#leon needs to bask on a rock in the sun

[citrine-elephant]

headcanon/fanon: temperature preferences

[cakelitter]

Strawberry Scented

Older! Leon x Bunny! Reader

warnings: somnophilia, p in v, fingering, oral, pet names, praise

summary: You remain still, blissful as ever. Your dreams must be nice, hopping in meadows and basking in the sun; or is that too stereotypical of him? Wonder if you dream about him, does your mind replay the sweet and innocent time you spent together? Or do you get dirty dreams about him like he does?

words: 1.8k

a/n: uni is literally taking up all of my time, but i'm glad that i get to finally post. so sorry for the inactivity, hope you enjoy!!

His pretty bunny.

Your chest rising and falling, mellow breaths, the only thing that can be heard when he steps into his room. Always so clingy, following him like his shadow whenever he’s home, wrapping your arms around his as he takes care of the chores around the house. Snuggling up on his lap whenever he sits on the couch.

And when he’s away, you curl into a ball on his bed. Your fingers loosely gripping the sheets the way you grip his shirt while laying on his chest. Bunny hybrids can’t talk, your self-expression confined to either drooping or perking those fluffy ears of yours. However, he understands you pretty well, droopy means no, perky means yes, nose twitch is a maybe, and a tail twitch means “you’re getting on my nerves”.

While there is no way for you to verbally express how much you miss whenever he’s not around; your actions tell him all that he needs to know.

Funny how the universe just dropped you off at his doorstep, no like literally. Walking out of his house, fifteen minutes late is a regular occurrence for him, but tripping and almost breaking his fucking face on the pavement isn’t. Leon is not clumsy; can’t afford to be, a single slip up on a mission and he’s not making it back home.

However, he had his fair share of tripping over a things. A curb, a rock, his own damn foot, but tripping over a bunny hybrid is definitely a first.

You were curled up on his door mat (one which is certainly uncomfortable) lifting your sleepy head to give him the nastiest stare for disturbing you before going back to sleep like nothing happened. That stare was so nasty, he almost apologized for stepping out of his own house. Judging by that, he’s most probably not your first victim.

He didn’t shoo you away, didn’t have the heart to. Got a soft spot for animals, especially homeless ones. And while you’re a good seventy percent human, somehow that principle still applies.

And so, you took this as an invitation to sleep there every night. It didn’t bother him, actually left a blanket and other things out for you. Day by day, he started getting attached. You became part of his routine, and it seemed like you enjoyed his company too.

Two weeks later, he decided to let you live with him. Watching you cautiously walk into his house, double checking for approval with every step you take; scared he might yell at you for existing on his property like others would.

Leon never classified himself as a good care taker, can’t even take care of himself. On one hand, he was scared his shitty work schedule would lead him to neglecting your needs. But on the other, letting you sleep out in the open in a world that views you as a freak of nature surely isn’t the best; plus, the idea of you finding a better place to rest than here, leaving him alone the way most people did would feel like a stab to the heart.

And so, he decided to give it a chance.

The fear of neglecting you dissipated the minute you gave him a hug of gratitude; the first unspoken word of yours was a “thank you.” You became all he could think about, missing your warmth on missions and getting work done as fast as possible because he knows how lonely you must feel.

He goes above and beyond when it comes to you. Buying products that cost a fortune for your sensitive ears and the best shampoo for your soft hair. Making sure your lotion smells like strawberries because that’s your favorite, and making sure the fridge is packed with all your favorite snacks.

Bathing you is a whole process, making sure you’re squeaky clean and smelling like three thousand different products by the time he’s done; had you for less than a year and you already have twice as many belongings as he does.

Inching closer to the bed, he lays next to you, placing his hand on your waist and dropping a kiss on your forehead. Your sweet scent engulfs him, wiping away his bitter day and relaxing his tense muscles. His fingers run through your hair, moving the stray pieces covering your face.

Your haircut isn’t the best, mostly because he had to do it himself; hair salons aren’t very fond of hybrids, even the ones that look as agonizingly beautiful as you do. And although he’s been cutting his hair for longer than he can remember, he underestimated how difficult it would be to cut in a straight line.

You sigh at his touch but remain asleep, smiling he kisses your temple. You’re adorable, and he constantly reminds himself not to squeeze too hard—afraid you might burst. But deep down, he imagines that if you did, glitter and flower petals would spill out.

