of him knew that bringing his feelings into their work would only complicate things.

"I don't. Stop saying that." Prosciutto said.

"Only you do~ You know that I'm the best out of everyone at reading people, you can't lie to me," Melone said.

"I said quit it!" Prosciutto scolded. "If I did have feelings for the capo it would be highly inappropriate. Our job is serious and requires our complete focus. We can't afford little distractions such as feelings,"

"What about Sorbet and Gelato? The whole feelings thing seems to be working out pretty well for them," Formaggio said.

Prosciutto glared at the other man. If he were a little more cruel, he would have told Formaggio not to come home to his apartment that night. He was kind to him, it would only make sense that Formaggio should be on his side, right?

"He's right. Even if this job is hard, having feelings is only human. You can't ignore them forever," Melone said with false tenderness.


Prosciutto knew that he was only trying to get him to spill his guts.

The blonde stood up quickly and shoved his hands into his pant pockets rather harshly. There was no point in staying and arguing with Melone when he already knew the truth. Prosciutto felt a sense of doom starting to settle over him.

"I'm going for a walk." he muttered.

The man left the house without another word.
His heeled boots clicked on the sidewalk rhythmically as he walked, endlessly ruminating about everything that had happened in Risotto's house that day. Once he grew tired of it, he compulsively reached for the packet of cigarettes in his pocket only to find that it wasn't in it's usual place.

"Fucking Pesci," he cursed.

He figured that the other man hid them from him like he has many times before. He was sure he didn't have enough money to buy a new packet either.
The man passed a park bench with an ash tray next to it and halted.

A perfectly good cigarette was sitting in the ash and soot, smoke still rising from it despite the previous owner's attempt to put it out. It had to be relatively fresh. Prosciutto glanced around him to make sure no one was looking before he delicately picked the cigarette out of the ash tray, blowing the remnants of the dark powder off of it.
He knew he wasn't in his right mind, because he hadnt done something like this since he was on hard drugs.
The man put the cigarette between his chapped lips and produced his lighter, setting the end of it ablaze once more. He continued walking down the street, new cigarette in clutch.
as the smoke entered his system, all he could think about was Illuso's haunting words from earlier.

'You know deep down that you can't face it alone'

Chapter Text

When Prosciutto woke his head was pounding. He didn't know what time it was exactly, but he assumed it had to be morning due to how the light cascaded in through the window in his room. He knew he had to start getting ready, as Risotto would most likely hold another meeting at his house. 

The man sighed deeply and kicked his comforters off the bed. He didn't remember the room being this hot when he went to sleep last night. It was making him feel sticky and lethargic. Prosciutto absolutely detested being sick; it would prevent him from doing his job efficiently. Of course he always aimed to do his best no matter the circumstances, but he knew that if he came in sick he would never hear the end of it from Pesci. This time, though, he thought he had to be extremely sick. He hadn't felt this bad in a very long time.

His entire body was feverish and his muscles cried out in protest whenever he tried to move. He managed to sit up just enough to be able to read the time on his wall clock, and nearly went into a fit of panic. It was the middle of the afternoon, and he was still sitting in bed. Immediately, the cogs in his head began to turn slowly, as if there was grease stuck between them.

He wasn't out that late last night, so why didn't he wake up at his usual time? Why hadn't the others woken him up?

He could find no answer to his dilemma. He was left feeling perplexed and unusually exhausted from just sitting up. Prosciutto slowly sank back down into his bed and sighed. He rolled over onto his side, seeing his phone on the floor in his direct line of sight. Despite his aching muscles, he stretched his arm until his finger tips just barely reached the phone, and he dragged it closer to himself. Upon turning it on, he found that he had a bunch of missed calls from practically everyone on the hitmen team-- most of them from Pesci, Formaggio and...Risotto.

When he saw Risotto's name in his missed calls, his heart skipped a beat. Logically, he knew the capo was probably calling him due to his absence at a meeting, but some small part of him hoped that he was worried about his wellbeing. Prosciutto had to shake the thought out of his head.

Dreams of love were dreams of naïve men.
In Prosciutto's reality, love didn't exist.

He knew he would have to call them back, and he dreaded thinking about it. He didn't want to call Pesci out of fear that the other man would go on a tangent about how worried he was, and the thought of calling Risotto made Prosciutto's stomach turn into a giant knot. The blonde guessed that the safest bet was to call Formaggio and let the other fill in the blanks in his hazy mind. He was probably the most laid back person in the group, and probably the only person Prosciutto could bare talking to considering how he felt currently. He dialed the number and laid there fighting off the temptation to fall back into an unconscious state as it rang. Formaggio picked up very quickly.

