#arknights federico

[sleepyminty]

The Saints selected by The Law are one funny af mfers. One is overly empathic while the others is so void of empathy and both of them playing mouse and cat daily. Yet both of them take one look of their machine god and their respond are ‘this shit is so ass’ and it fucking blows up their computer

[arknights-imagines]

OMG;!!!! WAIT HAPPY (LATE) BIRTHDAY EXE 😭😭😭 I HOPE THIS YEAR HAS BEEN GOOD FOR YOU!!!! MAY RICO GIVES YOU LOTS OF LOVE VIA SMALL GESTURES!!!!!!

OKOK!! So, for the event... How would this character react to you wearing their clothes? (Number 6 on the prompt list!) I'd imagine it'll feel comfy maybe? Because his cloak seems really nice to just swaddle into... Like a heavy blanket if you will!!! But to be honest, generally his outfit overall seems pretty nice to wear...

Anyway tho please take your time to write this and have a good day!! I hope my ask makes sense agagaga!!!!

— 🦥

OMG you guys?! The people have... Spoken!! They want prompt 6!! 🥹🤲💕 And I am obligated to deliver aaanzjan

Hiya again 🦥 anon I'm v happy to see you're sticking around! CHOKI yay hiya (always a joy to see you in my inbox)! 🤲🩵 And anon hi there!! 🥹🫶 Tysm to ALL of you for dropping by inbox! (also... 🦥 anon?! 'May' Rico give you lots of love via small gestures'?! Please have mercy on my heart?! Ajaoajajaj-- 😖🫶)

Tysm for wishing 'Rico happy birthday and for joining his Birthday Party Event 🎉 Each of you!! Please take a slice of cake: 🍰

I can definitely understand all of you ouaojsiss... I was thinking of prompt 6 too v v much 😖💕 our angels clothes always look so... Wearable!! Comfy and safe like 🦥 anon said! He'd wrap you in his cloak and scoop you up if you were ever anxious or frozen up.... Akaksoakka omg 😭🫶

🦥 anon, @chokifandom, and anon!! And everyone! Please enjoy!! 🩵

Vestimenta Eius

6. How would this character react to you wearing their clothes?

or, in which Federico Giallo lends you his cloak.

"Love? Is your usual attire currently unavailable?"

Federico speaks up only after watching you with eyes trained like he's tracking a target in his aim, and only after trailing after you like a shadow down multiple hallways. The red-and-white fabric draped around your shoulders was unmistakable; no one else in the Notarial Hall wore said stark hues, the colours marking his ranking.

Rounding around you, his own cloak fluttering slightly as he does, the Saint halts your bouncing steps. Cool blue eyes drop to your feet, then travel upward with no haste over your form. You squirm slightly under the assessing gaze.

Scanning thrice to ensure he is not mistaken, - or so he tells himself, though such fails to explain why his gaze softens when it pauses on how the fabric engulfs your shoulders and drags slightly on the ground from the difference on your stature - and that you are indeed wearing his uniform cloak, his eyebrow lifts by millimeters after his confirmation, "If you are in shortage of clothing articles, you only needed to speak the word. I will remedy the solution by purchasing you new garments at the shopping arcade on Pagus Ambrosius. It is no trouble--" The Saint is already mid-movement to turn away from you and make way for the nearest exit.

You catch his wrist, and the small pressure halts him like you've tugged him backward. Your following explanation, laced with mirth, turns his head quick enough to skew some strands of his platinum hair into his eyes.

Federico faces you once more with a flutter of his cloak, hand not pulling from yours; he readjusts it instead, fingers aligning to interlace with yours, "... You wish to wear my garments precisely because they belong to me?" His free hand tugs the fabric of the stolen-cloak closer around your shoulders before he can realize himself, and his tone has warmed to a murmur before he can correct himself, "It would be improper. My garments are regalia specific to those of Sainthood, and you do not meet this criteria, love. It would be most logical if you returned the clothing article to me."

Indeed; his body betrays him. His systemic brain that it has never found conflict with, all of a sudden has lost its control. Whatever has won over it discards protocol - and reminds the Saint that the cloak you've draped over your shoulders leaves his scent of gunpowder and smoke too stubborn for the wash onto your clothes, that the cloak you've adorned yourself with signifies him so undoubtedly to anyone who might look at you in passing.

