Hi! If your requests are still open, would you be able to write Giorno x Shy!Fem!Reader where they’re childhood friends and Giorno gained feelings for reader over the years and wants to confess but doesn’t know how? Maybe reader feels the same way and wants to confess too?
Thanks!! :D
Did I spend 2 hours writing this because I got hyperfocused? Yes. Worth it? Yes.
Giorno and the reader are both 15 at the start and 18-19 by the end. ENJOY!
“Amica?”
You knew that voice. It had Giorno all over it. Giorno and you had become friends when he moved next to you when your were both 4. He’d changed his name to Giorno, and you respected that, only his mom and step-dad called him Haruno, as he was known in Japan.
“Gio Gio?” You stepped out on the porch of the cafe you worked at, “What is-?” You stopped. Standing in front of you was Haruno Shiobana or Giorno Giovanna as he liked to be called but… blonde.
“Santa merda! Gio Gio, you’re blonde!”
“I know!” He threw his hands in front of him, “I woke up this way!”
You looked at him, gathering all the details you could. He was still the same boy. Same jade eyes, “What happened?”
“I woke up this way!” He waved his arms about, “Can we talk about this?” He pointed to his newly golden locks. It practically glowed in the sun, “Uh, I have a 15 minute break soon.” You stuttered.
“Okay, I’ll be here.” He wrung his hands and leaned awkwardly against the lamp post.
“Or you could come inside.” “I don’t have any cash on me.”
You chuckled, “I can still get you a water, on the house.”
He nodded, “Alright.”
You waved him in, “It’s not like anybody will recognise you anyway.”
“You did.” He said quietly
You blushed silently, “Be with you in a few.”
“So you woke up, and now you’re just blonde?”
“Yeah! Like my dad.” He whispers
“Whoa, you never talk about your dad.” You are even mor eintrigued now. Giorno had a peculiar picture in his wallet that he said was his biological father. The man in the picture was build strong and almost scarily so. But the defining trait Giorno knew was from that man was the star shaped birthmark on his upper shoulder.
“I mean, I didn’t think this is what puberty did.” You teased, “What colour do you think my hair will turn?”
“Pink?” He laughed, “No, that a ridiculous colour.”
“Yeah, nobody in their right mind would have pink hair.” You laughed together.
“What would you even do if you met a dude with pink hair?”
“How should I know?” He laughed, “I’ve never seen one, and I doubt I ever will.”
“Well, you could grow it out.” You said
“I could, we could style it like those old magazines we used to read as kids.”
“I can see you in a braid.” You grin
“We’ll see.”
“Ehi! Y/N, back to work, I see you going 2 minutes over your break!”
“Gotta go.” You stand up, but Giorno stood as well, “Me as well, goodbye, Y/N.” He customarily kissed you on both cheeks, something you’d taught him a long time ago. Watching him leave, you went back to taking orders as you wished that you’d had the nerve to teach him a new kind of kiss.
A few weeks later, he stopped in again, “Amiga!”
“Hey, got money for an actual coffee this time?” You called down the stairs
“I do, but that’s not the point.” He climbed the cafe stairs to meet you, “I’ve figured it out.”
Him suddenly so close with that piercing gaze had you pull away, flushed pink. “What?”
“I figured it out. The drug trade, everything.”
You looked quizzically at him, “You mean the mafia?”
He nodded, “I’m going to join them.”
You blinked. Wow, you’d lost it. Who knew serving 17 macchiatos in an hour would finally push your brain past its breaking pointt?
“Amiga?”
“Sorry, you lost me. What’s the plan?” You wiped down a table
“I’m going to become a gangstar.”
You nodded, “See, I keep hearing you saying you want to join the mafia.” You shake your head.
“I did say that.” He tries to meet your eyes, “All the drug problems, the law being run by criminals, it can be solved, I can solve it.”
You couldn’t believe what you heard, “You’re 15.”
“I know. I need all the time I can get, I have to start early.”
You put the cloth and spray down, “Tell me you’re kidding me.” You kept your voice low, you didn’t like catching attention of others.
“No, I’m finally going to do something about all this.” He took your hands in his and you noticed him stutter, “W-we grew up surrounded by people influenced by drugs, isn’t it time to do something about it?”
His change in demeanor prompted you to break out into a red blush. He wasn’t usually so… forward. It was different. You automatically sank back into your shell as red as a crab as other people stared. “Giorno, this is insane. You can’t join the mafia, it’s an early death sentence.”
“I get that, but things are different now.”
“But why you?”
“Because kids like you and I deserved to have good childhoods.”
That struck a nerve, “Giorno, I want to talk about this more, but I need to stay focused on my job right now, I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”
He took a deep breath and stepped away, ”Okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s alright, I’m just worried about you. I care, okay?”
“I know.” He smiles earnestly, “I love that about you.”
Before you had a chance to reply or even register what he said, he was gone.