He’s drunk, not on whiskey like he used to, but on your scent. It’s everywhere, on his clothes, the couch, your bed, his bed; can’t escape it, not like he’s trying to anyway.

His pretty bunny.

Rewiring his brain and putting him under an unspoken spell. His finger trails down your abdomen, eyes fixated on your tender lips calling his. Slipping beneath the waist band of your panties, his finger makes contact with your clit, rubbing soft circles as he watches your expression.

You remain still, blissful as ever. Your dreams must be nice, hopping in meadows and basking in the sun; or is that too stereotypical of him? Wonder if you dream about him, does your mind replay the sweet and innocent time you spent together? Or do you get dirty dreams about him like he does?

His fingers drop down to collect some of your arousal. You’re wet, bunny pussy is always wet, always needy. He bites his lip as he feels your dripping hot arousal, rubbing your cute clit till it’s slippery. You shuffle, subconsciously opening your legs further for him to continue.

Another delicate sigh leaves your lips as he pushes his middle finger inside you; moving it in and out before adding another one. The sounds coming out of your dripping cunt makes his dick painfully hard.

He rubs his cock through his jeans, muttering curses beneath his breath. So warm and tight around his fingers and he hasn’t done much yet. Your brows furrow, lips opening before closing again. Unbuttoning his jeans with his free hand, he pulls his cock out, moving his hand up and down the length.

Pulling his fingers away, he brings them up to his mouth. Groaning as he tastes you on his tongue, you taste as sweet as you smell. And surprisingly, you haven’t woken up yet. Apparently, fingering is not enough to wake you up; noted.

Craving more of your taste, he gets up and settles himself between your thighs. His finger hooks your panties and flimsy shorts, pulling them to the side, revealing your sobbing cunt to his hungry eyes.

He might cum just from the sight, glossy and looking extremely edible. Pulling the hood of our clit back, he kisses the bud before licking up your slit. His large hands hold your thighs in place as he sucks on your weeping pussy.

Your sleepy head lifts up, the same look plastered on your face as the day you both met. Your eyes connect, crow feet forming as he smiles; took you long enough. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

Your brows furrow as he fucks his tongue into you. Doing as your told, you lay your head back down, your mind unable to focus on sleeping nor staying awake.  You begin to buck your hips at the pleasure, whining as you do so.

“Missed you so much, baby.”

He can sense your orgasm approaching as your thighs begin to quiver. He pulls away, causing you to lift your head back up. The hand that was beneath your knee slips down to your inner thigh, patting it reassuringly.

Getting up, he removes his jeans and underwear quickly before laying next to you.

“Come here.” He manhandles you to lay on his chest, thighs bracketing around his torso. Peppering a soft kiss on your head, he pushes your panties over to the side again positioning his throbbing cock at your entrance.

His hand grabs your hips, as he penetrates into you gently. Pussy so tight, he might just cry. Burying your face in his chest, your fingers grip his shirt tightly. “I know, I know. You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart.”

Another tender kiss gets placed on the crown of your head as he rubs your back soothingly. His hips remain still, letting you adjust around him before beginning to thrust shallowly. He groans, eyes closing shut as he focuses on the movement of his hips.

Bunnies are born to be bred, only logical explanation for how tight you are around him, for how constantly wet your cunt is without even being turned on. The wet patch on your underwear always evident whenever you slip them off to get into the bath, had his brain all fuzzy when he first noticed it. May or may not have stolen some of them, for personal use.

Picking up the pace, he opts for deeper thrusts, the head of his cock kissing the opening of your cervix. The mixture of your fluids dripping down the base of his length and down his balls. Your whines get louder, thighs beginning to quiver once more.

He can feel wet patches of tear drops seep through his shirt as pleasure overtakes your senses. Whimpering, you continue to squirm above him. Your orgasm nearing causing him to suck in a breath of air through gritted teeth as your cunt squeezes around him. “Yeah, just like that- fuck.”

Your walls flutter, creaming his cock till a white ring forms at the base. He curses underneath his breath, grabbing your hips harshly as he slams into you with vigor. “Gonna cum inside you, sweetheart. Don’t even think this cute cunt will let me pull out.”

His dick throbs as he releases into you, thrusts becoming slower as hot white strings coat your walls. Best orgasm he’s had in years, balls completely empty. His movement ceases, taking in a deep breath and running his fingers through his hair.

