#leone x reader

“I want you…” you drawl, voice low and smooth like an autumn's breeze before you finally close the gap. Savoring his plush lips sloppily and with vigor, almost as if you’d never been given this chance again.

He leans into it with a need—a yearning that silently conveys his ever-growing thirst, and the smell of you makes it no better. However, he breaks the hungry kiss to push you to sit upright on his lap as he propped his back up against the headboard.

His slender yet tender hand moves to cup the fat of your cheek which you lean into, allowing him to scratch the spot behind your ear, resulting in you melting further into him. “You know I gotta feed first, he doesn’t just get up when he wants to anymore.” Leone chuckles, shamelessly glancing at your neck as he speaks.

“Then what’s taking you so long? It’s not like I ever said you couldn’t feed from me.” You watch the way his golden eyes darken as you grant him permission with nothing but a whine and a needy grind from your hips.

It’s not long before he’s leaning in to latch onto you, sinking his pearly white fangs into the skin of your neck and suckling with a groan—the taste of you making him dizzy. You wince but only for a moment as the pain subsides quickly. His hand squeezes at your side with unbridled need as you're lost in the airy feeling this grants you.

Dribbles of crimson dripped down his lips and your neck before he finally pulls away, breathing heavily whilst wiping the dripping blood with his thumb and sucking it off before licking off what’s been missed on your neck, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. Leone moves further from your neck to peer into your eyes, free hand caressing your cheek once more as he basks in the dazed look in your eyes.

“How are you feeling, love? I didn't take too much from you, did I?” You merely throw him a hazy purr of, “feelin' great”, before licking a stripe along his neck once more as you start to continuously grind your—now soaked—panties against his clothed erection, earning a small sigh from him accompanied by a chuckle. “Still just as persistent, I see.”

He grabs you by your chin, dragging your face from his neck to kiss you with that same fervor as last time, yet this one wasn’t as hungry as the last, though just as sloppy as your tongue laps at his lips before ravaging his mouth in an open-mouthed kiss—lips colliding, tongues clashing with one another and occasionally grazing one anothers’ fangs, tasting the metallic taste of your blood on his tongue.

Though, yet again he’s the one to pull away, but you catch his bottom lip between your teeth, letting your noses brush up against each other gently as you let out a dejected whine accompanied by the puppy eyes you throw his way. With a quick peck to your lips once more, he coos.

“I’ve spoiled you enough, pup. Now,” His breath hitches when you grind against him once more—his eyelids fluttering closed for a moment before he catches himself. “On your knees for me.” The demand is soft—still laced with the gentleness he typically carries in his voice when he’s speaking with you—but a hint of authority is ever present.

You comply; begrudgingly getting off his lap and sliding off the bed, knees softly colliding with the carpet. Leone shifts to sit at the edge of the bed, his legs spread wide enough for your body to fit between as he moves a hand to hold your face, a tad forcefully—causing your lips to pucker a bit and your tail to wag jubilantly. He merely admires the blissed out and needy state you’re in, wordlessly.

Only releasing your face to rest his palms against the mattress, leaning back on the base of his palms and peering down at you from the angle, “be a good pup and pull my cock out for me.” Almost as if you were waiting to hear those words, you make quick work of his pants—nearly tearing them off him—and his boxers, mouth practically watering as you watch it spring free.

He was about to speak before he’s cut off by an abrupt moan at the feel of you suckling on the head before taking his entire cock down your throat, earning a breathy groan from the man above you. It does nothing but drive you crazy—paired with his musk, the way he can’t decide between grabbing hold of your head or not, and the occasional bucking into your mouth—you can’t help but be drunk on this feeling.

Your eyes flutter shut as you bob your head on his cock in a mindlessly hungry craze, tongue moving to rub at the underside of his cock as you inch toward the hilt. Leone’s abdomen twitches and jerks with each ragged breath he takes, you make his brain melt.

There’s drool dribbling down the corner of his lips in how lost in ecstasy he is. Though, it’s still not enough. He sits up, grabbing the sides of your head with each hand before fucking your throat needily, spewing incoherent swears and praises as you gag on him—tears building at your waterline.

He takes a quick break. Sliding out of your mouth slowly before slapping his cock on your lips, to which you loll out your tongue for him to slap it up against before he gently squishes your cheeks in his hand, opening his mouth to let his drool ooze out into yours.

His eyes watch hungrily as you swallow and gaze up at him expectantly. “My love,” he murmurs, uttering something in italian before groaning, “You’re so gorgeous, you know that? Such a pretty little mutt..” he drawls, smearing the mixture of precum and saliva from the corners of your lips. You can’t help but whimper and moan as you drink up his praise.

His voice velvety as he asks you to get back on the bed for him—lying to the left of him as he laid back on the bed alongside you, a leg of yours gently nudged open by his cold hand, rubbing through your soaked panties.

You can’t help the shaky moan that leaves you as he slides you underwear to the side and slips a finger in. He gently urges his fingers into you—down to the knuckle, eliciting a broken whine to escape your lips—as he slowly moves to hover over you, fingers moving agonizingly slow now. Huffs of breaths sneak between each cry in discontent. He's teasing you and by the look of his smug face, he knows it's getting to you.

The vampire lets a low, hearty chuckle leave his throat in amusement before he coos at you, "what'd I tell you about being an impatient little pup, hm?" He leans down further so that his lips ghost the beat of your pulse, opening his mouth to lick up your neck. You squirm a little feeling the tingly sensation of your orgasm growing near, panting and whining like a bitch in heat but you can't help it—feels too good. And the little love bites Leone leaves in his wake upon your neck, collarbone, and shoulder do anything but help.