"Ah Prosciutto, you're finally awake. Took you long enough, are you okay?" the voice on the other end was full of concern.

"What? Of course I'm okay, where are you?" Prosciutto asked, utterly confused.

"Risotto's place. Everyone is pretty worried about you,"

"Why would they be worried?"

"Well, you weren't up this morning. Pesci said you usually get up very early, and that it wasn't like you,"

Prosciutto scoffed.
"You all got worried because I slept in?"

"Let me finish. Risotto called a meeting, so we both tried to wake you up and you wouldn't move at all. I thought you had probably gotten piss drunk and just wouldn't wake up," Formaggio explained.

Prosciutto was silent. He hadn't gone drinking the night before, and he couldn't think of what made him feel so sick. Sleeping in was very uncharacteristic of him, Formaggio wasn't wrong about that, but he was still confused.

"Anyways, the meeting was pretty important, so we went ahead without you," Formaggio continued. "Risotto told us to call and check up on you every once and a while,"

"Alright. I'm feeling fine, just a bit under the weather," Prosciutto said.

"If you say so. I'll catch you later," Formaggio replied.

And with that, Prosciutto ended the call and tossed his phone to the other side of his lonely king sized bed. He was too hot and too sore to do anything else but stare up at the cieling. He traced the tantalizing cieling pattern with his eyes until the mundaneness of it all lulled him back into a fever dream.






When he awoke again, the pounding in his head and the ache in his muscled had gotten exponentially worse. The room felt like it was a thousand degrees. That was when he realized he had wrapped blankets and pillows around himself haphazardly, like a drunken bird's attempt at a nest. When he looked around he saw that the room was dark. He had slept through the entire day and he thought he probably would have slept through the night as well had it not been for the voices outside his room.
He had been roused out of his slumber from the argument that sounded like it was happening right outside his room door. He listened and tried to gauge the context.

"Someone has to go in there." said the first.

"I really don't think that's a good idea. What if he gets mad?" asked the second.

Prosciutto recognized those voices.
Pesci and Formaggio.
He strained his ears to find out who they were talking about.

"If anyone goes in there, it'll be you. I'm not risking making him mad," said Pesci.

"He's been in there the entire day, what if something's wrong? We can't just leave him in there," replied Formaggio.

Prosciutto furrowed his brow. The two of them were talking about him, and no sooner than when he realized it did he hear a knock on the door. He froze, determining in his head if he should let them in or pretend to be asleep. He felt so sick and didn't want to spread it to anyone else. He attempted to sit up to warn them from coming in when his whole body cramped spastically. Insane warmth spilled out from between his legs, and his heart dropped.

Prosciutto knew exactly what was happening, but he didn't want to accept it. It seemed like the weeks of not taking his daily dose of suppressors was finally catching up to him. He was living on borrowed time as it was anyways. But now, he had caught himself in quite the predicament.

"Prosciutto? Are you alive in there?" called Formaggio as he rapped loudly on the door.

The blonde panicked, unsure of what to do with himself. He couldn't let Formaggio come in and see him right in the beginning of his heat cycle, because then he would be forced to explain how and why he started the cycle if he was supposed to be on suppressant pills. It was too soon, he didn't want to admit to anyone that he practically dug his own grave.

"D-Don't come in! I'm sick," Prosciutto answered back.

Well, it was only a half lie. Prosciutto did feel sick, but not in the traditional way. He was sick with the overwhelming power of his dynamic over his body.

"You've been in there by yourself long enough. I'm coming in. If you're jacking off, put your junk away quick," Formaggio announced.

Before Prosciutto could protest any further, the doorknob turned and the blonde was faced with a new issue to take care of.
He could tell by the expression on Formaggio's face that he could smell his scent. The other man hesitated to walk any further into the room. His eyes fell onto the pillows and blankets around Prosciutto, and they grew wide with panic.

"Oh God, you're nesting! Are you in heat?"

"Shut the fuck up," Prosciutto growled. "The whole neighbourhood doesn't have to hear you,"

"Well are you?"

Silence. Prosciutto didn't have to say anything, he knew Formaggio was already aware. The silence hung until the beta decided to speak.

"I don't know how to deal with this, I think I'm gonna call someone" Formaggio said.

"No no no, please don't tell anyone," Prosciutto begged.

He shifted to sit up more and agonizing pain coursed through him, making him cry out weakly.