Federico realizes only when he returns from whatever he was teetering on, that both his hands now hold each end of the cloak tighter to your collarbones, "However, I do not understand why I cannot seem to remove it from you." A frown tugs at his lips and a slight furrow knits between his brows.

You wish to wear his clothing; why is it that he wishes to see you in his clothing?

"Wearing my clothes causes you joy, love? If that is the case, I see no reason to retrieve my cloak from you." The logical certainty in his tone cannot mask the softness of his words, "If you insist, you may continue to wear it for the remainder of today. I request that you return it to my closet once we have arrived home."

Affection has melted the edges of Federico's pupils until they threaten to swallow ice blue irises as his gaze drags up and down your form once more. The adequate words lack him as they typically do, and so of course the only logical solution is to punctuate them with a kiss to your forehead, "Moreover, the garment suits you quite well."

Though, unknowingly to him, the way in which his attention is utterly rapt on how his cloak blankets and flourishes around you as you head off speaks far too much already.

His Beatitude, Federico Giallo: "Speak the word if you need anything, Doctor."

[arknights-imagines]

Hello, Exe☺️👋 Happy August for you🫰✨✨

I have an idea for this AU-gust, but I'm not very good at describing it (⁠˘⁠･⁠_⁠･⁠˘⁠) So I'll describe it as best as I can, okay? Hope you can understand it if you decide to write it(⁠⊃⁠｡⁠•́⁠‿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)⁠⊃

This is a Reincarnation AU with Exealter, with a little bit of angst. The story goes that while they were still living on Terra, they couldn't be together. Either because Federico was too focused on Laterano, or because the organization The Reader worked for was at odds with him/Laterano.

So it is possible that one day they will have to face each other, and one or both of them will be killed. I prefer The Reader who was killed by his own hand🤭, so it will add angst to the story. So when they were reborn, Federico remembered his past and decided to look for The Reader in this current life, because maybe they could finally be together.

And yeah!! That's all!!! If you decide to write my request, I hope you can understand my writing🥲🙏

Thank you so much, Exe(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*。♥

Amaris!!! 🥹🫶 Tysm for dropping by my inbox again, v v happy to see you aaa!! (and dw at all, you described perfectly!!)

And tysm for participating in AU-gust! With... A Federico request too... AND reincarnation AU...?! 😭 Did you read my mind aaiiajaiak omg?! Reincarnation AU is one of my favourites (though I thought it might be too cliche to put on the original list auaihahaha 🥹🙏) so?!

Your... Mind with this one!! Omg... 😭 My lil heart.... Aaaaishsjsjs omg 😭😢

I'm weak against angst sbshhs my heart always breaks! Though as much as it hurts me a lil to admit it... You're definitely right with this aoqplspsls 😢😭 Federico... He has so much potential for angst!! His title as Saint and the role the Law has put upon him... No matter how much he loves you... And he loves you V V much... He's already swore his duty to something much bigger. 😢 If he had to choose between Laterano or you... I really can't see another option with his character... It would be Laterano... 😞

So to imagine him in an AU where the Law and his title don't burden him... Sbshbshs... Heals my lil heart from this! 🥹🙏

I took a few creative liberties with this sbshhss I hope that's okay...! I couldn't pass up the opportunity to wiggle pre-law Federico and culinary reader uni AU in here... Ansjsjs 🫢

Some content warnings!: Federico remembers bits of the past life but you do not!, depiction of major character death (Federico took your life in the previous universe), the Law is maybe a lil ooc (I don't imagine, in canon, it NOR the current Pope would ask anyone to kill another even if they weren't Sankta, but here they have one way or another!), maybe slightly ooc Federico (considering this is an AU fic!)

Amaris! To you and everyone else, please enjoy!!! 💘

Reincarnation AU; Executor

Perhaps in another universe, you and Federico meet under more merciful circumstances.

[ A total of 02 Operators have been sent to the multiverse! ]

“Federico. Sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you...”

Your words are muffled against the pages of your open textbook, a make-shift pillow on the lacquered wood desk; ‘Introduction to Theology’ sits itself before you, while ‘Baking and Pastry: Mastering the Art and Craft’ or ‘Professional Baking’ yell in protest from your bag. To be forced into the requirement of one liberal arts credit per semester was an irritation enough, exacerbated this semester especially with Theology being the only course without a waitlist of more than fifty.

