I've not posted here in forever—just been lurking about liking things. I really should try to be more active here. So, to dust off this blog, let me christen it with a writing of my two OCs. I call this one 'Stache and Steel' and it's just a skosh shy of 1,300 words. Enjoy!
“So, the big man hired you as my muscle, huh?” Josef scoffed, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Like I need it.” He heaved a deep sigh, glancing sidelong at the towering bruiser before him. The way Vinnie stood there—massive, solid as a wall, with that unmistakable presence—made the smaller man roll his eyes. “Perfect. Just what I needed—babysitting another Johnny,” he muttered under his breath.
“The big man says you’re worth watchin’ out for—somethin’ worth protectin’,” Vinnie replied, hooking his rubber-clad thumbs into his belt loops. His green eyes flicked over Joe’s sharp-dressed frame, taking in the compact muscularity beneath the well-tailored red suit. With a slow step, he closed the space between them, his gravelly voice steady.
“Can’t say I disagree—yet,” Vinnie added with a little tease, lifting his head in a mock glower. He took a long puff from his thick cigar, the smoke curling around his square jaw, rough with a thick layer of stubble.
Josef didn’t blink, nor dignify that comment with a reaction—just offered a quiet hmph, arms still folded like the whole situation failed to impress him. “As much as I admire the big man,” Josef muttered, voice low and measured, “I can’t help but question his logic sometimes.” He shook his head slowly, hazel eyes finally rising to meet the gaze of the mountain standing across from him. “Vincent… Denucci, was it?”
“De Souza, pal,” Vinnie corrected him quickly—sharp, but not rude. “I know. Weird name for a guy like me, but that’s what happens when your nonno goes into hidin’ from the feds.” A gravelly chuckle escaped him, the cigar bobbing in his teeth as smoke spilled from the corner of his mouth.
The raspy guffaw caught Josef’s attention. He clocked the gold glint of a canine tooth beyond the haze—unexpected, but not out of place on a man like Vinnie. The big man wasn’t showy, but nothing about him felt half-measured either. That kind of detail? Something about it just stuck.
Josef’s stance budged just a little, the soft creak of leather gloves filling the space as he folded his arms tighter. Behind that measured stare, something danced—something sharp, something amused, even.
“All right,” his baritone broke through the silence, “you’ve got my attention,” his voice low and smooth, carrying a subtle warmth just beneath the surface. The ice around him cracked just enough for a smirk to tug at the corner of his handlebar mustache.
“Guess it’s about time we got to know each other a little better, huh?” Josef said, pausing for a beat, his eyes darting around as his mind churned. Vinnie stood with his arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he took a slow drag from his thick cigar. The smoke curled lazily around his square jaw, giving him a laid-back edge.
Then Josef snapped his fingers. “So—where’re you from?”
Josef leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing with playful curiosity. “Actually, lemme try...” His voice softened, stretching the last syllable as he stroked his thick beard with a gloved hand, sizing Vinnie up. “Queens?”
Vinnie’s brow furrowed briefly, the ember at the cigar’s tip glowing brighter as he took another long pull, then shook his head with a low chuckle, stepping a little closer. “Nah, nah,” he said, voice rough but warm, the smoke trailing from his mouth like a slow exhale. “Not Queens.”
Josef narrowed his eyes, smoothing the center of his mustache like he was pulling a memory from the back of his mind. Vinnie stood steady, cigar balanced between thick fingers, green eyes locked on Josef’s, patient and steady. Then, suddenly, it clicked—Josef snapped his fingers and pointed right at him.
“Wait—no! Brooklyn!” Josef’s baritone burst out, rich and sudden with the snap of realization.
“Ayyy, ya got me!” Vinnie said, raising his rubber-clad hands in mock surrender as a grin stretched across his broad face. “Born ‘n raised, pal. Nonno was in the mob back in the day, see, but he got out before things got real bad.” Another chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, his green eyes twinkling like he was pulling a fond memory off a dusty shelf.
Josef’s face softened even more, a smile wrinkling his angular features, feeling as though he’d made a new friend. “Your looks betray your name some—guess we’re a lot more alike than I thought.” He chuckled lightly. “Yeah, my great-grandpa was in the mob too. Long gone before I was born, but my dad used to tell stories—said Great-grandpa Giuseppe didn’t exactly live a quiet life.”
