Hello readers!

Here is a one shot I promised a while back to my Allay Me reviewers. I finally got a sufficient amount of inspiration and here it is. I was playing around with ideas and writing style, so please, if you loved it, hated it, somewhere in between, reviews are always appreciated!

Passion and Other Incurable Diseases

This is how it goes.

You were nothing more than a reporter trying to rise up the ranks in the rundown local newspaper. A job you hadn't realized how shitty it was until you began working there and noticed how well the marketing team did of a job. They had made it seem so much better than it actually was.

They missed their calling. Then again, they were paid infinitely better than you did, so your pity for them wasn't grand.

But you had to stick it out. Your parents were against a journalism career in the first place so they didn't help at all with your college debt. It was all on your shoulders; quitting your first job would only cement their negative views on your 'career' and how you could never be cut out for it.

You wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

This is how it started.

Just when you were going to give up your faith on humanity, your good for nothing boss and the cheap coffee at the corner deli, you saw your salvation in the form of a TV broadcast.

Once more the Vongola Corp. had earned top earnings internationally. Regardless, of it's official sounding name, you knew it was a front for one of the top mafia organizations; the Vongola family.

They hadn't even bothered to use a different name for their 'legal' front.

You scoffed at the screen, and cynically thinking of how society knew more than they let on, but no one outright spoke. Morals tended to be an ideal showcased in children's books; but how was it that none of the adults could follow what they preached?

Then a little voice dared whisper, why don't you do something about it?

You stared wide-eyed at the screen, wheels turning, on the announcement that the Vongola would hold a party in Italy to celebrate the 15th anniversary that the head of the Corp was instated, Tsunayoshi Sawada.

Thought they didn't say it explicitly, you knew that the press was invited. It wasn't one of their 'gala-mafia-only-events'. Sorry, the term they used was 'invitation only' events. Yet, here was an event to shamelessly promote the company in all it's glory even more, no public relations person in their right mind would give up such a golden opportunity. Especially with the business in its prime.

All your time in your field wasn't for naught. You had a friend who was making his way up the ranks in international reporting and were ironically stationed in Italy.

It was a daunting task but hell if you could just pull it off, maybe take a few quotes, even, oh god, pictures, you were set in the journalism hall of fame.

Heck, just a better job with your own space would be nice.

A wolfish grin graced your features as you stood outside that electronics store that warm spring day. You wasted no time as you began to take out your phone and called your job to ask for a small vacation.

Though really deep down you were fighting the urge to scream at the receptionist sleeping with the editor-in-chief and telling her it wasn't going to be a short vacation. You were never EVER going back!

You had no idea.

This is what happened.

Luckily, you got the days off (though it seemed the people at your job were all too happy to not see your face for a while) and you managed to book a flight to Italy that same day; glossing over the details of your journey with your contact in Italy who seemed totally fine with the idea of your spontaneous request.

Thus, as you sat in your economy flight with a complete stranger in your lap in front of you because of the horrid spacing of economy, you didn't let it get to you.

Instead you plugged in your headphones, put on an eye-mask and dreamed of what you would tell Oprah when she interviewed you about your ballsy endeavor and your consequent success.

Once the plane landed safely and you finally regained feeling in your legs; you were met with a very exuberant Giacomo. Sporting the same look he had since your college years, with the slicked back sandy locks and and the sporty sunglasses covering his blue eyes.

The more you looked at him you weren't sure how someone could take such a suave look belonging on a typical GQ magazine and yet look like such poser, even after all these years of using the same cookie cut look.

Instead you settled for a thankful smile and the typical European greeting of kissing on both cheeks. Though you couldn't help the awkward sensation that arose when he kissed too close to your mouth. The more you tried to dismiss it as a simple mistake, the harder it became to ignore as you both walked to where he parked his car and he rested his hand too far down for comfort, but not enough to outright proclaim sexual harassment.

But you bit your lip and remembered it would all soon be over, he was doing you a favor by basically providing entrance to what would change your life forevermore while giving you a place to crash unexpectedly.

You kept the silent mantra of fame, fortune and Oprah and kept on walking with a fake professional smile splattered on your face.

When the long awaited night came you were jittery with excitement.

You even spent a hefty sum on a dazzling new dress which accentuated your body.

Now if only the stars would align, and shine on you, all would be right with the world.

And it had.

You only had a bit of trouble getting in but Giacomo appeared at your side, saying you were his girlfriend and they let you two walk in. Though you didn't appreciate the fib, you were nowhere near being his girlfriend, or any sort of romantic affilation.