"Don't strain yourself Prosciutto. How long have you been in heat, do you know? I think I should call someone more experienced," Formaggio stated.

Prosciutto shook his head meekly.
"I don't need any help. Don't you dare tell anyone about this,"

Formaggio frowned and he slowly backed out of the room.
"I'm calling Sorbet and Ghiaccio. They're omegas, they'll know what to do," he said.

The other man pivoted and quickly left the room, shutting the door behind him.


Now Prosciutto was going to have to put up with the entire gang knowing that he was in heat, because he knew Pesci and Formaggio couldn't keep their mouths shut. He would never hear the end of it from Melone and Illuso. And Risotto...he couldn't bare to imagine what the alpha would think of him now.
Just an omega in an alpha's world, causing problems for everyone and being a general burden. For the first time since his recovery, Prosciutto detested himself.

It was just like him to ignore his problems until they took over his life and leaked into the lives of others. He just wanted to be left alone to wilt, but now he had drawn attention to himself just like always. Some part of him believed he would always be that scared addict that someone had to save.

The man rose from the bed painfully. He wasn't letting anyone see him in this condition. He didn't want them to think less of him. As he shuffled over to his room door, he was almost knocked to the floor by a strong wave of cramps and warmth. Despite himself, he continued his shuffling motion and hastily locked the door.

The sensation of being in heat felt brand new to him despite him going through it many times before. He had been on the pills for so long that he almost forgot what it felt like. He definitely wasn't fit to be seen by his team mates. Prosciutto made his way back over to the bed and nestled himself between the heap of pillows and blankets. While staring up at the ceiling, he had a sudden realization.

Illuso was right. He and all of his other teammates knew something was wrong and offered him multiple chances to ask for help and he never accepted it. The thought made him uncomfortable, so he forced himself to stop thinking about it. It wouldn't be hard after all, since being in heat made his brain incredibly foggy. He closed his eyes, and the rampant sound of his thoughts speaking all at once settled into a hushed murmur.






Sharp knocking at his room door startled Prosciutto out of his semi-peaceful state. He knew exactly who was outside the door just by the scent alone. It seemed like his sense of smell had improved with the arrival of his heat.

"Prosciutto? Are you awake?" Gelato spoke, his voice slightly muffled do to the barrier between them.

Prosciutto wasnt sure if he wanted to answer. His body screamed for any physical contact and comfort it could get. But his mind was telling him that he couldn't trust the supposed traitor on the other side of the door. The juxtaposing feelings were making it hard for him to concentrate on what he truly wanted. Reluctantly, he decided to reply.


"I don't know the full story, but I know you're going through something right now and I have some things I think would help," the other omega said.

"Just leave them outside the door and I'll grab them later," Prosciutto answered, shoving his face into his blankets.

Even if it were Risotto on the other side of that door, he wouldn't open it. His burned out mind couldn't handle the strain of a visitor. Plus, he thought it would be a disgrace to let people know what he looked like in heat. He hadn't showered or eaten at all; sweat covered him like a sheet and made his hair and clothes stick to his quivering body awkwardly. He hadn't caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, but he was sure it wasnt a pretty sight.

Outside the door he heard Gelato speak again.
"I would rather give them straight to you. Wouldn't want you to forget them outside the door and have them go to waste,"

Go figure, Prosciutti thought. He was well aware that Gelato was quick witted, and would not leave him alone without a fight first. He was wasting his time arguing with someone that stubborn. Since he was taking too long to answer, Gelato continued to speak.

"We're all here for you. But we can't help you if you don't let us in." he spoke matter of factly. In a gentler voice, he added, "Please let me in Prosciutto,"

He sighed softly. He hoped that Gelato would just give him the items and leave, but he had a feeling that wouldn't be the case with him. However, the sooner he got Gelato to leave, the better. He stood up and walked to the door stiffly to unlock it. Upon hearing the click, the other omega entered, holding a basket of heat aides. Prosciutto moved back over to his bed as Gelato shut the door behind him and set the basket down. He stood at the edge of the other man's bed and watched him like a mother would a sick child. Prosciutto found this disgusting.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm fine," he snapped.

"Are you really?" Gelato asked.

Prosciutto didn't have an answer right away, and silence fell between the two.

"How long have you been this way?" Gelato finally asked.

"What way? In heat or confused and overstimulated?" Prosciutto remarked.

Gelato shot him a stern look.
"You know what I mean,"

"I've been in heat for almost a full day now. It started this morning,"

"I thought you mentioned something about taking suppressants. Have you not been on them lately?"