Though, with one last pump of his finger, he pulls out—relishing in the dejected whimper you let out. "But I was so close..." You whine, ears drooping as you move to bury your face in the mattress. "I know, my love, but you were being impatient. So, you'll just have to wait until you learn your lesson." He sighs, getting up from his spot on the bed and heading to the bathroom, leaving you yearning once more.

Instinct

The way he turned to you was swift, and as he did, he nearly winced before he stopped you from coming closer, putting a distance between you that felt acres apart.

"Did I ask you to?" he said bitterly, the snarl in his tone possessing all of his collected exasperation and loathing.

-All of which made you pause, your reaching hand retreating as it drew back to your chest.

He'd said so many things to you before, all of which you could come back from, but for some reason that one sentence was all it took to break you down.

It made everything else he'd said fall apart.

They were daggers to your heart, and at that moment you could easily ignore the aching your side felt.

The pain that came from it being reconstructed wasn't properly registered when your very insides felt twisted.

The churning in your stomach made you feel sick, and you swallowed down your words, silently nodding, understanding.

'Of course, he hadn't...'

You thought as you shook your head, refusing to argue, because he never had.

What was there to discuss?

'He never did,' you mused, sadly.

But wasn't love selfless?

Shouldn't it be instinct for him to dive towards you too?

As you looked to him, you offered him one final glance as you tried to remember those brief moments he felt truly yours.

And you tried to remember how sweet he came back after he stung you.

You did your best, but you wondered why you should wait until then to feel loved.

'Shouldn't it be easy for you?' you added, dreading to ask.

As everyone else looked toward you, you could feel their sympathy sent your way, and you offered back an apology before you made the decision to put yourself first.

Working Together

You grumbled incoherent obscenities as you stared down at your wine glass, your lips pursed as you narrowed your sight down at the plum-colored few sips that waited for you. 

'I can't stand him...' 

"That asshole.." you finally say with a huff that drops your shoulders low before you reach for your drink and decide to finish what's left. 

But even your favorite brand tasted bitter. 

Everything felt lackluster. 

"Why do I even care about him," you say as you continue to stare down at the glass. The few drops that had clung to the glass had already sunken down to the bottom of the container, forming just the smallest amount left over. 

And you eyed the dark drink with a half-hearted glare. 

"he doesn't even respect me one bit," you say to yourself, reminding yourself of every little backhanded comment he's made since you first met, the freshest moment coming to mind and making you shiver with annoyance. 

"- I don't need her around," Abbacchio said while shaking his head.

He sounded displeased at the idea of having you join him, the mere suggestion making him frown deeply. 

Even if you couldn't see him, you could only imagine the downturn on his painted lips, and that deep V that was painted on his forehead now was also imagined clearly.

"It's never a bad idea to have some backup," Bucciarati insisted, though he said so with a somewhat sly manner, something you took as simple teasing given how often Leone refused to pair with anyone else. 

While Abbacchio was easy to annoy, only Bruno had the privilege of doing so without much retaliation, and he took advantage of it with a few light pushes here and there. 

"-Then why don't you join me instead," the long-haired man said with a short, tired sigh, "I'd rather have you there," he added, and the dark-haired male offered him a subtle smile in return.

"I'm flattered," Bruno started, "Though, If you recall, I'm going to look into that florist's request..." he trailed off, pensive over the situation. 

"So, You think there's anything to look into?" Leone says with mild uncertainty, knowing that as a grieving parent, it would be hard to accept your own child took their life.

At the end of the day, it could just be nothing but a grieving parent's sorrow operating. 

"Something tells me there is," Bruno insists, his arms crossed lazily over his chest. 

"Now back to the topic at hand, Mista and Fugo are coming with me, and Narancia has been assigned elsewhere. 

It seems that his stand is the only one that is needed, which leaves just you and (f/n)," he added.

"And I want you two, to stick together, " He said firmly.  

The plan makes Abbacchio's brows furrow, his entire expression soured, 

" Just let me go on my own," he huffs. 

He slowly closes his eyes as he shakes his head, " I'm capable enough," he says. 

"I never said you weren't," Bucciarati mentions, " I only stated that it'd be in your best interest to have someone watch your back. 

I'd suggest that to anyone on our team," he explains with a soft smile, encouraging his friend to simply comply. 

The long-haired man sighed softly as he looked down at the ground, "You're really testing me here, aren't you?" he asked with slow defeat.

"Perhaps," Bruno said simply, " But tell me; What would be the difference between having me join you, and having her tag along as a safety precaution?" Bruno asks with a raised brow, leaving the other man silent. 

A small pause falls between them before Leone clicks his teeth, his softening expression growing dark quickly. 

"I don't have to worry about you," he says irked. " I can focus on the mission and not babysitting," he starts off, and you bite your tongue to not say anything as you hide around the corner.

That, that was the issue. 

If it were anyone else, it wouldn't be so personal. 

He'd just begrudgingly agree were it anyone else, but with you, there was always a 'but,' and more often than not it was that ; 

That he doubted your capabilities.

" I'm not partnering up with a liability," he states firmly, and you have to crane your head back to stare at the ceiling to try and suck in a long breath through your nose instead of letting out a furious screech. 

fiercely, you continue to bite down on your tongue as you continue to listen. 

"Oh?" Bucciarati sounds as he stares at Abbacchio with skepticism, and he peers into the other man's eyes whilst taking a step closer, " a liability?" he repeats, and the second time the woman hears it, it stings just as much. 

It hurts to hear it from Bucciarati, even if he was just repeating the word.

 You push yourself off of the wall and decide to go back out into the dining area of the restaurant, aiming straight for your usual table to sit. 

"As if I'd go anywhere with him," you grumble as you order a glass of wine, something soothing till, eventually Bucciarati comes to you and tells you to join Abbacchio. 

