Sincerely, Your Secret Boss. ( Various JJBA x Fem!Reader / teacher au )

17- Won't You Be My Valentine?

(no proofreading or revising we die like every gay man in vento aureo)

Valentine was one floor up. The ceiling shook and stuttered as Hayloft descended into a manic spiral, pleading for him to open his eyes, begging, even if just to permit a glance. You wondered how he knew not to look at it in the first place.

It was a gamble following your stand up there, seeing just what danger may lie in waiting-- it didn't help that Jolyne had to keep her eyes closed the whole time, tripping up the stairs as she gripped your hand for guidance.

When you made it to the next floor, there were no extra lackeys or guns or traps waiting like you had half-anticipated. Hell, you weren't fully sure you could've even guessed what would've been there. You still couldn't believe Valentine was there, first off.

"Is that you, (Y/n)?" The principal spoke, vaguely facing your direction. "It's been a while. Could you please get rid of Hayloft so we can chat?"

First, he knew its ability, and now second, its name. Just what does he know?

You snapped your finger and whistled for your stand, who whined and whimpered as it trotted back to you, still snarling at Valentine even as it disappeared. "Open your eyes."

He didn't spare a second in following your command, like he either knew it had gone within that moment, or had a sort of heavy trust within you. A quick brushing off to make himself presentable, he fixed his hideous pinkly attire and smiled. "It's been a while."

"Who are you?" You asked, your shirt still half-on. 

"Funny Valentine, I'm sure you know, the principal-"

"No. Who are you." You repeated. "How is it you know Hayloft?"

"Oh, and I was so sure you would remember me, even after so much time. It hurts a little that you don't." He took a moment to unbutton his shirt, and you were already preparing to pull Hayloft out again when he finally reached its end-- only to pull the fabric curtaining his chest apart to reveal a scar slashed across his body.

A chainsaw, twenty lions, a swarm of wasps taped to knives, anything could have done that. "You tried to kill me over a marriage proposal." He said plainly.

"A marriage proposal?" His words didn't strike any particular memory. "A marriage proposal, I've only ever accepted one, and I'm sure it was never--"

And then it hit you with the finesse of a brick to the face.

"You." You mumbled, only to break into a furious roar. "Why aren't you dead."

"Life has a funny way of keeping things you don't like around."

In the mail, one day, came a glorious ring. It was in a package hand delivered by seedy men, who didn't utter a word as they left. It was stuffed in the center of bountiful roses and irises, a teddy filled with cash to the millions. The men who delivered it handed a note to you to go with.

A rival sought to make peace between the criminal empires, yours and his own, and for whatever reason believed that a marriage was the way to go about it. A binding between the both of you. Since you didn't have an heir to pass along into that proposal, and neither did he, perhaps he saw that as some sort of solution.

But you weren't about to wed to the short, fat, arrogant bastard, known as Funny Valentine, who dealt in horse races and gambling. He was nearly the opposite of what you liked, and was nowhere near as capable of being loved like Prosciutto. Not by you.

Denial is a sickly thing. Hearing you say 'No' with a list of reasons that damn near stretched to hell made him furious. A fight was bound to come. Nothing short of a war, but more intense than just any regular fight. 

At the end of it, you were sure he was dead. That stubby old man with a gut that poured over his belt should've been gone. He looked at Hayloft at the perfect  moment, and you left him to bleed out on the ground.

It never clicked with you that that Valentine was the same as the one running the school. But it wasn't like you were to blame. He was extremely tall, muscular beyond recognition and lost a considerable amount of weight. If you listened close enough, his voice seemed different, too.

Naturally, you recognized his name at first, but assumed maybe it was a coincidence. The information you had Avdol pull together about him didn't give you an inkling of a reason to be suspicious. Maybe that was your first mistake.

"I was left to bleed before the lord, he saw my struggle and brought me back again. I've got another chance now." He buttoned his shirt again, slow and deliberate as he stared at you with a sort of sultry look. "But don't you worry. I won't take any revenge. Having you at my school, getting to observe you everyday, don't you know what that's done to me?"

Jolyne was quick to pull her gun out, something her stand must've retrieved from the room as you talked, aiming at Valentine. He remained unfazed, and even began to approach you casually. "It's done many things." He continued. "At first, I wanted to marry you because you were powerful, a threat to myself and everything I stood for. But now, I suppose I've resigned for a more traditional reason."

"Don't you dare fucking say it."

"Oh, I adore you. I was afraid of you, once-- What a surprise it is that now you make me weak in the knees."

"Go choke on a dick. I'm not going to have any sort of relation with my principal except a professional one."

"Do you think any other school would've let you in like I did? Did you stop to think for a moment, about how smoothly it had all gone? Did you ever wonder that maybe I wasn't the principal?" He grew closer, and closer, and his grin only seemed to grow more smug with each word. "How about you return the favor, and indulge me. I can prove my worth, if you give me a chance."

His words sickened you, a dreadful feeling forming in the pit of your stomach as you listened to his words and demand. Indulge him? You'd rather drop dead.

But Prosciutto was still right outside, "And how much do you think you can do, huh? As far as I know, you're just a civilian now."

"You can burn the book, but the story will still exist." He bent at the hip, leaning into your face. "Just caused you took out most of my organization, doesn't mean a few stragglers aren't still useful. Give me the word, and I'll get you out of here."

What choice was there? Well, first of all, you could've told him where to stick his suggestion, but that would've done no good. Secondly, you could try to escape on your own, but the low guards on your side and heavy security on Prosciutto's had put you in a dire situation. Not to mention, Dio and Diego were still somewhere around the hotel.

Fine. Whatever. 

"You said to give you a chance to prove yourself?" You said. "Start by getting us out of here, then maybe I'll think about it."

"Certainly, my love."

"Don't call me that."