Outtake: Father's Day of '93 (before it all went to hell) #AntonyandJohn

Hey, loves.

So, wow, this outtake came out a bit more emotional than I intended. Not really sorry for that. So, this kind of handles a bunch of different requests in the form, I guess. Those who wanna see the Marcello kids when they were young with Antony, but also those who want a peek at John way back when.

I have 45+ outtake requests in my form right now. I will post the form again after I have gone through some of them and got them done.

Do enjoy.


Father’s Day of ‘93 (before it all went to hell)
An Antony (and John) Outtake
Antony/John POV

“Shut up, Gio!”
“Knucle John says—”
Shut up.
Antony cracked his eyes open just enough to stare at the ceiling of his bedroom. He didn’t know if his sons were just waking up and trying to sneak past their parents’ bedrooms, or what was happening. All he knew was that once Gio learned to start talking around two years old, the kid never shut up.
Oh, God.
He loved his son.
So much.
Both his boys, really.
But Gio incessantly talked all the time. It never ended. He could talk for an hour about a certain flavor of ice cream if someone didn’t rein the kid in before he really got going. He liked to talk, and it was impossible for the boy to do anything without talking while he did it. Which made things like playing Hide and Go Seek with his brother impossible because ...
Gio never shut up.
“Papa, you up?”
In his bedroom, then. He didn’t answer Dante back right away because a part of his brain was still asleep, and he was trying to figure out why he felt like he’d just slept twelve hours. A good sleep, yes, but a long one.
That was unusual for Antony. He rarely felt this rested when he woke up. He was typically the one in their house who was up at the ass crack of dawn because work never ended as a made man. If it wasn’t one thing, then it was another.
Antony looked over in the bed to tell his wife the boys were up, but he found an empty bed staring back at him. He blinked at the spot where his wife should have been, but quickly realized something else.
The window.
And the sun.
The sun was way too high in the sky for it to be early morning. Antony darted up in the bed, and instantly reached for the alarm clock on the nightstand to check the time. Ten-fifty-five, it read.
In the morning?
“Hi, Papa!”
Antony didn’t even get to wonder why he’d slept so long or where in the hell his wife was because the next thing he knew, Gio had climbed up on the four poster bed, and launched himself from the footboard right onto his father’s lap.
And almost hit the family jewels in the process.
“Jesus Christ,” Antony grunted, laughing under his breath.
Wiggly little three-year-old Gio rolled to his back, and beamed his father with a bright smile that could light up anybody’s fucking life. How a person could be sad when there was a kid like Gio around, Antony would never understand.
“Ma says—”
“Not to be a shit,” Gio interrupted.
Antony pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. He was not supposed to encourage the cussing, but he found it really hard. Especially when the kid used it in the correct terms.
“She did not say shit,” Dante grumbled.
His oldest son climbed up on the bed, too, but unlike Gio, his first move was not to act like a bird that could fly across the bed and land on his father. He did get close enough to let Antony pull him into a hug.
“Where is your Ma?” Antony asked.
“Cooking,” Dante said. “Waffles—your favorite.”
Antony smiled. “Oh?”
For a moment, Antony reclined on the bed with his two boys. Dante on his right, and Gio in his lap because he couldn’t convince that kid to do anything else. Once he got his mind set on something, that’s all that would be happening.
It wasn’t very often Antony got to have moments like these. Quiet, peaceful moments first thing in the morning with his two principes because life liked to get in the way all the damn time. So, he soaked it up.
Late morning sun, white sheets, and two little boys who kept looking at him like he was king of the whole world. Someday, they’d figure out he was just a man. And not a very moral or good one at that, but a man nonetheless. Their father ... but for nor, he enjoyed being the very large sun in their small world.
“And she said I don’t have to go to school,” five-year-old pointed out. “Because it’s a special day.”
Antony glanced at his son from the side. “Is it?”
Antony’s mind scrambled to figure out what day it was. Not his anniversary, and not his wife’s birthday. Not one of the kid’s, either. Not somebody important. No holidays, he was sure.
What had he missed?
“Yep,” Dante said, pushing himself off the bed using two hands. “For you, Papa. Happy Father’s Day.”
Gio flipped himself over in Antony’s lap, and beamed up “Happy Father’s Day!”
“Breakfast is ready.”
Antony found the owner of the sweet voice standing in the bedroom doorway. His wife, already dressed and ready for the day, looked like she had a secret to share. He loved her best when she looked like that. His greatest memories were pulling those secrets from his wife in a way only he could do, too.
“I had work to do today,” he said.
Cecelia shrugged. “John said he would handle it, actually. We pulled some strings. A break is good for everybody, Antony. Even when that man is you.”
Well, then ...
“Waffles!” Gio shouted. “I want waffles!”
Waffles it was.


