You hopped, skipped, and jumped your way back home.
Entering the house you were greeted by silence before you turned the corner to enter the living room. Diavolo glanced up from his book to look at you. His brows raised in a concerned manner.
"What's gotten into you?"
"Nothing. If I told you, I don't think you'd find it funny."
You sat down in your designated armchair. Pulling out the chess board you had not too long ago played Giorno on. Opening it, you picked up the cream-colored queen.
"I got Giorno's stand."
The pink-haired mafioso nearly spit out the tea he was drinking. The man sat up and lowered both of the things in his hand.
"You're joking? I don't see anything that could house a stand around here."
You lifted the chess piece you held between your pointer and thumb.
"You're not very quick to catch on are you?"
"Shut up."
He snarled and you laughed.
"Our conversations seem to go the same way every time we speak."
"Yeah. Anyway, What's left to be done?"
"I have to finish the game."
Diavolo conveyed a questioning gaze.
"I forgot to ask, who have you been playing against all this time?"
"That's a good question. I'd like to know as well."
"You don't know who or what you've been playing against this whole time?"
"Nope."
"And have you attempted to look into it?"
"Nu-uh."
"You're a weirdo."
YOU ARE READING
He still dies in the end | | Diavolo X Reader
Short StoryThey/them pronouns ______________ To him it was all for nothing. To them it was all for fun. It was all just a game.