"The clinic raised the price and now they're ridiculously expensive. I couldn't afford them, considering that I have less money to pay for more important things," Prosciutto explained.

Gelato winced at the words, as if he too was feeling the wrath of Prosciutto's poor choices.

"Why didn't you tell anyone? You know we would have helped you if you absolutely needed it," he said.

Prosciutto furrowed his brow, looking away from the other man.
"I dont know! I just thought I could handle it on my own!"

"But you couldn't." Gelato stated matter-of-factly.

He sat down at the edge of the bed, causing Prosciutto's hair to stand on end. He instinctively burrowed himself deeper into the nest he made.

"I'm glad Formaggio thought to call me. Something tells me you would try to hide this from everyone," he said. "Do you remember how to deal with heat?"

Prosciutto shook his head slowly, and Gelato chuckled.
"Clearly it's been a long time for you. That's why I brought the basket with me," he said.

The man quickly retrieved the basket from where it was sitting, and gingerly returned to the edge of the bed. The wicker basket was filled to the brim with a bunch of little objects organized neatly. Gelato had obviously taken his time with this.

"I don't have any experience with suppressants, but there are some things I do to lessen the effects of my heat,"

He pulled a package of baby wipes.
"I know how hard it is to get out of bed when you have heat, so I usually keep these just in case it gets particularly hard one day," he explained.

He set the item down and went delved his perfectly manicured hand into the basket again, this time pulling out a small stuffed toy. Prosciutto raised an eyebrow, and it seemed to gain Gelato's attention.

The man chuckled.
"I know you probably think I'm out of my mind to have a stuffed animal when I'm literally a trained killer, but they come in handy when you need comfort. You can even have your favourite person scent it if you want,"

Prosciutto sighed.
"I dont have anyone who would do that for me." he spoke softly.

Gelato shrugged and rested the stuffed animal down on the bed, being careful not to touch or disturb the nest Prosciutto had made.

"It's still good to have," he said with a smile.

Gelato continued to take objects out of the basket and show them to Prosciutto. Being separated from his dynamic for a long time, Prosciutto felt like he was being reintroduced to a culture that was long forgotten. It was interesting to see that just shortly after he began to take the pills, people who weren't on the pills created their own ways to deal with the effects of their dynamic. For a minute he almost regretted treating his dynamic like a curse.

Eventually, Prosciutto grew the courage to ask one of the burning questions in his mind.

"All of this is nice but...why did you come here? You know that being around an omega that's in heat could cause our hearts to sync up," he stated.

"That doesn't matter to me," Gelato said. "What does matter is that you're comfortable. The whole team cares about you a lot, you know. I care about you."

This made Prosciutto scoff. Who was he to act all buddy-buddy to his face and then converse in secret behind his back. He didn't want to make it seem like he was completely blind to Gelato's tricks.

"I'm sure you do," he said, bitterness rolling off his tongue with no restraint.

He didn't know if he regretted it or not, his thoughts were swimming around too wildly for him to find a proper conclusion.The other man stared at him for an uncomfortably long time. He seemed to be searching his mind for the correct words to say. Prosciutto wasn't sure what to do. Here he was, helpless, with the enemy in his room. He knew that there wouldn't be another time where he and Gelato would be alone like this, but he wasnt sure if he should take the opportunity that presented itself. He was red in the face and foggy in the brain, practically the least threatening thing any member of the mafia could ever see next to a child.

Finally, he heard Gelato sigh and open his mouth to speak.
"There's an elephant in the room and I think that its finally time to address it. I know that you saw what happened at the cafe that night."

The wheels turning in Prosciutto's brain paused. He had been waiting for a moment like this for so long, and now that it was here, he was unable to process the information given to him. Everything was wrong. He wasn't supposed to be hearing about this while sitting half naked in his bed barely able to concentrate. He was supposed to be the hero who cracked a difficult code and found out a way to wrench the truth out of the villain's lips. Clearly, that wouldn't be the case. He figured it just had to he another inconvenient component in his life story, and that he was officially a huge let down to Risotto.

Nevertheless, he tried his best to tune in to what Gelato was saying. Just because it wasn't happening the way he wanted it didn't mean he had to give up all hope. That wasn't who he was. He was still going to find a way to get this information to Risotto, whether that made him a rat or not.
His loyalty was to Risotto.

"Melone told me that you think we're...for lack of a better word...unfaithful," Gelato continued.

"Unfaithful is an understatement." Prosciutto quipped.