Glossy eyes make contact with his, a smile forming on your lips as your nose twitches. Pinching your cheeks, his hand tries to fix your now tangled hair; gotta brush that later. Crawling up his chest, he hisses at the overstimulating feeling. You drop a soft peck onto his lips, happy plastered all over that cute face of yours.

Maybe he should wake you up like this more often.

divider by: @/jimzittos @/kthice

[toothpastecanyon]

Noie’s Mother, Chapter 2

"I need you to save my daughter."

It's not always Leon  who makes that deal. In alternate timelines not far from our own, where  things are only a little bit different, someone else is shaking that  hand.

An alternate take on Noie's Brother where Leon, not Pinni, dies when Noie is a baby.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

From the outside, looking in. This was all Alcor was left with, and this was how he spent so many years. At first, he watched out of spite; after weeks raging in his Mindscape at how a mortal dared swindle him, his omniscience finally seized upon a small loophole in the trap that had been set for him - she only told him to leave the house, not the surrounding area.

It was pittance, yes. It paled in comparison to everything he gave away to her,éverythi͡ng ̧s̨h͜é ͟s̡to͜l҉e ͠fr͏ơm͘ hi͜m͘ ̛h͞òw̴ darȩ ̧she̵ h̷̵̢̀͞ò̧̨͟͠w̵̧̡̢͡ ͢͠ḑ̶à̴̢͝r͏͞e͏̸҉ ̕͞s̀͢͟h̀͠͏̛͞e̵͞͞͡͠… but it was something. It soothed the rage bubbling up from the darkest parts of his being, if only by a little.

So Alcor stayed in the shadows, and watched the family he was cheated out of his place in. Out of spite first, yes… but slowly, it evolved into interest.

Because this Pinni Argenta was a very, very strange mortal.

For one, she barely used the cabin he’d given her. Apart from dumping some of her stuff in her bedroom and throwing out the second crib he’d placed, she and Noie spent the majority of their time in the lake. They swam there, caught fish in the depths, basked on the shores, and only rarely did they take their sealskins off. The water seemed more like a home than the cabin ever did, which was… odd, to Alcor.

But Mizar was happy. He couldn’t deny it - he saw it all over her aura. He saw his Mizar splashing in the lake all morning, lounging in the afternoon sun, and cuddling up to her mother at night.

She seemed so, so happy… without him.

______________________________________________________________

Danger. Pinni heard danger everywhere, in the rustle of a bush, in the crack of a twig… in the voices slowly winding their way through the trees.

Human voices. Naomi heard them too; she watched her daughter lift her head up from the rock, only curiosity in that wonderful face of hers - and confusion when Pinni tugged at her with her mouth.

What was happening? Her eyes seemed to ask. Why couldn’t she watch? Pinni felt her heart ache a little at that. Oh, she hoped Naomi never found out.

She tugged a little harder, and Naomi followed her into the safety of the water.

The safety, the blood colouring her wake as she swam away, away from them, away from-

Through the water came distorted shapes of humans. They seemed like kids, but the refraction made them taller, made their movements wild and erratic, dulled their laughs into something low, something looking. She couldn’t see much of them, but they seemed to congregate around her cabin - then in a flash, one of them enveloped the view.

It stared down at the water, and Pinni drew back further, bared her teeth. Distantly, she could feel Naomi nudging her side, but she didn’t notice until-

A voice calling out. The figure looking down turned and ran that way, and there were flashes as the others followed. Only after they’d cleared out from the lake did she dare move a muscle; she turned to look at Naomi, who was staring at her questioningly.

Pinni sighed, bubbling the water. She stuck her head out to check the humans really were gone, and then gently led her back to shore. On the rock again, she hesitated, and then found the seam in her skin.

It was cold, being human. Suddenly she was thin, vulnerable, and water chilled her; stone chafed her. She held her skin tight as she struggled to sit up, and as she did her reflection in the water jumped out at her.

A chill shot down her spine. She looked like them, so quickly she looked away.

Naomi was still staring at her. Pinni gave a little smile, and then reached out and pulled her closer with her hands. The warmth was comforting; after a moment, she set her jaw, brought her skin over, and draped it over her lap.