You called him that afternoon. Nothing. You called him again later that night. Nothing. You called him the next morning. Same results. Life went on, agonizingly slow. A week went by.
You should have just told him when you had the chance.
A month. 2 months. 4… 8… a year. You gave up after 3 years…
“Andrea, I need you to calm down. The report doesn’t have to be done until noon tomorrow. You have a full day and 3 hours to draft and finish it.” You spoke on the phone to a colleague. “Yes, I’ll be in on tomorrow… no, you don’t need me to proofread it, you’re an adult, you can scan your own emails for typos.”
A knock came from the front door. “Andrea, take a breather and write when you’re ready.” You hang up. Why your co-workers who were 5 years your senior needed you to spellcheck was beyond you. The knock came again, whoever it was, they were impatient. You checked the glass and caught a glimpse of blonde, and your heart skipped a beat. You calmed yourself and opened the door. It wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t. A man in a green suit was standing in the doorway, “Buongiorno signora.”
That name. He had to say buongiorno. Of course giorno was a regular word, but it followed you everywhere, and you felt your heart flop sadly every single time you heard it.
“What can I do for you?” You cross your arms.
“My name is Pannacota Fugo, my boss wishes to speak to you privately.”
You nod, “Okay, I’m guessing you’re from a law firm or something?”
“No, signora. I am from Passione.”
Despite the decrease in crime regarding the mafia, the word stung, it was the mafia group Giorno mentioned. God, if they were looking for Giorno… but they couldn’t even ask you, you had no idea where he went either.
“What about it?”
“You may know him.”
“I don’t know anybody from the mafia, I make it my business to stay clear of their business.” You go to close the door.
“I’d reconsider. The boss says he knows you personally. I’m here to take you to see him.”
You steeled your nerves, “I said no.”
It was a skill you were working on, you’d become better at not being so shy.
“Right. Well, Giorno sends his regards then.” Fugo says and goes to leave
“Giorno?” Your heart almost jumps out of your chest, “Giorno Giovanna?”
Fugo nodded.
“I’ll get my things.”
You pulled up the a house. It was lavish, even on the outside.
“He’s inside.” Fugo holds the car door open for you.
In just some clothes you’d thrown on, you climbed the steps to the house. You stopped at the door. Fugo followed you and nodded to some guards who opened the door.
“Where is he?” You asked the blonde man.
“On the left.”
You rounded a corner and on a chair in a large room was a man.
“Amiga?”
Your face flushed at the sound of his voice.
“Please, leave us.” The blonde man stood. He was just as handsome as he was before, but now, toned and his blonde hair was long and braided down his back. He wore all black. You stared dumbfounded at him.
“It was hard to find you, you changed jobs.” He chuckled. That laugh made a old shiver run down your back, one you’d thought you’d lost.
You stepped back and tripped over a chair behind you. Without missing a beat, he caught you. But that didn’t make sense, he was on the other side of the room. But something caught you. You caught your balance and eased yourself up, still in shock, “You’re… here.”
He nodded with a hint of pink on his cheeks, “Yeah, I’ve been here for a few years now.”
“You… you never came back.” Your face heated up.
“I’ve been getting a handle on crime before I brought you to me. I didn’t… I didn’t want you to be a target.”
“But you could have called.”
“I’m always being watched, Amiga. Nothing was going to be a secret these past years.”
“You’re still calling me amiga.” You said.
“Well, I thought maybe we were still friends.” He sighed hopefully
“I, I don’t even know what to think. I… I hated you. I hated that you said nothing and left. But I missed you, and I still do…” You held your head in your hands, trying to name all these emotions running through you.
“I loved you.” You finished.
He looked wistfully at you, “Me too.”
“Well, w-what now?”
“Well, it’s up to you. We can start over, or we can just, let this go. I’ll let you go back to how you’ve been.”
There was a long pause,
“I… I want to be near you, but this can’t have just… not happened. I think-”
“So we should start over?” He nodded
“Not from the beginning.” You got closer and touched his face, “I still know you, at least I think I do. I might not, but I want to.”
He leaned into your touch.
“I still know this face.” You brushed your thumb over his cheek. You chuckled, “To be honest, I dreamed of this face.”
“Really?” He chuckled pleasently, a sound that made the butterflies in your stomach flutter
“I face I wished I’d kissed.”
“You’ve kissed my face plenty of times. You’re the one who taught me to do it.” He smirked. A vine snuck around your wrist and a flower appeared in your palm.
“Then the face I wished I kissed in more than one way.” You leaned in. You pressed your lips to his left cheek, and then the right, and as the sun made the rose coloured curtains behind you project a pattern of pink on his face, you sealed the confession with a gentle kiss on his soft lips. His hand curled around your face and tucked your hair behind your ear, “I wish you showed me this was to kiss earlier too, Amiga.” He smiled.
“Yeah, if this is how it’s going to be from now on, I’m going to need to be something more than amiga.”
His response was quick and sauve, “Then this is the greeting kiss you should expect from now on, cara mia.”