"I want to explain to you what happened that night."

"What good would your word do? How would I know you aren't lying through your teeth?"

"You dont. You'll just have to trust me. Like you've been doing for years."

Gelato's gaze was intense. Prosciutto knew this meant he wasn't leaving without explaining his side of the story. The other man took his silence as a signal to keep talking. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and began to speak again.

"Sorbet and I were getting tired of how the boss was treating us. These conditions aren't exactly livable, as you well know. So the two of us devised a plan to make things better,"

"What was the plan?"

"We're going to reveal the identity of the boss."

Prosciutto felt his blood run cold. No one knew the boss' identity for a reason; he would kill anyone who tried to discover it. The hitman team were already cast into the shadows due to the nature of their job. Taking big risks was only going to exacerbate the issue.

"Do you have a death wish? If you do that, he'll kill you," Prosciutto scolded.

"It's a calculated risk that we're willing to take," Gelato replied calmly.

"Have you told Risotto anything?"

"No. That's part of why Melone was with us. We wanted to run the plan by someone and get their approval before we told Risotto anything. We couldn't think of anyone to tell but him, because we knew he wouldn't say anything. Melone doesn't tell people's secrets,"

"So you plan on telling Risotto then?" Prosciutto asked.

Gelato nodded.
It felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of his chest. There was no way of knowing whether or not Gelato was telling the complete truth, but Prosciutto figured he would know in due time. He was glad that Risotto would be informed about a plan of action that could benefit them, albeit dangerous. His wild goose chase for the traitor was coming to an end.

"Sorbet and I are just waiting for the right moment to let him know. Everyone has been under a lot of stress lately, and I wouldn't want to add more," Gelato stated.

Prosciutto nodded.
"Thank you for telling me,"

A grin spread across Gelato's face.
"Whatever it takes to stop you from glaring at Sorbet and I in meetings. I know it was all with good intentions though. You obviously care about Risotto a lot,"

Heat prickled the man's skin at just the thought of the capo.

"I do,"

"You dont have to worry too much about him, he can take care of himself. I know you have strong feelings towards him but he is capable of taking care of himself,"

Prosciutto's eyes grew wide at how casually Gelato mentioned his emotions as if they were friends fawning over a mere crush.

"Strong feelings?" he repeated, trying to play dumb.

Gelato chuckled.
"Anyone with a brain can tell that you care about him a lot. Maybe even too much. Its admirable, really, but you can't force yourself to go without so you can be there for someone else,"

Prosciutto relaxed his shoulders. He felt like he had narrowly avoided a calamity. He wasn't ready for anyone, especially Gelato to know about his true feelings for the capo. He already came dangerously close to having Ghiaccio and the rest find out. He didn't want a repeat.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said.

"Good," Gelato rose from the bed. "Take care of yourself alright? I'm going to tell Risotto that you need a few days off until your heat ends. Get some rest,"

"Thank you,"

Gelato walked out of the room and closed the door behind him leaving Prosciutto to think about the information he gained in silence. He once more fell into a deep sleep, visions of the boss haunting him like a poltergeist.




Nesting: a stage of heat where an omega will begin to make a nest out of the clothing materials they have on hand. This comes from the instinct to look for comfort during heats. Disturbing or coming into the nest uninvited will cause the omega to become distressed.

Chapter Text

It was a still afternoon, but peaceful nonetheless.

The window was cracked open slightly, the smell of flowers blowing in with the wind.  Cicadas sang loudly outside somewhere distant in the summer heat. Prosciutto felt like his body was singing a similar song to theirs, constant and unrelenting. Need and desperation was thrumming endlessly through him.

Since his heat had started he had been bed ridden. The effects on his body were a bit too much to handle. He thought that if he couldn't be out with his team doing work, he could have at least been productive at home, but the heat was debilitating. He was in so much pain that he barely left his room, even to get food or to shower. The heat aides Gelato gifted to him were good for a while, but eventually his need became insatiable.

Pesci and Formaggio were understanding. The two of them would come into his room every other day to make sure that he was eating properly and to offer him their support. Betas weren't affected by heat in the way alphas and omegas were. While an alpha would easily become serenaded and an omega might get their heat early, betas were completely fine in the presence of an omega in heat. Their neutrality made them excellent at comforting other people.

Despite this, Prosciutto still felt incredibly lonely. He hadn't gotten his heat in years, and forgot how he ever dealt with it. They typically lasted two weeks, but he was paranoid it would last longer due to him suddenly coming off his pills. He wasn't sure if he would be able to handle the cramps, the neediness, and the fever like symptoms for any longer.