A selkie took pride in a smooth, healthy coat, but there was nothing to be proud of here. It was slashed to bits; a dozen cuts and marks had contoured it, and there was a ragged edge where part of it had been torn right off. Pinni felt Naomi’s eyes on it, and she grit her teeth; she felt Naomi trace a flipper across a rough cut, and she resisted the urge to snatch it back to safety.

So many had handled her skin before. Rarely had they given it back without leaving their mark.

Washed up on a beach. Stumbling on new legs in the night, looking at a new world. Maybe this would be home.

New hope, dashed before the sun rose. She didn’t know they were telling her to go back to the ocean, but she felt it in every slow cut, soul gutted like a fish, tossed out, left bleeding on the sand as they watched her crawl for the receding tide.

And they laughed. New horror, as she stared at what they did to her, what they did to her, what they did to-

Touching her! Pinni slapped them away, and suddenly it was her daughter’s yelp of pain.

She blinked. Breathed. Tried to steady her drumming heart. Looking at the hurt in Naomi’s eyes, the guilt flooded in.

Oh, no. Oh, she was so sorry! She wrapped Naomi in a tight hug, nuzzling her face. Her daughter quickly stopped quivering, relaxed into it, but Pinni didn’t find that same comfort.

It wasn’t until they broke away that she could put her skin on again.

Only then could she feel safe. And even still, there were voices. There was laughter.

Danger.

______________________________________________________________

Danger? Danger was everywhere outside the lake. At least that’s what her mother taught her.

She wandered too close to the trees, her mother pulled her back. She heard creatures, her mother beckoned her into the water.

She felt the seam in her skin. Her mother stared at her, long and hard, and there was something in her expression that formed a pit in her stomach.

Danger, it said, and in private moments she’d stew over that.

Why was it danger? Why couldn’t she see the trees? There were so many interesting things out there - you know, rarely, she’d hear these loud, beautiful sounds in the night, and there’d be lights in the sky popping like exploding stars! And a low roar like the waves…

Her mother said that was danger, too. Of course.

The night after one of those events, she lay awake at night, staring up at the stars. Her mother slept soundly next to her; she hadn’t slept yesterday, she was out cold.

She saw that, hesitated, and then felt her chest. There was a little slit that came up if you were looking for it - all she did was feel it most days, but tonight she wrapped her flipper around it, pulled it back…

And the air hit her like a chill. She shivered as she shrugged the skin off her shoulders, let it all fall into a pile around her… her body?

She stared at flippers that parted at the end into five stubs. She could bring them all together, and then spread them out again.

Danger, her mother’s call whispered, but she giggled. What a funny thing! She sat back a bit, and found a twig under her flipper; an idea came to her. She curled it, and picked it up!

Wow… what else could she do with this? Her eyes drew up to the forest, and she felt herself grin.

Stick clenched in her strange flippers, she stumbled and scrambled away from shore. Her body didn’t work like she expected, but there was something thrilling about figuring it out; she got her feet under her, and suddenly found herself crawling for the trees - fast! She never moved this fast on land before, this had to be what it was for!

She reached the treeline, and there she hesitated. It was dark; the call of danger echoed louder in her head, but it was thrilling too, wasn’t it? She felt the rush, and ventured further. The sounds changed, the ground turned to a mulch, and a little ways in she tripped a bit over a root. Sitting there, she took a breath.

How strange. She could barely hear the waves now. There was chirping, buzzing… she sat there, in awe of it all.

Slowly, her eyes adjusted. She could see more of the darkness, and she reached for the tree she was lying by. Its bark was rough on her flippers; almost rough enough to climb. There was a branch not far off the ground - maybe if she stretched, she could…

Got it! She hoisted herself half onto it, and the tips of her feet barely scraped the floor below. The branch bowed a little under her weight, and she giggled and pushed on it a little, enjoying the way it bounced her.

What kind of danger was this? This was fun! This was-

Wait. Her ears pricked at a strange echo to her laugh, and strangely when she stopped, it continued on for a second before trailing off. She stared into the darkness, and this time she saw something - a form? A figure!

It noticed her too, and before she could make it out further it took a step back and vanished into thin air.

Wait!

She called to it - it didn’t answer. With a frown, she tried to shuffle off the branch, but there was a crack and suddenly it broke off and threw her to the floor. She landed hard - things hurt, and she felt a rush of fear, of danger!

Help! She called. Help!