If it had been your decision, you would be anywhere but in the company of a Theology textbook. It hadn’t been, however, not with an ever-disciplined, pre-law student as your boyfriend.

At least - the study sessions he mandated gave you an excuse to spend evenings with him.

Attention drifting from the notes he’d taken during his morning lecture, Federico’s head lifts enough for pale blue eyes to fix onto your form, “Based on observation, it is likely that without my presence, you would fail your course, and subsequently be required to compensate through an additional liberal arts course next semester. Am I correct in my assumption this outcome is equally unfavourable to you?” His hand sets his pen down, his gaze tracks the movement of your head as you thud it onto the textbook between groaning, before he extends his arm across the table. With a gentle touch - always a gentle touch, as though his body has already been long-acquainted with yours -, he catches your forehead in his palm, “You will injure yourself if you continue, love.”

A pout tugs at your lips, however you concede and lift your head to settle it properly upon your shoulders. He’s right, Federico is always right.

Your gaze lowers in sheepishness as his fingers drift to tuck your askew hair from your face, “Rest assured, you do not need to worry over possibilities involving my absence, as those circumstances will never occur.” The slight pause in his always-steady words causes your eyes to flick up and meet his again, however his gaze is fixed onto the center of your forehead instead; his fingertips seem to trace something nonexistent on the skin between your forehead and your nose bridge. Between your eyes.

He remembers the indent the muzzle of his shotgun had created in your skin just there, around the final, red crater his bullet had left.

“Yeah…I get it…” Unknowing - how could you know? -, you simply huff as Federico’s hand returns to his pen, gaze forcing downward at his notes as he rids his mind of that fissure by rereading the lines of his writing. “I swear you care more about my grades than I do.”

Heat flushes your cheeks as the realization of just how true that statement is settles on you. How many times has Federico been the sole reason behind why you’ve passed all of your least favourite classes? Embarrassment clasps its hands around your limbs suddenly; in hasty movements, your hand occupies itself with the edge of the textbook page, your ankle shifts to nudge his wingtip boot beneath the table, “...Sorry for always being a hassle. I know you’re even busier than me, your major is way harder--” “It is exceedingly incorrect to call yourself a ‘hassle’.

Federico’s gaze fixes upon yours, cool and steady as typical. However, the slightest furrow knits his eyebrows together, “There has not been an instance where I have considered you to be one. It is not a ‘hassle’ to grant you precedence when you require such.”

He remembers the choice the Law offered, the one His Holiness had presented to him, inescapable in every direction and solidified by his duty.

“You are, under no circumstances, a ‘hassle’, love.” His throat has tightened unceremoniously, and so he ends his sentence before his words can fail.

As his duty had demanded - he had not chosen you.

In a swift movement, he occupies the silence by standing to round the table with his chair and repositioning it beside yours before sitting. Something between a whine and a sigh leaves you as you slump against his shoulder the moment he is sat. Wordless, his arm rests around your waist with a certainty that someone so adverse to physical contact - so much so that he pushes off the hands of classmates who pat his shoulder after successful group presentations, that he stares blankly at hands extended for hand shakes until they awkwardly retract - should certainly lack. The weight of his forearm sets a warm, gentle pressure against the spot on the small of your back, where ache tends to gather when you’re hunched over textbooks for too long.

You don't recall ever telling him about that.

Federico’s other hand taps a finger on the textbook, over the questions you’ve marked with sticky tabs, “You have uncompleted analysis questions remaining. It would be an advisable course of action to complete these before we must leave. The library’s opening hours end in approximately forty-seven minutes.”

A groan erupts from you, and his arm around your waist is the only thing halting you from face-planting against the textbook again, “Fiiiiine. But, only if you stay right here.” Your pen taps the first question, “And…if we stop by that bakery before it’s time to go home?”

His subtle nod brushes his lone outgrown lock of platinum hair, the one framing the right side of his jawline, against your temple, “A dessert is an acceptable exchange for the completion of your work.” He remembers that after hours of paperwork and tactical planning, a sweet presented to him in a little box would revitalize you then, as well. Another tap on your textbook, and yet his arm makes no movement to retreat its cradle from you, “We will be required to depart from the library in forty-four minutes, love.” Though you grumble, your hand picks your pen up, returns the nub to the unfinished sentence you’d halted at, and you force every piece of your effort into the dull questions in front of you.