Vinnie’s grin faltered—just for a heartbeat—before a low, surprised laugh rolled out of him. He took a slow draw off his cigar, then shot a sidelong glance of his own at Joe, though with a substantial amount more warmth.
“Did ya say… Giuseppe?” he asked, bassy voice booming with sudden interest. He squinted at Josef like he was seeing him in a whole new light. “My nonno… he used to talk about this guy—had a close friend back in the day, ran with him for years. Always called him Peppe—said he was sharp—had a real mean temper, too.”
He barked a short laugh, rolling the cigar between his fingers as if weighing the thought. Then, shifting gears, Vinnie nodded toward Joe with a playful tilt of his head.
“So, what about you? Where you from, pal? You don’t seem the Brooklyn type.”
Josef’s smirk deepened as he relaxed just a little. “Starshine—small mountain town down south. Quiet—sticks with you. Had family up and around there, though.”
Vinnie took a slow, thoughtful puff from his cigar, the glowing ember lighting up his face slightly. “Starshine, huh? Never been, but I like the sound of that.” He exhaled the smoke in a smooth, steady stream. “Quiet’s good. Means there’s more under the surface.”
Joe nodded, letting that sink in. Then suddenly, something snapped. His eyes sharpened as the name hit him—Peppe. He blinked, as if hearing it clearly for the first time, then his gaze locked on Vinnie with sudden disbelief.
“Wait… Peppe?” His voice was rough, incredulous. “That’s what I used to call my grandpa.” He ran a hand through his hair, stepping closer, breath catching. “No way. No way… you’re telling me our grandfathers ran together?”
Vinnie’s eyes widened, and for a moment, the giant was completely silent. Then a gentle, almost disbelieving chuckle escaped him as he studied Josef’s face again.
“No shit… Peppe’s your bisnonno? You’re damn near a spittin’ image of him.” His voice softened, almost reverent, and he pressed the heel of his glove to his mouth, shaking his head slowly like all the pieces were finally falling into place. “I’m surprised the resemblance didn’t hit me sooner!”
“Yeah,” Vinnie continued, his tone rough but fond. “Nonno talked about your Peppe all the time. Said he was sharp as a tack, always had somethin’ cookin’ up here.” He tapped his temple with a gloved finger. “Told me once, if he ever got pinched, he hoped Peppe’d be the one to pull him outta the fire.” Another low, warm chuckle rolled out. “Loyalty like that sticks with a man.” He let out a breath, shaking his head as he slipped the cigar back between his teeth, the glow lighting up his gold canine as he exhaled. “Jesus, Stache… this world’s smaller than we think.”
“You can say that again.” Josef shot him a glance, this time with a wide, toothy grin. “And hey… Wait a second. Stache?”
“Yeah—Stache,” Vinnie said with a low chuckle, nudging Josef lightly with a thick elbow. “You got a presence, just like your bisnonno. That ‘stache matches his and was the first thing that jumped out at me.” He took a slow pull from his cigar, ember flaring as he spoke through the smoke. “See, I give nicknames to the folks that leave an impression—the ones I like.”
Vinnie paused for a second, his grin growing a bit lopsided around the stogie, his eyes lingering on Joe. “After all… ain’t every day the past reaches out and shakes your damn hand.”
“Well then, Titan—let me do just that—it’s only fair I reintroduce myself…” Josef extended a gloved hand, that sharp smile lighting up his face. The nickname came with a teasing lilt—dry, a little sassy, but sincere beneath it all. “Little more polite this time,” he added with a mutter and a glint in his eye. “Josef Urquhart. But you—you can call me Stache. Great-grandson of Giuseppe Cipani. Feels like we’re picking up where they left off.”
Vinnie gave a low chuckle, his broad hand wrapping around Josef’s in a firm, solid shake. “Vinnie de Souza,” he rumbled. “Titan, huh? I like that.” His grin widened, a swath of warmth behind the cigar smoke. “Grandson of Giovanni de Souza. And I think our grandpas’d be smilin’ up at us right about now.”
Josef held the grip a second longer, steady and grounded, his hazel eyes locked with Vinnie’s. That smile of his softened into something quieter, more real.
“Y’know what?” he said, voice low but sure. “I think so too.”