All the while, Bruno continued to pester Abbacchio, chuckling too, "That can't possibly be what you wanted to say, right?" he asked the other man. 

"It's exactly what I meant, " Leone grumbled, taking a step back, aiming to leave, but lingering long enough he's stopped before he could go further. 

Bruno placed a hand on his friend's shoulder before speaking, 

"Just because you can't properly focus, doesn't mean that she's to blame."

Leone could feel his ears burn. It's seconds before his entire expression is falling, yet hidden as it is obscured by long, light-colored strands. 

"Meaning...?" he could hardly speak. 

His throat felt dry and he had to swallow hard to try and feel something travel down his throat. 

He could only spit out that single word.

"Exactly what I meant my friend," the dark-haired male mused as he sauntered away, searching for you. 

"I'll be on my way now, but before I go, I'll make sure to speak to her so she's brought to speed. -

-Be sure to brief her on the mission for me, please?" Bruno asked coyly, leaving no room for opposition. 

"Oh...and Abbacchio," he said as he turned back one last time, "Figure it out, and soon," he advised. 

[This is either in the afterlife or an alive AU, i’m not entirely sure. it’s up to you guys :) but all nightraid characters are here :P]

“waiit, Lubbock!” Y/n hiccuped, holding their cider tightly in their hand and stumbling to get onto their feet to stop their friend from doing something stupid. “You don’t have to do this, man! just- just come back and sit with meeee!” the shorter of the two whined at Lubbock.

He just chuckled at how drunk Y/n had become from all of the cider they drank. “Noo, no, I want to do this for you! I’ll make sure she plays with us, okay?” Lubbock grinned before walking out to the hall and yelling at the top of his lungs, “WE’RE PLAYING SPIN THE BOTTLE IN HERE, COME JOIN US!” and before Y/n could say anything more, the rest of Night Raid came down to join them. “Alright, let’s get this party started!” he grinned before placing the empty bottle on the ground.

Everyone seemed to be too drunk to notice him rig the bottle. Even Mine seemed to be too out of it to notice the thin wires. “Alright, who goes first?” Lubbock grinned at everyone as Sheele raised her hand, 

“I’ll go first.” She spun the bottle and it landed on Chelsea. The two women looked at each other as Chelsea smirked cockily while she crawled over to Sheele, kissing the other, then moved back to her spot.

Chelsea spun the bottle, giving Tatsumi a wink causing Mine’s jealousy to spike as she hugged him, shooting a death glare at Chelsea. However, it didn’t land on him. It landed on Bulat. The two shrugged and kissed. Bulat immediately wiping off his mouth before spinning the bottle himself.

Finally, Lubbock's plan could move to phase three. Bulat and Leone kissed, the two laughing the whole time.

Now, here’s the thing about Lubbock. While he may be perverted and a total pain in the ass sometimes, he loved his friends and would do anything for them. So when Y/n had drunkenly confessed about their feelings towards the blonde butch of the group, he suggested playing spin the bottle. Y/n didn’t realize to what lengths he would go for his best friend. Rigging the game to set the two up.

And when Leone spun the bottle, Lubbock pulled on the strings and made the bottle stop on Y/n. Without anyone noticing. Y/n’s face turned red, almost looking uncomfortable with the result. Their best friend just nudged them with a grin and a wink. Leone had already made her way over to the two, and as she sat down on Y/n’s lap, she said, “we don't have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable. I mean, I don’t wanna lose, but I don't want to force you either.” she smiled at Y/n, it was a surprisingly sweet smile.

“No.. no, it’s not that.. er.. well.. I do want to play! it’s just.. um..” Y/n couldn’t finish their sentence before grabbing their cider and taking a big clunk. Then they kissed Leone, trying to convey their feelings through the drunken kiss. And once it was over, Y/n muttered out that they liked the blonde before getting up and leaving. Their face, as hot as a furnace as Y/n retreated back to their own room.

Leone just looked stunned before smiling and getting up. “You guys continue without us~” she winked at left, following Y/n to their room.

“Hey, don't be too loud!” Lubbock said, the rest of the group blushing and giggling at what was happening.

“No promises!” Leone yelled back, vanishing in the hallway. Once she arrived at the room, Leone knocked on the door. “Can I come in?” She asked with a grin.

The door opened to reveal Y/n, blushing and confused. “Why’re you here?” they looked up at the taller woman from behind the door.

“Well, that was pretty cowardly of you. Leaving me there with the others after that confession.” She walked in with force, not waiting for Y/n to open the door more. “I couldn't let you slip away that easily.” Leone purred as she walked up to them, towering over the drunk and timid Y/n.

“What are you getting at, Leone?” Y/n asked, taking a step back. They felt somewhat uncomfortable in this situation. Not because they didn't like it. It was for the opposite reason. 

They loved Leone and wanted Leone to love them, but Y/n also had heavy self-esteem issues and didn't think they were good enough for the lioness-like woman. 

“I'm saying, I like you too.” Leone said with a toothy grin. “I want you.” She grabbed Y/n's hands, holding them in her own.

Her statement got Y/n to blush more as they swallowed hard. “You do..?” They muttered out, like it was an impossible outcome. They weren't sure if this was a dream or not.

“If you'll have me.” Leone cupped their cheek, but not before guiding a strand of hair behind their ear. Y/n couldn't believe their eyes. Leone was blushing.

It stunned them. This woman, who seemed so confident and so far out of their reach, was looking at them with such love and adoration. They could only nod as an answer. But it didn't matter how they answered, just that they did. And Leone couldn't help but be overjoyed at this.

She leaned forward, her face stopping an inch away from theirs as she looked into Y/n's eyes, searching for any kind of rejection at the action. Instead, Y/n leaned the rest of the way in, kissing the woman they had been dreaming about since they met her.