Put simply, he needed an alpha.

Prosciutto laid there, nude, staring up at the cieling. He had taken off all his clothes and refused to cover himself with his blankets; his body felt like a thousand blazing wildfires. The house could burn down and he wouldn't even notice, because he was that hot already. He knew that laying like this came with the risk of being caught naked, but put simply, he was too jaded to care.

He couldn't think of any possible way to cope with what he was feeling other than having an alpha take care of it for him. However, he was severely on the fence about finding an alpha. He heard that it was common for people to go on dating websites and advertise that they were just looking for someone to help with their heat or rut, but he didn't think he was ready to take such a drastic movement. Plus, he generally didn't like to accept help in any sort of way.

So he had spent most of his days secluded in his room, practically drugging himself with Advil to deal with the cramps and rubbing his dick raw.
Since the others were out on a mission, he had the house to himself for the day.

As if summoned by the fact that he was all alone, Prosciutto's cock twitched where it lay on his bare thigh. He tried his best to ignore the feeling, too tired and upset to do anything about it in the moment. Yet it persisted. In only a matter of seconds his cock jerked up to full mast, hard and throbbing dully on his stomach.

He let out a soft whine and looked down at his own arousal. He knew it wouldn't go away unless he did something about it, but he had already masturbated twice today. His body was sore and tired. He felt like he couldn't do it anymore.

Regardless, the man found himself wrapping his hand around his twitching length and stroking it lazily. Shame spread wildly through him at the face that popped into his mind. He pictured Risotto's dark eyes piercing into him every time he touched himself as of late. At first he tried to control his thoughts, tried to keep his capo separate from his sexual fantasies. And every single time he failed miserably. Shame was always there to greet him.

The humming of the cicadas seemed to grow louder outside, along with Prosciutto's noises. He stroked his hard cock with a firm grip, letting out a quiet moan. Slowly the shame diminished and his imagination took him to a land of pleasure. He imagined it was Risotto's hand stroking him, that he was going to get him off.

The male tensed and relaxed his thighs repeatedly in reaction to the sensation on his leaking prick. His fingers danced across the most sensitive parts, rubbing at the base and flicking the slit at the tip with his slick thumb. The high pitched thrumming from outside raised in intensity, along with Prosciutto's stroking. He could feel his heart pound in his chest with every little touch.
He pictured what Risotto would look like fully naked. Muscular chest fully bare, cock exposed and ready.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and rolled down his overheated face as he stroked his throbbing length. He watched as precum leaked out of the tip in large amounts, slicking up his hand even more. In this moment he wondered if Risotto thought about him too. If when the other man was in bed with someone else he was really dreaming about him. The thought made his body ache for more stimulation.

His hand felt great. He was stroking faster now, arching his whole body and gently thrusting against the softness of his palm. His sensitive cock was twitching with each motion, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. Something he couldn't give himself. Specifically, another body on his own.

Prosciutto slid his other hand down to toy with his sore, overstimulated hole. He spread slick across the tight ring of muscle and pushed his finger in. A long moan escaped his mouth. He was fully aware of the window being open but the thought was forced to the back of his mind as pleasure took priority. He barely needed any lube. The slick was more than enough, and he had already fingered himself open earlier. It had coated his ass and thighs, and made a giant mess on the bedsheets. Prosciutto shivered. He hated how distracted he would get sometimes when he was trying to get off. He told himself that he would clean up his mess later.

The blonde thrusted his finger in and out quickly, searching around for the spot inside if him that made him see stars. Once he hit it, his whole body tensed up and he moaned. He wasted no time in adding a second finger, then a third. His hole stretched to accommodate the appendages. The image of Risotto nude was still fresh in his mind. He found himself being thankful that the capo wore clothing that left basically nothing to the imagination. It was hard for one to not notice how fit he was when he walked around basically shirtless all the time. And the pants Risotto wore did nothing to hide his huge package.

Prosciutto bit down on his overly-chewed lip hard enough to draw blood. He scissored his fingers roughly into his entrance, abusing his sweet spot. He was almost as loud as the screaming insects outside his window. He was focusing so much on his entrance that he neglected to keep stroking his cock. It throbbed against his stomach and weeped whenever he would brush against his prostate. He took it back into his hand and rubbed it mercilessly to match how hard he was thrusting his fingers. He felt pressure build in his abdomen, and he focused in on his fantasy.