The final question assigned by your professor arrives faster than you’d thought it would - ‘Considering the context from the Bible verses listed in figures 1.1 and 1.3, what is a guardian angel?’ -, however your focus is fractured by Federico’s cologne passing through the air. When you lift your head with a small noise, he has already packed up both of your belongings and tucked his chair in. The forty-four minutes certainly hadn’t felt like it.

Mid-movement to rest his messenger bag over his shoulder, Federico returns to your side, plucking your pen from your hand and shutting your notebook before you can even form a protest, “We must depart now in order for me to return you safely to your dormitory before seven’o-clock.”

You blink like an owl, and when he settles ice blue eyes upon yours with a firmness you’ve learned means not to argue with him, your voice finds you again to do exactly that, “What-- but, I’m not done this last question! And seven PM?! Why so early--”

“As it is currently Wednesday, your class commences tomorrow at eight AM, followed immediately by a laboratory session until eleven AM. It is necessary that you return home early enough to ensure sufficient rest.”

“You memorized my schedule--?!”

“Refusal analyzed.” He remembers that you’d been exactly this protesting about your wellbeing then, too. “Love, if you continue to resist, I am obligated to employ forceful methods.”

“Wh--?!”

Your stammering halts abruptly in a squeak as you’re hauled off your chair, Federico scooping you up in a bridal carry without even a semblance of hesitation. “Oh my god-- Federico!” Despite the heat blazing on your cheeks and the pounding of your heart within your ribcage, your arms link around his neck and your head settles on the curve between his neck and shoulder. Muffled by the cloth of his sweater, your words leave as a grumble, “You- you know, most boyfriends just like, distract you with kisses or something until you give in…”

His pace towards the library exit slows momentarily, head tilted to the side as his expression paints with a brow lifted a millimetre and contemplative eyes. If his hands were free, one of them undoubtably would’ve lifted to hold his chin, “I see. Would you prefer if I employed those tactics in response to future instances of your resistance?” Others might’ve giggled and scolded him for teasing; you, however, respond in the smack of your palms against your forehead, “No--! Nevermind…”

Federico responds only in a tightening of his arms around you, and the sensation of his gaze fixed on your face lingers for one moment, two moments longer. His chest rises and falls in an inhale to steady his heart rate before he resumes his proper gait.

He remembers how your body was limp when he held you like this last.

No; the forces that existed then, in all these memories that claim themselves to be his but he cannot ascertain the origin of, do not have a vice grip over him any longer. There is no obsidian ring hovering over his head, there are no oaths he has sworn, and there is no title attached to his name.

Nothing this time could force him to put a gun to your forehead again.

Your face remains tucked against his shoulder, one of your hands placed between his collarbones and the other idly playing with the always-neat fold in the collar of his turtleneck, “...you’re buying me two desserts.”

In this life, this time, the only force that demanded his answers, the only force he owed duty to - was his heart.

Federico’s voice comes hushed and spoken against your temple, and only after he leaves the softest kiss, “I have no objections, love.”

"In another universe?" / "In another universe."

[arknights-imagines]

AW!!! HAPPY (LATE) BIRTHDAY, FEDERICO, MY ANGEL🥹🥹🍨🍨 I HOPE IN THE FUTURE HG MAKES MORE OF YOUR MERCH, BECAUSE I'M STARVING!! I NEED MORE CONTENT ABOUT YOU😔🫰

And I hope this event isn't over yet. Because can I get the 11th quest prompt? (How do they react when you tug them down for a kiss mid-sentence?)

I thought it would be funny if we did that to him, maybe because my oc (who is basically a very demanding person) basically likes to annoy him. Because in my hc, he's not someone who can really get mad at someone he loves🤭✨ Maybe he just lets you do whatever you want with him, as long as you don't cross the line~

Anon!! Hiya avshgshs!! 🥹🫶 And AAA!! Makes me v v happy to see another 'Rico fan in my inbox... (ansjsjs agree omg!! Our angel ofc!!! Please... Federico merch in the yostar store!! 😢)

Tysm for joining Federico's Birthday Party Event 🎊 Please take a slice of cake: 🍰 and some gelato scoops too since you sent in for one of the prompts I was hoping for AND you're the last one to join his party before it finishes sbbsjsh! (courtesy of Federico's once cream parlor membership card lmaoajzjs!!): 🍨

So... I did already address your ask in my previous yap post... And!! I did get your follow up in my inbox... Oouokakaka 🫢🤲💕 Tysm for dropping by my inbox!! I'll be replying to your second ask later (after I... Put out these fires you've started in my room... Anon!! 😭⚰️), tysm for your patience and for the Federico love in my inbox aqksoskak! 🥹🫶 Always v v welcome!