But you put it out of sight and out of mind as you crossed the threshold and were dazzled by the mansion ballroom with it's grand open space, chandeliers and hundreds of well dressed and prominent individuals.

These people knew how to throw a party.

Later, you told yourself, you would knock Giacomo down a few pegs. Right now as a cute Italian waiter came by and offered you a flute of champagne, you took it and sipped and analyzed the room. Looking for any potential scoop or story.

You were a woman on a mission.

4 hours into the party and you were experiencing mixed feelings of depression and irritation.

These people hadn't done ANYTHING worthy of a juicy story. You had heard whispers that the infamous assassination squad was here, and even then no fights broke out, screams, nada.

You had been so pumped out for your glorious mission and all you had to show for it was a hefty gap in your bank account, no more sick/vacation days, and an annoying clingy man you wanted nothing to do with.

How many times did you have to politely tell a man that you weren't interested without making a scene or throwing a glass of wine in his face?

As you looked out the window the impressive Italian landscape outside, you sighed. Then out of the corner of your eye; you saw Giacomo weaving his way to you. Damnit. You needed a stronger drinker.

You turned your head, and began to weave your way through the masses, heading to the bar area that compromised of multiple sitting areas and alcohol lounges. You practically felt the difference in money between them and you as you simply breathed.

Defeated, and with the heels driving your feet insane, you sat down crossed your legs and leaned against your hand in boredom.

And then it happened.

It had begun as a feeling you felt from every fiber of your being. It jolted and electrified you from the sheer intensity of it. Someone was looking at you, you could feel it. It was different from the way sleazy men did when you bothered to look presentable for work, or the way that Giacomo did that made you want to join a nunnery or take a shower.

Here you felt desired and like a goddamn goddess. Two things you never truly felt but deep down always wanted to. You weren't ugly, you were average, pretty with the right clothes and makeup. Nowhere near model glory.

Every part of you was begging for you to turn around, to find the source. before you realized it; that was precisely what you were doing.

The moment you found the source changed your life forever. You had thought that the eyes watching you had been intense but you were near the sheer magnitude of those carmine eyes until you met face to face.

The desire ran hot through your body and you fought the urge to squirm. This wasn't like you, not at all. You were acting like a godamn nymphomaniac as opposed to an educated professional.

You should've looked away, been disgusted, and with haughty and maybe even slightly fearful dismissal, walked away.

But you didn't.

You sat there watching him at the bar as he drank the red wine and looked at you the whole time. You licked your lips instinctively, as his action had brought attention to his lips, and you saw his eyes glaze over slightly with a feral primal look.

In cause of your shameless staring, you had forgotten you had been trying to leave, it wasn't until an irate Giacomo had come searching for you that you remembered that you had also wanted to escape him and his unwelcome advances.

He grabbed your arm harshly and you winced at the pressure on your arm. "Let go of me!"

But he wouldn't budge, there was a perverse fury in his eyes. "Shut up you goddamn tease. You've been asking for it since you came To Italy." You were this close to screaming and throwing your glass of wine in his face; diplomacy be damned.

Luckily for you, you had an unlikely savior in the form of an extremely possessive Varia Boss who consequently took out his gun and shot Giacomo in the leg.

Giacomo yelled in pain and clutched his leg miserably on the ground. The Varia Boss sauntered over, a deadly grace radiated from his every step. You were mesmerized, even as he lifted his boot and shoved the heel deep into Giacomo's stomach.

"She said let go. Now get the fuck out of my sight trash, before I shoot you where it really matters." Xanxus pointed his gun lower from his head to the other part of male anatomy.

Giacomo had already a pale coloring but he absolutely withdrew within himself and a pasty ghost hue overtook his face with all the blood leaving him.

In fact his fear was probably too great and he ended up fainting instead.

"VOII, what the hell do you think you are doing, you shitty Boss!?" An enraged and dare you say handsome (though much to your growing chagrin you were still increasingly inclined towards said Boss) silver haired man stomped on over in a very nice crisp Armani suit. "You know how much paperwork this is going to cost!?" Squalo began massaging his forehead, already imagining the scene from the 10th brat for disrupting the peace in a public gala.

Xanxus scoffed disdainfully.

"Pathetic scum."

He walked out, leaving his second in command stewing and cursing under his breath, dragging Giacomo out of the party. Before he left he turned his head slightly to look at you with those sinful ruby eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat and you found yourself blushing once more, no one had ever affected you like this. Even though he didn't speak, his eyes spoke legions. you knew he expected you to follow. As if there was absolutely zero reason why you wouldn't just follow him anywhere.