Pretending his fingers were Risotto's dick, he trusted them in and out more wildly until it felt like he was about to plateau. Pleasure ran down his nerves, the jolting sensation in his core ending in a gentle tingle in his extremities. He was so close he could feel it.

It built and built and built until it was nothing.

The cicadas swelling cry quieted, and Prosciutto's sensations turned into an ache once more.

He couldn't cum.

He felt like he could cry. His hands were still working on ravaging his body but the pleasure went nowhere. It came in waves until it dissipated into a deep longing for someone else. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't reach a climax.
One of the curses of his dynamic. Some Omegas couldn't cum during their heats without a knot inside them. He happened to be one of those lucky people.

He sighed and pulled his sopping fingers out of his hole. His cock remained hard and begged for attention that wouldn't come. Prosciutto sighed heavily and rolled onto his stomach, ignoring the sharp ache in his core.

The more time passed, the more he began to crave physical contact. Crave an alpha. Crave a knot.

His hips rolled mechanically onto the bed, sandwiching his aching cock between himself and the silk sheets. He knew it wouldn't help, but the thought of an alpha forced involuntary reactions out of him.

In his haze, he remembered a certain message Risotto sent him at the beginning of his heat. It instructed him to take some time off to relax and to ask for help if he ever needed it. He shivered at the memory of it.

' If you need help, call one of us. We'd be happy to help you in any way you need .'

Since that day, he was left to wonder if Risotto was implying something more than what met the eye with that message, expecting Prosciutto to read between the lines.
Regardless of what the message actually meant, the blonde had already dove for his phone and started texting Risotto that it was am emergency and he needed him now.

That wasnt exactly a lie. The omega felt as if the sorry state he was in was a true emergency that only Risotto's presence could remedy. He also mentioned in the text that there was an emergency key in a potted plant near the door and that he could just let himself in. Clearly not in his right mind, he sent the message and set the phone down. He pulled the blankets haphazardly over his naked body and waited impatiently for his prince to arrive.






Half an hour later there was the sound of the front door opening and closing. Prosciutto, who had been grinding away uselessly at pillow paused his fervent actions to listen out. At first the thought of immediate danger crossed his mind. His assassin instincts came into play, heightened by his dynamics. Who was it that was stepping into his house so quietly? He could hear the intruder's footsteps treading the wooden floor gently. The sound came all the way up the stairs and then finally stopped right in front of his room door. The omega's heart began to pound, but not out of fear. He had completely forgotten that he summoned Risotto to his house until he gained wind of the man's scent-- the heavy scent of an alpha. His cock started to twitch in interest.

Risotto knocked on the door.
"Prosciutto? You called me here, is something the matter?" he asked.

Prosciutto couldn't help but notice how the other man's voice sounded meek and unsure, which was uncharacteristic of him.

"Can you come in, Risotto? I want to see you," Prosciutto answered, shame stabbing him when he heard how desperate he sounded.

He could sense Risotto's hesitation. After all, an alpha wouldn't be able to last long near an omega in this stage of their heat. This was exactly Prosciutto's plan.

"I dont think that's a good idea," Risotto stated.

Prosciutto scowled. He had no time for Risotto and his critical thinking. He needed someone to be close to and he believed the capo was the exact person for the job. Risotto helped him out countless times, so this time should be no exception. Little by little Prosciutto was giving into the part of his brain that demanded physical contact above all else. Logically, he knew he had a lot to lose by continuance of his flawed plan.

Nevertheless, he persisted.

"Why not?" he asked, trying his best to not sound so breathy.

"Because," Risotto replied. "I'm not sure what would happen."

"What do you think would happen, Risotto?"

There was no response. Just the pounding of Prosciutto's heart sounding aloud in his ear, like the beat of a tribal drum.

Finally, Risotto sighed heavily and provided a response.
"You're in heat. I dont think it would be right for an alpha to come into your room when you arent ma--"

"You are my closest friend, Risotto. Orthodox social norms are wasted on me. Nothing you dont want to happen is going to happen,"

Silence once more. Prosciutto was hoping maybe he convinced Risotto to let go of old-fashioned values and enter his room. It was common for alphas to not want to be around omegas in heat if they didn't expect to mate. As an omega, he didn't understand it much. He thought it must have something to do with the effects of heat on their dynamic. He recalled how his ex would become almost torpid when he was around Prosciutto in heat, like the heat was causing him to lose all coherent thought.

