Driving The Hatter mad [Yandere!VariousXReader]

Mio Marito [2P!Romano]

[Yandere!2P!Romano || F!Reader || 1P!Romano]

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You stood in the door way, not moving any farther. For the man in the big leather chair behind the dark oak desk was not who you were expecting to see. He was blonde and red eyed, though he had Lovino's olive complexion. There were two bulky body guards behind you. You looked frantically between them and the smirking man at the desk.

"Buongiorno, mia bella," said the man.

"Qu-Quell'uomo non è mio marito," you said hoarsely in Italian, taking an apprehensive step back.

"That'a, bella, is where you are'a wrong," said the man. "Sono tuo marito."

The man stood, and strode around the desk. You stepped backwards until your back was against the heavy double doors. You swallowed thickly. This man was not your husband, even if he was dressed exactly as Lovino was when he left that morning. He stopped only a few inches from you, his eyes seeming to glow in amusement.

"Who the hell are you?" you asked. "Wh-Where's Lovino?

The blond took your left hand and lifted it up to his lips while keeping eye contact with you. Those bloody pools sent shivers running rampant down your spine. "I am Flavio. – Think of'a me as an...alter ego...of your'a dear Lovino. I was'a always there, but you never saw me. I know you just as'a well as Lovino does. Every little secret you'a confided in him, I also know. Every touch and kiss you've'a shared over the years, I've also been there for –"

"No! É assolutamente impossibile!" you muttered, furiously shaking your head. Your mind vigorously flipping between your native language, and the Italian Lovino had taught you until you were fluent. "N – Non ti credo!"

"Believe me, bella," chuckled Flavio smugly. "Do you think Lovino would have'a had taken you that first time if I'a hadn't given him that little push? Too much of a 'gentleman' apparently – but, trust me, I am Lovino. Only better. And I'm the only one of the two of us that deserves you."

Sure, this man – save for a few things – was a carbon copy of your husband. But he wasn't Lovino, and he wasn't better than him. In fact, this was the first time you were ever scared of the mobster. Flavio took your chin between his fingers, and tilted your face towards him. "Ti amo, mia bella."

Flavio kissed you roughly, but it quickly turned soft and then he pulled away. When you looked up at him, you were met with your husband's panicked green eyes. His brown hair trying to, somehow, coat over the blond.

"Run," was his only word before he reached behind you, turned the door handle and shoved you out of the room. You stumbled some, the door slamming behind you. You heard Lovino's muffled angry yelling, but it was all you needed to heed his warning.

Something wasn't right.

Lovino never told you about this. About Flavio.

It all kind of made sense now – when you caught Lovino angrily muttering to himself, it was because of Flavio. The nights when Lovino was rougher and more demanding, the times when he'd shove you against the wall telling you how sexy you were and saying there were so many things he wanted to do to you – those were Flavio. Lovino adored you, of course, and thought you were sexy and beautiful. But you knew he'd never voice it, at least not without his cheeks turning red. But when he'd said those things, he had a sharp look in his eyes and there was not even a tinge of a blush.