#mistaman

devo levarmi il maglione che fa caldo, e mi sbaglio

fluff !! :)

Polpo was dead. He had apparently committed suicide in his jail cell and everyone on Bucciarati's team was bewildered except for you. You hated his voice, his big nose and his ugly personality. The thought of him dead made it slightly easier to sleep at night, especially now that you knew he could never speak to you again.

      Yeah, you had some bad experiences with him. His interrogation of you made you uncomfortable, and you swore that if glass hadn't separated the two of you he would have touched you. You shuddered, ridding your head of the thought.

     Dinnertime arrived promptly at 5:37 PM when Fugo hollered throughout the hideout that dinner was done, come eat. You slipped some wooly socks on and grabbed your phone, then left your bedroom and headed to the dining area. 

     Narancia was already there, drooling all over himself with an eager look in his eyes. "Ahh~~ Fugo fixed steak! I'm so hungry I could eat it all..." Narancia stared dreamingly at the meat, and on a whim, attempted to steal a piece. Fugo saw this and thrust a knife into Narancia's hand, causing him to growl and curse at Fugo.

     A giggle escaped your lips. Abbacchio was now sitting on the far end, keeping to himself and sipping on wine. Bruno had just made his way down the stairs, a blank expression on his face. He walked over to Narancia and zipped his wound better, telling Fugo to heal him right now. He sat at the head of the table with his hands crossed, supporting his chin from his elbows. Giorno arrived seconds after, sitting between you and Bruno. The only person left was Mista.

     A few minutes passed, and Bruno was growing upset (though you could only tell from his light fidgeting). You stood up and nodded, turning your torso to face him. "I'll go drag Mista's ass down here, sir." He replied with a thankful nod, and you proceeded to climb the stairs with a gentle huff.

     Mista's room was the third door on the right; when you approached it, you banged your fist on the door and yelled. "Mista! Get your ass down there, we're all starving 'cause of you!" You folded your arms and pouted, listening for any sign of movement. You heard some rustling and indescribable sounds. He didn't respond though.

     "Alright, Mista, you have til the count of five and I'm BURSTING in there to whoop your ass! One." No response. "Two." The rustling continued. "Three." He was walking, or... jumping? "Four." His voice finally came through, right before you said the word five. 

     "Don't come in!" He pleaded, sounding a bit worried. You rolled your eyes and grabbed the door knob with the sort of sassiness you can only get from being hungry.

     Mista was frozen in place, eyes wide, as you stood there staring at him from the threshold of his room. He was pulling his clothes on, completely naked except for the pair of boxers he managed to slip on. His fingers were holding onto his red, tiger-print pants at the knees, and it almost looked like he was stripping down. You felt your face warm up a bit, but you covered your flattery with annoyance.

     "Why the hell would you take a shower before dinner?" You asked, folding your arms and walking over to hand him his shirt and cap. He shrugged and pulled his pants on the rest of the way, a little upset that there wasn't more of a reaction from you.

     Now that he was ready, you grabbed onto his forearm and practically dragged him down the hall. Number Five was sitting on top of your right shoulder, a tear in its tiny left eye. "(Y/N)~~~!!! We're so happy you caaaaammmee!!! Mista is starving us, and Number One is being mean again!" You cooed and ushered Number Five into the palm of your hand with a tiny smile.

     "Aw, Number Five, I'm sorry. You can sit with me! I'll share my steak with you, okay?" You gently stroked its head with your index finger, watching as Number Five wiped its tears away and purred at your touch. The other Sex Pistols were throwing a fit, but you didn't care; you always had a soft spot for Number Five. 

     As you descended the stairs, you released your grip on Mista's arm and ran down, stomach growling loudly. Fugo had returned with Narancia, who had a bandage wrapped in his hand. You sat left of Bruno, as your spot was taken by Fugo. You didn't mind, though. It was just a seat, after all. Narancia was on your right, foaming at the mouth and kicking the air as he stared at the food in front of him. Mista finally sat down, right beside Fugo, initiating dinner to begin.

     As everyone loaded their plates, Bruno stood up to perform the dinner ritual. Everyone paused once they filled their plate with food, and he nodded. "Thank you. Today, we received word that Polpo has committed suicide in his cell. That, however, is not the case. I do not encourage you to look into it further; just know that from today on, our tasks are going to get a bit rougher." He sat down and spread his arms, signalling everyone to chow down.

     As promised, you cut your steak and offered the smaller pieces to Number Five, who seemed to be happier than it had ever been in its life. You giggled, happy to bring joy to something so adorable. From the corner of your eye, you saw Mista staring at you as you placed some noodles in your mouth. You pretended not to see and continued eating.

