#older don giovanna btw! 25 yrs old

[dongiovannaswife]

hiiii, how are you?? hope yo are good! i was thinking, if you would like to write a scenario about Don Giorno who lost his his lover in a battle and after this he thinks that he won't be able to recover from love to her. but after some time there is a new recruit in the mafia (reader) and because of her and her help etc, he is able to handle his past and fell in love with her(mutually)? hope this idea is okay with you, have a good day/night:)

Okay! This is written from Giorno’s perspective (a part of it, I mean) it’s basically a flashback at the beginning. Eh,,, you’ll see lmao. CW: grieving (I recommend reading about the five stages of grief by Kübler Ross, since I tried to bring them to this piece :3c), death mentions. AFAB reader. 

Song recommended bc I worte this thinking about it: let it die by Starset.

I saw it rain today. I saw many faces, people running, seeking shelter. Kids jumping under the rain, laughing.

I saw many faces, but I didn’t see you by my side, enjoying the quiet afternoon like we used to.

Do you remember them? Your last words are always haunting me. Your smile in your last moments of life haunts me. Your eyes were always kind but I knew when you looked at me that moment that every effort was useless. You could be looking at me, but the life in your veins was gone.

Do you remember them? Your last words are always in my head, every morning when I wake up, the first thing that comes into my mind is you and your voice, weak and small, telling me to keep on living.

I used to wonder how.

 That night when they left me alone with you I cried like I never did in my life. My lungs felt like they were burning, because I screamed for so long and so loud that I’m sure if it wasn’t for Mista, I would have ripped them out with my own hands.

I was trying to get an answer from your lifeless form —I wanted to know how did you pretend I could live without you. How could I love, when you were the only person I ever loved. The first person I could love —the first person to love me back. To no neglect me.

It didn’t matter how many sleepless nights I spent with the moon waiting for your answer. When the sun came, it always signified another night without your answer.

I knew you wouldn’t answer. And eventually, sleep knocked me off sequentially until I got the routine to go to bed —regained that needed habit.

And even if my grieving came to an end at some point, that question always reminded along your memory.

And one day your answer came to my office. At first I didn’t think of her as the answer, your answer. Your signal.

Not until today.

 “Giogio?” (Y/n) calls as she opens the door, peeking through the small space to see the man looking through the window —a glass suspended between his fingers and a book on his lap, open, but ignored.

The rain pours outside, tracing cascades down the enormous window of his office. The sight outside is far from strange; people running seeking shelter, kids jumping under the rain and laughing. Students protecting their backpacks.

However, the sight seems to hold a special place on the boss’ mind, as he doesn’t respond to her call. Doesn’t even hum like he always does.

“Gio.” She repeats her call and this time he snaps out of his haze, humming rather loudly. Almost as if he’s startled by her presence.

“Sorry,” she says again, noticing how his shoulders tensed abruptly. “I was knocking but you didn’t answer —I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s okay.” He finally speaks, voice deeper than the usual, heavy with something else. The sound, despite mysterious, makes her heart jump inside her chest. Her feelings were always there, reminding her of her reality. Falling for the boss was not something adequate.

Suddenly, Giorno reacts.

“(Y/n), please have a seat.” He asks and she nods, even if he doesn’t turn around to face her. Sitting at the chair before the desk, she’s met only with the back of his chair and the blond mane of his.

“What I’m about to say is not something you must recognize as mutual. If it’s unrequited, we’ll leave it like that. You won’t talk about it and neither will I. The future depends of your answer and reaction.”

She hums, feeling her chest tighten with the weight of uncertainty.

Giorno turns on his chair, glass empty and making a small clink when he places it on the desk —the book’s pages facing the desk’s surface when he doesn’t seem to care about it while putting it down.

“Long ago I lost someone important. She became my light in a short time —she was my candle in the dark nights, and that candle… Her light was extinguished.”

She nods, frowning slightly. Even if he was her boss, overtime their relationship had become one of friendship at the same time her feelings started to grow with no certainty of his end as he, as she could see, was pretty closed off when it came to showing vulnerability. Besides, his eyes betrayed him at times, showing a deeper sadness. The kind of look of someone who misses a loved one.

“She had a wish; she wanted me to keep on.” A smile crosses his lips and (Y/n) only leans further back into her chair, lips pursed when she sees the way his smile is dry, ironic if she had to make a bet.

“I couldn’t understand how.” He extends his arm over the desk, palm exposed to her, open to show a scar that runs all across it. “Until you came.”

Silence settles in.

And Giorno’s voice breaks a little when he speaks. “Please say something —anything.”

Her mouth feels strange when she speaks, like her tongue is tangled around itself —but she still manages to make her words sound just right.

“You mean —do you mean you feel something for me?”

He nods, eyes closed —his brow furrowed, as if he’s in some kind of pain.

Her chair makes a thunderous sound when she stands, rushing to his side —awkwardly standing at his side for a moment before she’s cupping his face with so much care, the gesture has Giorno blinking back tears.

“I like you too.” She says and that seems to be enough to bring him down. To tear him to pieces and finally, to bring him to tears.

A sob breaks through his chest, makes his lungs hurt with the ferocity of it as his arms circle her waist, holding on to her as he cries like he did that night. The difference resides on the presence by his side. In the realization of something she’s yet to discover and help him heal over time.

“It’s okay, Gio.” She whispers, ranking her fingers through his hair. She shakes slightly —surprised upon the revelation of his feelings and moved by his story.

Feeling him shake, silent now, she brings him closer feeling the need to reassure him.

“I’ll protect you, you won’t be alone anymore.”