The kiss quickly became heated, the two couldn't help it. It was probably thanks to the alcohol in their systems.

What was also probably due to the alcohol was how ballsy Y/n really was at the moment. They had always seen themself as submissive. So it came to a surprise to both parties when Y/n started to take the lead.

With Leone on the bed, laying on her back and Y/n on top of her, she was gasping and whimpering every time they kissed her neck or dragged their fingers over the skin of her collarbone and chest. “You're so pretty~” Y/n murmured into her ear. “So pretty..~”

“Stop teasing me..” She pleaded, hiding her face in her hands. This was unbelievable! She had always been the more dominant one in nature. But now the roles were reversed for some reason. “Please, Y/n..” Leone whined.

Y/n couldn’t help but chuckle at this, “wow~ you’re so submissive~!” They teased. Then they kissed her collarbone, then a little further down. Then stopped, “may I?” Y/n asked, and they may have been drunk, but they weren't about to proceed without proper consent.

“Y-” Leone took a second to clear her throat before continuing. “Yes.” She blushed. She couldn't help it. She wasn't used to this much love from someone. Let alone in this scenario. And the fact that despite Y/n's clear drunkenness, they didn't force themself onto her like others had.

They wanted her to enjoy herself.

And Y/n made good on that. They were gentle with her.

When they thumbed over her nipples and left hickeys all over her, they said a lot of small praises like “You're so pretty” and “so good for me..” or “you're so brave and so strong, but I want to treat you now, pretty girl.” Praising her was so easy when they admired her so much.

They were so gentle with her. She had heard about how they liked to bite people they loved. Hell, she had been bitten a few times before as well, but here there were no teeth. And not because they didn't think she could handle it, they knew she could. But right now, it wasn't about them. It was about her. Y/n’s bites were selfish, so their biting held no place here.

Leone gasped, Y/n had taken one of her nipples in their mouth and was sucking on it, their tongue teasing the small bud. And a smile appeared on their lips against her when they felt Leone's fingers comb through their hair and hold their head in place.

The soft whimpers that Y/n heard just made them want to do more. And so, with a rough squeeze, they kissed their way over to the other side, taking her other nipple into their mouth and giving it the same treatment.

Once their focus on her chest stopped, Y/n looked up at her face again. “Lower..?” Their voice was barely audible. And all Leone could do was nod and hum in silent plea.

Y/n moved off of the bed, and proceeded to clumsily yet somehow skillfully remove her pants. A small gasp was heard and Leone suddenly felt self-conscious. Was she not pretty? Did it not look right? Did they change their mind after seeing something they didn't like?

Instead, she heard “You're so beautiful..”

And almost immediately, Y/n fell to their knees and rested their hands on her knees. “I want..” they started, their mind seemingly drifting away under the influence of alcohol. “I want to taste you. Can I?”

Why did they kind of sound excited when they asked that? Like she was their treat? It didn't matter, since it still made her feel special, fuzzy inside. Though, that could have been the alcohol.

“Please..” She gasped. She couldn't not be honest about it. She wanted them to eat her out. And that was special. None of the others she had been with treated her this well or did this for her and not out of selfishness. Hell, if she wanted any real pleasure, she would always have to take control. But it was nice to be pampered like this. It's why she was more dominant often. But with Y/n, their focus was solely on pleasuring her. “I want you..”

Y/n’s face burned as they looked up at her with a wide eyed awe. It made her giggle. And they smiled at her at the noise. Then they peppered kisses from her knees, up her thighs and- they completely hopped over her core, where she needed them most. Instead they kissed down her other thigh.

“Y- Y/n.. please..” Leone begged, her voice weak. And it just made the smaller of the two giggle.

“So needy~” they bit down on her inner thigh, making her yelp with surprise.

“Y/n!!”

The person in question could only chuckle as they placed their cheek against Leone's thigh. She was so pretty from this angle. 

Feeling as though they've done enough teasing, Y/n finally gave her what she wanted. They moved their head in, resting snuggly between her thighs as their lips found their way around her clit.

The sudden contact made Leone startle, shuddering under Y/n with a gasp. And Leone could tell that Y/n had never done this before because, this wasn’t that great. It wasn't even good. But she still felt amazing. She was drunk and honestly drunk sex is the best sex in her opinion, because it doesn't need to be that good for her to still feel amazing. That was until-

“FUCK-! Y/n- Y/n, baby, careful...” Leone gripped Y/n’s hair and tried to yank them away after they bit her. “no-.. no biting.. please..”

"Sor-sorry! you just.. I just-.. I'm sorry..” They apologised. It sounded like they wanted to say something else, but..

“What is it?” Leone asked, her voice caring as she sat up on the bed. And Y/n shook their head.

“Nothing, Leone, you just taste like candy.. I kind of forgot what was happening..” Y/n blushed with a giggle.

And Leone couldn’t help but burst into a fit of laughter. Y/n, the sweet little cinnamon roll, had thought of Leone as candy and actually started trying to eat her. Maybe drunk sex with this dork wasn’t the best idea.

_____________________

A sweetheart

The day has gone by normally, which didn’t bother you too much. 

Most of the gang was all gathered at Libeccio, the reserved table you sat in attended to with the utmost dedication as a form of gratitude offered by the owner, moreso to Bucciarati himself than anyone else.

Everyone is there, all aside from your leader who had informed you he had to take care of a matter before you left for your upcoming assignment. 

So you had time to sit down and enjoy the moment with your friends.

Narancia and Fugo are huddled close, going over a new handwritten assignment the blonde had taken the time to create.

 Mista sits to one of your sides. 

He occasionally listens, a bored look to his face as he calmly eats his favorite dish, though finding it lacking since it’s the same thing he orders every time he goes.