"If you want me to come in, you're going to have to open the door yourself," Risotto said. "If you can walk without pain, I think that's an indicator that you're in your right mind,"

Prosciutto's heart dropped. So this is what it was about. Risotto didnt think he was in the right frame of mind to be making these decisions for himself. He felt incredibly insulted that the man he held above most was reducing him to a silly omega that couldn't decipher between right and wrong. A swift determination to prove him wrong overtook him.

With the weight of a thousand bricks pushing him down, Prosciutto rose from his bed. Every step he made towards the door was like walking on knives and nails. He ignored the pain, biting down hard on his lip as to not alert Risotto of his agony. Soon, he found himself staring at the doorknob, wrapped in only his slick-stained sheets. He opened the door, and he swore his knees could have given out then and there. Standing in front of him was an alpha, tall and strapping. Prosciutto's eyes travelled immorally up Risotto's body, gazing longingly at his strong arms and broad chest. He finally paused at his face, red eyes meeting his own.

"Come in," he said softly.

He moved aside to let Risotto walk into his room, barely noticing the pain as the other man walked by. The earthy smell of iron and pine needles followed after him. Prosciutto shut the door and turned around to face Risotto who was standing wordlessly in front of his bed.

"What now?" the capo asked.

"What do you mean?" Prosciutto asked.

"I'm in your room and you're in heat. I know you aren't stupid. You know I can't be in here for too long,"

"Why? Are you afraid of what you'd do?"

Prosciutto leaned against the door casually, watching Risotto. His pokerface gave the blonde no insight as to what the other was thinking.

"What do you want to happen next?" Prosciutto continued.

"I want you to tell me why you invited me here," Risotto answered.

"You told me that I shouldn't be shy to ask for help. Here I am, asking for your help,"

Risotto raised an eyebrow.
"What would that entail?"

"Shouldn't it be plain to see?" Prosciutto asked, letting the sheets slip off a bit to expose his bare shoulders.

He heard Risotto swallow thickly.

Prosciutto let go of the sheets, and they dropped to the ground around his ankles. He stood there, fully exposed to his capo.
Risotto turned his head to the side, keeping his eyes on some lone spot on the wall in hopes of preserving Prosciutto's dignity. The man in question only stepped closer, gingerly placing his hand on Risotto's cheek. He felt the alpha flinch under his touch.

"It's okay. You can look. I want you to look,"

Slowly, Risotto tore his gaze away from the wall and forced it onto Prosciutto. Normally pale skin was flushed and pink nipples were hard. He pressed himself up against the alpha; the most physical contact he had felt in days.

They stood with their lips barely touching, Risotto's stare never leaving Prosciutto's face. The omega could feel the man's pulse due to how close they were. His composure broke.

"Kiss me, Risotto. Oh god, kiss me." he begged.

Their lips were so close that he thought he would have came from the sensation of it alone. He wasnt expecting for Risotto to pull back, taking that warmth and feeling with him.


Prosciutto furrowed his brow, panic and shame quickly setting in.
"What? Why?"

"This isnt you. You arent right in the head Prosciutto. You dont want this to happen," Risotto spoke mechanically.

"What do you mean?" Prosciutto asked in an insulted tone.

"It's the heat talking, not you," the capo replied with an air of sadness. "If you weren't in heat, you would never want to be with me."

Prosciutto felt like all the air in the room had suddenly become unattainable. No matter how much he took in, it didn't provide his starved lungs with what he needed, or mend the void in his heart. Risotto slowly stepped backwards as if he were trying to narrowly avoid tripping off a land mine.

"Please. I'm sorry, I'm such an idiot, please dont go," Prosciutto begged.

He no longer cared how starved of attention he appeared, because he knew it was the truth. He was desperate for it. When Risotto didn't answer, he felt the need to keep rambling so that maybe his superior would have a change of heart.

"I didn't mean to come onto you like that I just-- I need someone to be here for me. It's been so lonely Risotto please-"

Every word seemed to push the other man further and further away. He was already out of the room before Prosciutto could finish his whole spiel. This caused anger to flare up within him.

"Listen to me dammit!"
The emotion in his voice was so potent that it surprised Risotto.

"I could have called anyone else but I called you. I chose you. So I'm begging you, please!"

There was silence.

Then, Risotto turned his back on the shivering omega and left the house. As Prosciutto heard the front door close his knees buckled and an ugly sob wracked his entire body. He had driven away the only person he could think of that would be able to truly help him. The person who had helped him all these years, who had never let him down. He wasn't sure what to do with his feelings of abandonment. All the blonde could really do in the moment was curl up on the floor and cry.

It was going to be a very long night. Worst of all, there was no one there to hold him.