˜”°•.˜”°• late night confessions •°”˜.•°”˜
"𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺, 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵"
TAGS --- fluff, a bit ooc, comfort, developing relationship, slight yearning, literally the least slow burn thing ever, GN reader, author is new to this stuff
You were no stranger to the bland grey concrete that always seemed to be in the bases the mafia switched between. All the buildings they selected seemed to fall into at least three categories: old, run-down, and in the middle of nowhere. None had any aesthetic appeal, which the mafia seemed to make up for by decorating each base with an array of Catholic symbols. Crosses, saints, things of that sort. Of course, you didn’t have any say in how they decorated. Nor could you ever give voice to how ironic it was for such evil men to surround themselves with what’s supposed to be pure. Not in your position.
How you got involved in the mafia is not a story worth telling. And your role was not any more noteworthy. You were a feeble errand-runner. Most of your time was spent doing menial tasks that everyone else couldn’t be bothered with. Was it boring? Occasionally. But it had its benefits. At least it meant you were non-threatening and thus, had no reason to be threatened.
Out of all the various chores you were tasked with, your favourite was shopping. Lately you'd been doing that a lot.
See, behind the powerful criminal organization was one of the most interesting people you’ve ever met. He’s a lean man of medium stature with straight blonde hair. Admittedly, his locks are very impressive. His hair is always clean and healthy, and often emanates a pleasant, sweet, scent. He dons leather most of the time. And often, he wears a vest paired with tight leather pants and military-style boots.
And he is obsessed with chocolate.
The man eats at least seven bars a day, if not more. As you’ve noticed, there’s only three things he really ever asks you for.
One, is for you to buy him industrial sized crates of a very specific brand.
Two, is for you to make him food with chocolate in it.
Three, is for you to bring him a bar (or multiple) from the freezer. (He stores all of his chocolate there. Apparently he can’t stand when his chocolate is warm.)
It was a hilariously cute quirk to you. Especially how at the start of the day the table he sat at would be empty, and by the end of the day it would’ve accumulated a pile of wrappers.
Overall, you didn’t mind the constant trips in search of chocolate for The Majesty. Although you were beginning to find yourself flustered in his presence. He was the only decent person in the mafia, in terms of both personality and looks. A small crush was inevitable. As long as it didn’t interfere with your job, who cared? You just had to be careful of any micro-expressions that might give it away. That might be bad.
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How? How could Mello allow this to happen? He couldn’t believe that out of all people, he was crushing on the person who is responsible for errands! Out of all the things in the way of him and his goal, you being a distraction is one of them?! He tried to deny it. But to no avail. Every time he would walk past you in the hall, or have you do something for him, or just thought about you — he’d get butterflies. Maybe it was something about the way you looked. Your eyes, your lips, the clothes you were and the body to which they clung. Or maybe it was something to do with your demeanor. You always seemed to have a non-hostile disposition towards him. You never treated him like he was cruel, different, or a tool. You simply looked upon him with acceptance, and he couldn’t sense you implementing any power dynamics into your interactions. In the mafia (or in general), everything had the implication of power. You were either above or beneath who you were talking to.
Mello typically was happy to sense himself as the one on top. Though, the hierarchy would crumble in your presence. Although there was the superficial notion of your job being "less than”, you presented yourself in a way that rendered the role of titles as meaningless. That, he surmised, was why he was able to accept you as perceiving him as neither superior or inferior, and why he himself did not hold those beliefs to you.
He couldn’t quite place where and when the crush started. It didn’t matter. All he knew was that after that, he began to ask you explicitly to run his errands. Mello typically wouldn't let anyone touch his precious cocoa. But soon he began to have you bring it to him (even if that was something he was capable of on his own) just to have the smallest of interactions with you. He didn’t really know how to communicate his feelings. And he didn’t want to anyways. It was dangerous.
A few of his men had already been teasing him about it.
“You like them, don’t you?”
“Hah, the kid can’t even hide it!”
He would always respond in a strict tone, and they would soon hush themselves so as to appease him. But what they didn’t know is that they were right.
Mello knew that you and him would never become anything. He was left to simply fantasize. So the cycle continued: him asking favors of you and pretending to accidentally touch your hand when you would give him the chocolate, forbidden from ever telling you his true feelings.