Abbacchio sits to your other side, his cheek pressed against his knuckles as he enjoys the personal concerto his headphones provide. 

- Nothing interesting happens until a pencil snaps.

It’s all tranquil until Fugo erupts, his voice obnoxiously loud as he glares down at Narancia who challenges him back, making you grimace. 

You can feel a cold sweat of embarrassment coat you, and you just hope no one has to come back and remind you that this is a respected establishment and not some dingy back ally.

The two men on your either side each have their own reactions. 

Reluctantly, Leone pulls the left side of his headphones back, listening while Mista seems just a bit more enthusiastic. 

After all, he’s getting dinner and a show, and he seems grateful for the entertainment.

“Dibs on Fugo,” Guido says quickly, nearly stumbling over his words, making Leone grumble, “ I guess I’ll take Narancia,” He says, having no other option.

“What are you betting on this time,” you tiredly ask, your expression lightly soured. 

Mista keeps his eyes on the two across while he speaks, “ We’re betting on who’s gonna lose their cool first and swing,” he says. 

“You’re kidding right?” you ask with wonder. “ Once Fugo snaps, he’s defiantly striking first,” you say, looking at Abbacchio. 

“- And you think Narancia is the one to go with?” you say with a raised brow, making Leone huff. 

“Only other option was taken,” he says annoyed. 

Meanwhile, the other two continue to bicker.  

Fugo stands first, looking down at Narancia with a violent gaze that unexpectantly melts. 

As quickly as it heated, it suddenly turned cold, just as his voice, 

“I don’t even know why I bother with you,” he then said, surprising everyone with how collected he seems. 

“-You Idiot,” he huffs “You’re a lost cause-” and Narancia has nothing to say. 

Instead, he stays quiet, looking up at Fugo with wide eyes that soon dash away, which is yet another surprise to all of you.

“Whatever...” he says back, not knowing anything else better to say.

The blonde then shakes his head, stalking away and leaving the room filled with a thick tension that felt suffocating.

“That was new....” Mista said while releasing a low whistle, scratching his cheek.

.

.

.

"What a fucking idiot," Leone grumbled, the insult making Narancia's shoulders sink, the snapped pencil in his hand held tightly after he took hold of it again, and as you suspected he was left sensitive over the argument.

It takes a lot to quiet him down, that’s for sure, and when he did it was serious.

"Abbacchio," you started, disappointment in your tone as you eyed him. 

You were ready to stand and go to Narancia to comfort him when Leone stood from his seat instead, his hands in his pockets as he released a low, tired sigh that made it seem like it took everything out of him to rise.

As he came to Narancia's side he spoke, " Not him, I mean Fugo." he clarified, surprising both Narancia and you. 

"Of course, he knows what he's doing," There was no question about it. 

"He's a genius...so The way he's explaining it to you makes sense to him, but not you right?" The long-haired male asked as he loomed over Narancia.

At that, Narancia nodded, "yeah..I swear Abbacchio, I'm really trying this time," he says while craning his head back to look at the other male.

 Granted he messed around, but not then.

He’d managed to learn his multiplication tables, and had advanced quite a bit, moving on to a bit of the harder parts where new formulas were involved.

"But I don't think Fugo believes that," he added, dejected.

"Well, That's what happens when you fuck around so much," Leone responded his words tarty, understanding how the other man could get so frustrated.

"Still..." he then added because he didn’t entirely with the way fugo chose to express it.

"Make sure to take notes this time, And if you're lost ask because I'm only giving you this one chance," he warned as he started, his finger skimming over the first question. 

His voice was firm, clear, yet somehow... soft as he verbalized a walkthrough of the steps needed.

You listened as Abbacchio went through the material with Narancia, and if you were being honest, there was something endearing about it.  

- maybe even sexy.

'he's a good tutor...' you mused, your eyes drawn to him, the entire time forgetting about your food.

You were stuck in a trance, one that broke once you heard Narancia's elated voice break through the tranquil atmosphere. 

"No way!" he said as he looked down at his answer, his eye shining as he saw Abbacchio's pleased smile. 

"it makes sense!" he cheered.

"You did good," Leone then praised before he decided to move back, "If you get lost just look back at your notes," he recommended as he traveled back to his former seat beside you.

He brushes shoulders with Mista as the dark haired male stands before the dessert cart, eyeing it with a pout as he considers what would be a good dessert.

- He’d lost interest the second he heard math.

Throughout the move, you couldn't help but stare, perhaps too intensely.

‘Big meanie did something nice...’ you inwardly mused with a tiny, suppressed giggle.

"And just What are you laughing at?" Abbacchio grumbles while he takes his seat again, his stare narrowed as he challenges your gaze. 

It doesn't scare you in any way as the hint of bitterness is so obviously a mask to hide how flustered he is.

"Me?" you huff, trying not to smile any harder, especially as out of the corner of your eye you see Narancia continue to look down at the sheet before him, scribbling down his new answers.  

A triumphant look is worn in place of his usual, pensive one that more often than not morphs into exasperation.

At the sight, warmth fills your chest and it’s a wonderful feeling.

"-Nothing," you finally say while  the spongy sweet before you is delicately picked at with consideration to what will be your first bite. 

"nothing at all," you add as you finally find the right start, slowly dipping your fork into your little dessert. 

"I just thought it was cute..." you casually admitted while continuing to look down at your treat, missing the immediate flourish of color that filled his face. 

Before he can find something to say fugo returns, his expression softened from the previous agitated one he'd sported, "Hey....Narancia," he softly murmured as he walked in. 

He seemed sheepish, moreso regretful and you supposed a 40 minute break would do that to anyone.

"About what I said..." he added, "I'm...sorry," he said while taking a seat next to the older male. 

"I didn't mean it ; you actually have a lot of potential." he complimented, taking back his earlier comment. 