Almost immediately, there were hands on her… but as they rolled her over, it wasn’t her mother’s face. It was the figure; it made noises as it pressed a flipper against her side.

There was a glow; she yelped louder, but the pain… faded? She looked up at it, and saw it give her a gentle smile, then make a noise. It reached out, and laid something on her chest.

The stick from earlier. She grasped it. Huh.

Another call - her mother. She looked up at that, and suddenly the figure was gone again. In a matter of moments her mother came tearing through the branches, two skins held tight to her chest. She spotted her, made a noise, and flew to her side, hugging her, checking her over, glancing around for danger.

After a moment, her mother picked her up, and carried her back to the lake. She was placed down on the rocks, and her skin was laid over her chest; she put it on, returning to the old monotony of this form, to the watchful eye of her mother.

And there she lay, staring up at the stars.

…

Strange.

…

Her mother had made a noise like that creature did… Nami?

Noaymi?

Naomi?

[headoverjojo]

"Could you do hcs morning routine with Giorno (maybe some angst, fluff and light nsfw?)❤" This but with Abbacchio, Bruno and Fugo, please? 👀

*bangs fists on table*Yeeeeeeeeeeeesssssss

Morning routine with Bruno Bucciarati, Leone Abbacchio and Pannacotta Fugo

(Attention please: Fugo’s aged up as usual, for the light NSFWish hints. He’s an adult!! And so, under the cut for lenght and NSFWish hints!)

Bruno Bucciarati

Bruno always wakes up at dawn, without even the need for an alarm. He stays in bed a bit longer, like, five or ten minutes from the moment he opens his eyes to cuddle his s/o and bask in their warmth. It always gives him the right amount of energy to face a new day of work.

Bruno doesn’t have often nightmares, but, sometimes, they happen. He’s a mafia man, all in all, he has seen and done horrible things and sometimes the ghosts of his pasts come back to torment him. In this case, he clings to his s/o, his breath erratic and a pained expression on his face. S/o would be woken up by his crushing grip and, hearing his breath, they’d immediately understand what’s happening, hugging him as tightly as he’s doing, slowly rocking him back and forth. He usually wakes up, with a gasp, clinging and gripping their arms almost to the point to bruise them, as they’re his lifeline. They cuddle and keep him safe for long, until he falls asleep again, finally calm and safe.

Being Caporegime, he hasn’t a lot of free days, but, when they happen, he enjoys staying in bed longer than usual, softly cuddling and kissing his s/o. He adores their sleepy smiles and gentle touches. Kisses usually leads to at least a make out session, that his s/o enjoys immensely, and, if they both are in mood, to much more.

When they get up, they go to take a shower. If his s/o is already awaken, he gladly lets them join him in the shower, but, if they’re still asleep, he lets them sleep as much as they want, watching their relaxed face with a soft smile. He loves so much those moments… quiet and sweet memories that give him strength when he needs it.

Breakfast is eaten together. It’s an usual ritual for the couple and his s/o never misses it. While Bruno brews the coffee, they arrange the table -or the one on the balcony, if it’s summer- and then eat together, chit-chatting and exchanging lazy kisses. They take their sweet time to savour the time together, since it’s still too early to head out.

Then, they dress -and Bruno always huffs lightly, amused, when his s/o, as every morning, smoothes and adjust his collar and chest window- and, after having carefully braided his hair, Bruno’s ready to head out. He sweetly kisses his s/o, before they go on their way and he on his one, even if they both work for mafia. Safety is never too much.

Leone Abbacchio

Abbacchio always sleeps spooning his s/o, keeping them tightly on his chest, his face sunk in their hair. When he’s about to wake up, he stretches, still in a half-asleep state, often waking them up as well. They share some lazy and pouty cuddles and hugs, they murmuring that he’s moving too much and they’re awake because of him and he muttering that they’re noisy and should go back to sleep, all while he smashes them to his chest and kisses their forehead.

Abbacchio suffers of recurring nightmares. Since the beginning of their relationship -and their bed sharing- he never denied it and his s/o is used to it by now. They know that it’s dangerous to wake him up when he’s having a nightmare, since his police academy training unconsciously strikes back, so they just watch over him and let him hug them as tightly as he wants, even to the point to almost hurting them. In the morning, he wakes up smashed against their chest or tummy, their fingers gently massaging his scalp and rubbing his shoulder. He never talks about his nightmares: they usually are about his long deceased partner.