This would be an entirely different story had you actually had the will power to walk away, or even look away for that matter.

But you just couldn't.

He wanted you, and from what you saw earlier with Giacomo, when the Varia Boss wanted something, he got it.

And much to your horror, that thrilled you to no end. There was no one like Xanxus, you knew that from the first time you locked gazes.

You weren't naive; you knew who he was. Even if people hadn't whispered in hushed voices when he had first come in, it was impossible to not know of the man who was the single nightmare of Mafiosi and civilians alike. A man who was the very bogey monster Italian mothers chose to tell their children about instead to keep them in line and before bed.

Ironically soon enough, you would be in his bed instead.

You didn't even bother trying to save Giacomo. You couldn't stop thinking how you thought Xanxus was the sexiest thing that ever graced the earth.

Only later you would figure out you left one useless douche-bag for an extraordinarily more dangerous douche-bag.

Your luck with men was staggering.

What you learned

Turns out the Vongola family weren't a bad bunch. Tsuna was an extremely benevolent leader, at times you couldn't even believe the stories of how he was once called Dame-Tsuna to the suave and impressive man he became. The Varia were insane, but then again, weren't you for being with the Varia Boss and not running for Timbuktu?

But there was something about the insanity that you found strangely comforting. Maybe it was the fact that no matter what you did, or what you had thought, it would never amount to how many things they had broken or currents they had gone against.

It was nice for once to not be the black sheep of the family, the only one who dared to be different but rather to be in a place where everyone dared to be different and didn't care about the consequences. The Varia didn't hide what they were, they relished what they did.

You weren't a killer, far from it.

But you felt more at home being next to people who continuously entered covered with some sort of blood splatter and in the loud frenzy pace of the mansion than you ever did in your mundane suburban neighborhood. Neither in your family house or your job.

So you helped out anyway you could, because you were grateful that you found a niche in the most unlikely of places. You began to use all that you learned in ways you hadn't dreamed 10 years prior, or even days prior that you met Xanxus.

It became your job to be the liaison between the Varia and the Vongola. The public speaking skills you learned made you eloquent and a much better listener than Squalo was. The words 'communication' and 'conversation' were actually a part of your vocabulary.

Something that the Vongola became grateful, and eventually the Varia when they realized they could go to you instead of their temperamental Boss.

That was when people who had risen their eyebrows (something everyone had done except Lussuria who liked having a female and Fran who just didn't care) bow their heads in acquiescence to the fact that a no name reporter had become the companion of the volatile Varia Boss.

This is how it feels.

Funny how things that seemed so abhorrent to your being suddenly ceased to matter when there were hot calloused hands running down the sides of your curves and a man who smelt of heady sin and alcohol was devouring you in equally dangerous caresses and kisses. Signs of affection(if you could even call it that) which always walked on the fine line between pain and pleasure; to the point you couldn't distinguish one from the other and his name quickly evolved into a plea and veneration on your lips.

There are moments you aren't sure if you had made the right decision having turned around that fateful night. Or hell, going to Italy on a ludicrous whim. But one thing was for sure, you couldn't imagine your life otherwise anymore.

From making sure the alcohol was in constant stock, to really fulfilling the 'wife role' of the household, making everything under it your responsibility and worry. All because deep down you knew you had grown attached to him.

To this spoiled brat of a man, who could always read you inside out. Who accepted your personal space precisely because you valued his. There were things only you were privy to as the one by his side; just as long as you were open to him entirely. And you were. So you knew his body like you knew your own, no one knows what it's like to sleep on his chest, bodies intertwined. To see his face utterly relaxed, with you next to him, making his youth and handsome features stand out across his proud countenance. To have the light of the afternoon shine through the red and dark curtains as you both remained in bed, either during his frequent naps that he wanted you all to himself after a long mission.

He was far from a romantic partner, but still you found yourself bit by bit engulfed by him, thoughts of him to the point Hoyt weren't sure where he ended and you began. No matter what others said, or what he himself never outright admitted with words; you both knew you were one for another. Even if at first glance there is nothing in common from two people from two separate worlds.

But Xanxus didn't give a damn, never one to listen to others and just take what he wants. Something that for all the trouble it causes frequently, you were thankful for.

You weren't sure who was more attached. Him, who threatened and practically claimed you as his. (You had the hickey marks throughout strategic places on your body to prove it) or you, who even as you saw the insanity in which he dwelled and callous way he treated you, stayed.

And that was enough for him.

Because he knew, even through his distrusting and cynical nature, you had given him one thing he could always rely on.

That you would always stay.

(Not that he would've given you a choice anyways)

This is how it will remain.