“especially for someone with such a limited amount of education... In fact, I have to admit you've improved in every other subject. " he insisted, and the praise had the dark-haired boy's entire demeanor perk.

“ It says a lot that we’re working on this now,” he further adds. 

"Y-You mean it Fugo?" Narancia asked, his voice touched with excitement that someone as smart as Pannacotta had praised his intellect - something that had never happened before. 

There was a reason why he hadn't been too concerned about dropping out of school in the first place. Amongst many other things, it frustrated him when he didn't understand much, and he had no trouble letting go of that headache.

"Of course I do, That's why I get so annoyed," the blonde spoke, "I know you can do it, and it seems like we’re both falling short of our capabilities,” he expressed. 

“ I'm just sorry it gets the best out of me," he said before looking down at the sheet Narancia had been working on. 

"Anyways, lets ke-" his words fell short as he picked up the practice work, then the notebook on its side where new notes had been added. 

New handwriting decorates the page, and it catches his eye. 

His violet eyes brightened as he skimmed over the pages, and even as they were directed back to his friend, "Narancia, you did this?" he said with an obvious swell of awe as he finds himself going over each new answer.

"I sure did," the teen said with a sure nod, briefly turning back to the eldest male that sat with them, " Abbacchio helped me with it. He broke it down for me just a bit more," he elaborated. 

“He gave me different examples too,”

"You're kidding..." Fugo breathed as he looked at Leone, his face melting into true gratefulness. 

" I didn't know mathematics was a strong suit for you," he said, amazed at the notes that showed a full comprehension. It was one thing to get the answers right, it was another to show such detailed work in more ways than one.

- enough to dumb it down so much.

 Abbacchio softly sighed, "- I was top of my class too..." he revealed.

It's not like he expected anyone to know since he's never mentioned it, but even then he always assumed everyone else would catch on that he wasn't just some  idiot.

 "An overachiever," he added with a bit of embarrassment, not mentioning how much of a dork he really had been.

"And every now and then I had to tutor some idiot after class," he recalled.  

"so...You could've been a teacher, or had gotten some other lame job, " Narancia pointed out, "- like at some boring bank," he snickered,  making Abbacchio chuckle. 

The number of times his mother had tried to talk him into working in finances had, had him weary.

"I could have..." Leone started, "But I wanted to do something else with my life," he admitted while looking down at nothing. 

"I thought I..." he couldn't finish, his lips pursing as he thought about how he'd messed up. 

He shook his head of the incoming thoughts before he leaned back on his seat, "Anyways, don't get used to it," he said while glaring at the two other males, his tone changing in just a second.

"I'm not here to babysit anyone, or hold anyone's hand," he grumbled, his tarty words flying over Fugo and Narancia's heads as they simply grinned, realizing that no matter what he said, at the end of the day, he'd helped out. 

"so you got the hang of it?" Pannacotta then asked Nararancia. 

"Yeah, yeah," he responded, waving him off and continuing with what was left of the worksheet.

Meanwhile, you stand, making your way toward the dessert cart. Instantly, you eye the vibrant red that sits over a coat of creamy frosting.

'perfect,' you think as you reach for it, beating Mista as he finally decides what to get. 

"Hey!" his complaint is ignored as you make your way over to your seat, but not without a stop.

As Abbacchio continues to listen to his music again, he has his eyes closed, drowning in the sound before he feels a tap on his shoulder. To accompany it is a familiar scent of perfume that gently tickles his nose, and instantly perks his chin up. 

A warm body brushes him, and without any other indication, he knows the presence, reacting to it with the most subtle hint of warmth. 

 Upon opening his eyes, he's greeted with the sight of a dessert being served, and as he turns slightly he sees you reaching over him from behind.

As you begin to retreat, he sees your smile and much more the darling twinkle in your eye that has him in awe.

The question in his gaze is too easy to read, and to give him some ease you linger close, your voice both coy and secretive, 

"That's for being a sweetheart," you say as you decide to pull back, walking passed your seat with the intention of leaving.

Perhaps you wouldn't have had the boldness if you weren't sure you were moments from leaving, already having someone waiting for you. 

You had noticed the new arrival just a minute before, letting you know it was time to go.

Bucciaratti stands at the doorway with his arms crossed, leaning against the arch, looking over with amusement as he watches your interaction with the other man. 

And while to everyone else at the table, you seemed to saunter away with all of the confidence of the world, Bruno could see the absolute fluster that consumed you, making him turn away with a little snicker. 

You seem almost dazed as you reach him, and he softly tuts.

 " I see you’re enjoying yourself," he comments, giving you space to walk out first, choosing the gentlemanly route of following behind. 

"Enjoying what," you say while battling a smile, trying to look cool and unaffected. 

"Teasing him so much," the dark-haired male says with a huff, briefly looking back to find Leone being shaken by mista as he takes the man's shoulders in his hands, moving him back and forth with an animated way of speaking. 

- and while Bruno can't really hear what he's saying, he just knows he's praising him. 

It all happens as Fugo and Narancia laugh, pointing at the elder male's face that blooms red.

You just know that the others are messing with him, and A flash of guilt hits you before it morphs into delight. 

"you don't know all of the things he does to me," you say while shaking your head. 

Abbacchio plays with subtle cruelty like he enjoys watching your stomach knot and your mouth dry in response to him. 

- Just recalling makes you feel less guilty.

,

,

Leone's face is practically glowing, the smile that stretches over his face unbelievably exaggerated as he continues to come closer. He's so distracted he doesn't notice that Bruno is on the opposite end of the hallway, forced to come to a halt before they bump into each other. 

"Well this is a surprise," Bruno mutters with a raised brow. " you're in a good mood," he teases while taking a step back to admire his friend's jovial mood. 