When he has a free day -or “when Bruno forcefully sends him home”- he loves to sleep a bit more, relishing in his s/o’s warmth and softness. He loves to watch them sleeping, before peppering their face with kisses, being careful not to wake them up: if they open their eyes, he immediately withdraws and if they bring it up he grumbles and denies it. When, however, they wake up first and nestle on his lap to better kiss and cuddle him, this can lead to something more, while the goth’s hands roam on their back and thighs.

When they get up, they share a shower, still groggy, and sleepingly wash each other, even if his s/o has to get on their tiptoes -and he has to lower himself down as well- to wash his shoulder and hair. When they’re so, he’s already a bit more awake and, if they have time, he loves to pick them up and gently press them to the shower wall for some more couple time.

Then, breakfast. Leone is the one in charge of coffee: he brews it strong, to finally properly wake up. They eat together, his s/o often on his lap, even if he, again fakingly, complains, all while hugging them by the waist. His s/o loves to feed him -or to make him think they’re going to feed him and then eat the biscuit, laughing at his indignant face- and then give him kisses, making the early morning sweeter for both of them.

Then, they dress and put on together the make-up, helping each other if needed. After that -and after his s/o put on his lipstick, making him growl or, if they have a day for themselves, spicing things up again- they go out, exchanging a small kiss and a smile, before heading on their ways. If they’re both in mafia, they go together to the HQ, not minding to show that they’re together.

Pannacotta Fugo

Fugo’s a light sleeper and also gets up really early in morning. But, if he’s sleeping with his s/o, he’d indulge in some more moments with them, breathing deeply and nuzzling in their hair or neck, completely relaxed. His unusual warmly cuddles often wake his s/o up, leading to hugs and more cuddles, ‘till the two of them really have to get up if they don’t want to be late.

Fugo, as Abbacchio, has a lot of nightmares. Sometimes from his past, from when he killed his teacher, all the abuses he passed, sometimes they’re entirely products of his fantasy and anxiety. In any case, he clings to his s/o, who’s trained for it, by now, and they hug him tightly, murmuring the lullaby that always manages to calm him down. If the nightmare is particularly terrible, Purple Haze could slip out, making his appearance in the room. The first time it happened it scared the hell out his s/o, but, now, they don’t freak out anymore. If they leave him alone, he doesn’t do anything bad and, when Fugo had calmed down, he goes back to his user.

The rare times he has a free day, he wants to really take it easy. He takes his time to hug and cuddle his s/o, softly kissing them and talking with them in hushed whispers, even laughing a bit. They talk about anything: the team, the city, how things are going… these are their most private moments and they never give them up. If they’re particularly cuddly and needy, they’d kiss between a whisper and another, ending up making love, slowly and lazily sleepy, with relaxed and satisfied smiles and languid kisses. They have all the time of the world.

When they get up, they share the bathroom. While one takes a shower, the other brushes his teeth and then they exchange. Sometimes they enjoy the shower together, ending up hugging again and relaxing under the warm water jet. Then, they love to dry each other and it always becomes a worshipping session, with lot of kisses and soft cuddles. Fugo’s s/o tries to get as much affection as they can while they’re home, since outside he never shows a so affectionate side.

They prepare breakfast together. He cuts fruit and prepares orange juice, while his s/o brews the coffee or the tea and sets the table. They eat in a peaceful quietness, still talking in low voices, basking in the early sun’s warmth and each other’s company. He can’t even express how much he loves these moments, so quiet, so relaxed: it’s an immense help for his temper and anxiety, it gives him a break from his life that always runs and runs without giving him a moment to breath.

When the dishes are washed, he and his s/o dress up, still quietly talking. When he’s home, Fugo’s really talkative about anything his s/o prefers: sometimes they talk about philosophy, sometimes about the last news, sometimes even about the weather. No conversation with Fugo is ever boring: he could live up every topic and his s/o loves him also for this.

It’s finally time to go out: Fugo kisses his s/o before they’re out the door, then he tells -almost orders, by the seriousness of his eyes and voice- to be careful, to which his s/o always smiles and promises that they’ll be. Then they go on their ways, but, if they both are in Passione, Fugo’s going with them. He can pass a bit more of time with them, why should he waste these last minutes?