But just to say it! Ofc he'd never be angry at you!!! Always just curious... V v curious... Wants to learn more... Wwkakaka 🫢⚰️

Anywho! I might've gotten a lil carried away with this one... But I!! Couldn't help it ansjsh!! 😭 (this is a bit suggestive, so please interact with discretion if you're not an adult!!)

Anon!! And everyone else, please enjoy!! 🩵

Basium Furtivum

11. How do they react when you tug them down for a kiss mid-sentence?

or, in which Federico Giallo wonders why you've stolen his kiss.

"Love. If there are no further missions, I will request my leave. I have several tasks from his Holiness before--"

You lunge upward, fingers clamping at the end of his Lateran stole to yank him, hands tightening around the edge of his cloak on one side and the wiring of his earpiece on the other.

Your lips have muffled the end of his sentence before the words can finish leaving his tongue.

Federico stills - even the idle hover of his halo ceasing -, with pale blue eyes widened minutely and his hands caught in the air just over your waist. Of course, he could have caught you before you'd kissed him. You'd moved fast, yes, however not fast enough for seven years of serving the Notarial Hall with a one-hundred-percent success rate.

And yet, he'd leaned down and allowed your lips to catch his - all too willingly.

The Saint is too occupied pondering this to notice that his eyelids have slipped lower and his hands have settled on your waist. His thoughts aren't able to conclude; the realization that your lips taste like the buttercream frosting from the cupcake he'd bought you from a passing dessert cart earlier that afternoon, knocks all of them away.

Slow, he returns the kiss finally and melds his lips with yours in gentle motions. Ever-so-slowly, however it would be remiss to call this hesitance. The manner by which one of hands slide up the curve of your spine to pull you closer while the other cradles your nape to steady you against him speaks of anything but uncertainty.

Affection is unfamiliar to the Saint, yes. However - Federico Giallo is nothing if not thorough.

He has studied your lips enough to memorize each flavour of your chapstick and how many seconds you take for breaths between liplock; he understands how to kiss you as well as he does the Law, as well as he does his patron firearms.

His head tilts until your mouth slots against his just so, he allows his shoulders to slacken inward to allow your hands to perch on them after he untangles them from his clothing, his arms wrap around your waist with the exact pressure that melts you against his chest. Of course - Federico Giallo is nothing if not calculating.

Just as his lips part - by his count, kiss had lasted long enough that the inclusion of his tongue could be a logical escalation -, you pull back with a shared puff of air between the two of you. His eyes reopen, cool gaze fixed onto yours as he regains his composure as easily as expected, and nothing betrays how his heartrate has quickened as if he's been grazed by a bullet.

"Love. You interrupted my sentence." The words murmured between pants just over your lips, his typical terse tone made breathy by the kiss, "Moreover, that was an unnecessary course of action."

One of his arms rise form your waist to allow his fingertips to brush his lips - as he'd predicted, a warmth and slight buzz lingers against them - before his hand finds its destination. Federico cups your jawline to turn your face upward, ensuring your attention remains on him as he straightens to his full height once more.

His next words are spoken as if he is reciting the commandments of the Law itself, "If there occurs another occasion where you desire to kiss me, simply speak the word and I will permit you. There is no need to attempt to obtain it from me by force."

Federico's head tilts, glacier eyes are narrowed with certainty, "It is illogical to steal that which you are already privileged with the right to."

His Beatitude, Federico Giallo: "Speak the word if you need anything, Doctor."

[arknights-imagines]

EXEEEE!!!! HAPPY FEDDIE BDAY 🫶🫶🫶🫶 the attention to detail is crazy And the event is so cute too..... the dedication!!! may i request number 14 (How would this character react to being told, "I missed you"?) ? thank u in advance! ^_^

BEE OMG!! 🥹😭 Makes me v v happy to see you in my inbox... And tysm for always being the first one for my events abajznaj?! 😭🤲🩵 You're the sweetest...aaaakskjs 😖💕 (and for appreciating my certainly.... normal!! Detail dedication for his birthday... 😭⚰️ Anywho!!)