"If I'd have to guess, I'd say it has something to do with the message I just received," he remarks, going as far as to bring it out of his pocket. 

"Bucciarati, he's such a jerk," he reads your message out loud, briefly bringing his eyes back up to the man who continues to smile. 

"You,  I assume," he said with certainty, and it makes Leone smirk. 

"What can I say," he proceeds to say, the way his entire face is glowing proof that whatever just happened between the two of you had left the man with plenty to think of.

"- She looks so damn cute sometimes..." Abbacchio mutters moreso to himself, as though it's all the justification he needs.

Bruno can’t help but let his shoulders fall with a touch of disappointment. 

It’s not that he didn’t approve of their relationship, but he did find it a tad frustrating that the two chose to keep playing such mindless games with each other rather than just mature and admit their feelings.

"I think I have an idea, " Bruno replied, not feeling so bad for the other man after all,  considering all the times he’s gotten the best out of you. 

“Anyways...” he starts, moving forward and explaining to you your destination.

Kisses From Leone

Just one press alone feels decedent, and the longer his lips continue to melt over yours, the more intoxicated you become, your mind lost when his tongue teases yours.

Leone has a specific taste that just makes you feel like you're steadily getting drunk by the kisses, slowly subdued until you're melted into putty.

You joke that it's because of all the wine he drinks, more particularly his favorite red, aged one.

 You play around and claim that his tongue is so saturated with it that when it dances with yours, it's like you're drowning the vino down yourself.

-  And he smirks because he only hears that you're addicted to him and that you're weak for him.

You feel weightless, almost like you'd float up into the air if it weren't for the strong arms that wrap around your waist and pull you in so desperately tight that in your delirium, you are convinced he thinks the same.

Leone, distant to the world and cold to others, never denies you. 

He doesn't have the heart to resist holding back, even in his anger and frustration. 

Instead, In his irritation he's much more passionate, perhaps less inclined to treat you with the same tenderness he does on a regular basis, and certainly more willing to let his frustrations out on you. 

The hands that normally hold your cheeks when he smoothers you into a sweet kiss, find home elsewhere. One is placed behind your head to steady you as the other makes way to your neck, holding it with a little squeeze that's just a bit too rough and thins out the amount of air your lungs can enjoy.

 During then you always expect more bites and nibbles, the way he scrapes his teeth over your skin before he clamps down, forcing shivers from you that are full of excitement and anticipation.

It makes your knees wobble the way he holds you still, his eyes darkened as he glares down at you and offers you silence.

He needs no words as his actions speak for themselves.

Throughout, he holds on dearly.

He pretends as though it's always the last kiss he'd be able to give you, and that it has to hold all of his love and affection.

His long, periwinkle strands hold the faintest hint of evergreen woodsy aroma, and his skin is also marked by the same smell, and it cocoons you as he strongly embraces you. 

Even if you were at fault, he's the one to crack.

And if you ask him why he holds you so tightly, he'd answer truthfully.

 He'd hold the softest dusk of pink on his cheeks and he'd murmur to you that he loves you. 

One night after a steamy session, you notice Leone is closed off and withdrawn....more than usual. Leone has grown accustomed to holding you as he slept. Sometimes he refused to let you go. Even in his sleep, he always held you close to his chest; his heart. He'd come a long way. In the beginning, he'd fuck you roughly and leave. Oh how times had changed. He went from leaving abruptly, still covered in sweat to lingering and taking showers in your bathroom. You'd been surprised the first time he spent the night. He was changing. He was falling in love with you. He'd only admit it months later in a voice that is nothing more than a whisper while you are under him. He now has clothes at your place, his own drawer, and his own mug that you resigned for him and only him. Seeing him this withdrawn now....it's unlike him. Leone is laid on his side with his back to you.

"I'm leaving in the morning," you hear him say, his voice barely that of a whisper.

You were no stranger to Abbacchio leaving for days on end to complete some sort of task that often left his clothes covered in filth and blood.

"When are you coming back?" you ask, throwing an arm around him to spoon him.

"I'm not."

You felt him wince against you. What did he mean he wasn't coming back? He always comes back. Leone Abbacchio always comes back.

"You're not coming back?" you parrot, feeling a lump forming in your throat.

"No. I'm not. You should find a new apartment. Find...someone else that'll love you." the way you deserve.

Leone doesn't say that last part.

Your voice is hurt when you ask, "You don't love me?"

He doesn't answer you. Oh, how he hated to see you upset. He couldn't do this any longer. He loved you. He could admit that to himself, but he couldn't stay with you. He'd told you what he does and how he makes his living. He's told you that there are things that he'd rather not tell you about the nature of his job...for your safety. He never openly spoke about you to keep you safe. The only person that knew what you meant to him was Bruno Bucciarati. So when a photo of you was pinned to Abbacchio's front door with a knife through your face, he knew that you were no longer safe. He couldn't tell you that. You'd suggest running away together or you'd tell him that you weren't afraid and could protect yourself. He knew you wouldn't be scared, but he was. He was scared of losing you. He didn't want to be the reason that another young life ended tragically. He wouldn't be able to stomach it. Breaking your heart was much easier than burying you.

Abbacchio got out of your bed and hung his head low with his back turned to you.

"Take it back," he heard you say through clenched jaw.

You were crying. He was hurting you. The worst part is that he couldn't even look at you. He'd crumble if he did. He'd jump back into your arms and beg for forgiveness. He'd hold you tighter than he's ever held you before and ask to runaway together. He couldn't do that. He had to be strong and let you go.

"I can't," is all he says.

With that, you're stunned. How could he say that? He couldn't mean it.

"Tell me you don't love me and I'll let you leave. You never have to come back here again."

