𝕭𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝕮𝖔𝖓 𝕷𝖆 𝕷𝖚𝖓𝖆 | Prosciutto X Fem!Reader

☁8☁

Everyone likes Lady.

Illuso liked to talk to her about space whenever he could, it had always such a big fascination to him. A void, seemingly endless, stitched together only by the desperate pull of stars and planets, held an infinite knowledge.  

Mountains of stardust and gas swirl into sculptures of majesty, twinkling and flickering with each breath they take. Comets shoot by with a tail of jewels, crashing into the channels of light and dark, and coating themselves with the vibrant colors of twilight.

Those spangled heavens smile onto others like gods, the wave of their red, yellow, pink and blue hands wafting their condolences to their neighbors, linking their fingers and melting together to create something even more beautiful than either of them.

The clouds of universe waltz in their own dreamy brilliance, the ringing echo of their movements colliding as whimsical as windchimes. The smaller galaxies would watch with envy, like but little, curious children, attempting a dance on their own all while stumbling and tripping over their own feet. 

That is how Lady describes the infinite wonder of space-- like a fairytale dream. Where the distant little stars that you brush your hand through cling to you like glitter, gently falling down as they lose their strength; Where you can close your eyes and listen to its empty, unending hum, and simply exist; Where you can watch the death, and birth of new life sprawl between your eyes like fireworks. 

"You've seen things like that?" Illuso would gape, leaning forward on his chair in unhindered surprise. 

"Certainly, and many more! I was here when the constellations formed, when I was still angry and oozing with magma, and I'll be here long after, cold and lonesome."

"What were you angry at?"

"I never knew. Nothing had happened to upset me, as there was nothing to be mad at when I was still rock and lava. Perhaps I was desperate for a friend, or a lover, or someone to be with me in that chilled space." Lady tilts her head a bit as she thinks back, crossing her legs onto the large chair she sat in. "Of course, I found earth after some time, but I still never really felt like i wasn't alone. Than Prosciutto came along."

"Had no one talked to you before him?"

"Yes, many had! But that's the thing, it's always been him, even among a million others. His voice is unmistakable. For centuries, I've heard it; In the mumbles of cavemen, in wishes of Greek, in cries of Russian, and so many more. It was always the same man, so, when he stopped... I started to feel like I was alone again."

They talked some more, idly, and soon Illuso figured this was the most relaxed he had ever been. It was just him, and the moon, something that would never see him in a different light for asking what could've been considered 'stupid' questions.

A bit more time passes, and he starts to wonder how he ever could've been so wary of this genuine, kind, and innocent being before him. It was natural to be cautious of something new, but he almost began to feel stupid for being so doubtful.

Their hours worth of conversation, debate, and philosophy is cut to an end when Formaggio comes in. He wants a turn.

Him and Lady get into all sorts of mischief, making up silly space puns and doing tricks with her stars. The two did some experiments, like how many flips he could do in the air before he got sick, or like how many stars could she generate before she got exhausted.

 They'd also dabble in a bit of dress up, styling themselves into categories the other would determine. Formaggio dressed like a runway model, Lady dressed like a snowboarder. Formaggio dressed like a hitchhiker, and Lady dressed like a little kid. Formaggio dressed like Lady, and Lady dressed like Formaggio.

Their fun came to an end when Ghiaccio came in and interrupted their fashion show. He wanted a turn.

Him and Lady watched several movies together, mainly his favorites, as she didn't know of any shows she herself would like. Popcorn was made, funny pajamas were thrown on, and junky bottles of soda were emptied into cups with silly straws.

One movie, then two, then three, passed by in a blur. She had taken in so much from each story, all of their characters, she had gotten too attached to be able to watch any of the endings without crying, no matter what it was. 

As the fourth movie began, Ghiaccio was forced to give up Lady to Prosciutto, who came knocking at his door for the girl in question. He wanted a turn.

What he did was nothing exciting, or interesting, or thought-provoking like the others had done-- It was nightfall, and he decided it would be good to get some sleep. 

He'd tried to sleep on his own, determined to prove that his body didn't crave the presence of Lady next to him once more, but after laying in bed for an our, not gaining a single wink of sleep, he gave in.

So the two slept in each others arms, embracing like a flower intertwining with wire in spirals. His ear was pressed to her chest, taking in the steady thrum of the music box that lulled him to sleep just like before, as the halo of stars spun above her head in a dim hue.

This was the only time in his life where Prosciutto was complete; where his life wasn't a waste, the hours he spent living not being for nothing at all. He was safe here, and in that moment, where it dawned upon his barely conscious mind, he knew he loved her. And that was that.

In the morning, when he woke, Lady was not by his side-- As Melone had come early in the morning. He, too, wanted a turn; as did Pesci, who joined them.

The curious three dropped into a lake, not too far from the base, and asked themselves a question. What will the stars do in the water?

Lady thrusted what she could into the clear lake, glimmering lights shining beneath the waves like smoke, rippling under the water in obscure shapes. The stars swam between the legs of Melone and Pesci, tickling their calves and thighs as they rushed to fill up any space they could. 

Then with the slight flick of her wrist, Lady made the shining lights rise, and as they began to bubble to the surface, there was a breath of change. Spheres of water collected around each star, varying in size, and dripping what couldn't be held. There were some bodies as large as horses, and others, small as mice, all hovering in the air above them all magnificently. 

Fish would swim in the bubbles like goldfish in a globe, sand would pool from the bottom of the balls and sift back to whence it came, weeds and shells drifted in the little tides made by the miniscule gravity. Pesci even had some fun fishing out some of the bass from the floating puddles, and Melone enjoyed collecting the shells left behind.

And then, it all came crashing down at the moment Lady had the stars return to her, everyone becoming washed over with the salty water as the bubbles fell like bombs, splashing everything in the vicinity.

But through the chaos, she laughed, and so did Pesci and Melone, because there was nothing that could've ever top what they experienced. It might've become an inside joke to them, a little secret they can keep to feel special. 

A person, unseen to the human eye, watches from afar behind crowded trees, and a depressive sigh is heard coming from their invisible body.

This was the problem. All of this, was exactly what Risotto feared. 

Everyone likes lady.

Everyone was too relaxed with her around. Too carefree. 

Lady has become a weakness to them. And that is the very, very last thing a hitman needs in their profession. No weakness, no problems.

He didn't care how it was accomplished, all he knew, was that at this point, he wanted Lady gone.

And he knew just how to get rid of her.