     Narancia was the first done, despite getting seconds. Mista was second, partially because of his Sex Pistols eating his food with him. Everyone else was done around the same time, but the only person who had anything left on their plate was you. You frowned, upset that you couldn't eat the rest. You offered it to Mista, and he gladly obliged, quietly eating again as Bruno stood to discuss more mafia matters.

     "As you may or may not know, Giorno is the newest member of our . . . family. Please treat him with respect." Bruno eyed Abbacchio for a moment, and continued. "Giorno was the last person to see Polpo alive, and I'm sure he is devastated that he was the last person to chat with him." Something in Bruno's voice said he was lying, but you felt an odd rush of guilt at the thought. Bruno rambled on some more, and finally, everyone was dismissed. All that remained were you and Mista.

     He cleared his throat, and you played with your drink a little before standing up. He stood up too, eyeing you closely. "Wait." You froze in your tracks, watching as he walked around the table to study you. "You saw me half-naked, and didn't get flattered. That must have been difficult . . . Unless you've seen me fully naked before." You raised an eyebrow, confused as to what he was rambling about. 

     "Mista, shut up. Maybe I didn't like what I saw." You folded your arms and sauntered to the staircase, phone in hand. He grabbed your shoulder and turned you to face him, drawing you in inches from his face. Your face turned crimson in response, and he laughed heartily after pulling away. "Oh fuck off," you mumbled, stomping up the stairs.

     "You'd like to see that, wouldn't you?" Mista asked, smirking and raising an eyebrow as your figure disappeared into your room.

     You slammed the door behind you and sighed heavily. You weren't in the mood to argue right now. You walked over to your bed and flopped down, laying on your stomach. Mista was just delusional, that was all. You didn't like him, right? You wouldn't wanna see him naked... 

     The very thought made your face hot, and you punched your pillow and brung it to your face. You shook your head, trying to get the thought out of your head. 

     Minutes later, you heard a knock on your door. You sighed and sat up. "It's open." The door slowly opened, and you saw Mista's figure enter your room. He shut it behind him and peered into your tired eyes with a confusing stare.  

     "Hey, um... I'm sorry." His hand was resting on his neck, and his eyes trailed to the floor. You sighed.

      "Uh-huh. Who told you to apologize?" You asked, raising an eyebrow and folding your arms. He sheepishly replied that Fugo heard everything and said he wasn't being a gentleman and needed to apologize. You smiled lightly and thanked Fugo in your mind. You scooted to your right and pat the spot beside you, offering him a seat on your bed. He obliged, and you two were inches apart again. You could feel his warmth on your arm.

     "So, um, about Polpo... Why did you hate him so much?" Mista asked, finally meeting your eyes again. You shivered and bit your lip. His eyes widened, and he apologized immediately. "I'm sorry! I didn't know what the circumstances were ... I didn't much like him either to be honest."

     You sat there quietly, taking a deep breath before explaining. "He made comments about my body. He told me a model like me shouldn't be in the mafia, unless I was his... sexy maid. I... I laughed of course, but it... Got to me. He made a lot of sexual gestures and innuendos and it just messed with my head."

     Mista nodded and grabbed onto your hand. "Hey, don't worry. I would never have let him lay a finger on you... You're too important to m- to the mafia. To us." You smiled in response and squeezed his hand. 

     "Thanks Mista." You sighed and laid on your bed, throwing your arms over your head and breathing deeply. Tomorrow, everyone would head out to get Polpo's hidden fortune. You weren't scared, only sad that you probably wouldn't get to go. Mista saw your mood drop, and laid beside you, holding you close.

Sai che se ci avviciniamo è più lontano ciò che ci spaventa

Baciami piano finché il ticchettio del tempo non si disinnesca

E l'eternità non ci attraversa

Siamo te ed io, l'acqua calma e il vento che le parla finché nasce la tempesta

Non ci resta che un momento per attraversarla

E il tuo corpo è il porto dove approdo e dormo fino all'alba

Sogno un'altra vita, più pulita, in cui incontrarti da zero

Corteggiarti davvero

So che è tardi ma spero di rifarmi, e credo che solo te

Puoi salvarmi da me e dal mio cuore nero

Tutto si muove veloce più del pensiero

E l'azione copre la voce nel dirti che son sincero

Stanotte no, non saremo lontani, ma lo saremo domani

Sei come il Sole nel cielo: so che ci sei.

Vi parlo col cuore

ho importato della ganja perché tanto qui è legale