Tysm for the birthday wishes for 'Rico and for joining his Birthday Party Event 🎊 Please take a cake slice: 🤲🍰

This prompt is... Too cute omgsbshs... I was v v much hoping someone would send this one in so tysm for making my wishes come true!!! 😭🩵

Bee and everyone else, please enjoy the party!! 🎊🩵

Te Desideravi

14. How would this character react to being told, "I missed you"?;

or, in which Federico Giallo ponders "I missed you."

"You missed my presence?"

Federico's words leave only after a long pause and a series of slow blinks between a stare that softens further with each one, until glacier-blue eyes have melted into liquid sky. His head tilts slightly - a ray of sunlight from windows of the hallway catches on his obsidian halo -, before hand lifts to cradle his chin, a gesture that's quickly growing into a habit, "I was absent on foreign mission to Leithanian for approximately seven days and twenty one hours."

Briefly, fleetingly, he wonders why he had been keeping count of the hours he had spent away from you.

For now, however, the question before him demands answer first - you missed him.

"That is the average span of time for an external mission, love." The Saint's words are clinical as expected; though, if one had ears as attuned as yours, a softening dulls their usual sharpened edges, "If you were concerned I would require an extension to complete my objective, or that I would struggle in completing my objective, there is no need. My completion rate as calculated by the Notarial Hall remains one-hundred-percent."

There lingers a moment of pause before his next motion. A decisive movement, no hesitation falters the lift of his free hand toward your face. His intent is to tuck hair away from your eyes, in order to analyze the emotion in your eyes closer.

The manner in which his touch lingers on your cheek, where fingerless gloves allow his fingers against your skin, tells otherwise.

Federico's posture melts - the straight line of his shoulders, his ramrod spine easing, obsidian-shard wings seeming to relax behind his back - as he leans down to lower his forehead closer to yours, "It matters not if I cannot understand the reason why, love. My absence causes you... Dissatisfaction. This is unacceptable. I must resolve this..." One arm wraps around your waist, followed soon after by his second until only inches of space remain between your chests, "I have heard that many lovers exchange daily messages or letters when they are apart for extended periods of time."

His solution is a logical course of action; and yet, he pairs it with a kiss upon your forehead, "I shall integrate this practice into my routines, love."

His Beatitude, Federico Giallo: "Speak the word if you need anything, Doctor."

[arknights-imagines]

4 and 10 for 'Rico's birthday?

This is so cute btw T-T

Aaa hiya anon!! 🥹🫶 Tysm for your ask... And!! Especially for asking for these two prompts?! Omg?! Aaa!! 😭🥹

These two are too cute... Anon!! 😭🤲🩵

Tysm for joining Federico's Birthday Party Event 🎊 Please take a slice of cake: 🍰 and also!! Some extra confetti since you sent in two for his birthday: 🎉

Writing these reminded me how soft sleep-related fluff is... Oaksozkks... 🥹😭 Something about how a character would act around you when they know you can't hear or see them... And they can do or say things they wouldn't otherwise... Omg... 😢🫶

Prompt 4 is in headcanon format and prompt 10 in imagine format, I hope that's okay! The second prompt is under the 'read more' so I don't text-wall anyone's feed too much! 🙏

Anywho!! Anon and everyone! Please enjoy!!! 🥹🩵

Hora Somni

4. What would it be like to fall asleep next to this character?

or, in which Federico Giallo is beside you as you sleep.

"Rest is required, love. I will not accept argument, it is necessary."

Despite his strict, duty-bound lifestyle, Federico takes proper rest almost as serious as he does his missiona.

Eight hours of sleep per night, for at least more than fifty-percent of the week, is non-negotiable. Any less, and one's ability for effective function deteriorates.

Perhaps that is an excuse to create reason for his unreasonable need to ensure your good health. However, he will ponder that another day when it demands attention - and for now, his only duty come nightfall is to guard your rest.

Such is the explanation as to why he would find himself lying next to you in bed some nights.

Undoubtedly, the Federico of past would've been the sort to stare at you blankly and silently, until you either finally fell asleep or pouted to tell him he wasn't making rest easier.

When he rests beside you now, however, the Saint's presence is more akin to a second blanket.

He still faces you and he certainly still stares, of course; but, no longer does he lay unmoving like he's one of the marble Sankta-statues within the basilica that's been knocked on its side.

Some nights, his arm drapes around your waist.