He's silent as if contemplating whether or not he should continue on. You can see all the muscles in his back tense and relax as if he's at war with himself.

Your voice is thrumming with anger as you command again, "Tell me you don't love me and I'll let you leave."

He hears you kneeling on the bed and moving closer to him. He knows you want him to look you in the eye, even if you have to force him to. He quickly gathers his courage, sucking up any tears that were about to make their way to the surface.

"I don't love you anymore!" He screams in your face much, much louder than he intended.

All the anger drains from you. He can't make out your new expression, but he can't stick around to find out. He quickly grabs his clothes that were strewn across the floor and makes his way to the front door as he quickly dresses. He expects you to trail him. No, he wants you trail him; to stop him from making what is about to become the second biggest mistake of his life. He listens for your footsteps, but he can only hear your sobbing coming from the bedroom. With that, he leaves. When you get home from work the next day, all of Abbacchio's things are gone. Abbacchio wiped the house clean of his existence. He's even taken his toothbrush and mug. That is the last time you see Leone Abbacchio.

Abbachio stands in front of the house of the address scribbled on the back of a restaurant receipt. It feels odd. It's well into the night, but this house is the only one not illuminated from the inside. The windows are dark and the shades are drawn. He makes his way forward, his heart pounding in his ears. His hand shakes as he reaches for the knob; the unknown waiting for him on the other side. How could he still be so terrified when the worst has already happened? His fingers land on the knob and the images of a family flash through his mind. He sees you on the other side of the door, happy to see him after he's been gone a while. He sees you trying your hand at blueberry pancakes again, powder smeared all over your cheeks. You never did get the hang of those pancakes, but you did try. For a second, Abbacchio smiles at the thought before his heart begins to ache at the reality of the situation. He could never have that. He was too late. Abbachio opens the door to the small home, the door having never been locked. The inside is just as dark as it looked from the outside. The home is nicely decorated, art pieces and now wilting plants decorating the halls. He walks through the house almost as if he's amazed at how you've decorated. This is what he would've come back to. This should've been his home...with you. Abbacchio stops dead in his tracks as he wonders the house. He smells it before he sees it; he smell of iron and decay. All the furniture in the living room is pushed out of the way and into a semi-circle as if to make room. In the center of that circle was a large brown stain that seeped into the wood flooring. The brown stain was much darker in color than the rest of the wood. It was the color of rust, the color of blood that had dried. Abbacchio could recognize it. He's seen this kind of stain many times before. This is where it happened. This is where you died. This is where they killed you. This is where they tortured you for information. Information about him. Abbacchio began to sweat, the anxiety slowly building in his chest beginning to overcome his desire to breathe. There was a heaviness in his chest that he knew would remain even after leaving this place.

"Moody Blues, begin replay," he called as he summoned his stand.

Moody Blues stood in the center of the dried bloodstain.

"Go back to one week from today."

He watches as the stand morphs into you in a seated position. That must've been where your couch initially was.

"Play."

You're humming to yourself as you write on a notepad. He looks over to see that you're making a grocery list. You're just as beautiful as before. He notices you've cut your hair. It frames your face so well. His eyes drift to your left hand, no sign of a wedding ring. It only makes him more upset. Why didn't you find some poor sap to settle down with? He clicks his tongue.

"Moody Blues, fast forward one day."

Abbacchio feels his heart sink into his chest at the sight of you just 24 hours later. You were on your knees on the wood floor, battered and bruised. Your right eye was swollen shut, lip split open, and blood dripping down from the crown of your head. You were looking up at someone.

"Play," he says with a dry mouth.

"I don't know where he is. I haven't seen or heard from him in four years! I'll give you anything you want, just please let my son go!" He heard you beg through split lip.

Son? You had a son? When had you had a child? The possibility of the child being his began to make him nauseous. Could it be? You shriek as you're kicked in the stomach and double over in pain. Abbacchio flinched. He could hardly watch the scene unfolding in front of him. Abbacchio had no problem beating up other mafiosi. He could do it without blinking an eye. This was different. This was you. You were innocent and so was your child. You were being beaten and tortured because of him. You died because of him. He didn't protect you. You probably died despising him for the harm that came to you and your son. All because of him. Abbacchio felt useless. He hated himself. Your death was on his hands. The kid. He had no idea what would become of the kid without his mother.

"Mama!" A small voice cried, breaking Abbachio's train of thought.

Small hands were on you in a matter of seconds as you coughed and wheezed. You knelt back up to hug the young boy as he cried into your shirt.

Abbacchio felt sick. His questions were being answered. He sized the boy and his heart raced. The resemblance was uncanny. The boy shared the same hair color and eye color...as him. This was his son. Abbacchio watched as you tried to shush the young boy and get him to stop crying. He felt dizzy. He was watching you hold his son while you were being interrogated by mofiosi.

"It's alright, Leone. Mama is going to be alright," he heard you whisper to the boy.

That's it. That's all that Abbacchio could stand to see. He was going to throw up. His family was suffering for his mistakes. His family. You'd had his son. You even named the little boy after him. He'd missed out on raising your son together because he was selfish. Four years ago, he'd erased every trace of himself. Even if you did try to find him, it was impossible. Every avenue was a dead lead. At the time, he thought it was better that way. You would move on. Instead, he'd impeded his only chance at happiness. Where was his son now? He had to find him.

He didn't stop the replay in time. Not before hearing a single gunshot. The sound rang through his ears, his eyes widening at the scene unfolding. The room had grown quiet. He heard no more sniffling or shushing, only the sound of a shell casing hitting the ground. Your arms still clutched the young boy as he laid on top of you on the ground. His eyes were shut but yours were wide open, staring right at Abbacchio. He'd watched the color drain right out of your eyes as your blood mixed with your son's, spreading in a pool on the living room floor.