Twelve hours later ...

John tried closing the door of the apartment quietly but that was the thing about the goddamn door. Nothing about it was quiet. It squeaked, and when it latched, it echoed in the silent apartment.
Didn’t matter.
The place didn’t stay silent for long.
It was way too late.
Eleven at night.
Lina was pretty strict about keeping a bedtime routine for Luciano, so he had thought by the time he was able to make his way around today, his boy would already be sleeping and out for the night. John just planned on staying til morning, waking his son up, and then heading across the state to deal with the woman who hadn’t stopped calling his phone all damn day.
His wife, that was.
Fuck, he hated her.
Kate made that easy. Hating her, that was.
Not the time, John.
It couldn’t be the time when little Lucky was heading his way with a big smile, and arms wide open. John was already kneeling down to greet his son with a hug, and a kiss on top of his dark-haired head.
For a second, John took the moment to admire his son. All those familiar features, and bright hazel eyes. Just like his dad. Lina liked to joke that there was no way John could deny Luciano because they might as well have been twins.
But fuck him because he saw Lina in their son, too.
In Luciano’s sweet ways. In the happy glint that always shined in the boy’s eyes. In the way his hugs always felt like home and love.
He was John’s son through and through.
But his mother was there.
“Little late tonight, huh?” Lina asked. “He wanted to stay up.”
John touseled Lucky’s hair, and smiled at his boy. “Yeah ... stuff came up.”
“I bet.”
He ignored the way she said that. He let her have her moods, and feelings. Lina was due them. After everything ... all the choices he made that should have ruined whatever this was between them, the woman was still here.
She loved him despite of it.
Despite the fact she was a mistress.
That she raised their son practically alone.
That her name was ruined.
She loved him.
“We’ll watch that show you like, get some popcorn, and whatever else you wanna do, all right?” John asked his son.
The boy nodded. “Okay.”
He wanted to apologize for not being there. It was Father’s Day, and instead of being with his son, he made sure his best friend could spend the day with his sons.
Because that’s just how shit went sometimes.
Luciano never seemed to care that John wasn’t here as much as he wanted to be. He just cared that John was there when he was there. Nothing else mattered then.
“Did you miss me?” Lucky asked his father.
John’s gaze dropped to his son again. “More than you know, my boy.”
Lucky grinned in that way—the Grovatti way.
No, he couldn’t deny this boy at all.
He just wished he didn’t have to hide him.
“Happy Father’s Day, Papa.”
John kissed Lucky’s forehead, and dragged him in for a tight hug. Grabbing his son’s face, he tipped Lucky’s head back so that the two of them could stare at each other.
“I’m always gonna love you, yeah?” he asked. “You know that, my boy, don’t you?”
Lucky nodded. “Yeah, Papa.”
“No matter what, Lucky. Someone is always going to love you.”
John didn’t know then, that time was ticking down. That this whole thing was just a bomb waiting to blow with a clock that was running out of seconds. He’d be the first to go, and then Lina. He wouldn’t know anything until it was too late.
But he hadn’t lied.
Someone would always love Luciano.
John, even dead.
The boy’s mother, in Heaven.
And a whole family across the state who, in those moments, hadn’t even known Luciano existed.
They would love him, too.
When John and Lina couldn't ... 
When it counted the most ... 
They would love him. 


  1. So, I'm at lunch tearing up you little shit. 😭. Thank you girl showing John with his boy. ❤

  2. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I absolutely love your work!


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