With the lightest pressure, precisely the same as how he handled that single purple flower Sanctilaminium Ambrosii, his palm settles on the small of your back to allow his fingers to travel up your spine.

To monitor your breathing, he insists, without realizing that his up-down motions on your back feel closer comfort than clinical.

Only once does he comment, "... Your breathing has quickened, love. Is this a result of the physical contact? Tension is not ideal for proper sleep. Shall I cease my ministrations?", as your groan and the pillow launched at his face hard enough to skewed his halo was enough for him to understand your message. 'Don't stop.'

Other nights, his palm will settle over your sternum where your heart thumps under.

His other hand cradles the back of your neck, fingers settled over your nape and palm resting over the pulse under your jawline.

To count your heart rate, of course, however he does not fail to notice how his hand at your nape always ends up guiding your head to tuck under his chin.

Federico is wordless most nights. Bedtime stories are certainly not his forte, unless you'd be lulled to bed by the retellings of his missions.

On nights sleep evades you, however, his steady voice will come in hushed murmurs against your ear as he counts your breaths or every-other heartbeat.

"Unus... duo... tres... quattuor... quīnque..." A pause at times, when the pace of his counting slows and he knows sleep tugs gentle hands at your clothing, "Sleep, love. I shall ensure your unbothered rest."

The nighttime shadows fail to mask the flawlessness of his features that the Rhodes Island Engineering Department still gush over when you're not looking.

Dim lighting glints off the edges of his obsidian shard wings as if miniature stars, platinum locks of hair fall across his nose bridge and into half-lidded pale blue eyes, his darkened halo rotates idly like a baby mobile.

It's in these moments only, that Federico wonders if he should be thankful for his lightless halo. After all, otherwise, you'd have to somehow fall asleep with a permanent, non-adjustable nightlight beside you.

And, if such was so - you would surely wake up each he gathers your form into his arms and tucks forehead against his own once you've fallen asleep.

10. How would this character react if you fell asleep on their chest?

or, in which Federico Giallo contemplates your chosen napping spot.

"Love? If you require rest, relocating to the bed would be--"

Federico's words halt when your gentle snooze cuts them short. His hand slowly slides upward from where it had been settled on your waist, to rest against the center of your spine; his head tilts just enough to fix his eyes onto your facial expression.

"...breathing rate slowed by eighteen percent. Heart rate slowed by twenty-two percent. Facial expression indicates an unconscious state." Softly murmured words against your temple, hushed as not to rouse you, "... You have fallen asleep, love."

The Saint had predicted this, of course. He'd counted thirteen yawns during your walk with him from the Landship, through Laterano, and to his residence across from the Notarial Hall. Then, he'd noted five times your eyes had drooped shut between insistent grumbles that you were rapt on the Lateran soap-oprea on the television.

You'd argue, had you been awake, that while you'd certainly been tired - it was Federico who'd lulled you to sleep. With your cheek rested against his chest steadily rising with full and evne breaths, with the soft fabric of the pull-over sweater he'd replaced his uniform acting as the perfect pillow, with the secure weight of his arm wrapped around your waist, how were you meant to stay awake?

The Saint tilts his head slightly as he considers that he perhaps should have had you straight to bed, glacier eyes melting under a marigold ray of setting sunlight reaching through the windows while his gaze traces over your shut eyes and parted lips. Soon, the ease painting across your slumbering facial features is mirrored onto his own. He fails to notice the loosening of his jaw or the freer hover of his halo and wings, mind too occupied on deciding his next course of action.

His free hand lifts toward one of your shoulders; he should wake you and have you settle in bed for proper rest, such is the only way to ensure a comfortable sleep.

The logical voice in his brain is strangled by the insistent beat of his heart as it expands in his chest when your head clumsily nuzzles closed against his chest. Federico stills, the movement of his hand halted and leaving it hovering over your shoulder.

He should wake you and have you settle in bed for proper rest.

Such is the only way to ensure a comfortable sleep.

He should wake you.

Your forehead settles just over his racing heartbeat, and 'should' transforms too quick, too illogical into 'shouldn't'.

"... Love." The Saint's voice comes in more of a breath than a word, stirring strands of your hair before he tucks his nose against your hairline, "... This is not an ideal postion for sleep. However..."

His sentence fails to finish, and he doesn't attempt for force the words out. Instead, his free hand finally decides his purpose - and settles to cradle your head against his heartbeat.

