JJBA x Readers

Prosciutto : The Truth

WARNING DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE HEAVILY SPOILED FOR P5

I made up his surname, fight me.

Names: 

Rosalia Velia, nine year old daughter [Rosalia is a variant of rose, as well as the name of a 12th century Sicilian saint]
Savio Velia, six year old son [Savio means clever or bright in Italian, which I thought was funny considering he isn't and mirrors Pesci's personality]
Azzurra Velia, ten month old daughter [Azzurra means sky blue in Italian, and the youngest has blue eyes like Prosciutto]

This gets so lazy towards the end, it goes stupid but I love Ciao Ham Daddy. I have a whole family planned for Bucciarati, watch out cuckers.

"Mama, where's Papa?" That was Savio, your six year-old son's disheartened voice, enough to get you in your throat. There was no way you could look at his face and tell him the same answer as you had done the last three days. Whilst you trusted your husband wholeheartedly, he'd never really disclosed his career to you in any great detail. Not that you assumed he was balls deep in some young thing or anything, but the consistent lack of communication about work was becoming tiring.
"He's at work," you said with little enthusiasm, which your eldest picked up on almost immediately. She definitely had her father's intelligence. Throwing her fork down onto the plate, she shuffled back on her chair with a creak, forcing you to tear your gaze from the window momentarily.
"Tesoro, what's the matter?" Scooting over to her, you sat beside her at the table and wrung your fingers. "You've barely touched your food; aren't you hungry?"
"Papa's not really at work, is he?"
"Well, where else would he be?"
"He might be lying to us." Sometimes, it was difficult to remember she was a child, so her responses were innocent and valid in a child's mind, but to be completely honest, Rosalia had a point. He could very well be lying to you. Glancing at Azzurra in the highchair, your ten month-old bundle of joy, she smiled at you and laughed wildly. Pincing her hands, she continued to try and feed herself cooked broccoli, babbling some nonsense, so you could speak to your eldest.
"Why do you think Papa would lie to you? He loves you, you don't lie to the people you love."
"Mama, he hasn't been with us for four days. I notice he goes away sometimes, but never for this long." Her eyes were low down, hiding a deep sadness. Extending an arm, she flinched a little when you stroked the back of her neck with a hefty sigh. When he got back, this was going to be the biggest mistake of his life, you were making sure of it. Thankfully, a key turning in the door heightened the family's spirits, two children leaping from the table to hug their father. Breathing a sigh of relief, you glanced at him from the table with a tired smile on your lips, hiding obvious concern which he saw through anyway.
"Papa's home," he announced loudly, ruffling their hair and wrapping his arms tightly around his two little cherubs. The third was in her highchair, so he nuzzled her nose and kissed it several times, making her babble and squeal in glee before bending over to see what reception he was due from you. Gently pecking his lips, you weren't going to completely starve him of affection in front of the kids, whether you were angry with him or not.
"Hi," he mumbled, kissing you again but long enough so it lingered. Dinner was eaten together, a first for over a week.

Later that evening, Prosciutto single-handedly put the children to bed for a much-needed slumber. The last few nights, you had noticed Rosalia's sleeping wasn't up to par and she was a tired, grumpy disaster in the morning, as was her younger brother. Prosciutto not being around at night seemed to agitate her nightmares further than usual, worrying you to no end on top of everything else. Savio sobbed for his father each night, begging you to make him return home and put him to bed. The poor boy was only six, meaning it was only natural for him to want both parents, yet there was nothing you could do and it made you feel like an absolute monster. Your husband was in so much trouble for disappearing over four days with no phone call again, looking after your family on your own was beyond tiring.
Cradling Azzurra, your ten-month old in your arms, she babbled drowsily, gazing up at you with beautiful blue eyes. She'd gotten them from her father and it made you even more upset to look at them when he was away. Running a finger along her rosy cheeks, she grinned, showing you the few teeth she had.
"You're a tired little girl," you told her, stroking your hand over her soft, blonde hairs. Her jaw opened wide in a long yawn. "When Papa has put Rosalia to bed, we're all going to bed."
Eventually, she fell asleep in your arms whilst your frame relaxed on the sofa.. You were dropping off too, just as Prosciutto strutted through into the living room, heart actually melting at the display. Two cuties falling asleep. His cuties.
Cautiously approaching, you smelled a concoction of cigarettes and cologne, his full lips pressing lightly against your jaw as he scooped up his bambino. Rubbing your eye, you panicked momentarily when you realised the weight was gone from your stomach, relieved to see your husband's chest in front of you. "Mmhh, Prosciutto," you mumbled, stirring in sleep. He cuddled his youngest close, kissing her button nose as she dreamt in his arms.
"I think it's time for Mama to come to bed, don't you, Azzurra?" Smiling, he pecked her cheek, letting her rest against his shoulder. Judging by how tightly you were clutching your dressing gown on your frame, he knew full well just how much trouble he was in. Quietly carrying the baby out to her room, he quietly put her to bed with soft words and praise, telling her just how much he loved and missed her.

Back in the living room, your head was a shuddering bundle, hidden in your hands. The blonde sauntered over, enveloping you with his arms. Batting hands, you refused to take them away despite his demands. Prosciutto sat and consoled you for twenty minutes before you revealed a streaky mess from his chest. Brushing your hair back out of your face, your eyes met after so long.
"Thank you," you mumbled through a sniffle, allowing him to kiss your soggy cheek. Your husband knew full well he was in the wrong for being away again, but he couldn't help it. "I'm sorry, I can't help it. They've been so hard to handle."
"Shh, shh," he whispered, never taking his gaze from you. "You work so hard, you keep the team together." Clinging to his jacket, his hands rubbed your back, allowing you to ride out your emotions.
"Tell me where you've been. Please."
"I can't, because it'll put you in danger."
"What sort of danger, financial danger? Government danger? Illegal danger?" He averted his eyes, considering his words. "I just want to understand. I can't keep telling them you're at work because Rosalia doesn't believe me."
"I'm... A travelling salesman." Cocking your brow and pouting, you weren't believing a word of it.
"A travelling salesman? You expect me to believe that?" Sighing, he smiled, gathering the courage to tell the truth and risk ruining his life.
"No. You're above that, my Darling. I'm sorry."
"Just tell me the truth. It can't be that bad."
"I'm a contract killer. Somebody asks me to get rid of someone and I just do it."
"Oh... My God," you gasped, the colour draining from your face. Prosciutto panicked, gripping your arms to steady you.
"I knew you would react like this, slow down."
"You kill people? Random people?!"
"Not random people, no. They're selected. Babe, you need to calm down."

It was difficult to wrap your head round, The man you loved was a murderer, something worse than you ever could have imagined. He had the drive and the ability to end lives, yet he was the most loving and caring father to your children, and the a near perfect husband, everything you could ask for. How could he just make a snap decision like that?
"How do you do it?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Rubbing your forehead with your fingers, he could see you were unsettled about the whole thing. "Are you worried, Y/N?"
"I just love you so much, what if you don't come home--?" You were interrupted once more, by his fingers.
"We're not going to talk about that. For as long as I have my family, I'll always come home." Pausing for a moment, you met his eyes before agreeing. "Let's go to bed. I believe I have some making up to do – A week's worth."