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You were sitting in the circle of men as they all drank. More or less, you were acting as a server of the alcohol, which is one of the only reasons you were sitting with them. You had taken a lone armchair that was the most isolated out of all the seats. Mostly observing, you would occasionally chime in with a small comment. As you watched everyone, your eyes wandered to Mello. He grabbed a bar out of the pile of wrappers on the glass table in front of him. Upon the discovery that it was, if fact, not a bar and another empty wrapper, he huffed in annoyance.
“Do you want me to grab you some more?” you asked.
Mello looked up. He looked surprised, and slightly flushed. You worried that your offer may have somehow upset him.
You rose and went to the freezer. Grabbing a few chocolates, you returned to the blond to hand it to him. He took your hand. You froze. He held onto it for a brief moment, his hands warm. Then he took the chocolate and let go.
“What the hell was that about?” You couldn’t help but wonder. Heat stemming from your stomach flooded into your cheeks. That wasn’t flirting, right? You sat back down. The conversation the men around you were having didn’t reach your ears. It was all droning hums and laughs, mere background noise to the thoughts running through your heads. Mello was NOT flirting. You were just imagining it.
A few unbearable hours later, and people were starting to leave and go off to do their own things. The last man left, and you were left alone with Mello.
You slowly stood up. “Well, I guess I’ll be off now.”
Mello’s voice suddenly cut through the room. “Wait.”
You turned to him. “Hm? What’s the matter?”
Unbeknownst to you, at this moment Mello had experienced a striking resolution. He had decided: he couldn’t simply wait like this any longer. It was probably just a foolish impulse or his brain jumbled from lack of sleep, but who cares? Mello wanted to say something to you. He wanted to introduce a new meaning into your simple, professional relationship.
Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no what did that mean were you in trouble were you about to be killed did you do something wrong were you a bad servant what was he talking about
“I think you’re uh…. Uh… uh… I dunno.” He stared at you, a furious blush upon his face.
You returned his stare. What the hell was this stray from his character?
“You’re interesting,” he resigned. I suppose even geniuses sometimes can’t find the right word.
A glee overcame you. Could it be? He was flirting? You had been waiting so long for someone to bring up the weird tension between you two, and his confession was just what you needed.
Mello awkwardly extended his hand. You took it. He curled his fingers around yours. “I like you so much, and I can’t understand why.”
It suddenly occurred to you that this was very strange of Mello, and that he must have been either very overtired or very desperate. You decided to match his honesty.
“Me too. For some reason.”
Mello was wearing an expression of great conflict. “You treat me in a way that… just makes me feel good. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. Sorry for being cheesy, by the way.”
He took his hands and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where I am right now is just incredibly isolating. I kind of crave human interaction.”
“I can give it to you.”
He looked up, a slight gleam of hope in his eyes. He then grumbled. “Yeah, whatever. I was just messing with you anyways. I can’t believe you really thought that I was being honest. I was testing you, to see how gullible you are. I was going to give you an upgrade, y’know, but I guess you’re not ready to be more than an errand-runner.”
You rolled your eyes. In a risky move, you pulled him into a hug. “Please. You can be vulnerable with me, you know?”
Mello was stiff in your arms. He then melted into your embrace, and looped his arm around your waist.
“Thanks, he murmured. Mello couldn’t understand what had overtaken him. Why was he acting like this? Why was he being so stupid? This was stupid? Why did he enjoy it?
He pulled away. “Let’s talk again tomorrow.”
Your eyes widened, before you nodded. “Yeah, let's do this again tomorrow.”
He frowned. “Don’t let anyone know. Seriously. I’ll murder you.”
You nodded, before (once again riskily) giving him a kiss on the cheek.
Mello audibly gasped. (Talk about embarrassing.)
“Oh…um… I’m sorry,” you moved quickly to apologize.
“Hey.” Mello grabbed your face, and then returned the favor with a kiss to the lips. You were shocked, but then relaxed and enjoyed his soft touch.
“You better have something good for me when we meet tomorrow. I’m craving something like truffles.”
You smiled and nodded before leaving.
credits to @fae-and-wolf for the divider
This was not really proof-read so i apologize for any mistakes
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