"I have no objections. Rest well, love."

His Beatitude, Federico Giallo: "Speak the word if you need anything, Doctor."

[arknights-imagines]

prompt 3 please 🥹

Apolly!!! Hiya aaa! 🥹🫶 Tysm for dropping by my inbox! I've been seeing you pop around the blog for a bit sbshhs tysm for sticking around 😭💕 I know you're a 'Rico fan too... So amaksnja!!! From one to another!!! Hello aaa!! 🥹🤲💕

Tysm for joining Federico's Birthday Party Event 🎉 Please take a slice of cake: 🍰

This prompt is... Unbelievably suited for him aaaksjsjs tysm for picking such a perfect one!!! 😭🙏 Physical touch is mentioned so much in Federico's story scenes... From the opening scene in his Operator Record 'Enemy' to him receiving the kisses from the Liberi twins... There's a canon progression and!! It lives in my brain!! Sits on!! A little shelf in my mind!!! 😖🩵

I did this one in headcanon format because I felt like it served the prompt better, I hope that's okay! 🫶

@apollyoninblue!! And everyone! Please enjoy!! 🩵

Affectus Corporis

3. How does this character react to physical affection?

or, in which Federico Giallo receives your physical love.

"Bodily contact is no replacement for spoken language, love. I cannot decipher your thoughts through your touch."

Or so he had believed; the key word being, 'had'.

Federico's aversion to physical contact is widely-known, and common knowledge. Anyone from the Notarial Hall will tell you about how he'd still with tension when upon the friendly pat on the back, how he'd catch wrists before beneficiaries could offer gratitude via a squeeze of his shoulder, how any unnecessary touch was 'a distraction from his work'.

Richele especially will be all too happy tell you - still disgruntled, though perhaps he won't admit so - how, when he'd approached for a high five after finishing the final paperwork for the Sanctilaminium Ambrosii mission, the Saint had left his palm hanging mid-air while he replied only with his characteristic stoic glare until Richele's arm flopped in defeat.

"I thought he'd give me a little mercy with everyone watching, at least... By His Holiness."

However, there was one ever-constant exception; a you-shaped exception.

Since his Sainthood began and realization that everything he had known to be law was not so infallible after all began to settle, one of the very first things Federico investigated was in fact - physical affection.

What is the purpose of a hug? A kiss? The interlocking of fingers together? An arm around the waist? How is one meant to react to all of these?

The Saint had been prepared to ponder this; though, such preperation was unnecessary.

His body, without any motor input or command from himself, responds to your physical affection as though it has done so for years.

It's comical, almost.

Whenever your touch settles on him, Federico's voice speaks in protest, and his body speaks in plead for more.

In return to your hugs, pale blue eyes lower and the slightest exhale leaves his nose before his tone leaves him cool and steady as typical, "What are you doing, love? If you require something from me, spoken word is most easily understood." - as his arm slides securely around the small of your waist, and one hand cradles the back of your head against his heartbeat.

Your hooking onto his arm or grabbing of his hand receives a pause of all his motions and a tilt of his head, "There are other ways to request my attention without unceremonious grabbing, love." - all while he tugs you closer, closer, closer still, until the firm line of his torso presses to your side.

When you nuzzle into the curve of his neck or against his jawline, his head leans in the opposite direction and his obsidian-shard wings twitch like a birds feathers might fluff up, "Love, your behaviour is similar to a feline. Are you perhaps attempting to mimic one?" - however, you realize that what seemed like a tilt-away of his head, instead opens the crook of his neck further or offers the opposite cheek for your skin.

Such is the same every time, no matter how or where your affection touches, settles, or wraps around him.

One could say Federico doesn't return your affections, yes; his response is more akin to acceptance, allowance.

Though, when his arms band around you to prevent you from pulling away, when his hands feel warm even through his uniform gloves when they hold yours, when his platinum hair enmeshes with yours as he tilts his head against your own - only a fool could possibly claim that Federico Giallo dislikes your physical affection.

His Beatitude, Federico Giallo: "Speak the word if you need anything, Doctor."

[sleepyminty]

I should remind everyone that the new ambience synesthesia skins of The Law’s favorite sankta siblings are their alternate selves if they were to connected their mind to it

Y’know just keep that in mind in case of whatever Priestess might do what the angel’s super computer in the basement after ep 15