*shakes the Italian Shark man*

spy is never gonna let sniper live this one down

let's watch the last rays fading out.

"VOI!"

A sharp, frustrated cry pierced the quiet, belonging unmistakably to the owner of that long hair.

Squalo shot a glare at Xanxus, who lounged lazily on his throne, heavy-lidded eyes still clouded with the remnants of sleep. His boss had barely stirred from his nap before reaching out without warning.

But unlike the usual rough treatment, the yanking, the tugging like a leash on a dog, this touch was different.

It wasn't harsh. Wasn't violent.

It was almost tender.

As though Xanxus was handling something precious. A beloved treasure. Not just the hair he normally used to drag Squalo around like a disobedient hound.

“What do you want, bastard boss?” Squalo demanded, eyeing him warily, like he was checking if the man had developed a fever. The sudden gentleness startled him more than a rock thrown at his head ever could.

“Ah.”

A low murmur escaped Xanxus, voice gravelly and thick from sleep. His crimson eyes still lingered on the strands caught between his fingers. Squalo didn't pull away from the warm weight of his Sky.

“Shouldn't you cut this garbage by now?”

The question came out cold, dismissive, but the hands still holding his hair betrayed him. They cradled the white silk with care.

“Huh?” Squalo blinked, genuine surprise flickering across his face. Then his brows furrowed.

His hair had grown long over the years, so long it hung past his face, always getting in the way. He'd complained about it more than once. But,

"VOI!" he barked, voice sharp again. "Didn't I tell you? I'm only cutting it when you become the next Vongola boss, you idiot!"

Squalo's steel-gray eyes met those crimson ones, eyes he loved more than anything, and his glare softened just slightly, laced with confusion and a spark of indignation.

Finally, Xanxus released the white strands. They slipped slowly through his fingers, almost reluctantly, as if they didn't want to leave that gentle hold.

Neither of them spoke of the obvious.

Of how that promise was impossible now. Vongola only accepted blood heirs, the one thing Xanxus had never possessed and never would.

But Squalo didn't care.

And Xanxus, he shouldn't either.

"I'm growing it out," Squalo declared, a familiar reckless grin tugging at his lips. "So you should too. Got it, Xanxus?"

Another foolish demand. Another reckless promise to his boss.

Xanxus reached lazily for his glass of whiskey, swirling the amber liquid. His voice was low, almost a murmur.

"How stupid."

But Squalo's grin only widened, bright and boyish, the same as it had been all those years ago.

They hadn't changed much, either of them. Not in all this time. Not in their dreams, even if those dreams had long since become something to hold onto quietly, like old keepsakes, rather than goals they could still reach.

Still, they would keep going.

That was just how it was.

It's been forever since I wanted to get my hands on these costumes 👹🎐

rabia. to be loved is to be devoured

pg. 16, 17, 18, 19

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This concludes the first issue of Hunstman's Tango

I keep making Snipes struggle so this time its Spy's turn!

Happy Frenchman Friday! ✨️

Работа для KHR: Family Zine